
Chef Lupita
Enchiladas de Valladolid
Valladolid's enchiladas, corn tortillas bathed in a chile ancho and Mexican chocolate sauce, stuffed with smoked longaniza, crowned with a fried egg and a tangle of habanero-pickled red onion.
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Yucatán's salbut: a puffy fried corn tortilla, slightly thick, topped with achiote-stained cochinita pibil, pickled red onions, lettuce, tomato, avocado, and a slice of habanero on the side for the brave.
The salbut belongs to Yucatán. Not to Mexico in the abstract. To the Peninsula, where the cuisine speaks its own language of recado, naranja agria, banana leaf, and pib. If you have eaten salbutes in Mérida or Valladolid, you already know they have nothing in common with what most of the country calls a taco.
First, the masa. A salbut is a tortilla pressed slightly thicker than usual and slipped into hot lard, where it puffs into a small pillow. Pale gold, tender, with a hollow center. It is not a tostada. It is not a sope. It is its own thing. The cousin of the salbut is the panucho, which is split open, stuffed with refried black beans, and re-pressed before frying. The salbut has no beans. That is the difference. Una sola tortilla. Confuse them in front of a señora at a panucheria in Mérida and she will correct you before your plate hits the table.
The cochinita on top is the other half of the equation. Pork marinated in recado rojo, the achiote paste that stains everything it touches a deep brick red, mixed with naranja agria, the sour orange that grows in Yucatecan backyards and gives the dish its particular tang. The pork is wrapped in banana leaves and slow-cooked. Traditionally in a pib, an underground pit lined with stones and heated with hardwood, the way the Maya have cooked for over a thousand years. At home you use the oven and the banana leaf does the work of sealing in the steam. It is not the pib. But if you wrap it tight and trust the leaf, you get close enough that a Yucatecan home cook would nod.
My mother never made cochinita. She was from Jalisco and she said the Peninsula was its own country. The first time I ate proper salbutes was in a panucheria off the Paseo de Montejo, served by a woman who told me her mother had made them in the same kitchen for forty-two years. The pickled onions were on the table in a clear glass jar, magenta-pink, sitting in their own sour orange juice. The habanero was on a separate plate, sliced thin, untouched until I asked for it. She watched me eat the first one. Then she nodded once and walked away. Cada estado, su propia cocina, and this one belongs to Yucatán.
Cochinita pibil descends from a Maya cooking method called pib, an underground pit oven that predates the Spanish conquest by more than a thousand years and was originally used to cook venison, peccary, and turkey wrapped in banana or jaguay leaves. The arrival of the pig with the Spanish in the 16th century gave the Peninsula a fattier protein for the technique, and the achiote seed, native to the region and already used by the Maya as a ceremonial pigment and food coloring, became the defining flavor of the dish. The salbut as a vehicle for cochinita is a later development tied to the rise of Mérida's panucherias and antojito stands in the late 19th and 20th centuries, when home cooks adapted fried masa breads from the broader Mesoamerican tradition to showcase the Peninsula's signature slow-cooked pork.
Quantity
3 pounds
cut into 3-inch chunks
Quantity
1 brick (3.5 ounces)
Quantity
1 cup
or 2/3 cup fresh orange juice mixed with 1/3 cup fresh lime juice
Quantity
6
peeled
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
2 tablespoons
melted
Quantity
2 large
passed over an open flame until pliable
Quantity
1 cup
Quantity
2 large
sliced into thin half-moons
Quantity
1 cup
or 2/3 cup orange juice mixed with 1/3 cup white vinegar and the juice of 2 limes
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
4
Quantity
2 pounds
fresh masa, or 4 cups masa harina mixed with 2 1/2 cups warm water
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
4 cups
for frying
Quantity
2 cups
romaine or iceberg, thinly sliced
Quantity
2 large
sliced into thin rounds
Quantity
2
sliced
Quantity
2 to 3
sliced into thin rings
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| boneless pork shouldercut into 3-inch chunks | 3 pounds |
| recado rojo (achiote paste) | 1 brick (3.5 ounces) |
| fresh naranja agria juiceor 2/3 cup fresh orange juice mixed with 1/3 cup fresh lime juice | 1 cup |
| garlic clovespeeled | 6 |
| whole black peppercorns | 1 teaspoon |
| dried Mexican oregano | 1 teaspoon |
| ground allspice | 1/2 teaspoon |
| kosher salt | 2 tablespoons |
| manteca de cerdo (pork lard)melted | 2 tablespoons |
| banana leavespassed over an open flame until pliable | 2 large |
| water | 1 cup |
| red onionssliced into thin half-moons | 2 large |
| fresh naranja agria juice (for the onions)or 2/3 cup orange juice mixed with 1/3 cup white vinegar and the juice of 2 limes | 1 cup |
| kosher salt (for the onions) | 1 teaspoon |
| dried Mexican oregano (for the onions) | 1/2 teaspoon |
| whole black peppercorns (for the onions) | 4 |
| masa for tortillasfresh masa, or 4 cups masa harina mixed with 2 1/2 cups warm water | 2 pounds |
| kosher salt (for the masa) | 1 teaspoon |
| manteca de cerdo or vegetable oilfor frying | 4 cups |
| shredded lettuce (optional)romaine or iceberg, thinly sliced | 2 cups |
| ripe tomatoes (optional)sliced into thin rounds | 2 large |
| ripe Hass avocados (optional)sliced | 2 |
| fresh chile habanero (optional)sliced into thin rings | 2 to 3 |
| lime wedges (optional) | for serving |
Break the brick of recado rojo into a blender. Add the naranja agria juice, garlic, peppercorns, oregano, allspice, salt, and melted manteca. Blend on high until completely smooth and the color is a deep brick red. The achiote should dissolve into the juice and leave no chunks. If your recado is dry and stubborn, give it five minutes in the juice before you blend.
Place the pork chunks in a large bowl and pour the marinade over them. Use your hands to coat every piece. The pork should be stained the color of dried blood and rust. Cover and refrigerate at least four hours. Overnight is better. The achiote and the sour orange need time to push into the meat. No me vengas con atajos.
Pass each banana leaf over an open burner flame, one side at a time, for a few seconds until the surface turns from matte to glossy and the leaf becomes pliable. This wakes up the oils and makes the leaf bend without cracking. If you skip this, the leaf will split when you fold it and the juices will leak out into the pan.
Heat the oven to 325F. Line a Dutch oven or deep roasting pan with overlapping banana leaves so the leaves hang generously over the sides. Pile the marinated pork in the center and pour every drop of the marinade over the top. Add the cup of water. Fold the leaves over the meat like a package, tucking the edges in. Cover the pan tightly with a lid or with foil sealed at the rim. Roast for three hours, until the pork is fork-tender and the juices have turned dark and glossy. This is the home oven version of the pib, the underground pit where Yucatecan cooks have buried this dish for centuries.
While the pork roasts, drop the sliced red onions into a heatproof bowl and pour boiling water over them. Count to thirty. Drain. This takes the raw bite off but keeps the crunch. Return the onions to the bowl and add the naranja agria juice, salt, oregano, and peppercorns. Toss to coat. Let them sit at room temperature for at least one hour. The onions will turn from purple to a vivid magenta-pink. That color is how you know they are ready. Cebollas en escabeche are not a garnish on cochinita. They are part of the dish.
Pull the pan from the oven. Carefully unwrap the banana leaves, watching for hot juices. The pork should fall apart at the press of a fork. Pull it into shreds right in the pan and toss with all of those dark cooking juices. The juice is not waste. The juice is half the flavor. Taste for salt. Keep the cochinita warm while you make the salbutes.
Knead the masa with the teaspoon of salt and enough warm water, a tablespoon at a time, to bring it to the texture of soft Play-Doh. The masa for salbutes is slightly wetter than the masa for regular tortillas. That extra moisture is what makes them puff. Divide into 18 balls about the size of a golf ball. Cover with a damp cloth so they do not dry out.
Line a tortilla press with two squares of plastic cut from a freezer bag. Press each ball into a round about 4 inches across and slightly thicker than a regular tortilla. Thicker, not thinner. The thickness is what gives the salbut room to puff. Stack the pressed rounds between sheets of plastic so they do not stick.
Heat the lard or oil in a deep heavy skillet or cazuela to 375F. The fat should be at least an inch deep. Slide one tortilla in at a time, presser-side down. Almost immediately, push it gently under the surface with the back of a slotted spoon. The salbut will puff like a small pillow within ten to fifteen seconds. Flip it once, fry for another twenty seconds until the underside is pale gold, and lift it out onto a wire rack. Do not let them brown deeply. A salbut should be tender and pale, not crisp like a tostada.
Pile each warm salbut with a generous spoonful of cochinita pibil, including some of the dark juice. Top with shredded lettuce, a slice of tomato, two slices of avocado, and a heaping pinch of pickled red onions. Set the habanero rings and lime wedges on a side plate and let each person add their own heat. Eat immediately, two hands, no apologies. The salbut is meant to bend under the weight. Así se hace y punto.
1 serving (about 425g)
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