
Chef Lupita
Arroz a la Oaxaqueña
Oaxaca's red rice, stained with tomato and fried in lard, steamed with carrots, ejotes, black beans, and epazote. The side that anchors a Oaxacan family meal and earns its place beside the main.
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Oaxaca's foundational pot of small black beans simmered with toasted avocado leaf, lard, and garlic. Not epazote, not bay leaf. Hoja de aguacate, the herb that defines the Oaxacan bean pot.
These beans are Oaxacan. The technique travels, but the herb does not. In central Mexico the pot of beans gets epazote. In Veracruz it gets epazote too. In Oaxaca, and in parts of Puebla and Guerrero, the leaf in the pot is hoja de aguacate, the leaf of the criollo Mexican avocado tree, toasted on a comal until it releases an anise-licorice perfume that perfumes the entire broth. Cada estado, su propia cocina. The leaf is the dish.
The bean matters too. The small black beans grown in the Valles Centrales of Oaxaca are not the same bean you find in a generic supermarket bag. They are smaller, denser, and they hold their shape through a long simmer while still turning the broth a deep purple-black. If you can find frijol negro de Oaxaca at a Mexican mercado, buy two pounds. If not, the smallest black beans your vendor carries will do, and I will tell you the broth will be a little less inky and the flavor a little less concentrated. A substitution is a compromise, not an upgrade.
This is the dish my mother kept on the back of the stove every Monday in Colonia Roma. She used epazote, because she was from Jalisco and she cooked the way her mother had cooked. The first time I ate frijoles with hoja de aguacate I was twenty-three, in a small comedor in Etla, and I sat there in disbelief that a bean could taste like this. I went back to Mexico City and rewrote my mother's bean page in the notebook. La cocina no es decoracion, es trabajo. The leaf is what makes it Oaxacan.
The use of hoja de aguacate as a culinary herb predates the Spanish conquest by centuries. Pre-Columbian Mesoamerican cooks in what are now Oaxaca, Puebla, and Guerrero used the toasted leaf of the criollo Mexican avocado (Persea americana var. drymifolia) to perfume beans, tamales, and barbacoa, and the practice was documented by 16th-century chroniclers including Bernardino de Sahagun. The criollo variety contains estragole, which produces the leaf's distinctive anise aroma; this compound is largely absent in the Hass and Guatemalan avocado cultivars dominant in commercial agriculture, which is why only the Mexican criollo leaf is used in traditional cooking. The clay olla, or olla de barro, in which these beans are traditionally cooked is itself a continuous craft tradition; the green-glazed ollas of Atzompa and the unglazed barro of San Marcos Tlapazola have been produced by Zapotec potters for more than a thousand years.
Quantity
1 pound
picked over and rinsed
Quantity
10 cups, plus more as needed
Quantity
1 medium
halved
Quantity
6
peeled and lightly smashed
Quantity
3 tablespoons
Quantity
4 to 6
fresh or dried
Quantity
1 tablespoon, plus more to taste
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| small black beans (frijol negro de Oaxaca)picked over and rinsed | 1 pound |
| cold water | 10 cups, plus more as needed |
| white onionhalved | 1 medium |
| garlic clovespeeled and lightly smashed | 6 |
| manteca de cerdo (pork lard) | 3 tablespoons |
| hojas de aguacate (Mexican criollo avocado leaves)fresh or dried | 4 to 6 |
| kosher salt | 1 tablespoon, plus more to taste |
| hand-pressed corn tortillas (optional) | for serving |
| salsa de molcajete (optional) | for serving |
Spread the beans on a sheet pan and run your eyes across them. Pull out any small stones, broken pieces, or shriveled beans. The mercado vendors do their best, but a stone in the pot will crack a tooth. Rinse the beans in a colander under cold water until the water runs clear.
Place the beans in a clay olla or a heavy 6-quart pot. Add the cold water, the halved onion, and the smashed garlic. Bring to a boil over high heat, then immediately reduce to a low simmer. Skim the gray foam that rises in the first ten minutes. That foam carries the bitterness from the bean skins. Skim it once and you are done.
Stir in the manteca de cerdo. The fat melts into the broth and gives the beans the silky body that water alone cannot. La manteca es el sabor. If you skip the lard, you will end up with thin, watery beans that taste of nothing. There is no substitute that gives you the same finish.
Heat a dry comal over medium. Lay the hojas de aguacate on the hot surface and toast for about 20 seconds per side. They will release a clean anise-licorice perfume that fills the kitchen. That smell is the whole point. An untoasted leaf gives the broth almost nothing. A properly toasted leaf gives it the soul of an Oaxacan pot.
Crumble the toasted leaves slightly with your fingers and drop them into the pot. Some cooks tie them in a small bundle so they can be pulled out at the end. Either is correct. Continue simmering, partially covered, at the lowest heat that still produces lazy bubbles. Check the pot every 20 minutes and add hot water as needed to keep the beans submerged by an inch.
After about two hours, taste a bean. The skin should be tender, not papery, and the inside should be creamy with no chalk in the center. The broth should have darkened to a deep purple-black, almost ink-colored. If the beans are not yet tender, keep cooking. New-crop beans take less time, older beans take more. Asi se hace y punto.
Once the beans are tender, add the salt and stir. Simmer five minutes more so the salt comes into the broth. Taste and adjust. The broth should taste of bean, of lard, of garlic, and of that quiet anise note from the leaves. Pull the pot off the heat and let it rest ten minutes before serving. The flavor settles when the beans cool slightly.
Ladle the beans and their broth into small clay bowls, leaves and all if you used a bundle pull them now. Serve with hand-pressed corn tortillas and a salsa de molcajete on the side. In Oaxaca this is a meal on its own, not a side. A bowl of these beans, a stack of tortillas, and a green salsa is what generations of cooks have eaten on weeknights for a reason. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.
1 serving (about 220g)
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