Pitiú Yaqui

Pitiú is from Sonora. Not the Sonora of carne asada and flour tortillas, the Sonora of the Río Yaqui, the river that runs from the Sierra Madre Occidental down through the Yoreme territories of the Yaqui and Mayo peoples before it reaches the Gulf of California. This is one of the oldest dishes still cooked in northern Mexico. It predates the Spanish, predates the cattle, predates wheat. It is fish, water, tomato, onion, cilantro, and chiltepín.

The chiltepín is non-negotiable. It is the wild chile of the sierra, tiny, round, fierce, and it is the only chile the Yoreme cooks of the eight pueblos use in this dish. You crush it in a molcajete, not a blender. You add half to the pot and leave the rest on the table for each diner to add to their own bowl. The heat is sharp and quick, gone in seconds, the way the Sonorans want it.

The fish goes in whole. Head, tail, bones. The Yaqui cooks I learned this from along the river outside Vícam laughed when I asked about filleting. The bones are the broth. The head is the broth. The whole animal is the dish. Pitiú is served alongside maíz, fresh corn rounds in the pot or hand-pressed tortillas on the side, because the Yoreme worldview holds that fish and corn are partners on the plate the way they are partners on the land. Esto no es comida de un solo Mexico. Cada estado, su propia cocina, and this one belongs to the Yoreme nation as much as it belongs to Sonora.