 It’s almost Christmas and, when it’s almost Christmas, my mind turns to pomegranates. Why? Because I’m old enough to remember the days when fruit was only consumed seasonally. I remember the days when we would, with most fruit, do without for ten or eleven months a year. And then absolutely gorge if budget allowed.When I was a kid, growing up in Canada, the only time I ever saw a pomegranate was in December. They were the very last fruit of the year and that made them extra special. Special enough to be placed under the Christmas tree. My father would dig up the same blue spruce from the back yard and every year, when he brought it into the living room it would be another foot closer to the ceiling. I remember the year my mother officially designated it as too large and banned it from the house (“If it comes in, I go out.”) and it was replaced by a sparkly platinum blond creation that was puny enough to sit on a table. There was still room for a pomegranate under it and, even though there was never a name tag, I knew it was mine. On Christmas morning, my father would break it in half with a quick twist of his Popeye forearms and my mother would reach into her sewing basket and give me a needle to pick out the seeds along with, of course, the compulsory lecture about the danger of sharp objects.
At Christmas, my mind not only turns to pomegranates but to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. In a few more days I will be boarding a plane to my place in the sun and this year, there’s a different home and there in the yard stands one of the biggest pomegranate trees I’ve ever seen. Will it be too late or will there still be one last granada (in case you don’t know, the Spanish word for pomegranate) that hasn’t shriveled on the tree or has already fallen to the ground? I’m considering frightening the hell out of the new neighbors with my Mario Lanza impression of the operatic version of Granada (which not many people know is a Mexican song) if I find one single fruit.
 Pomegranates take their name from pomum meaning apple and granatus meaning seeded and were brought from southern Spain (yes, that’s how the city of Granada got its name) to the colonies during the latter part of the 18th Century. Pomegranates are an essential ingredient in one of the great, perhaps the greatest of all Mexican dishes, chiles (or sometimes the singular chile) en nogada.  First, just in case you’re not familiar with the dish (then oh what you’ve missed!), chiles en nogada consists of poblano peppers that are stuffed with a mixture of meat, fruit and spices and then topped with a walnut cream sauce and, finally, pomegranate seeds. Together, the green pepper, the white sauce and the red seeds make up the colors of the Mexican flag. When prepared correctly, chiles en nogada is one of the very, very few dishes that can tingle four of the five known taste sensations…salty, sour, sweet and savory.
The story behind the creation of the dish is fascinating. Not being the best at getting all the history facts straight, I went to About.com for the story: “Agustin de Iturbide was a military commander who fought in Mexico’s War of Independence, and later went on to become Emperor of Mexico from 1822 to 1823. In August of 1821, he signed the Treaty of Cordoba, which granted Mexico its independence. The treaty was signed in Veracruz and afterward he traveled to Mexico City. Stopping on the way in the town of Puebla, the townspeople decided to hold a feast to celebrate the country’s independence from Spain, and to honor Agustin de Iturbide on his saint’s day (Feast of Saint Augustine of Hippo, August 28). The Augustinian nuns of Santa Monica convent decided to prepare a special dish using local ingredients that were in season. They came up with the chile en nogada which means chile in walnut sauce.” Pomegranates are most abundant in Mexico not in December but in September and chiles en nogada are the dish that is traditionally served on historic holidays during that month. When I’m in San Miguel de Allende, in January, February and March, pomegranates are almost impossible to find. Only once when I’ve been in San Miguel has chiles en nogada actually been served to me with pomegranate seeds. It was many years ago at the restaurant Bugambilia when it was still on Hidalgo. We were outnumbered by the staff and the musicians (yes, my wife and I were the only two customers) and, despite the fact that it was the best chiles en nogada I’d ever had, the lack of company, aka atmosphere, meant that we never returned. All of my chiles en nogada in SMA since have been decorated with diced maraschino cherries. I know, maraschinos might bring back bad memories of the night you had two too many Manhattans but, trust me, they make a fine alternative if you can’t find those precious pomegranates. And how else are you going to empty that sticky jar that’s been in the fridge for years?
Maraschinos are what you get on the chiles en nogada at one of my favorite places to eat them, Villa Antigua Santa Monica at the southeast corner of Parque Juarez. I’ve had better chiles en nogada and I’ve definitely had better service than what you usually get at the restaurant but the charming courtyard with the tinkling fountain seems to be the perfect place to consume the dish. I believe the hotel may have even once been a Santa Monica convent which would make it even more apropos. So what makes a good (or bad) chiles en nogada. Actually, I don’t have the faintest idea (I know what you’re saying: “And this guy writes a food blog.”). The problem is you never ever know what the poblanos are stuffed with and there are as many recipes as there are alternatives for the ingredients. Some say chopped beef, others say pulled pork, still others ground chicken; some suggest fresh apples, pears, peaches, pineapple, tomatoes, plantains; others insist the fruit should be dried or candied; you’ll also find recipes with almonds, pine nuts, chestnuts, cinnamon, nutmeg and cumin. The list goes on and, of course, the quantity of each possible ingredient varies with each recipe. But that’s what makes chiles en nogada so wonderful. Almost every time you eat it, it’s a little bit different and (sorry for the French rather than Spanish) vive la difference.
I wouldn’t even try to suggest a recipe. My wife Sharon has a wonderful one. I raved about the chiles en nogada she once made but I never saw it made again. The problem was the time; preparing it in the true, traditional way is a two day affair. Two days of prep is one of the reasons they invented restaurants. When I arrive in San Miguel in a few days, chiles en nogada will be one of my first meals. I don’t yet know where it will be eaten and I won’t know exactly what will be in it but I don’t think I’ve ever had one I haven’t enjoyed and I don’t expect the next time to be any different.
May you find a pomegranate or something just as wonderful to eat under your tree this Christmas and may you often find chiles en nogada on your table in the new year. |
All I Want for Christmas
Great job as usual Glenn. Will you be letting us know each time you post? or is there a way to subscribe?
Just hit “FOLLOW” and you’ll receive each post in an email.
Chile’s Enogado at Pegaso is always my first meal.