I don’t visit New Mexico often, but when I do, I know I’m home. During the winter the landscape in Northern New Mexico is white and pure, like clotted cream undisturbed. Hardy shrubs peek out from under and dot the snowy canyons with bits of green. On a good day everything is set against the backdrop of profoundly blue skies. This is what azure looks like, I always think to myself.
The beauty is enough to make you pause and wonder if what you’re doing is worth the little time you have on earth. Long after you’ve lived the canyons will still be there and in the meantime, there are so many delicious things, edible and otherwise, to be taken in.
This picture was taken on a hike with two people I love and two extremely happy dogs. We were walking off a large feast in which, like most New Mexican meals, chile was the main attraction.
The chiles of Chimayó in Northern New Mexico are distinctive. Wrinkled and slighter darker in hue, Chimayó chiles are about three-quarters the size of the smooth-skinned ones grown further south. There’s a degree of sweetness about the Chimayó chile that’s special: try it once and you’ll notice the difference, a taste that somehow calls to mind the flavor of a fresh tomato that’s ripe and dripping with juice.
Ristras, hanging strings of dried red chiles, are everywhere. Ristras have so pervaded New Mexican culture that everyone has a story about them. My favorite involves one particular ristra that was stolen from the house of a close friend.
“So did you catch the ristra thief in the end?” I asked.
“Well, yeah,” he replied. “It wasn’t that hard. There was fresh snow on the ground that day so I just followed the tracks from the missing ristra. Turns out the thief was my neighbor.”
Chimayó chiles are the feature of my adobo marinade, a pungent mixture of the toasted and pureed chiles with roasted garlic and vinegar. In a pinch I’ll use chiles anchos or guajillos, but the sauce is never quite as good without the Chimayó chile. Then again, I suppose that even if the marinade contained other types of chile, it would still be spectacular.
The making of the marinade is both ritual and routine: cloves of unpeeled garlic are slowly toasted on a cast iron skillet, during which time the pods of dried chile are quickly scorched on the remaining surface area of the skillet. Scorching the chiles is a satisfying exercise: the moment you press your spatula down upon the pod, the skin blisters and bubbles. Wait only one second in between flips. By the time the garlic cloves have been burnished into a dark brown, caramel-like interior, you’ll have finished toasting the chiles.
Though the adobo marinade is composed primarily of the chile, garlic, and vinegar, a host of other ground herbs and spices add layers of flavor. I use oregano, thyme, cumin, cinnamon, peppercorns, but I imagine that a sprinkling of anise seeds or majoram would be welcome. Versatile and virtually imperishable when kept in the fridge, this marinade breaks down just about any form of protein and imparts a spicy and smoky flavor in the process.
Lately I’ve been smothering this adobo sauce all over pork neck bones. I know I’m always talking about neck bones, and for good reason. That I was essentially raised on pork neck is only part of the reason why I hoard the cut. Objectively speaking, it makes a lot of sense for the thrifty but discerning cook to embrace the neck: dirt-cheap, the cut also has plenty of meat, not to mention all the streaks of fat marbled throughout. The segments of bone are connected by plenty of tendons and sinews, which, when broken down by cooking, are flavorful and fun to chew.
While neck takes well to simmering in soup, the low and slow heat of the oven really concentrates the flavor of the meat. Even in the oven, the adobo marinade will cling to the surface of the pork, keeping those parts of neck not immersed in liquid perfectly moist throughout the entire cooking time. Instead of water, braise the neck bones in a combination of water and wine (perhaps from the bottle you’re planning to drink with the meal) for an even deeper flavor.
Serve the sections of neck bones as they are, straight from the oven and piping-hot. Since a lot of gnawing will be involved, it’s best to plan the meal around this activity: tortillas are strongly recommended for wrapping around the fork-tender meat, so juicy, spicy, and full of porky flavor.
Pork Neck Adovada
- serves eight-
Ingredients
20 cloves garlic, unpeeled
20 dried red chiles, stemmed and seeded (You can use Chimayó, New Mexican, chiles anchos, or chiles guajillos)
10 black or white peppercorns
2-inch section of cinnamon
3 cloves
5 bay leaves
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
½ teaspoon coriander
1 tablespoon oregano
1 teaspoon thyme
1 teaspoon paprika
½ to ¾ cup vinegar (white, cider, rice, sherry, or some combination thereof)
5 pounds pork neck bones, cut into 3 inch sections
To make the marinade:
Roast the unpeeled cloves of garlic on a cast iron skillet set over medium heat, turning occasionally, until the skin has blackened on a few sides and the interior is very soft and brown in color. This will take approximately fifteen minutes. Let cool, then slip the garlic from the blackened skin.
In the meantime, in the same skillet or a separate one, place one whole chile pod at a time down onto the surface of the pan. Use a spatula to press the pod against the skillet for just a second or two until it blisters and begins to bubble. Flip the chile over and do the same for the other side. Repeat this process for the remaining chile pods.
Place the chiles in a bowl and cover with lukewarm water. Submerge the chiles for at least twenty minutes, or until sufficiently softened. Remove from the water and set aside.
In a mortar and pestle or with a spice grinder, finely grind the peppercorns, cinnamon, cloves, bay leaves, cumin, and coriander.
In a blender or food processor, combine the garlic, chile pods, and all of the herbs and ground spices. Puree this mixture until it is smooth, scraping down the sides of the bowl as you go along. Cover and refrigerate. This marinade will keep for months in a clean jar.
Makes approximately 1 ½ to 2 cups of chile marinade.
To marinate the neck bones:
Rinse the neck bones under cold water, then drain. Toss the pork neck bones with the marinade, distributing the paste so that it covers the meat evenly. Refrigerate the neck bones for at least eight hours and up to two days.
To braise the neck bones:
Preheat the oven to 350. Place the marinated neck bones in a dutch oven, clay pot, or any other thick-walled vessel. Pour water (and a bit of wine, if you like) so that the liquid comes up to one-third the height of the meat. Cover the pot and place it into the oven. Braise for 2 to 2 ½ hours, until the meat is fork-tender and the liquid is mostly reduced. With a shallow spoon, skim off some of the fat on the surface of the braising liquid. Serve immediately with plenty of tortillas.
Man this makes me miss New Mexico so much. It’s a place in which everything that is supposed to happen happens in its own time. The people speak with a slow drawl, waiting for the words to come to them instead of trying to find them. They are Taoists without even knowing it.
I wish I could have a helping of that adovada….so tender and smothered in that sweet smoky chile…mmmm
keep the offal coming!
Chichi, I had no idea you were from NM! I’ve been meaning to go there for ages. Seeing your photos and reading this post, I’ve made up my mind that I’ll definitely go this year, the sooner the better. Maybe I could ask you to give me some pointers on where to go/what to eat?
Offaltruth, I was so touched by your description of the unusually zen speaking pattern of NM natives. I agree. There’s something calming in the way they speak – and lead their lives, really.
ACIMS: Yes, you should visit NM! I’ve really only spent time in the northern part of the state but I’d be happy to give you some food recommendations, depending on where you’d like to go.
Last weekend I roasted about 10-12 pounds of pork neck to use in David Chang’s “Momofuku” ramen broth. You’re right they are an amazing ingredient. I’m lucky the broth ended up with any pork flavor. The bones finished roasting before it was time to add them to the pot of stock, and as they sat on my counter I started picking at the meat. Fresh out of the oven pork neck bones, it’s luck any meat made it to the stock pot. I convinced myself most of the flavor was going to come from the bones anyway. Good luck with the new site.
Hiya NW Cajun! Yes, I am also extremely talented at convincing myself that I’m actually not eating “that much pork” because most of it is bones, anyway. But they’re so meaty for bones. I’m puzzled why Chang claims that pork neck is a hard to find ingredient – I see them all over the place in so many different states.
So did you make the alkaline noodles to go with your ramen? And the tare sauce? Really makes you appreciate a good ramen house!
The tare sauce is phenomenal! How long do you think it is good in the fridge? This was a debate the other night (my concern is the chicken fond). I have not made the noodles yet, have to find the chemicals, but I’ve found some pretty good store bought noodles. With the shredded pork and belly and all the other stuff in the bowl, the noodles almost become an afterthought. Most recent foray into the book was the steamed buns, easy and oh so good. Looking forward to your future posts.
It’ll keep in the fridge for weeks if you remember to reheat every 5 to 6 days. (I’ve kept pork bone soups and the like for 2+ weeks in the fridge by taking it out every 4 days and bringing to a boil.)
I tried making the noodles once with the akaline powder. I added way too much and the noodles were inedible. Now I just forgo the powders. Egg noodles in general are so much easier to work with than flour-and-water noodles.