Pozole Verde Poblano

Pozole verde is from the central highlands. Guerrero claims its own version and they are right to. But the poblana version, the one I am writing here, comes from the kitchens of Puebla state, where hoja santa grows in backyard gardens and where the pepita is treated with the same seriousness that other states give to dried chile.

The color does not come from food coloring. It comes from charred tomatillo, chile poblano, cilantro, hoja santa, epazote, and a generous cup of toasted pepitas that thicken the broth from within. The pepitas are the bones of this pozole. They are what separates a poblana pozole verde from a thin tomatillo soup. Toast them until they are the color of pale honey and pull them off the heat the second they smell nutty. One shade darker and the salsa turns bitter. Así se hace y punto.

Use cacahuazintle hominy if you can find it. It is the large white maize variety that Puebla and Tlaxcala have grown for centuries and the kernels burst open in the pot like flowers, soft on the outside, firm at the center. The supermarket can of Mexican hominy is a compromise. A reasonable one, but a compromise. La Costena or Juanita's will get you most of the way.

My mother did not cook pozole verde. She was from Jalisco and she cooked rojo every Sunday until I was sixteen. I learned this version from a señora named Doña Rosalia who runs a fonda in San Pedro Cholula and who let me sit at her counter for three afternoons while she explained why the hoja santa goes in raw and the epazote goes in twice. I copied her words into the same notebook my mother left me. Saber cocinar es saber vivir, and one notebook can hold both of them.