POSOLE

Posole (often spelled pozole, especially in Mexico and by Mexican-Americans) is both the name of the large kernel white hominy corn and the famed Mexican stew to which it gives its name. Read the story below, after the recipe.

RECIPE: Posole
Serves 8-10

Ingredients
5 cups canned posole (white hominy), rinsed and drained
6 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed, separated into sets of 3 cloves each
3 tablespoons neutral olive oil
3 pounds pork shoulder, bone-in if available, trimmed of excess fat and cut into large chunks
1 pound bone-in country-style pork ribs
2 medium or 1 large white onion, peeled and sliced
4 quarts light meat broth, preferably homemade (pork, chicken, or combination), or plain water, or combination broth and water
2 tablespoons Mexican oregano, crushed
1 large bay leaf
1/2 pound fresh poblano chiles, toasted, peeled, seeded, chopped
1 pound roasted chiles, peeled, seeded, chopped (hot or mild or combination)
Kosher salt, to taste
Flour tortillas, heated
Garnishes of grated semi-firm or cotija cheese; finely minced serrano chiles; chopped cilantro; avocado chunks or slices; shredded or sliced green cabbage; more oregano; and wedges of lime.


Directions

Add the hominy and 3 garlic cloves to a large pot and cover with water by 2 inches; bring to a boil, lower to a simmer, and cook gently for at least 2 hours, adding more water if necessary to keep the hominy submerged. Drain and set aside, keeping any garlic pieces if desired.

In a large pot, over medium-high heat, brown well the pork pieces on all sides in the oil; remove, then add the onion, scraping up any brown bits while the onion sweats 4-5 minutes, then add 3 cloves garlic and heat it through 1-2 minutes, being sure not to burn the garlic. Add back the pork pieces and the broth or water and cook the pork at a simmer for at least 2 hours, skimming off any grey foam or fat. Remove the meat from the broth; skim the broth, reserving it; shred the meat off any bones, reserving it. (Doing all of this a day or two ahead makes removing the fat easier and develops even more flavor.)

To a large pot, add the cooked hominy, the shredded meat, and the broth; add the seasonings and the prepared chiles. The liquid should be more stew-like than soup-like; adjust the liquid just so. Bring to a boil and cook, stirring, for 30-40 minutes at a gentle simmer. Taste for salt (posole soaks up salt; you may need significantly more). Serve with the tortillas and the garnishes.

A bowl of “green” posole.

MORE ON POSOLE:
The word “posole” is of the Nahuatl language, “tlapozonalli,” which I have read means “frothy,” from the foam rising to the surface of its boiling water-lye preparation, to “countable and uncountable,” a likable definition given its plenty from the plant to the pantry.

You’ll find three main sorts of posole in large pots atop Mexican stoves come any feast, Sunday afternoon, or large family gathering: red posole darkened crimson by dried red chiles; green posole verdant by fresh or roasted green chiles (and often tomatillos); and white posole, of a clear base broth and only flecked, if at all, with some chile color.

All contain meat of some sort, commonly pork but sometimes chicken, although vegetarian versions of all three exist. But every posole contains the corn, else it has no rights to the name.

Many roads diverge from that shared requisite, however, and my kitchen has trod several of them and wishes to report its findings.

In some recipes, the crucial broth is constructed ahead of the main assembly of the posole; in other recipes, it merely equals the assembly itself. I prefer making a very rich, many-layered broth ahead of time. Other cuisines with which I am more familiar, notably European (indeed, including Spanish) build stews this way and I find the result deeper in flavor.

Some, although few, recipes brown the meat before broth making. I do that as well; again, it is a European thing. I try never to skimp on whatever might add another note of flavor or aroma.

As for pork cuts, variations abound, including utilizing pig’s head or feet (or both), ribs (bone-in or “country”), and shoulder or ribbed sirloin roasts. I’ve never looked a pig’s head in the eye for posole but am game; feet have found their way into my broths; but by and large, I lean on meaty shoulder.

Even more varied are uses of chiles, whether fresh or dried (of course reconstituted in boiling liquid), whether green or red, whether hot, medium, or mild, and, crucially, whether added chopped up into the posole as you go along, or whipped in a blender into a sauce, then added.

I suppose all choices are very much just that, choices or preferences, but two rules rule my posole: all fresh chiles of whatever heat level or color are charred in a cast-iron skillet before being sweated, skinned, seeded, then chopped. And I would never use any powdered chile, not even as an additional layer of flavor.

Now to the maize: commonly available is canned hominy. Its ubiquity turns out to be the rule. That’s too bad, because beginning with dried “white corn posole” (nixtamalized large kernel corn) makes the best posole. Frozen also exists. Both the latter I find are impossible to find locally. If you have the time, buy dried from growers such as California’s Rancho Gordo (ranchogordo.com).

Some recipes say “rinse and drain” the canned variety; others include the canning liquid. I rinse any tinny flavor away, even while dreading the loss of other flavors and viscosity.

Your decision about when to cook the meat(s) may determine when to add the hominy. Some cooks assemble most everything in the posole at the same time; others add the maize toward the end, some at the very end, to the empty bowl. You can guess that I add the hominy at what to my mind is its proper stage or place along the path.

Most, if not all, posole recipes stipulate the use of Mexican oregano (Lippia graveolens), a member of the verbena family. Indeed, some feel that its earthy, citrusy notes are suited best to Mexican cuisine.

Mediterranean oregano, sometimes called wild marjoram, is a member of the mint family and a different beast, but not altogether. I once used the gift of some Greek oregano, considered the most savory, floral, and earthy of the Mediterranean oreganos (others are Italian, Moroccan, Turkish, even Egyptian) and that was a delicious posole.

Finally, the garnishes for posole, of whatever color or construction, are legion, and certainly a matter of convenience, availability, or taste. I enjoy thin slices of cabbage over lettuce; semi-firm Colorado goat cheese such as Haystack Mountain’s “Buttercup” over cotija; and flour over corn tortillas. But that’s just me.