
Chef Lupita
Cemita Árabe Poblana
Puebla's domed sesame cemita stacked with thin-sliced árabe pork, quesillo, avocado, pápalo, and chipotle en adobo. The Lebanese-Mexican handshake, all on one roll.
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Mexico City's hand-pressed corn-masa quesadillas, stuffed with flor de calabaza and epazote, folded over and crisped in lard until the masa turns deep gold and crackles under a spatula. And yes, in CDMX they will ask if you want cheese in it.
This is a Ciudad de México dish, and before anyone outside the Valle de México starts an argument, yes, in the capital a quesadilla does not have to have cheese. The vendors at Mercado de Coyoacán, Mercado de San Juan, the tianguis that take over a side street every Tuesday, they will ask you: ¿con queso o sin queso? It is not a trick. It is the dialect of the city. Quesadilla in CDMX means a folded masa pocket. The cheese is one of many possible fillings, not the definition of the dish.
The filling here is flor de calabaza with epazote, which is the most chilango thing I can put inside a quesadilla. Squash blossoms come into the markets in late spring and stay through the summer. Epazote grows in cracks in the sidewalk in Colonia Roma. The combination is older than the city's modern street food culture and you will find it in every market in the valley, made by señoras who set up a comal at six in the morning and fold quesadillas to order until the masa runs out.
The fried version, what the city calls quesadilla frita as opposed to the dry comal version, has a deep gold crust that crackles under your teeth and a tender interior where the masa met the heat of the lard. The trick is the masa. Too wet and it absorbs the fat. Too dry and it cracks when you fold it. The lard inside the dough is my mother's addition, copied from a market vendor she watched for an hour in Mercado Medellín. The vendor told her: pork fat in the masa, pork fat in the pan, that is why it crackles. My mother wrote it down. I am passing it on.
Do not skip the epazote. Saber cocinar es saber vivir, and in this city, that means knowing what an herb does.
The chilango debate over whether a quesadilla requires cheese is not a joke; it is a real linguistic split between Mexico City and most of the rest of the country, documented in food studies and even debated in the pages of the Academia Mexicana de la Lengua. In CDMX, the word 'quesadilla' derives from the masa pocket form rather than its filling, a survival of the older Nahuatl-influenced taxonomy of corn preparations where the shape of the masa, not its contents, named the dish. Flor de calabaza as a quesadilla filling traces directly to pre-Columbian milpa agriculture, where squash, corn, and beans were grown together and every part of the squash plant, including the male flowers, was eaten; the addition of epazote, a native Mesoamerican herb the Spanish never adopted, marks this filling as one of the most genuinely indigenous combinations still cooked daily in the Valley of Mexico.
Quantity
2 cups
Quantity
1 1/2 cups, plus more as needed
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
softened, for the masa
Quantity
1 large bunch, about 3 cups loosely packed
Quantity
1 tablespoon
for the filling
Quantity
1/2 small
finely chopped
Quantity
1 clove
finely chopped
Quantity
1
finely chopped
Quantity
1 large sprig
leaves only, chopped
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
for the filling
Quantity
8 ounces
pulled into strings
Quantity
1/2 cup
for frying
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| masa harina for tortillas (Maseca or Minsa) | 2 cups |
| warm water | 1 1/2 cups, plus more as needed |
| kosher salt | 1/2 teaspoon |
| manteca de cerdo (pork lard)softened, for the masa | 1 tablespoon |
| flor de calabaza (squash blossoms) | 1 large bunch, about 3 cups loosely packed |
| manteca de cerdo (pork lard)for the filling | 1 tablespoon |
| white onionfinely chopped | 1/2 small |
| garlicfinely chopped | 1 clove |
| fresh chile serranofinely chopped | 1 |
| fresh epazoteleaves only, chopped | 1 large sprig |
| kosher saltfor the filling | 1/2 teaspoon |
| queso Oaxaca (optional)pulled into strings | 8 ounces |
| manteca de cerdo or neutral oilfor frying | 1/2 cup |
| salsa verde cruda (optional) | for serving |
| salsa roja de molcajete (optional) | for serving |
| crema mexicana (optional) | for serving |
In a wide bowl, combine the masa harina, salt, and the tablespoon of softened lard. Pour in the warm water in three additions, working it in with your hand. The masa should feel like the inside of an earlobe: soft, pliable, and not sticky. If it cracks at the edges when you press a ball with your palm, it is too dry. Add water a tablespoon at a time. If it sticks to your fingers, add a spoonful of masa harina. The lard is not traditional in every masa, but for fried quesadillas it gives the dough flexibility and a cleaner crisp.
Pull off the green sepals at the base of each flower and pinch out the long stamen inside. Some cooks leave them. The señoras at Mercado de Jamaica take them out and so do I, because they can taste bitter when cooked. Tear the flowers in half lengthwise. Do not rinse them unless they are dirty. Water makes them collapse.
Heat the tablespoon of lard in a wide skillet over medium. Add the chopped onion and serrano and cook for two minutes, until the onion turns translucent. Add the garlic and stir for thirty seconds. Add the squash blossoms and the salt. They will collapse almost immediately and release their water. Cook for three to four minutes, stirring, until the liquid evaporates and the flowers are tender but still hold their color. Stir in the chopped epazote at the end. Epazote goes in at the end. Cook it too long and you lose the perfume that makes this filling what it is. Set aside to cool slightly.
Divide the rested masa into eight equal balls, about the size of a golf ball. Cut a quart-sized zip-top bag along the seams to make two square plastic sheets. Open your tortilla press, lay one sheet down, place a ball of masa slightly off-center toward the hinge, cover with the second sheet, and press firmly. You want a disc about six inches across and the thickness of a thick coin. A true quesadilla frita is pressed a little thicker than a taco tortilla, so it holds the filling without breaking.
Peel off the top sheet of plastic. Flip the disc onto your palm and peel the second sheet off. Place a heaping tablespoon of the squash blossom filling on one half of the disc, leaving a half-inch border. If you are using cheese, add a small handful of Oaxaca cheese strings on top of the filling. Lift the empty half over and press the edges gently to seal. The masa should fold without cracking. If it cracks, your masa is too dry, knead in a spoonful of water and try again.
Heat a heavy comal or large cast iron skillet over medium-high. Add the lard or oil to coat the surface generously, about a quarter inch deep. When the fat shimmers and a small piece of masa dropped in sizzles immediately, lay the quesadillas in, two or three at a time. Do not crowd them. Fry for two to three minutes per side, until the masa turns deep gold with brown blisters and the surface crackles when you tap it with a spatula. La manteca es el sabor. Drain on a wire rack, not paper towels. Paper towels trap the steam and the masa goes soft.
Pile the fried quesadillas on a warm plate. Pass salsa verde cruda, salsa roja de molcajete, and crema mexicana at the table. People dress their own. A quesadilla frita waits for nobody. Five minutes off the comal and the crust softens. Eat them now. Así se hace y punto.
1 serving (about 300g)
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