Did you know that chipotles are jalapeños? I… did not. Maybe you did? This knowledge sort of broke my brain when I learned it. I checked out Nopalito by Gonzalo Guzmán and Stacy Adimando from Brooklyn Public Library and Noah was reading to me from their long section about chilies, and learned this.
A chipotle is a jalapeño that is ripe (the green ones are unripe) and then dried, just in case you, like me, were ignorant of this. Maybe this is something everybody knows? I have no idea.

(This is just a picture I saw of…. a full tray of coleslaw sitting in the road.)
Anyway, because I destroyed my budget with Passover over the last few weeks, I am leaning into bean consumption at the moment. I got some more-expensive-than-average beans, from Rancho Gordo, at the suggestion of the Noaplito cookbook. I was surprised, however, that fancy heirloom beans were still only in the 6-9$ range for a package, which, while more than Goya, is not that much more than Goya.
Many more knowledgeable people than me have recommended this cookbook (it won a James Beard Award, etc.), and while it is a good book, it does fall into the trap that a lot of chefs who write cookbooks run into: it’s too goddamn difficult. This cookbook has a salad that calls for: smoking a single jalapeño on the stove, as well as frying your own tortilla strips. For a regular green salad! It has an incredible looking choritzo recipe, that calls for grinding your own meat, and a carnitas recipe that calls for first frying in 4 pounds of lard and then braising in milk and beer. Also there’s the whole thing about grinding your own masa. It’s a great cookbook, full of recipes that I will never make, because, uh, it’s very complicated.
I feel like this is something that cookbooks by chefs often run into. One of my favorite dessert cookbooks, Chez Panisse Desserts has a recipe for caramel dipped tangerines that need like, a fig leaf accent, and also have to be eaten instantly. In what possible world does anyone make this? The green salad from Nopalito is just a green salad, probably, if I don’t smoke my own jalapeño and fry my own tortilla strips, but you know, whatever. Lots of home cooks want the ability, in theory, to have something just like they had at a restaurant, or just like something their grandmother made for them, forgetting that the chef isn’t eating, and that perhaps what allowed grandma to cook so much was that she was doing labor in the home, which meant a lot of time spent cooking for others, and not eating things when they were their absolute freshest and best.
This reminds me of the seder that Noah and I went to at Chabad house when we were in college, where all of the women associated with Chabad house were in the kitchen the entire time, cooking and cleaning, while Dov lead the seder and drank a bottle of wine. Perhaps someday their children will want to have a dinner like their mom made (although doubtful, because we did eat chicken with pineapple and red bell peppers) not realizing that key to eating like that is having someone else do the work, so that you are not so tired when you’re done cooking that food is no longer joyous, only necessary.
Anyway, all this is to say, I’m including a few recipes from Nopalito this week, one for braised black beans, and one for a cilantro salsa, because I fuckin love cilantro.
What I’m reading
A few people have been writing about the obnoxiousness and offensiveness of Christina Tosci’s “crack pie” which has had me thinking about the many bad cliches that are used in food writing, here are two articles I read about this.
Also, a story about the raisin mafia
Recipes

Frijoles negros de la olla
Braised black beans
Makes 6 cups
Ingredients:
2 tablespooons rice bran oil or canola oil
1/2 white onion, chopped
1 small jalapeño, choppe
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
scant 3 cups (16 oz) black beans, preferably a fresher, better bean
8 cups water
1 tablespoon diamond crystal salt (less if you’re using Morton’s kosher)
In a large pot, heat the oil over medium-high head. Add the onion and jalapeño, lower the heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is translucesnt, about 5 minutes. Pour in the vinegar and let cook until half of it is evaporated, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the beans, water, and salt; bring to boil over high head, then reduce the heat to a low simmer. Let cook until the beans are tender and creamy but not falling apart, about 1 1/2 hours. (Alternatively, you can simmer the beans covered in a 350 F oven for 2 1/2 hours). Taste and adjust the seasoning as needed.
To freeze beans (because this makes a lot!) drain the cooking liquid, then measure out scant two cups into individual bags, press the air out, label, and freeze.
We served this with: roasted sweet potatoes, some avocado, cheese and salsa. It was great. Highly vegetarian.

To make the salsa:
This salsa is also from the book, but I don’t have the recipe in front of me at the moment, so this is how I remember it. Take 8 large tomatillos (about a pound, he says, we had 3/4 of a pound) husk and rinse them. Put them in a pot with one or two jalapeños (I did one, because I am a weak baby) and two cloves of garlic, (skin off). Cover with water, (not too much water) salt sufficiently, and bring to a boil. Lower heat, simmer for 15 minutes, or until everything is a dull color. While this is happening, mince two tablespoons of white onion (leftovers from your beans!) and mascerate in the juice from half a lime (this part is my addition, I do not like raw onion, if you do, don’t do this). Drain the tomatillos, cut the tops of the peppers, put into a blender, blend until smooth, but the seeds are still distinct. Chill. The flavor is much better cold than it is hot. When you are ready to serve add the onions as well as two tablespoons (or more, I like more) of chopped cilantro, salt to taste.

To make the sweet potatoes:
Preheat oven to 400. Slice sweet potatoes in half (lengthwise, what are you, a pervert???) rub with olive oil and then coat liberally with salt (I put on so much salt I thought it would be too salty, it was not). Roast, flesh side down, for 25-30 minutes, until very tender.