
Chef Lupita
Alambres de Carne Asada Sonorenses
Sonora's mesquite-grilled alambre of ribeye and arrachera with bacon, bell pepper, and onion, blanketed in melted asadero and rolled into thin flour tortillas at the rancho table.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by
Sonora's wild chiltepín, the desert's red gold, crushed with charred tomato and garlic in a volcanic stone molcajete. The heat hits, then disappears clean.
This salsa is from Sonora. Specifically from the sierras of the northeast, from the ranches around Moctezuma and Bacerac and Sahuaripa, where the chiltepín grows wild in the shade of mesquite and hackberry trees and women have been gathering it by hand for as long as anyone can remember.
The chiltepín is not a chile you cultivate. It is a chile you find. Pea-sized, round, dried red on the bush by the desert sun, and so prized in Sonora that a kilo can cost more than a kilo of beef. They call it el oro rojo del desierto, the desert's red gold, and they mean it. The heat is sharp and immediate, but it leaves clean. No lingering burn, no dulling of the palate. That is the chiltepín's signature and it is why Sonorans grind it into everything from caldos to carne asada to this salsa.
Tatemar is the verb that defines this recipe. It means to char on a dry comal until the skin blackens and the sugars in the tomato concentrate into something almost smoky. The molcajete is not optional. A blender will turn this salsa into baby food. The volcanic stone leaves texture, leaves the heat in uneven pockets, leaves the chile skin in flecks you can see. Saber cocinar es saber vivir, and in Sonora knowing how to use a chiltepín without burning it or wasting it is part of that knowing.
I collected this version from a senora named Doña Refugio in a small town outside Hermosillo. She gathered her own chiltepines every fall from the hills behind her house. She told me: the salsa is only as good as the chile, and the chile is only as good as the bush you took it from. Cada estado, su propia cocina.
The chiltepín (Capsicum annuum var. glabriusculum) is the wild ancestor of every domesticated chile species in the Americas, growing native across northwestern Mexico and the Sonoran Desert into Arizona, where it is harvested almost entirely by hand from wild bushes rather than commercially farmed. Pre-Columbian peoples of the region, including the Yaqui, Mayo, Pima, and Seri, used chiltepín not only as food but as medicine and as a trade currency, and the chile retained ceremonial and economic importance after Spanish contact. In 1999 the Mexican government designated parts of the Sierra de Sonora as a chiltepín reserve, recognizing the cultural and ecological significance of the wild harvest, which still drives a substantial seasonal economy in towns like Baviácora and Sahuaripa.
Quantity
2 tablespoons (about 3 to 4 grams)
Quantity
3 medium
Quantity
4
unpeeled
Quantity
1/2 small
in one thick slab
Quantity
1 teaspoon, plus more to taste
Quantity
2 tablespoons, if needed
Quantity
1
halved
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| dried chiltepín, whole | 2 tablespoons (about 3 to 4 grams) |
| Roma tomatoes | 3 medium |
| garlic clovesunpeeled | 4 |
| white onionin one thick slab | 1/2 small |
| coarse sea salt | 1 teaspoon, plus more to taste |
| cold water | 2 tablespoons, if needed |
| lime (optional)halved | 1 |
Set a cast iron comal or heavy skillet over medium-high heat for at least five minutes. You want it hot enough that a drop of water vanishes on contact. Tatemar means to char, not to roast. The black spots are the flavor. A lukewarm comal will steam the tomato and you will end up with a watery salsa instead of a Sonoran one.
Place the whole Roma tomatoes, the unpeeled garlic cloves, and the slab of white onion directly on the dry comal. No oil. Turn them with tongs every few minutes. The tomato skins should blister and blacken in patches, the onion should darken to a deep mahogany on each face, and the garlic skins should turn papery and brown. Total time, ten to twelve minutes. The garlic will be ready first, around five minutes. Pull each piece off the heat as it is done. Let the garlic cool enough to handle and slip the cloves out of their skins.
Lower the comal to medium. Scatter the chiltepines across the hot surface and toast them for no more than 20 to 30 seconds, shaking the pan constantly. They are tiny and they go from fragrant to burned in a breath. The moment you smell them sharpen, pull them off. A burned chiltepín is bitter and ruins the whole molcajete. The senoras in the Sonoran sierras toast them in their hands above the fire and you can too if you trust your fingers.
Place the toasted chiltepines and the salt in a seasoned volcanic stone molcajete. Grind in a slow circular motion with the tejolote. The salt acts as the abrasive that breaks the chile down. Work it until the chiltepines are a coarse red dust shot through with bigger flecks of skin. This is where the dish lives. No me vengas con atajos. A blender will pulverize the seeds and turn the salsa cloudy and uniformly hot. The molcajete leaves the heat in pockets, the way Sonorans want it.
Drop the peeled charred garlic cloves into the molcajete on top of the chiltepín. Mash them into the chile and salt until you have a rough paste. The garlic should disappear into the chile, leaving only its smoke behind.
Roughly chop the charred onion. Add it to the molcajete with one of the tomatoes, skin and all. Crush in a circular motion until the tomato breaks down and the onion is in jagged pieces, not pulverized. Add the second and third tomatoes one at a time, mashing each before adding the next. The salsa should be loose but textured, with visible flecks of red skin and char. If it feels tight, add the cold water a tablespoon at a time.
Taste it now. The first sensation should be the smoke from the tatemado, then the garlic, then the chiltepín climbing up the back of the throat and disappearing as fast as it arrived. That clean retreat is what makes chiltepín different from every other chile. Adjust salt. Let the salsa sit in the molcajete for ten minutes before serving. The flavors knit together fast. Bring the molcajete to the table with a lime cut in half on the side. Asi se hace y punto.
1 serving (about 40g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Lupita
Sonora's mesquite-grilled alambre of ribeye and arrachera with bacon, bell pepper, and onion, blanketed in melted asadero and rolled into thin flour tortillas at the rancho table.

Chef Lupita
Sonora's roasted chicken wings tossed in clarified butter heavy with crushed wild chiltepín, garlic, and fresh lime. Sharp clean heat, no vinegar burn, no Tex-Mex shortcuts. The desert north on a plate.

Chef Lupita
Mexicali's Chinese-Mexican wings, double-fried until the crust crackles, glazed sticky in soy, honey, ginger, and garlic, served with chiles toreados blistered in soy and lime.

Chef Lupita
La Paz's chocolate clams shucked to order and served raw on the half-shell with their own briny liquor, cold Clamato, fresh lime, and Salsa Huichol. Spooned straight from the shell at the table, the way they eat them on the malecon.