Frijoles Refritos Capitalinos con Epazote

These are capitalina beans. Ciudad de México beans. Not the lard-bomb pinto refritos of the north, not the soupy black beans of Veracruz, not the colado puree of Yucatán strained until silken. This is the everyday pot of Mexico City: black or pinto, depending on what your mother cooked, smashed by hand in the cazuela, fried slow in manteca, finished with epazote.

Epazote is the herb that tells you where you are. It grows wild in lots and sidewalk cracks across the Valle de México, and central Mexican cooks have used it on beans since before the Spaniards arrived. The smell is not subtle. Anise, gasoline, green pepper, something medicinal underneath. The first time you smell it on the comal you may not love it. Cook with it for a month and you will not understand how anyone makes beans without it. Pregúntale a las señoras del mercado at La Merced. They will tell you the same.

My mother kept a clay pot of beans on the stove from Monday to Thursday in our kitchen in Colonia Roma. Monday they were de la olla, just simmered. Tuesday she pulled half the pot into the cazuela, melted manteca, and turned them into refritos that fed us for two more days. Same beans, three dishes. That is household economy. That is how women have fed families in this city for generations. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.

The technique is patience. The fat is non-negotiable. La manteca es el sabor. Vegetable oil makes a sad imitation. Butter makes a French dish. Manteca de cerdo makes frijoles refritos. Así se hace y punto.