Ensalada de Garbanzos con Cueritos

This is Jalisco, specifically Guadalajara, the kind of botana you find around Mercado Libertad, where the tostadas are stacked high and the vendor knows exactly how much chile de arbol you can handle by looking at your face.

The garbanzo is the body. The cuerito is the bite. It must be pork skin cured in vinegar, cut into strips, not fried chicharron and not some sad gelatinous shortcut from a jar that tastes only of salt. Rinse it lightly if the brine is too sharp, but do not wash away its character. That vinegar is part of the dish.

The technique is not complicated, but it is exact. Cook the chickpeas until tender, not collapsing. Dress them while they are still a little warm so they drink the vinegar, lime, oregano, and chile de arbol. Then chill the salad long enough for the cucumber, onion, and cueritos to become one thing. This is market food, yes, but market food has rules. Preguntale a las senoras del mercado.

My mother did not make this as a meal. She made it when people were coming over and money was tight. A big bowl, a packet of tostadas, lime halves on the table. Nobody left hungry. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.