With 'The Mexican Home Kitchen,' Mely Martínez is now everyone's abuelita
The more it goes, the more I cook, the more I’m interested in cookbooks that let you learn the basics of a cuisine by cooking dishes that real people cook at home. As inspiring as it is to pore over a tome by Enrique Olvera or René Redzepi or Pierre Gaignaire, there’s something about the very basic joy that comes from doing things the same way mamas and grandmas have done them for ages — whether those mamas are in China or Lebanon, Senegal or France, Italy or India or Uzbekistan.
And for me, since I have felt since I was about 10 years old that somewhere deep inside of me lives an old Mexican woman (seriously, I’ve always felt it as kind of a past-life thing), a book that speaks to how old Mexican women and young Mexican women cook every day at home is quite an exciting prospect.
I’ve learned to cook Mexican dishes mostly from books — starting with those from Diana Kennedy, the British expat who moved with her journalist husband to Puebla nearly 70 years ago and has been chronicling Mexican regional foodways ever since. But I’ve never had a Mexican mama or abuela to hold my hand. (Kennedy, as wonderful as her books are, is more the stern taskmaster than the hand-holder.)
Until now.
The Mexican Home Kitchen — the debut cookbook from the hugely popular food blogger Mely Martínez that has been 11 years in the making — is one of the titles I’ve been most looking forward to this very unusual fall publishing season.
Mely Martínez with epazote she grew in her backyard garden in Frisco, Texas | Photo by David Castañeda
I’ve been excited because I’m a fan of her blog, Mexico in My Kitchen, and of her Instagram posts, where she fluidly moves back and forth between English and Spanish to give background about a dish, showing us what she made for breakfast (black bean gorditas! red chilaquiles!); it’s all completely engaging and charming. No wonder she has 63K followers there.
Though I’m one of them, I had no idea until a couple weeks ago that she lives in Dallas (in Frisco, a northern suburb). We chatted at length on the phone, and she told me about her life, her cooking, how she came to write this book.
Born and raised in Tampico, a coastal city in the Gulf state of Tamaulipas, Martínez spent summers on her grandmother’s farm in Veracruz. There, she told me, “They cook what they have on hand. My uncles in the evening went out to hunt rabbits, and you knew the next day you’d have rabbit for lunch. If they went to fish in the river, we knew we’d have fish — and whatever my grandmother had planted in her garden.” Her grandmother’s big kitchen with its wood stove was where she loved being, and that’s where she learned to cook.
Eager to experience some of those flavors, I made her Pollo a la Veracruzana — Veracruz-style chicken.
Pollo a la Veracruzana from ‘The Mexican Home Kitchen’ by Mely Martínez.
It’s a simple dish — achieved by browning pieces of chicken (Martínez calls for thighs or breasts; I used both), then sautéing onions, garlic, carrots and potatoes. Add fresh tomato purée, herbs, sliced green pimento-stuffed olives, capers and raisins. Simmer the browned chicken in the sauce, and serve it with Arroz Blanco.
One bite, and I knew this would be a dish I’d make again and again. Never mind that we’re the same age; Martínez is now my very own abuela. This dish is easy, bright, deep, homey and soulful.
The idea of including raisins with the olives and capers together in a tomatoey sauce might sound odd, but the flavors meld beautifully, and the raisins add depth. I’d been unaware that raisins are used in Veracruzana dishes; that’s because on the coast, they’re not included; it’s more of an inland mountain style, as Edmund Tijerina explained in a 2011 Houston Chronicle story about Veracruz-style fish.
It’s not the kind of micro-background detail you find much of in The Mexican Home Kitchen, which keeps things more general (black beans are more common in Mexico’s Gulf states; flour tortillas are eaten more in the north) and on the way things are served and eaten.
Her main purpose in writing it was to share recipes from around Mexico with emigrants who missed the cooking — and their U.S.-born children, or non-Mexican spouses. “I realized there were no books written by Mexicans, or by Mexican-Americans,” she told me. She started writing “so people who are Mexican and have children who don’t speak Spanish can have the recipes in English.” She could be their surrogate kitchen-loving mama or abuela. Her own 25-year-old son, David Castañeda, did all the lovely photography. (And no, Martínez is not an actual abuela.)
As a young elementary school teacher, Martínez moved to the south, which gave her the opportunity to travel extensively in the Yucatán Peninsula, where she loved exploring the foods. Later, her husband’s work in human resources led them to live in states all over Mexico: Tamaulipas, Nuevo León, Veracruz, Puebla, Estado de México and Tabasco. Their regional cuisines are most strongly represented in the 550-ish recipes on her blog, and in the pages of her debut book.
And in the 85 recipes in the book. Dive in just about anywhere randomly, and delicious-looking-and-sounding things jump out that you’ll want to try posthaste.
Pozole Rojo could be a great place to start — especially if you’re reading this in time for Mexican Independence Day, September 16. Throughout Mexico, says Martínez, pozole is “one of the stars” of the holiday, for which people make a much bigger deal than they do for el Cinco de Mayo. (Flautas, tamales, tostadas, empanadas and buñuelos are also popular, she says.) The celebration starts around 11 p.m. on the 15th, as friends gather, eat and drink, and at midnight there are shouts of “¡Viva México!” and “¡Viva la Revolución!” and bells are rung.
Martínez’s recipe includes the traditional garnishes: shredded lettuce, sliced radishes, dried Mexican oregano, dried chiles, chopped onions, diced avocado and limes. Where I grew up, in Southern California, shredded cabbage was a familiar garnish. I always loved that, and asked Martínez about it. “That’s what they use in the northwest part of Mexico,” she said; in the rest of Mexico, lettuce is more prevalent.
If you’re after something sweet, try one of Martínez’s personal favorites: Pastel de Tres Leches (Tres Leches Cake).
It’s a denser version than most, not a sponge cake, and requires an overnight rest for the tres leches — condensed milk, evaporated milk and heavy cream or media crema — to soak in properly. The result, topped with vanilla whipped cream, is super luscious. Not realizing that in a footnote to her recipe, Martínez suggests a variation adding rum or brandy, I had a crazy idea and pour a tablespoon or two of pineapple rum on my slice. It was insanely good. (And it taught me the lesson that Martínez’s “notas” following many of the recipes can be extremely valuable and interesting.)
There’s still so much more I want to cook from this wonderful book. I enjoyed the Crema de Elote — a soup of fresh creamed corn that was even better served chilled the next day. And I still have my eye on Chiles Rellenos, Albondigas en Chipotle, Mole Poblano, Tamales de Salsa en Salsa Verde, Picadillo, fabulous-looking Tostadas de Pollo, and many others.
It’s an impressive debut cookbook — one that deserves a celebration. To that end, Cooks Without Borders and The Dallas Morning News will be co-hosting a virtual book party for Martínez on Thursday, Sept. 24, from 5 to 6 p.m. Central time. The party is free and you’re all invited to join. RSVP here for a link, and read more about the party here.
And here is a profile of Martínez I wrote for the Dallas Morning News.
Till then, help yourself to one or more of these delicious dishes, and treat yourself (or a friend) to a copy of the book.
RECIPE: Mely Martinez’s Pollo a la Veracruzano
RECIPE: Mely Martínez’s Pozole Rojo
RECIPE: Mely Martínez’s Tres Leches Cake