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Leftover turkey from the Thanksgiving feast can be dreadfully dry and dull.
Here’s a great idea for bringing it back to life: a Mexican layered pie of corn tortillas, shredded turkey (the leg meat is particularly good for this), poblanos fried with onions (called “rajas“), spicy tomato sauce, corn, sour cream and cheese. The whole thing can be assembled ahead of time and ready to go in the oven. Serve with a sharply dressed salad of mixed greens (lettuce, arugula, corn salad, etc.), endive and radicchio.
Serves 6 to 8
15 freshly made corn tortillas, 6 inches (15 centimeters) in diameter
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For the rajas:
6 canned, roasted and peeled chiles poblanos to equal 1-pound drained weight
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 onions, finely sliced
Salt to taste
For the tomato sauce:
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 medium onion, roughly chopped
2 cloves garlic, mashed
2 jalapeños, seeded and finely chopped
1 large can (¾ pound or 800 grams) peeled tomatoes
For the fillings and toppings:
1 pound (about 4 cups) cooked turkey meat, shredded
10 ounces (300 grams) corn kernels, fresh, frozen or canned
2 cups (1 pound or 500 grams) sour cream or fresh curd cheese (fromage blanc)
3 ounces (75 grams) grated Cheddar or Monterey Jack
1. Lay the tortillas out on a working surface for a few hours to get a little stale. If they’re too fresh, they will absorb too much sauce and will disintegrate to a mush when the pie is baked.
2. For the rajas, rinse the poblanos to get rid of any burnt bits. Then remove the stalks and seeds and cut the flesh into thin strips.
3. Heat a tablespoon of oil in a large, heavy skillet and fry the onions fairly briskly for about 10 minutes, stirring, until lightly golden.
4. Reduce the heat, stir in the poblano strips and cook for a few minutes more.
5. Season with salt and set aside.
6. For the sauce, put the onions in a food processor and chop finely. Add tomatoes, crushed garlic, chopped jalapeños and salt to taste and process till smooth.
7. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a large, heavy saucepan — keep a lid handy to prevent the sauce splattering.
8. Pour in the tomato mixture, clamp on the lid, reduce the heat and simmer the sauce for about 15 minutes until well-flavored and somewhat thickened, stirring from time to time.
9. Check the seasoning, adding more salt if needed.
10. Spread a little sauce in the bottom of a large, ovenproof dish about 12 inches in diameter and 2 inches deep (30 by 6 centimeters).
11. Lay 3 tortillas in the bottom like the petals of a flower, overlapping them slightly to cover the bottom.
12. Add one quarter of the rajas, turkey and corn, daub with blobs of sour cream or fresh curd cheese and sprinkle with a little more sauce.
13. Repeat with three more layers of tortillas, sauce and fillings.
14. Top with the last 3 tortillas, a final daub of sauce, blobs of sour cream or curd cheese and the grated cheese.
15. The pie can be prepared ahead up to this point. Cover with cling film (plastic wrap) and refrigerate till ready to go into the oven.
16. Heat the pie in an oven warmed to 350 F (180 C) for 30 to 35 minutes or until thoroughly hot. Stick a skewer in the middle to test the temperature, and if necessary, prolong the cooking time.
Top photo: Aztec Pie ready for the oven. Credit: Sue Style
With such a blizzard of flavors on offer at the Thanksgiving table and so many different tastes to cater to among family and friends, a creative approach to wine selection is required. You need wines that are not too fancy price-wise, nor too hulking taste-wise, with enough interest and originality to make them a bit of a talking point.
Here is a totally Eurocentric selection of wines that I’ve found especially convincing on my travels this year. They’re the kind that will not be too bossy or overpowering with a bland meat like turkey, but with enough character to look all those trimmings squarely in the eye. It’s a good idea to provide both white and red wines, to cover all tastes. Or you could be very brave and go for just one delicious sparkling wine that will take you seamlessly through the meal from appetizer to dessert.
Check Wine Searcher for your nearest stockists.
Riesling Cuvée Frédéric Emile, F. E. Trimbach, Ribeauvillé, Alsace, France
Iconic is an overworked word, but Riesling Frédéric Emile for once merits the moniker. A deep golden wine with fugitive elderflower-linden blossom aromas, always a little lean (true to the house style) but with the suggestion of gorgeous curves to come, it’s a perfect match for white meats, rich sauces and sweet-spicy pumpkin flavors.
Crémant d’Alsace Grand Millésime 2009, René Muré, Rouffach, Alsace, France
Alsace is producing some fine Crémants these days, the best of which are a far better bet than regular, non-vintage Champagne and at a fraction of the price. This vintage Crémant, from a blend of Chardonnay and Riesling, is redolent with orangey-peach aromas and would take you gracefully through the meal from start to finish.
Pouilly Fuissé En Buland, Domaine Barraud, Vergisson, France
The Mâconnais region of southern Burgundy offers some fine drinking at distinctly non-Burgundian prices. This one, from 78-year-old Chardonnay vines growing beneath the landmark Rock of Solutré, is crisp and elegant with just a suspicion of oak so as not to be overpowering.
El Quintà Garnatxa Blanca, Barbara Forés, Terra Alta, Catalonia, Spain
Seventy percent of the total world plantation of white Garnatxa is found in the Terra Alta region of Catalonia, where it performs to perfection. This elegant, lightly oaked one from 50- 60-year-old vines has a fresh, expressive minerality that would work wonders with a parade of rich dishes.
Yvorne Grand Cru, Collection Chandra Kurt, Bolle et Cie, Morges, Switzerland
In Switzerland’s canton Vaud, on the steep, sun-baked terraces that plunge down to Lake Geneva, they do wonders with Chasselas, scorned by most of the world as a rather uninteresting table grape. Zurich-based wine writer and consultant Chandra Kurt has worked with the Bolle winery to make this prize-winning wine with firm structure and citrusy-honeyed tones, fine with this seasonal menu.
Tschuppen Spätburgunder, Hanspeter Ziereisen, Efringen-Kirchen, Baden, Germany
A self-taught winemaker, Hanspeter Ziereisen swept the board at a recent international Pinot Noir taste-off in London, with two of his wines in the top 10. Tschuppen, the lightest of his three Pinots, captures all the magic of the grape and is just the right weight for a Thanksgiving menu.
Gamay de Chamoson, Cave du Vidomne, Saint-Pierre-de-Clages, Valais, Switzerland
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The Swiss are about the only people to do anything interesting with the Gamay grape outside of Beaujolais. This one, which took away first prize in this year’s Grand Prix du Vin Suisse in the Gamay category, is full of raspberry fruit flavors with nicely balanced acidity to cut the richness of the meal.
Beaujolais Villages, Domaine des Terres Dorées, Charnay, Beaujolais, France
Jean-Paul Brun makes highly prized, exciting, long-lived wines down at the southern end of Beaujolais. His Beaujolais Villages is an especial pleasure, bright, lively and keenly priced — serve it slightly chilled to bring out its zesty best.
Barbera d’Alba, Cascina Fontana, Perno, Piedmont, Italy
Barbera ticks all the right boxes for a turkey feast: bright, fresh, not too alcoholic and loaded with red fruit flavors. If you can track down a bottle of Mario Fontana’s (produced in tiny quantities and dismayingly quick to sell out), it may just make your day.
Tocat de l’Ala, Coca i Fitó and Roig Parals, Empordà, Catalonia,Spain
A crunchy, crazy blend (the name means “daft in the head”) of old-vine Garnatxa and Carinyena, made in a joint venture between two Catalan wineries. Big but not over weighty and bursting with cranberry flavors — what could be more appropriate?
Top photo: Barrels of wine at Domaine Barraud, Maconnais, Burgundy, France. Credit: Sue Style
There’s no shortage of wineries in Piedmont, Italy. Some, especially those that make blockbuster Barolos and Barbarescos, are grand and world-famous. Their wines feature on top restaurant wine lists and take pride of place in the cellars of wine collectors the world over. Securing an appointment to visit requires a personal introduction and/or a certain chutzpah, with fluent Italian a distinct advantage.
On the other hand, for every grand and famous estate, there are a half-dozen pocket-sized domaines, known only to a few cognoscenti. They specialize in gem-like wines made in tiny quantities, which they nurse to maturity with tender loving care. Many of these smaller, lesser-known wineries welcome visitors — including English-speaking ones — by appointment, receiving them with simplicity and rare generosity of spirit.
Cascina Fontana in the village of Perno, perched on a ridge in the misty Langhe hills just south of Alba, falls neatly into this gem-like category. It is headed by Mario Fontana, the sixth generation of his family to make wine here, together with his wife, Luisa, with help from mamma Elda and occasional aid from sons Edoardo and Vasco. With just 4 hectares (9.8 acres), Mario makes the four classic red wines of the Langhe region: Barolo and Langhe Nebbiolo, both from the Nebbiolo grape, as well as Barbera d’Alba and Dolcetto d’Alba. He describes his wines as “genuine, natural, true expressions of nostro territorio — our land and our culture.”
Weather makes or breaks Italian winery owner’s spirits
I visited in May this year and found the usually cheerful Mario looking uncharacteristically glum. “It was a long winter, followed by a miserably cold, wet spring,” he admitted.
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They finished harvesting at the end of October and a delighted Mario was able to report by mail that after all those anxious moments earlier in the year, he was overall quite satisfied with the vintage. But it’s early, he admitted. “I always remember what my nonno (grandfather) Saverio, my greatest teacher, used to say to me: ‘The grapes are harvested in fall, but the race is not over till the final lap is completed.’ ”
On that May visit, gathered around the huge oak table in Mario’s newly converted tasting room with a group of wine-loving friends, we tasted the results of earlier vintages that had completed their final lap.
First came Dolcetto, bright, pretty, thirst-quenching and (at 12.5% alcohol by volume) relatively low in alcohol — perfect with a simple salad of vine-ripened tomatoes and local mozzarella with home-made grissini. Next came Barbera d’Alba, a blooming delight, deliciously fruit-driven and just right with slivers of air-dried sausage from the local butcher.
Mario’s Langhe Nebbiolo, which (like his Barbera) spends a year in small oak barrels, some of them new, is a proper wine, not just (as is too often the case) a poor relation of Barolo that didn’t quite make the cut. Finally, with a steaming plate of manzo brasato al Barolo (beef braised in Barolo) made with love by Mario’s mamma, we worked our way around several vintages of the eponymous wine, each one elegantly structured, beautifully balanced, understated and oozing with class.
Cascina Fontana wines are imported into the United Kingdom by Berry Bros. and Rudd, wine merchants by appointment of the Queen and the Prince of Wales. Check Wine Searcher for stockists in the U.S.
Top photo: Grapes growing at Cascina Fontana. Credit: Kim Millon
You’ve heard of Positano, of course; Amalfi and Ravello, too, no doubt. How about Furore? Maybe not. Don’t worry; you’re not alone. Furore, Italy, is a just a little bit of a place, a random collection of houses, vineyards and lemon groves strung out across a series of near-vertical terraced slopes perched precariously above the shimmering Amalfi Coast.
Even residents describe it as “un paese che non c’è” — a village that’s not really a village. So why mention it? Because Furore is home to the Marisa Cuomo boutique winery, which, as Carla Capalbo observes in her vade mecum “Food and Wine Guide to Naples and Campania,” has become “synonymous with the rise in quality of — and interest in — the Costa d’Amalfi DOC wines.”
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Wine has been made for centuries up in this rugged hinterland of the Amalfi Coast, but it was of inferior quality, sold in bulk and never destined to stray far from its homeland. Marisa Cuomo and her husband, Andrea Ferraioli, both from local winegrowing families, recognized the potential of the terroir and also of the indigenous grape varieties planted here, some of them unique to the area. About 20 years ago they resolved to take the village’s winegrowing in a new direction. “They put Furore on the map,” confirms their daughter Dorotea Ferraioli, who is responsible for marketing and also for tours and tastings. “They wanted our little paese to be known worldwide.”
Why it works in Furore
Realizing that the only way to go was up, they decided to focus relentlessly on quality. They improved practices in the vineyard, invested steadily in the winery, carved a breathtaking cellar straight out of the rock face behind the house and hired an enologist to oversee winemaking. They began to bottle all their own wines and to age some of them in small oak barrels and proceeded to market them with flair to an eager public — Italians first, swiftly followed by an international audience thirsty for wines from the much-loved, much-visited Amalfi Coast.
Today the winery works with 20 hectares (50 acres) of vines, planted on vertiginous slopes all the way from Furore round to Vietri. The vineyards in and around Furore are wholly owned; the rest are worked by the winery in a cooperative arrangement.
You need to see the vineyards above Furore to understand the extreme challenges involved in working this terrain. The vines, almost all pre-phylloxera and ungrafted, are planted at the foot of the walls that prop up the steeply stacked terraces, at altitudes ranging from 100 to 750 meters (328 to 2,460 feet) above sea level. Their branches sprawl out horizontally along pergolas made from long, tapering poles, which are cut from the chestnut trees that proliferate high in the Monte Lattari way above the village.
Training the vines along pergolas in this way, explains Dorotea, is not just a picturesque regional tradition; it’s also the most convenient solution, perfectly suited to the rigors of the terrain while making the most of the limited space available. The branches provide a dense canopy of leaves beneath which the grapes dangle, protected from the relentless sun. On the ground below, zucchini, pumpkins and other vegetables flourish gratefully in the shade. Two crops are thus grown in one tiny, precious, precarious space.
The winery makes white, rosé and red wine from a whole bunch of little-known, indigenous vine varieties that are still part of Italy’s precious heritage. Top of the white range is the barrel-fermented Fiorduva (“flower of the grape”), a fragrant blend of Fenile, Ginestra and Ripoli, three varieties unique to the Amalfi Coast. Furore Bianco, described by the sommelier at the Casa Angelina restaurant in nearby Praiano as “semplice ma non banale” (“simple but by no means ordinary”), comes from Falanghina and Biancolella grapes, both typical of Campania. Rosé and reds are made from Piedirosso (“red-foot”) and Aglianico in varying proportions.
Next time you’re on vacation in Positano or Amalfi, look out for Marisa Cuomo wines. They’re are widely available in restaurants, bars and shops along the coast. Best of all, find your way up the winding road to Furore and pay the winery a visit (from January to August only). Then look out for the wines when you get back home. (Wines are exported to the U.S., Canada, Japan and Switzerland). When you’ve tracked down a bottle of Fiorduva or Furore Rosso Riserva, uncork it, close your eyes, picture those dizzying slopes and sun-baked terraces, take a gentle sniff, breathe in the scents of the Amalfi Coast and remember the sheer back-breaking labor of love that has gone into the bottle.
Top photo: Grapes growing at the Marisa Cuomo winery in Furore, Italy. Credit: Cantine Marisa Cuomo
On the main street of the modest, self-effacing town of Beaujeu in the heart of France’s Beaujolais region, there’s a small stone-clad house, its windows flanked by olive-green shutters. It doesn’t look like much, and you’d probably walk straight past it if it weren’t for the irresistible aromas that come sneaking out from beneath the front door. It’s here that oil meister Jean-Marc Montegottero conjures up a range of wonderful edible oils, using all kinds of nuts and seeds.
29 rue des Echarmeaux,
69430 Beaujeu, France
(Tel. +33 474 69 28 06)
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He started pressing his own oils in 1982 in a dilapidated mill that belonged to his parents. Initially it was just a sideline of work; Montegottero’s day job was in the insurance industry. At first, he confined himself to grinding locally grown walnuts, produce that would otherwise have gone to waste because the Beaujolais farmers couldn’t be bothered to harvest the nuts anymore. Gradually, tentatively, he began to experiment with other nuts and seeds, adding hazelnut, almond, rapeseed, pistachio, sesame, peanut, pine nut, pecan and poppy seed oils to the repertoire.
Then came his big breakthrough. Montegottero’s products were discovered by delighted top chefs in France (Regis Marcon, Antoine Westermann, Michel Troisgros), Switzerland (Philippe Rochat) and the U.S. (Daniel Boulud). Finally, he was able to buy the mill from his parents. Since then he has gone from strength to strength.
“Faire de l’huile, c’est facile” (“Making oil is easy”), he comments. It’s much harder when you focus only on extra virgin oils made from top-quality raw materials. Montegottero selects his materials with infinite care and presses them using a hydraulic press, which avoids heating the nuts or seeds. Other presses, he explains, heat the nuts during the pressing process, which damages their delicate aromas and compromises the quality of the oil.
In addition, Montegottero turns over his stock every three months so his oils are guaranteed fresh — important for such delicate products. They spoil easily — once opened, they should be stored in the fridge and used within six months. “And — please — don’t use them to cook with,” stipulates Montegottero. (The label states that the product is huile végétale pour assaisonnement, vegetable oil for seasoning). Their fugitive flavors are best appreciated when poured — cool — over warm, freshly cooked vegetables, meat or fish or added to a salad. His hazelnut oil makes a mean match with beans (see recipe), while the toasted sesame oil is brilliant with fish such as tuna, especially if assertively seasoned with Asian spices. (The only one I don’t care for is the toasted colza (rapeseed or canola) oil, which I find altogether too cabbagey.)
A visit to Montegottero’s Huilerie Beaujolaise is a delight. But if you can’t make a stop there any time soon, you can find his oils in specialist shops in Europe, Japan and Israel. In the U.S. they are stocked by Cooking District.
Salad Of Green Beans And Apples With Toasted Hazelnuts and Extra Virgin Hazelnut Oil
Serves 4 as a starter or side salad
1 ounce (25 grams) hazelnuts
10 ounces (300 grams) green beans, trimmed
1 well-flavored dessert apple (Cox’s or Rubinette)
A pinch of sugar
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 tablespoon cider or white wine vinegar
3 tablespoons extra virgin hazelnut oil
4 to 5 lettuce or radicchio leaves
Garnish: edible flowers (e.g. borage, marigold, nasturtium) and chervil sprigs
1. Heat the oven to 400 F (200 C).
2. Put the hazelnuts in a small pan and toast in the oven until the kitchen is perfumed with their toasty smell and the nuts begin to turn golden beneath the brown husks. (About 10 minutes.)
3. Remove from the oven and let cool a little. Rub the husks off as best you can with your fingers or with a tea towel and chop the nuts coarsely with a large knife. You can chop them in the food processor, but keep it brief and use the pulse button. Set aside the nuts.
4. Bring a pan of salted water to a boil and boil the beans for 6 to 8 minutes or until just tender — fish one out to taste after 6 minutes and cook a little more if needed.
5. Drain the beans, refresh under cold running water and shake dry. Put them in a bowl.
6. Cut the apple in quarters but do not peel. Remove cores, dice fairly small — about the size of your little fingernail — and add to the beans in the bowl.
7. In a small bowl or cup, mix together the sugar, salt, pepper and vinegar, whisking until the sugar and salt dissolve.
8. Whisk in the oil until the dressing is emulsified, then pour it over the beans and apples, turning to mix well.
9. Arrange the lettuce or radicchio leaves on a plate and top with the beans and apples.
10. Scatter the chopped toasted hazelnuts over the salad and garnish with edible flowers and chervil sprigs.
Top photo: Salad of Green Beans and Apples With Toasted Hazelnuts and Extra Virgin Hazelnut Oil. Credit: Sue Style
At this time of year, when the corn stands high, I start to develop an almost uncontrollable urge for a bit of smut. We’re talking corn smut, of course, the unique edible fungus that colonizes corncobs and bursts into a mass of silvery-gray lobes.
Smut is to be found all over the world wherever corn (maize) is grown. For most farmers in Europe or in the U.S., it has always been regarded as a weird, undesirable parasite, to be eliminated at the earliest opportunity.
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Mexicans, who call it huitlacoche (or cuitlacoche), know better. They treasure it as a delicacy, a taste cultivated by their ancient Mesoamerican peoples. Occasionally you’ll see it referred to as the Mexican truffle, even — improbably — as Aztec caviar. Not only is it delicious, it is a crop with added value — the fungus-infested cobs fetch a far better price than regular corn in Mexico’s markets.
Huitlacoche can be found in central Mexico throughout the country’s rainy season (summer and early autumn in the northern hemisphere). It is sold still attached to the cobs that play host to it, alongside piles of corn and sprays of gaudy yellow zucchini blossoms. Back in the kitchen, the fungus is shaved off the cobs, chopped up, briskly fried with onion, garlic and green chiles, and seasoned with Mexican wormseed (epazote), the indispensable bitter herb that perfectly complements its curious, inky-earthy flavor.
The fungus is reduced by cooking to a rich, black, jammy consistency and used to fill tortillas, crêpes or tamales or packed inside roasted and peeled chiles poblanos. Sometimes it’s served as a dramatic counterpoint to fish or chicken. Margarita, a celebrated cook working in Cuernavaca, reminded me recently via Skype of one of her original creations in which she spikes the black fungus with strips of dark green chile poblano and layers it with fettucine and cream.
Huitlacoche in Switzerland? A dream come true
When I moved to Switzerland after seven years of living (and cooking) in Mexico, I resigned myself to the fact that certain familiar treats would no longer feature in our lives, like piñatas at birthday parties, mariachis at dawn — and huitlacoche in the rainy season. When I spotted some growing on the corn at our local pick-your-own farm, I could scarcely believe my eyes.
I plucked some off the plants and bore them triumphantly back to the farm shop. This, I explained in my patchy and somewhat over-excited Swiss-German, is a highly prized Mexican delicacy: You cook it and eat it and it tastes wunderbar! The farmer cast a wary eye over the sinister-looking excrescences attached to his precious corn, then studied me with deep suspicion. Finally he shrugged his shoulders as if to abdicate all responsibility, refused to take any payment and sent me off with my basket.
Back home, I carefully trimmed my prized crop, removed any stray silk threads and chopped up the fungus with a few of its corn kernels. Next I tossed some chopped onion and garlic into hot oil, added the chopped huitlacoche and stewed it till the black juices seethed. A splash of crème fraîche came next, to smooth and enrich the filling. Separately, I warmed up a few tortillas, then spooned in the huitlacoche. I sat back, took a bite and closed my eyes. Bliss. One taste of that elusive, inky, earthy flavor and slightly crunchy, slippery texture and I was transported right back to Mexico.
Finding huitlacoche on restaurant menus in Mexico has never been a problem. I can still taste the tamales served at Izote, Patricia Quintana’s Polanco eatery in Mexico City. They came, four of them lined up like sentries on a rectangular white plate. One was filled with inky-black huitlacoche, the second with a compote of sunset-colored zucchini blossoms. Another bulged with gently melting Oaxaca stretched-curd cheese and epazote leaves, and the fourth with shredded chicken and fresh tomatoes.
What’s new is that corn smut is now gaining acceptance beyond Mexico’s borders. Toloache, the Mexican bistro in New York’s theater district, gilds the lily in spectacular fashion, combining the famous fungus with black truffles and Manchego cheese. One of the most celebrated dishes at Zarela, now, sadly, closed, was crepas de huitlacoche, corn fungus crêpes, while La Casita Mexicana in Los Angeles does fish bathed in a sauce of the black fungus. In London’s Covent Garden, Thomasina Miers’ Wahaca occasionally offers quesadillas de huitlacoche. Chicago chef Rick Bayless makes fried eggplant with huitlacoche, black bean sauce salsa negra, oyster mushrooms, and queso añejo.
Meanwhile, the U.S. Department of Agriculture, presumably alerted to the commercial potential of this delicacy, has introduced a pilot program to allow farmers in selected states to inoculate corn with huitlacoche spores and cultivate the fungus, rather than spraying it out of existence.
If your taste buds have not yet met huitlacoche, it’s time to give them a treat. You can buy it in cans at Mexican specialty shops or search for it online, but fresh is undoubtedly best. Stage a raid on your nearest corn field and cook up your own. You’ll get some old-fashioned looks (or maybe worse) from the farmer. But you’ll have a feast to remember.
Quesadillas de Huitlacoche
5 to 6 huitlacoches (about 2 pounds, or 1 kilo)
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, mashed
2 fresh green chiles (jalapeños or similar), stalks and seeds removed, finely chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
4 tablespoons crème fraîche
Optional: several sprigs of epazote (Mexican wormseed), chopped
12 corn tortillas
1. Using a sharp knife, slice the huitlacoche lobes off the corncobs, discarding any parts that are no longer firm or which look a bit black and sooty. Include any stray corn kernels, which will add texture.
2. Chop the huitlacoche roughly.
3. Heat the oil in a large frying pan.
4. Add the onion, garlic and chiles to the frying pan and soften without allowing them to brown.
5. Add the huitlacoche, season to taste with salt and pepper and fry for 5 to 6 minutes or until the juices run.
6. Raise the heat and cook hard to drive off excess moisture and concentrate the juices.
7. Stir in the crème fraîche and chopped epazote and check the seasoning.
8. Warm the tortillas on a griddle or in the microwave, fill with the huitlacoche mixture, fold over or roll up and serve.
Top photo: The raw materials for quesadillas de huitlacoche. Credit: Sue Style