
Chef Lupita
Arroz Amarillo Yucateco con Achiote
Yucatán's everyday yellow rice, toasted in achiote-stained lard with onion and garlic, perfumed by a whole habanero on top. The bright plate that lives beside every cochinita on the Mérida table.
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Yucatán's milpa green braised in a toasted pepita and chiltomate sauce, perfumed with epazote and finished with a whole charred habanero. The vegan dish the Maya have been eating for three thousand years.
Chaya is from the Yucatán peninsula. The Maya call it chay or ku'um chay and they have been eating it since long before anyone wrote down a recipe. The leaf grows on a shrub in the dooryard of nearly every rural house from Mérida to Valladolid to Felipe Carrillo Puerto. You do not buy chaya at a supermarket. You walk into the yard and you cut what you need. Ten times the vitamin C of an orange, more protein than spinach, and the medicinal reputation of a plant the abuelas swear can cure almost anything.
The sauce is sikil, the Mayan technique of toasted pumpkin seed ground into a paste, married to chiltomate, the peninsular roasted tomato salsa built on charred tomato, charred onion, charred garlic, and a whole habanero left intact so its perfume threads through the dish without taking it over. Both techniques are pre-Hispanic. The Spanish brought the pig and therefore the lard, but everything else on this plate is the food the Maya were cooking when the conquistadors arrived. Esto no es comida de un solo México.
A few rules you do not break. Chaya is never eaten raw. The leaf contains compounds that need 15 minutes of boiling to neutralize, and you cook it in stainless steel or clay, never aluminum, because aluminum reacts with the chaya and turns the whole pot toxic. The habanero stays whole. The pepitas get toasted on the comal until they puff, then ground while still warm. The epazote is added at the end so its perfume survives. These are not suggestions. They are the recipe.
I learned this dish from doña Eulalia in a small kitchen outside Tizimín. She grew the chaya in her side yard and pulled the leaves while she talked to me. She used a tin can of pepitas she had toasted that morning and a habanero she charred on a comal over a wood fire. She did not measure anything. She told me, en Yucatán comemos chaya como otros comen espinaca, pero la chaya es más seria. Así se hace y punto.
Chaya (Cnidoscolus aconitifolius) is a domesticated cultivar of the Maya, cultivated continuously in the Yucatán peninsula for at least three thousand years and documented in pre-conquest Maya medical and culinary texts including the Chilam Balam. The plant contains cyanogenic glycosides that are neutralized by cooking, which is why every traditional chaya dish across Yucatán, Campeche, Quintana Roo, Tabasco, and into Belize and Guatemala involves a long boil; the practice predates the Spanish by millennia and is one of the clearest examples of indigenous food science encoded as kitchen tradition. The pairing with toasted pepita (sikil) reflects the Mayan agricultural triad of the milpa, where squash was grown alongside corn and beans, and the seeds of the squash, ground into sauces, became one of the oldest documented protein bases in Mesoamerican cuisine.
Quantity
1 pound (about 8 cups packed)
stemmed and rinsed
Quantity
1 cup
Quantity
4 medium
Quantity
1 small
half left whole, half finely chopped
Quantity
3
unpeeled
Quantity
1
left whole, do not break the skin
Quantity
1 small bunch (about 6 sprigs)
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
3 cups, plus more as needed
Quantity
1 1/2 teaspoons, plus more to taste
Quantity
for serving
warmed
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| fresh chaya leavesstemmed and rinsed | 1 pound (about 8 cups packed) |
| raw hulled pumpkin seeds (pepitas) | 1 cup |
| Roma tomatoes | 4 medium |
| white onionhalf left whole, half finely chopped | 1 small |
| garlic clovesunpeeled | 3 |
| fresh chile habaneroleft whole, do not break the skin | 1 |
| fresh epazote | 1 small bunch (about 6 sprigs) |
| manteca de cerdo (or coconut oil for vegan version) | 2 tablespoons |
| water | 3 cups, plus more as needed |
| kosher salt | 1 1/2 teaspoons, plus more to taste |
| hand-pressed corn tortillas (optional)warmed | for serving |
| naranja agria or lime wedges (optional) | for serving |
| cebolla morada en escabeche (optional) | for serving |
Wear gloves when you stem the chaya. The raw leaf has tiny stinging hairs and contains hydrocyanic compounds that need heat to neutralize. Strip the leaves from the woody stems and discard the stems. Rinse the leaves twice in cold water. Never eat chaya raw, never blend it raw, and never use an aluminum pot to cook it. This is the rule the abuelas in Valladolid will tell you first.
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil in a stainless steel or clay pot, never aluminum. Drop the chaya leaves in and boil for 15 minutes. The water will turn dark green. Drain the chaya, reserving one cup of the cooking water, and let the leaves cool enough to handle. Chop them coarsely. The long blanch is non-negotiable. It cooks off the cyanogenic glycosides and softens the leaf into something tender. No me vengas con atajos.
Heat a dry comal over medium-high. Place the tomatoes, the unpeeled garlic, the whole half of the onion, and the whole habanero on the comal. Turn them as the skins blacken. The tomatoes take 8 to 10 minutes and should collapse and char in patches. The garlic takes 4 to 5 minutes. The habanero takes 3 minutes and should blister without splitting open. The onion takes 7 minutes. This is the foundation of chiltomate, the peninsular roasted tomato salsa. The char is the flavor.
Lower the comal to medium. Add the pumpkin seeds in a single layer. Stir constantly with a wooden spoon. They will puff and pop within 3 to 4 minutes. Pull them off the moment they turn golden and you hear the popping slow. Burned pepitas turn the whole sauce bitter and there is no fixing it. This is the Mayan technique called sikil, toasted seed ground into sauce, and it predates the Spanish by a thousand years.
Peel the charred garlic. Transfer the toasted pepitas, charred tomatoes, garlic, the charred onion half, and the whole charred habanero to a blender. Add 1 1/2 cups of water and 1 teaspoon of salt. Blend on high until completely smooth, about 2 minutes. The sauce should be the color of jade with flecks of tomato red. Taste it. It should taste of toasted seed first, charred tomato second, with the habanero whispering underneath, not shouting.
Melt the manteca in a heavy cazuela over medium heat. When it shimmers, add the chopped onion and cook for 3 minutes until translucent. Pour in the blended pepita sauce. It will sputter. Stir constantly with a wooden spoon for 8 to 10 minutes. The sauce will darken, thicken, and the fat will start to bead at the edges. La manteca es el sabor. This frying step transforms a raw puree into a finished sauce. Skip it and the pepitas taste like wet flour.
Stir the chopped blanched chaya into the sauce. Add the epazote sprigs whole, stems and all. Pour in the remaining 1 1/2 cups of water and the reserved chaya cooking water if the sauce looks too thick. Lower the heat and simmer uncovered for 12 to 15 minutes, stirring every few minutes. The chaya should absorb the sauce and the whole pot should pull together into one dish, not a leaf floating in sauce. Adjust salt at the end. The epazote will perfume everything. Without it, this is a different dish.
Pull out the spent epazote stems and the whole habanero. Bring the cazuela to the table. Serve with warm corn tortillas, wedges of naranja agria, and cebolla morada en escabeche on the side. In Yucatán this is comida de diario, weekday food eaten with tortillas and pickled onion. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.
1 serving (about 280g)
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Chef Lupita
Yucatán's everyday yellow rice, toasted in achiote-stained lard with onion and garlic, perfumed by a whole habanero on top. The bright plate that lives beside every cochinita on the Mérida table.

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