
Chef Lupita
Caldo de Camarón con Chepil
A Lenten caldo from Oaxaca's Valles Centrales built on dried shrimp and chile costeño, thickened with a whisper of masa, and finished with chepil leaves that taste like nothing outside that state.
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Mixteca Oaxaca's celebration stew of pork shoulder braised in a thick roasted paste of guajillo, ancho, a full head of garlic, pineapple vinegar, and warm spices. Wedding food built to feed a courtyard from one cazuela.
This dish belongs to the Mixteca region of Oaxaca. Not the Valles Centrales, not the Istmo, not the coast. The Mixteca: the high, dry country west of the state capital where the cooking is drier, more concentrated, and built on chile pastes thick enough to hold to the back of a spoon. Huajuapan de León is the town most people associate with chileajo, and that is where I first ate it properly, at a wedding in a packed courtyard behind the church, served from clay cazuelas the size of washbasins by women who had been cooking since before sunrise.
Chileajo means exactly what it says: chile and garlic. Ten guajillos for color and body. Four anchos for depth and sweetness. A full head of garlic, roasted on the comal until the cloves go soft and sweet, that gives the dish its name. But what separates this stew from every other chile-braised pork in Mexico is the pineapple vinegar. That tartness cuts through the richness of the lard and the density of the paste. It is what the señoras in Huajuapan will tell you makes chileajo chileajo and not just another guisado de puerco. Without the vinegar, you have a generic chile stew. With it, you have Mixteca cooking.
This is wedding food. Fiesta food. Mayordomía food. The kind of dish a team of women starts in darkness, working clay cazuelas over wood fire until a hundred guests sit down at midday. The paste is thick by design: it coats the pork without sliding off, which means it holds for hours over a low flame while the celebration happens around it. I have three versions in my notebook from the Mixteca, collected in kitchens between Huajuapan and Juxtlahuaca, and not one of them agrees on the exact number of cloves or the ratio of guajillo to ancho. That is how it should be. The argument is part of the tradition. Cada estado, su propia cocina, and within Oaxaca, each region guards its own.
Chileajo descends from the pre-Hispanic Mixtec practice of grinding dried chiles with stone tools into concentrated pastes for preserving and seasoning meat, a technique documented in early colonial accounts of indigenous foodways in the Mixteca Alta. The garlic and fruit vinegar that give the modern dish its name arrived with the Spanish in the 16th century, but the underlying method of building thick, spiced chile sauces predates the conquest by centuries. The dish remains the centerpiece of mayordomías and wedding celebrations in towns like Huajuapan de León and Santiago Juxtlahuaca, where communal preparation by teams of women the day before the feast follows a pattern largely unchanged from colonial-era descriptions of Mixtec ceremonial cooking.
Quantity
3 pounds
cut into 2-inch chunks
Quantity
1 medium
halved
Quantity
1 (about 12 cloves)
cloves separated
Quantity
2
Quantity
1 tablespoon, plus more to taste
Quantity
10
stemmed and seeded
Quantity
4
stemmed and seeded
Quantity
3
stemmed
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
6
Quantity
8
Quantity
1 tablespoon, plus more for serving
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
3
Quantity
3 tablespoons
Quantity
3 tablespoons
Quantity
for serving
warmed
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| bone-in pork shouldercut into 2-inch chunks | 3 pounds |
| white onionhalved | 1 medium |
| head of garliccloves separated | 1 (about 12 cloves) |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| kosher salt | 1 tablespoon, plus more to taste |
| dried chile guajillostemmed and seeded | 10 |
| dried chile anchostemmed and seeded | 4 |
| dried chile de arbolstemmed | 3 |
| cumin seeds | 1 teaspoon |
| whole cloves | 6 |
| black peppercorns | 8 |
| dried Mexican oregano | 1 tablespoon, plus more for serving |
| dried thyme | 1/2 teaspoon |
| dried avocado leaves (hojas de aguacate) | 3 |
| pineapple vinegar | 3 tablespoons |
| manteca de cerdo (pork lard) | 3 tablespoons |
| hand-pressed corn tortillas (optional)warmed | for serving |
| lime wedges (optional) | for serving |
| sliced white onion (optional) | for serving |
Place the pork shoulder chunks in a heavy 6-quart pot. Cover with cold water by two inches. Add one half of the onion, 4 peeled garlic cloves, the bay leaves, and the salt. Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat. Skim the gray foam that rises in the first ten minutes. Cold water draws the flavor out slowly. A rolling boil clouds the broth and toughens the meat. Reduce heat until you see lazy bubbles every few seconds. Cover partially and cook for one and a half to two hours, until the pork pulls apart easily with a fork but still holds its shape. Remove the pork to a plate. Strain the broth and reserve it. You will need at least two cups for the paste.
While the pork simmers, heat a dry comal or cast iron skillet over medium heat. Toast the guajillo chiles first, pressing them flat with a spatula, about 30 seconds per side. They will puff, blister slightly, and release a warm, earthy smell. The ancho is thicker and needs the same time but watch that it does not blacken. The chile de arbol is small and thin and burns in seconds: give it 15 seconds per side, no more. Transfer all toasted chiles to a heatproof bowl and cover with hot tap water. Hot water, not boiling. Let them soften for 20 minutes.
On the same comal, place the remaining garlic cloves (about 8), unpeeled, and the other onion half, cut side down. Let them roast over medium heat, turning the garlic occasionally, until the skins are charred in spots and the cloves feel soft when pressed, about 10 to 12 minutes. The onion should be deeply browned on the cut face. The roasting sweetens the garlic and takes the raw edge off the onion. This is the 'ajo' in chileajo, and it should be generous. Peel the garlic when cool enough to handle.
In the same dry comal, add the cumin seeds, cloves, and black peppercorns. Toast for about 45 seconds, shaking the comal, until fragrant. The moment you smell them, pull them off the heat. Briefly toast the avocado leaves, about 5 seconds per side, until they release their anise-like scent. Crumble them into the spice pile. These leaves are Oaxacan to the bone. If you have never smelled a toasted hoja de aguacate, you have not smelled Oaxacan cooking.
Drain the soaked chiles and discard the soaking water. Place them in a blender with the roasted garlic, roasted onion, toasted spices, crumbled avocado leaves, oregano, thyme, pineapple vinegar, and one cup of the reserved pork broth. Blend on high until completely smooth, scraping down the sides as needed. This should take two to three minutes in a good blender. You want a thick, uniform paste with no visible pieces of chile skin. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl, pressing the solids with the back of a spoon to extract every bit of flavor. Discard the skins. The paste should be the color of fired clay, deep red-brown, and thick enough to coat a spoon without dripping.
In a heavy, deep cazuela or Dutch oven, melt the manteca de cerdo over medium heat. When the lard shimmers, pour in the strained chile paste. It will sputter and pop. Stand back but do not walk away. Stir constantly with a wooden spoon for eight to ten minutes. The paste will darken from red-brown to a deeper, almost brick color, and the lard will begin to separate and pool around the edges. That separation is your signal that the paste is cooked. This step is the recipe. La manteca es el sabor. Skip it and the sauce will taste raw and flat, no matter what you do afterward.
Add the cooked pork pieces to the fried paste. Stir to coat every chunk. Add one to one and a half cups of the reserved pork broth, enough to loosen the sauce so it flows around the meat but remains thick. This is not a soupy stew. The sauce should cling to the pork like a thick mole. Reduce heat to low, cover partially, and simmer for 25 to 30 minutes, stirring occasionally so nothing catches on the bottom. Taste for salt. The vinegar will brighten as it simmers, and the garlic will mellow into the background while the chiles take center stage. When the lard rises in small pools on the surface and the sauce coats the meat without sliding off, it is done.
Pull the pot off the heat and let the chileajo rest for ten minutes. The sauce will tighten as it cools slightly, and the flavors will settle. Serve directly from the cazuela at the center of the table, family-style, the way it is served in the courtyards of the Mixteca. Warm corn tortillas, sliced white onion, lime wedges, and a pinch of dried oregano on the side. Each person tears a tortilla, takes a piece of pork, and drags it through the sauce. Recetas probadas y garantizadas.
1 serving (about 280g)
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