Aaron Sanchez - Simple Food, Big Flavor: Unforgettable Mexican-Inspired Recipes from My Kitchen to Yours

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Also by Aarn Snchez

La Comida del Barrio

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First Atria Books hardcover edition November 2011

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Designed by Jason Snyder

Manufactured in the United States of America

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Snchez, Aarn.
Simple food, big flavor : Unforgettable Mexican-inspired dishes from my kitchen to yours / Aarn Snchez with J.J. Goode ; photographs by Michael Harlan Turkell.
p. cm.
Includes index.
1. Cooking, Mexican. 2. Cookbooks. I. Goode, J.J. II. Title.
TX716.M4S258 2011
641.5972dc22 2011007167

ISBN 978-1-4516-1150-2
ISBN 978-1-4516-1154-0 (ebook)

To my wife, Ife; my son, Yuma;
and my daughter, Sofia

S ome peoples memories have a sound track, an Usher jam calling to mind a rowdy birthday or a Bon Jovi song bringing back an awesome first dateinstead, my memories smell like carnitas frying in a pot and garlic roasting on a comal. Thats what happens when your mom is Zarela Martinez, one of the best Mexican cooks there is.

I never forgot how powerful the flavors in the Mexican culinary arsenal are, the way just a few chipotles and a couple of garlic cloves could become something so good it could make you curse. And later in my life, the way a simple sauce could rocket my mind back to my moms kitchen. When shed cook for me and my friends in New York, setting a bright green pumpkin seed sauce or sopes crowned with some mouth-searing salsa in front of us, theyd ask, their eyes wide with excitement, Aarn, whats that? That? Id think. Thats love right there.

When I was a kid, Id ask her to make sopa seca, a sort of Mexican-style pasta. Shed fry alphabets so theyd get all nutty, and simmer them with pureed roasted tomatoes and onions, cilantro, and a little chile. But she cooked more than just Mexican food. I remember these chicken wings with pineapple, soy, ginger, and scallions. Talk about delicious! I still cant make them quite like she does.

Whenever we visited El Paso, the border town where I was born, I was reminded how she got so damn good at cooking. Id get giddy before those trips, because it meant Id get to have my grandmas beans, which are pretty much the greatest food on earthwell, aside from whatever else she made. When I got a little older, it dawned on me why it was all so delicious: she was never in a rush. Her beans would sit on the stove for what seemed like forever, getting tastier by the hour. Even after Id learned to cook more complicated food, I never forgot how with patience and a little know-how, even the simplest dishes could be spectacular.

As a kid, Id gaze into her pot as she stirred a deep brown mole or stare at poblanos blackening over the blue flame on the stovetop. When I got a little older, I started to chip in. At first, I was relegated to chopping vegetables. Maybe I got to put together an hors doeuvre. But I quickly graduated to toasting chiles, a simple but vital task. I caught on quicklywhen youre from a family of cooks, like a family of athletes, you realize that there are some things you can just do, without necessarily being taught.

When I decided to work in kitchens, I wasnt after glory or fame. This was before the Age of the Celebrity Chef. All I knew was that I wanted to create the kind of joy that the women in my life created. But I knew I had to carve out my own path. So when I was still a teenager, I took off to New Orleans (where I swear I didnt see one Mexican) and started working for Paul Prudhomme, the chef who put the city on the national gastronomic map. I was thrilled by the food there, the delicious gumbo of Cajun, French, Italian, Creole, Native American, and Spanish influences that was as complex and satisfying as the best moles.

Paul became my mentor. He taught me how to season food properly. He taught me to think, really think, about what goes on in your mouth when you taste food. He taught me the difference between blackening and burning. What is it? About three seconds.

I went on to cook at Patria in New York for Douglas Rodriguez, another mentor who opened my eyes to ingredients and techniques that Id never seen before. Thats where I met and fell in love with aji amarillo, the delicious chile from Peru, and learned to make sofrito, the incredibly flavorful slow-cooked vegetables that make Cuban, Puerto Rican, and Dominican food so damn good.

The kitchen crew at Patria also taught me some life lessons. One night, I was doing my thing on the grill station. I was rocking it. Three hundred meals and zero complaints. I was pretty proud. I looked over at the sous-chef, Georgi, a guy I really respected, and said, Hey, how come every time I mess up, you guys chew my butt like chum, but tonight I didnt even get one compliment? He glared at me. This isnt a popularity contest. When nobody says anything, that is a compliment.

By the time I finally ran my own kitchen, I had so much to draw from, so many different chefs and eating experiences that had shaped my culinary style. The result was cooking that broke down borders, that brought together ingredients and techniques that made so much sense but had been kept apart out of habit.