Chicharron burritos

When I first moved to Santa Fe in 2001, I was delighted to learn New Mexicans had an affinity for fried pork skin and fat. Sure, they called it chicharron instead of cracklin, but that was hardly a problem.


I first encountered it at Fiesta, which I guess would be Santa Fe's equivalent to Mardi Gras. People get a day or a half-day off work, there's food booths set up in the Plaza and people get trashed. But Zozobra, the centerpiece, is a radical departure from Mardi Gras' Catholic roots. No, instead of celebrating one last time before Lent, Santa Feans burn a six-story-tall puppet in effigy.

I was told it's the oldest pagan celebration in New Mexico. Which is kind of bizarre because Fiesta celebrates the Spanish reconquering Santa Fe in 1692. And by "reconquering" I mean, running the Indians out of town. They say it was "peaceful," but I'm not too sure about that.

But anyway. It's a big party and there's lots of food and there it was: my first chicharron burrito.

Growing up, we'd eat cracklin out of hand as a tasty snack. Didn't want to eat too much, because there'd be, you know... consequences. But the burrito makes it a meal. Encased in your flour tortilla are refried pintos, green chile, cheddar cheese and chicharrons.

You can make these at home with cracklin. Sure, unless you have a wicked good source for chile, it will probably be out of a tin. And unless you can make tortillas or pintos like an abuelita, they'll probably be store-bought too. But cheese is cheese, so you can't screw that up, right?

I don't really measure any of this stuff when I make them. I just make sure I have some good, meaty cracklin.

Heat up the beans, toss the green chile into it so it'll disperse. Don't stir the cracklin into the beans. That'll just make them chewy and unpleasant. Instead, layer the cracklin across a warmed tortilla. Sprinkle shredded cheese over the cracklin. Spoon beans over it. Don't worry: The heat from the beans will warm the cracklin and melt the cheese. Fold it up and you're all set.
If you don't want to use tinned chile (and really, why would you?), roast one, peel it and chop it up. The chiles I buy here - they're labeled Anaheim peppers at our stores - are usually very mild and that's a disappointment, but I haven't figured out how to do better.

Philly roast pork at Stein's (with assorted notes)

When I visited my sister in Philadelphia last December, I was only there for a weekend. While I pounded down no fewer than three cheese steaks*, I missed out on at least three local delicacies: Tastykakes**, scrapple*** and the Philly roast pork sandwich.

Today, I went to Stein's Market and Deli for lunch and the special was a roast pork and broccoli rabe sandwich. I had to have it. Three hours later, I'm still digesting it. Stein's patrons know that even though the sandwiches only come with a couple of pickle spears**** on the side, they're still big enough to share. But magically, every time I go, I eat the whole thing and pay for it later. It's tragic, really.

Today's pork was fall-apart tender shoulder. The broccoli rabe, which looks like spinach, adds just enough smoky bitterness to complement the pork's natural sweetness and a layer of melted cheese (Swiss, I think) gives it a salty richness. The doughy cibatta roll it's served on initially looks too fluffy. Why would you want that much bread? But I soon learned this is desirable because you want a bread that can soak up the pork juices. It's also a sourdough bread which completes the profile and gives us sour, salty, sweet and bitter in every bite.

My companion had The Sam, which is like a Reuben but with pastrami and coleslaw. I've had Stein's pastrami before and it's marvelous. Marrying the brisket's creamy fat with the spices' saltiness, it becomes the beef equivalent of bacon. Pairing it with sweet coleslaw and tangy Russian dressing might make it messy, but dear God, what wonder!

One day, I'll have the guts to order the tongue sandwich. I bet it's incredible. But today wasn't the day and the menu is pretty impressive.*****

Stein's is kind of pricy and sandwiches are nearly $10. Which calls this to mind.

*Cheese steaks. Yes, I went to Pat's. Yes, I went to Geno's. I went somewhere forgettable first. Don't ask where. Like I said, it was forgettable. That means I forgot, OK? So where do I come down on the Pat/Geno divide? It will hurt to write this, but Geno's was slightly - slightly - better. But the grotesque pseudo-patriotic signs in the window insisting THIS IS AMERICA, SPEAK ENGLISH1!!!, make me want to never go back there. Yes, Mr. Geno, I know where I am. You don't have to yell at me.

If you're from Philly and are going to tell me I missed out on your favorite steak joint, put it in comments. I'm going back in May.

**My sister mailed me a box of Tastykakes earlier this week. What flavor, you ask? Why, butterscotch krimpets, of course. Ahh butterscotch, king of flavors. Stein's also sells Tastykakes. In fact, they have a sign on the door advertising this.

Philly folk are kind of embarrassed about their association with low-brow snack cakes. And they're really just snack cakes. I love that my sister sent me a box, but they're hardly transcendent.

***I still haven't had scrapple, but from what I gather, it's pretty much Amish hogshead cheese, with lots of offal, especially from the head. And that means brain and face. And that means if I didn't know what it was, I'm sure I'd enjoy it. But for now, I'm kind of afraid of it.

****Stein's tosses a couple of pickle spears in with their sandwiches. You get a half-sour and a full-sour spear. The full-sour is a pickle. You've had them before. But the first and only half-sour I ever had came from Stein's. It's halfway between pickle and cucumber. How novel!

*****Today, I noticed that the menu indicated one of it's sandwiches - turkey, avocado, etc. - needs a name. I mentioned to the guy taking my order that in Santa Fe, where that sandwich, is ubiquitous, was named the Alice B. Toklas at Carlos' Gospel Cafe******. Same sandwich, but veggified, sans turkey, was the Gertrude Stein. Counter guy seemed to enjoy this.

******Carlos' is defunct last time I checked, but I still copy their Miles Standish at home. It's turkey with cranberry relish, cream cheese and a lettuce leaf. Note: must be cranberry relish. You can buy this at grocery stores. Don't try using cranberry mustard. I haven't had one of these in a while. I'll have to make one soon.

My first post is a stub

Yeah, that's lame, but my first real post will come later. Probably tonight. It will be about the sandwich I had for lunch (oooh, enticing, eh?).

But this will forever serve as my first post and when I link to it on a future blogoversary (Hello future readers!) this is what they'll get.