
Chef Lupita
Cemita Árabe Poblana
Puebla's domed sesame cemita stacked with thin-sliced árabe pork, quesillo, avocado, pápalo, and chipotle en adobo. The Lebanese-Mexican handshake, all on one roll.
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Puebla's chanclas: oval rolls toasted in lard, filled with braised pork and avocado, drowned in a warm guajillo and pasilla salsa, finished with vinegared onions and crumbled queso fresco. Eaten with a fork.
Chanclas are from Puebla. Not from anywhere else. You will not find them on a menu in Oaxaca or Veracruz, and if you find them in Ciudad de México, it is because a poblano family brought the recipe and refused to let it go. This is a dish that belongs to one state and one tradition, and that is exactly how Puebla likes it.
The name comes from the shape of the bread. A chancla is a sandal, and the roll, oval, flat, slightly squashed, looks like one. The bread is a pariente of the bolillo but flatter and denser, made to hold up under a heavy ladle of salsa without dissolving. If you cannot find true chanclas at a Pueblan bakery, a bolillo or a telera split horizontally and toasted hard in lard will get you close. Not identical. Close. A substitution is a compromise, not an upgrade.
The salsa is what makes the dish. Guajillo for color and body, pasilla for that dark, almost-smoky depth, ancho for sweetness. Charred tomato, toasted cumin, clove, canela. This is not a quick salsa. It is fried in lard until the fat slicks the surface and the chile darkens to brick. The cooks in Puebla's mercados, the women at the Mercado El Carmen and the Mercado de Sabores Poblanos, will tell you the same thing: if your salsa is not fried in manteca, it is not a chancla salsa.
The last thing. You eat this with a fork. Not your hands. The salsa is everywhere and the bread is soaked through. Anyone who tries to pick it up has not eaten a chancla before. La cocina no es decoración, es trabajo, and this dish is honest, working-class Pueblan cooking. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.
Chanclas emerged in the working-class neighborhoods of the city of Puebla in the late 19th and early 20th centuries as a way to stretch leftover braised pork and stale bread into a substantial midday meal, the kind of practical economy that produced much of central Mexico's most enduring antojitos. The dish belongs to the same Pueblan tradition that produced cemitas, pelonas, and molotes, all built on the city's distinctive bread culture, which itself owes a debt to the French occupation of the 1860s and the Italian and German immigrant bakers who settled in Puebla in the decades that followed. Unlike Puebla's more famous moles and chiles en nogada, which were canonized as celebration food, chanclas remained a neighborhood dish, sold from specific market stalls and family fondas rather than restaurant menus, which is why most cooks outside the state have never heard of them.
Quantity
1 1/2 pounds
cut into 2-inch chunks
Quantity
1/2 medium
Quantity
1 medium
sliced into thin half-moons
Quantity
3
Quantity
4
Quantity
2
Quantity
1 tablespoon, plus more to taste
Quantity
6
see chef tips for substitution
Quantity
8
stemmed and seeded
Quantity
4
stemmed and seeded
Quantity
2
stemmed and seeded
Quantity
3 medium
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
4
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1 small stick (about 1 inch)
Quantity
3 tablespoons
Quantity
2
sliced
Quantity
1 cup
crumbled
Quantity
1/2 cup
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
a pinch
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| boneless pork shouldercut into 2-inch chunks | 1 1/2 pounds |
| white onion (for braising the pork) | 1/2 medium |
| white onion (for the topping)sliced into thin half-moons | 1 medium |
| garlic cloves (for the pork) | 3 |
| garlic cloves (for the salsa) | 4 |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| kosher salt | 1 tablespoon, plus more to taste |
| chanclas rolls (oval Pueblan bread)see chef tips for substitution | 6 |
| dried chile guajillostemmed and seeded | 8 |
| dried chile pasillastemmed and seeded | 4 |
| dried chile anchostemmed and seeded | 2 |
| roma tomatoes | 3 medium |
| whole cumin seeds | 1/2 teaspoon |
| whole cloves | 4 |
| dried Mexican oregano | 1/2 teaspoon |
| Mexican canela | 1 small stick (about 1 inch) |
| manteca de cerdo (pork lard) | 3 tablespoons |
| ripe Hass avocadossliced | 2 |
| queso frescocrumbled | 1 cup |
| white vinegar | 1/2 cup |
| dried Mexican oregano (for the onions) | 1/2 teaspoon |
| salt (for the onions) | a pinch |
Place the pork shoulder in a heavy pot. Cover with cold water by two inches. Add the half onion, 3 garlic cloves, bay leaves, and 1 tablespoon salt. Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat. Skim the gray foam in the first ten minutes. Lower the heat until the surface barely moves and cook for 90 minutes, until the pork shreds with a fork. Cold water and a slow simmer. No shortcuts. A boil clouds the broth and toughens the meat.
While the pork simmers, place the sliced white onion in a small bowl. Pour over the white vinegar, a pinch of salt, and the half teaspoon of oregano. Toss with your hands and let it sit. The onion will soften and turn pale pink at the edges in 20 minutes. This is the Pueblan way of dressing the top. Raw onion is too sharp. Heavily pickled onion is too sour. You want the in-between.
Heat a dry comal or heavy skillet over medium. Toast the guajillo, pasilla, and ancho chiles separately, about 20 to 30 seconds per side. They should puff and turn fragrant, never blacken. The pasilla is thin and burns faster than the guajillo. Watch it. Burned chile turns the salsa bitter and there is no recovering from it later.
On the same comal, char the tomatoes whole, turning them until the skins blister and split on all sides, about 8 minutes. In a small dry skillet, toast the cumin seeds, cloves, oregano, and canela for 30 seconds until they smell awake. Pull them off the heat the second you can smell them. Pueblan salsas live or die by the spices, and the spices live or die by how you toast them.
Place the toasted chiles in a heatproof bowl and cover with hot tap water. Hot, not boiling. Let them soften for 15 minutes. Drain. Transfer the chiles to a blender along with the charred tomatoes, the 4 garlic cloves, the toasted spices, and one and a half cups of the reserved pork broth. Blend on high until completely smooth, two to three minutes. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve, pressing on the solids. Discard the skins. The salsa should pour like heavy cream.
In a wide cazuela or heavy skillet, melt 2 tablespoons of the lard over medium heat. Add the strained salsa. It will sputter. Step back. Cook for 8 to 10 minutes, stirring often, until the salsa darkens to a deep brick red and the fat rises to the surface in a glossy slick. La manteca es el sabor. This is the step that separates a chancla salsa from a sad red sauce. Taste for salt. Keep warm over low heat.
Lift the pork out of its broth and let it cool just enough to handle. Shred it with two forks or your fingers into rough pieces. Not too fine. You want it to hold its shape inside the bread. Season with another pinch of salt. Set aside.
Split each chancla roll horizontally without cutting all the way through, like a clamshell. Heat the remaining tablespoon of lard in a skillet over medium. Place the rolls cut-side down and toast until golden and slightly crisp on the inside, about 90 seconds. The toasted face holds up to the salsa without dissolving. A soft, untoasted roll turns to mush in seconds. Así se hace y punto.
Open each toasted roll on a deep plate. Fill the bottom half with a generous mound of shredded pork and three or four slices of avocado. Close the roll loosely. Ladle the warm chile salsa over the top until the bread is fully soaked and a pool of red gathers around the plate. Drown it. That is the point. A dry chancla is not a chancla. Top with the pickled onion and a heavy dusting of crumbled queso fresco.
1 serving (about 310g)
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