Enmoladas de Mole Poblano

Enmoladas are from Puebla. They exist because mole poblano is too important and too laborious to throw away, and because the cook who spent two days building yesterday's pot understands that the second-day mole is better than the first-day mole. This is the dish that honors the pot.

Understand what you are doing here. You are not making mole from scratch this morning. You are reviving a sauce that already exists, loosening it with broth, and using it to bathe tortillas around a simple filling of pollo deshebrado. The tortillas have to be warmed in manteca first, briefly, just enough to soften them and seal the surface. A cold tortilla will tear. A tortilla fried crisp is enchilada territory. Enmoladas live in the middle: pliable, supple, ready to drink in the mole without falling apart on the fork.

The finish is non-negotiable. Crema mexicana, not sour cream. Queso fresco crumbled with your fingers, not shredded mozzarella. Raw white onion sliced thin enough to read through, not pickled, not caramelized. Toasted ajonjoli scattered across the top because mole poblano has sesame in it and the garnish should echo the sauce. My mother kept a frasco of toasted sesame on the counter for exactly this reason. She wrote in the margin of her notebook: 'siempre con cebolla cruda, nunca sin.' Always with raw onion, never without. She was right. The sharpness of the onion is what cuts the richness of the mole and lets you eat a second plate.

This is breakfast food in Puebla. It is also late lunch food, supper food, and the meal you make for a guest who shows up unannounced and you happen to have mole in the refrigerator. Cada estado, su propia cocina, and Puebla's morning kitchen knows what to do with yesterday's work. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.