Featured Article - May 2010

Slide Show: Your no-fuss tips for a Cinco de Mayo Fiesta

SOUTHWEST FLAVOR
Hit Me with Your Best Shot

Your Cinco de Mayo fiesta will be a success with these tequila recipes

Story by Rocky Durham, photography by Douglas Merriam

I well remember my first experience with tequila. Actually, I don’t remember my first experience with tequila. Like many who have mistreated and disrespected that noble spirit, I was punished for my insolence, and promised myself I would never drink again. For years, I kept my promise—at least as far as tequila was concerned. Even the thought of getting back on that proverbial horse made me feel rather uncomfortable.

A few years later, while I was working at a Santa Fe restaurant, an expert invited me to a tequila tasting. It wasn’t the time to decline such a kind offer—besides, as one of my chef friends pointed out, “It’s part of the job!”

On the day of the tasting, I prepared myself by eating a hearty breakfast, drinking plenty of water, and eating a modest handful of aspirin. My colleagues and I gathered at a long table appointed with place settings of five different glasses representing several tequila varieties, and, much to my surprise, no salt shakers or lime wedges. I noticed the absence from this flight of tequilas of a certain bottle emblazoned with a cartoon of a mustachioed gentleman in a huge sombrero.

Our tasting guide shared the history of tequila, which, I learned, was North America’s first indigenous distilled beverage. Tequila has roots that predate the Spanish arrival in the New World. Pre-Columbians fermented the sap of the maguey, or agave, cactus (Agave tequilana) to make pulque—an ancestor of tequila. Tequila is named for the village in the state of Jalisco, Mexico, where the spirit is produced. No one is quite sure of the meaning of tequila, originally from Nahuatl. Some say it means “the place of harvesting plants,” while others say it means “place of tribute.”

Tequila is made from the piña (pineapple-looking heart) of the blue agave. These hearts are cooked to convert the starches into sugars, which are then fermented and distilled, often more than once. If the brew is made with less than 51 percent blue agave or comes from a region other than Jalisco, it cannot technically be called tequila—just as a sparkling wine produced outside of France’s Champagne region can’t be labeled or sold as champagne. As our instructor regaled us with the fascinating history and lore surrounding this magnificent spirit, I found myself experiencing a shift in perception. Perhaps this ancient distillation deserved another taste.

As it turns out, tequila is a particularly patriotic spirit for the Mexican people. In 1821, when Mexico won its independence from Spain, Spanish goods became difficult to procure. With Spanish brandies absent, a love for tequila worked its way across the fledgling nation, from Chiapas to Chihuahua. And, of course, New Mexico was part of Mexico until 1848. So in toasting Mexico’s proud history with tequila, we also celebrate New Mexico’s!

First, we sipped from a tall, thin shot glass containing blanco (white or clear)—a young, fiery concoction full of vim and vigor. The first sip left a hot sensation in my throat that cooled pleasantly before I had a chance to even think I’ll never drink again.

The next tasting was of a silver tequila. One word: clean. This no-nonsense tequila was complex without demanding to be the center of attention. It had a distinct flavor, and left me with a warm glow that made me want to sample it again.

A chic, cool reposado came next. As its name implies, reposado spends time reposing, or resting—being aged—in oaken tubs. When this cheeky little number enters the room, every head turns. It was more complex, and golden. We became instant friends.

The next glass was filled with gold tequila. Oh, gold, you wizened old soldier! Come sit by the fire and tell us your fascinating war stories. Gold was relaxed, its color the result of its having been caramelized by prolonged exposure to charred French oak.

The fifth and final glass—more of a snifter—was from my new friend’s private stash. Made by a small distiller in Jalisco, it is produced to exacting standards, triple-distilled, and aged for decades. Had I been handed this glass in a blind tasting, I would have thought it an Armagnac. I swirled it in the glass, which I warmed with my palm. I inhaled slowly. Caramel. A hint of smokiness. And was that vanilla? I was honored to be in the presence of such a noble drink.

Walking home, I reflected on the tasting. As a chef, I felt a whole new world of flavors had been opened to me; I began to imagine how I could use these flavors in my menus. Like a wine used in sauce-making, the tequila you cook with should not be swill. The quality of the ingredients you put in a meal will influence what you can achieve with the flavors.

So this month, in honor of the residents of Puebla, Mexico, who won victory over the French in 1862 and gave us all a good excuse to toast their fighting spirit, let’s raise a glass of the New World’s first distilled beverage and exclaim, ¡Viva el Cinco de Mayo!

Native Santa Fean Rocky Durham is culinary director of the Santa Fe School of Cooking.

Tequila Cured Salmon
Tequila isn’t just for cocktails anymore. Here, it marinates and brines your salmon for a simple, tasty party appetizer.

4 cups coarse kosher salt
4 cups granulated sugar
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1 tablespoon New Mexico red-chile powder
1 bunch cilantro, chopped
1 side fresh salmon, skinned, pin-boned (about 2½ lbs.)
¾ cup high-quality silver tequila
chives to taste

In large bowl, combine salt, sugar, cumin, coriander, chile powder, and cilantro. Mix thoroughly. Place ¹/³ of salt mixture in nonreactive dish (such as Pyrex) and arrange salmon on top. Cover salmon evenly with remaining salt mixture and press down to form crust.

Drizzle tequila over salmon and cover with plastic wrap. Store in refrigerator 36 hours.

Remove salmon from fridge and rinse under cold running water to remove brine. Slice fish as thinly as possible and serve on unsalted tortilla chips, toast points, or fried won-tons with Chile Lime Crema (see recipe). Garnish with snipped chives.

Serves 20 party guests, with other offerings.

Chile Lime Crema

1 cup sour cream
1 lime, zested with microplane,  juiced
New Mexico red-chile powder to taste
salt to taste

Combine all ingredients in a small bowl and whisk thoroughly. Store in plastic squeeze bottle.

Grand Gold Cupcakes
These sweet treats will make you feel as if you’re celebrating south of the border, but not to worry: Because the alcohol in the tequila evaporates during baking, these delights are fine for partygoers of all ages.

¾ cup (12 tablespoons) unsalted butter,
room temperature
1½ cups powdered sugar
3 teaspoons finely grated orange peel
2 large eggs
1¼ cups self-rising flour, divided
¼ cup buttermilk
3 tablespoons gold tequila
2 tablespoons Grand Marnier

Preheat oven to 350° F.

Insert paper liners in 12 muffin cups. In large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat butter, 1½ cups sugar, and 3 teaspoons orange peel until blended, then beat until fluffy and pale yellow. Add eggs singly, beating to blend after each egg. Beat in half of flour. Add buttermilk, tequila, and Grand Marnier. Beat to blend. Beat in remaining flour. Divide batter equally among the 12 cups and bake for about 20 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted comes out clean. Let cupcakes cool while preparing the Lime Zest Icing (see recipe).

Makes 12.

Lime Zest Icing

¾ cup powdered sugar
1 package cream cheese (3 oz.)
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1 teaspoon finely grated lime peel
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ cup (or more) whipping cream

In food processor, blend sugar, cream cheese, lime juice, lime peel, and vanilla; then pulse. Blend in enough whipping cream to form thick but spreadable icing. Ice cupcakes. Garnish cupcakes with orange zest, lime zest, and/or crystallized sugar.