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Tlaxcala's pulque-belt breakfast: eggs poached in a salsa of fermented agave, toasted chile pasilla, charred jitomate, and epazote. The maguey kitchen on a plate, eaten with warm corn tortillas at a wooden table.
This is from Tlaxcala. The pulque belt, that stretch of the central highlands that runs from eastern Estado de Mexico through Tlaxcala into the Llanos de Apan in Hidalgo, where the maguey pulquero grows in rows across the dry fields and the tlachiqueros still scrape the aguamiel out of the heart of the plant at dawn. Pulque is not a flavoring here. It is the kitchen.
The salsa is built on chile pasilla, toasted on the comal until it smells like raisins and tobacco, then soaked, blended with charred jitomate and onion and garlic, and fried in manteca until the fat beads at the edge. The pulque comes in at the end, loosens the salsa, cooks down to leave behind that faint sourness and the body that only fermented agua de maguey can give. The eggs poach right in the cazuela. The yolks stay soft. The whites set into the salsa. The epazote ties it all to the maguey country it came from.
My mother did not cook with pulque. She was from Jalisco, where tequila is the daughter of the agave and pulque was something her own mother dismissed as the drink of campesinos. The first time I ate huevos en salsa de pulque was in a fonda outside Huamantla, where a senora named Rosario poured the pulque straight from a clay jarra into the cazuela and told me her mother had cooked the same dish every Sunday for forty years. I wrote it down in the back of my notebook before I left the table. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.
Pulque is the oldest fermented beverage in Mesoamerica, produced from the aguamiel sap of several maguey species (primarily Agave salmiana and Agave atrovirens) and consumed ceremonially by the Mexica, who restricted its use to elders, priests, and pregnant women under penalty of death for unauthorized drunkenness. After the conquest, pulque became the everyday drink of the working classes in the central highlands, and the great pulque haciendas of Tlaxcala, Hidalgo, and Estado de Mexico industrialized production in the 19th century, supplying Mexico City through dedicated pulque trains. The use of pulque in cooking, mixiotes, adobos, breads, and salsas like this one, predates its industrial era and reflects a peasant kitchen tradition that treated the beverage as a fermenting agent and a source of complex flavor, not just a drink.
Quantity
6
stemmed and seeded
Quantity
4 medium (about 1 pound)
Quantity
1/2 medium, plus 1/4 onion finely chopped for the salsa base
Quantity
3
unpeeled
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 1/2 cups
fresh, unflavored
Quantity
1 sprig
Quantity
1 teaspoon, plus more to taste
Quantity
8
at room temperature
Quantity
1/2 cup
Quantity
1/4 cup
Quantity
for serving
warmed
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| dried chile pasillastemmed and seeded | 6 |
| ripe jitomate | 4 medium (about 1 pound) |
| white onion | 1/2 medium, plus 1/4 onion finely chopped for the salsa base |
| garlic clovesunpeeled | 3 |
| manteca de cerdo (pork lard) | 2 tablespoons |
| pulque blancofresh, unflavored | 1 1/2 cups |
| fresh epazote | 1 sprig |
| kosher salt | 1 teaspoon, plus more to taste |
| large eggsat room temperature | 8 |
| crumbled queso fresco (optional) | 1/2 cup |
| Mexican crema (optional) | 1/4 cup |
| hand-pressed corn tortillas (optional)warmed | for serving |
| frijoles de la olla (optional) | for serving |
Heat a dry comal over medium. Toast the pasilla chiles for about 20 seconds per side, pressing them flat with a spatula. The pasilla is thin and turns bitter fast. Watch them. They are ready when they release that dark, raisin-and-tobacco smell that makes pasilla pasilla. Transfer to a bowl, cover with hot tap water, and let them soften for 15 minutes. Hot water, not boiling. Boiling cooks the skin and makes the salsa bitter.
On the same comal, char the whole jitomate, the half onion, and the unpeeled garlic cloves. Turn them as the skins blister and blacken in patches. The jitomate takes about 8 minutes, the garlic about 5, the onion about 6. You want char marks, not full destruction. Peel the garlic once cool enough to handle. Leave the jitomate skins on. That char is the smoke of the salsa.
Drain the pasilla and transfer to the blender with the charred jitomate, charred onion half, peeled garlic, and half a cup of the pulque. Blend until smooth but not aerated. You want body, not foam. Pulque foams if you bully it in the blender. Pulse, then blend in short bursts.
In a wide cazuela or heavy skillet, melt the manteca over medium heat. When it shimmers, add the finely chopped quarter onion and cook for two minutes until translucent. Pour in the blended salsa. It will sputter and complain. Cook for 8 to 10 minutes, stirring often, until the salsa darkens, thickens, and the fat starts to bead at the edges. La manteca es el sabor. This is the step that separates a serious salsa from a raw, watery one.
Pour in the remaining cup of pulque and add the sprig of epazote. Stir. The salsa will loosen and turn a shade lighter as the pulque comes in. Lower the heat to a steady simmer and cook for 5 minutes, until the alcoholic edge of the pulque cooks off and the salsa tightens again into a loose, spoon-coating consistency. Taste for salt. The pulque carries its own slight sweetness and tang. The salt has to lift both.
With the salsa at a gentle simmer, crack each egg into a small cup and slip it into the salsa, spacing them around the cazuela. Do not stir. The whites will set in the salsa and the yolks will hold round. Cover the cazuela and cook for 4 to 5 minutes, until the whites are firm and the yolks are still soft when you press them gently with the back of a spoon. If you like the yolks more set, give them another minute. So se hace y punto.
Pull the epazote sprig out. Carry the cazuela to the table on a wooden board. Crumble queso fresco over the top and drizzle with a little crema. Serve with warm hand-pressed corn tortillas and a side of frijoles de la olla. Each person scoops an egg and a generous ladle of salsa onto their plate and eats with the tortillas as the spoon. This is breakfast in Tlaxcala. Recetas probadas y garantizadas.
1 serving (about 320g)
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