by Elisa Martínez
EL PASO, Texas — There’s always a good reason to cross the border into Ciudad Juárez, Mexico. This time I needed to go to the tortillería to get some dried corn. Just a handful, I said to the lady that makes the tortillas. I bought ten kilos of hot steaming tortillas and she filled a plastic bag with the corn. “A gift,” she said and handed it to me.
I needed the corn to “cure” a molcajete (moul-kah-hete). You grind the corn in the molcajete with the pestle to dislodge any debris that might be stuck to the stone. It’s not easy work. It’s long and laborious. After the molcajete is rinsed, diced garlic and onion are ground in it and scrubbed away. Now it’s ready to use. It’s cured and we needn’t worry about any unwanted visitors in the food.
It’s a gift and it needs to be cured for the new owner.
The one I use was my grandmother’s. I learned how to use it by watching.
“Tenga,” she would say and hand me the pestle. Here, take this.
I remember the sound of rock against rock. I would say it’s as old as a molcajete can get. It’s a museum piece.
Molcajetes are wonderful things. Tejolotehey have existed forever in the Mexican kitchen. Over 1000 years I read somewhere. La licuadora Azteca My daughter Analissa calls it: the Aztec blender.
A molcajete is a heavy mortar and pestle made out of basalt, with three stumpy feet to hold it steady. The pear-shaped pestle used to grind the food is called a mano and is made of the same material. It fits in your hand and it’s a perfect instrument to release the oils and the flavors of the food. When this is done carefully it produces a tastier product. Molcajete is a name derived from Náhuatl, the language of the Aztecs. Molli meaning sauce and coxtl meaning bowl.
I use my molcajete often to make salsa. It’s one of the joys of being a retiree. I have time to cook “como Dios manda,” the way God meant one should cook.
Tomato, and tomatillos and jalapeños are roasted on a comal on the stove. The aroma is mouthwatering. I rotate the tomatoes on the griddle so that they roast evenly. They get very hot and squishy. They’re skinned and set them aside to cool off a bit. Garlic and diced onion are ground first. The tomatoes are gently pounded and mixed with a twist of the wrist.
The roasted jalapeño is next. Again the ingredients are ground and mixed with care. I remember the good sound. Rock against rock. Not pureed, not in tiny pieces, but a perfect blend of ingredients where the juices and the flavors have been released and combined to a perfect consistency.
Next, if you like some cilantro. Salsa is not salsa without cilantro. Watching me quietly on my counter are my Vita-Mix and Kitchen Aid blenders. They can’t do what I do with my Aztec blender. The salsa is set on the table in the same vessel it was made in and disappears in no time.
I wash it by scrubbing it with a small escobeta (natural bristle brush). The Aztec blender usually sits on the counter next to the other powerful blenders. “Dos culturas,” two cultures side by side.
Molcajetes are not relegated to quaint mercados in Mexico. In Juárez they can be bought at Williams Sonoma and Sur la Table and other places. They’re used by many of the famous chefs on TV. You can see a video on the Williams Sonoma web site showing you how to make guacamole.
Fancy restaurants in Santa Fe, New Mexico, make your guacamole in a molcajete at your table to suit your taste and in Ciudad Juárez, they make your salsa in the same manner.
Maybe you’ll decide to buy one and make it a part of your global kitchen.
Good eating. ¡Buen Provecho!
(Elisa Martínez, of El Paso, Texas, is s retired speech therapist. Her e-mail: emar37@flash.net). ©2008
