One of the small joys of dating my boyfriend has been discovering another human being who likes his food as spicy as I do. Together, we sought out and loved this meal, have maintained and replenished five different types of hot sauce in our fridge, and collectively swooned when badass/softie at heart Chris Perez took a bottle of hot sauce out of his holster and put it on his pizza in Selena. (Ok, perhaps that swoon wasn’t “collective”.)

But too much spice can be a bad thing (the word “ulcer” occasionally flits through my head) so I’ve been striving more and more to find a balance – meals that are complex enough in flavor and with enough of a kick that I never miss that extra level of heat. This soup fits that bill perfectly, especially when you might be tired of the traditional black bean-pumpkin combo but still want a protein-based soup that is equally as satisfying.

This recipe intrigued me when I saw it flipping through a cookbook. The combination of kidney beans, pumpkin and tomato struck me as slightly odd, but when I spied the words “chili paste” in the ingredient list I knew I had to give it a chance.

I’m glad I did. The pumpkin gives this soup a creamy texture and the cilantro and non-overpowering kick from the chili paste makes this soup welcomingly exotic on a dreary, cold February night. And it doesn’t hurt that this recipe embodies several of the best arguments for cooking at home, it being budget-friendly, healthy, quick to make, and great for leftovers.

Kidney Bean, Pumpkin and Tomato Soup

Adapted from Simply Soup

Serves 4-6

- 1 TB olive or canola oil

- 1 large onion or 2 small ones, diced

- 4 garlic cloves, finely chopped

- 2 celery stalks, diced

- 2 carrots, diced

- 1 box of vegetable broth (4 cups) plus one cup of water

- 2 tsp tomato paste

- 1/8 tsp dried thyme

- 1/8 tsp dried oregano

- 1/8 tsp ground cumin

- 1 bay leaf

- 15 oz  canned diced tomatoes

- 10 oz canned pumpkin

- 2  15-oz cans kidney beans

- 1 -2 tsp chili paste, depending on your spice preference

- salt and pepper

- fresh cilantro, to garnish

1. Heat the oil in a soup pot over medium heat. Add the onions and cook until they are just softened and translucent, stirring occasionally. Add the garlic, celery, carrot and ½ tsp of salt, and continue cooking for 2 minutes, or until the carrots start to soften.

2. Add the stock and water, drained beans, tomato paste and herbs/spices (thyme, oregano, cumin and bay leaf.) When the mixture begins to bubble, reduce the heat to low. Let it simmer on low heat for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.

3. Stir in the diced tomatoes, pumpkin, and chili paste and continue simmering and stirring occasionally for another 10-15 minutes.

4. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Ladle the soup into bowls, garnish with cilantro, and serve.

I am back in Minnesota, land of snow and ice, for my second semester of writer school. My first week back was a bit of a downer: all ice and no snow (and strangely balmy 40 degree temperatures). But now we’re back to the way I like it here during the winter, with a fresh layer of snow and an 8 degree chill. I must be going native, because I hardly notice the 8 degrees anymore (that, weather gods, is not an invitation for 20 below). But really, I’m being sincere, I like the little jump it gives me when I walk out my door, and I like the feeling of hibernation in my apartment doing my writerly (and non-writerly) things, and I like the whole feeling of winter wonderland that I think is really a uniquely midwestern phenomenon.

But as much as I like my world of snow, I was in Mexico for a week over winter break, and that was even better. Banish all images of beaches from your mind; this was cold Mexico, the Mexico of the mountains, and still, it was glorious, because how could a vacation with friends and food and fireplaces not be? I would like to be there…now.

In the meantime, however, I have this stew. Have the loyal readers among you been noticing a trend in my posts lately? Mexican chocolate cake, tortilla chips, ceviche…all from my Mexican Christmas feast. As is this, from the pages of Gourmet, rather than some hideaway authentic Mexican cooking school (recipes from there to come). But, you know what, I had posole twice while in Mexico itself and this one is right on up there with the source.

It probably helps this recipe’s case that 26 garlic cloves are involved (pick some good music to listen to while prepping this baby). Also long-stewed meat. And also a topping of cotija cheese, which never hurt anyone or anything. To simplify matters, when I served this, I just made a simple little slaw on the side of cabbage and radish with a cilantro-lime dressing. If you want to be more authentic about it, however, you’d serve all those components separately (cabbage, radish, cilantro, lime), plus maybe chopped red onion and chile powder.

Assembling the ingredients for this may take you a little longer than your usual grocery shopping, but you will be forever grateful to know where to buy dried chiles and hominy. Other than peeling the garlic cloves, the rest of this recipe moves by surprisingly fast, especially once you start tasting how incredibly it’s going after just the second step of cooking the pork.

I think the superior of the two Mexican posoles was actually a green chile posole, so that’s next on my list. And also this similar version from Bon Appetit. (I can never get enough posole.) And also, a hot tip: if you live in San Francisco and want to try this, but don’t want to, say, invest the effort in peeling 26 cloves of garlic before you know what the pay-off is, you can try a very similar version at Little Chihuahua, which just added posole to its menu (but maybe as a special? not sure).

Posole Rojo (Pork and Hominy Stew)

Serves 8-10

From Gourmet

Ingredients

- 1 bunch mint (1 ounce)
- 1 bunch cilantro (1 ounce)
- 4 pound country-style pork ribs (not lean)
- 10 cups water
- 26 garlic cloves (about 1 1/2 heads), peeled, divided
- 1 (1/2-pound) white onion, quartered, plus 1/2 cup, chopped
- 1 teaspoon dried oregano (preferably Mexican)
- 5 whole black peppercorns
- 2 ounces dried guajillo or New Mexico chiles (6 to 9), wiped clean
- 1 1/2 ounces dried ancho chiles (2 to 4), wiped clean
- 1 whole clove
- 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 3 (15-ounce) cans hominy (also called pozole), rinsed and drained

Accompaniments: diced avocado; crema; queso fresco; thinly sliced iceberg or romaine lettuce; chopped white onion; sliced radishes; fried tortilla strips or chips; lime wedges; dried oregano; dried hot red-pepper flake

1. Tie together mint and cilantro with kitchen string.

2. Bring pork and water to a boil in a large pot, skimming froth, then reduce heat to a simmer. Add tied herbs, 20 garlic cloves, quartered onion, oregano, peppercorns, and 2 teaspoons salt and gently simmer, uncovered, until pork is very tender, about 2 hours.

3. Strain broth through a large sieve into a large heatproof bowl. Return broth to pot. Discard mint and cilantro.

4. Transfer cooked onion and garlic to a blender with 1 1/2 cups broth and purée until smooth (use caution when blending hot liquids). Add purée to broth. Discard bones and coarsely shred pork into broth.

5. Meanwhile, slit chiles lengthwise, then stem and seed. Heat a large cast-iron skillet (or heavy skillet) over medium heat until hot, then toast chiles in batches, opened flat, turning and pressing with tongs, until more pliable and slightly changed in color, about 30 seconds per batch. Transfer to a bowl and pour 2 1/2 cups boiling water over chiles. Soak, covered, until softened, about 30 minutes.

6. Purée chiles with 1 1/2 cups soaking liquid, chopped onion, remaining 6 garlic cloves, clove, and 3/4 teaspoon salt in cleaned blender until a smooth paste forms, about 2 minutes.

7. Heat oil in cast-iron skillet over medium heat until it shimmers, then add chile paste (it will spatter) and cook, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened, 5 minutes.

8. Add chile paste and hominy and simmer 5 minutes. Season with salt.

The Junta Idiot has been on a roll lately.

1) Monday: Mosaic of Foie Gras and Black Angus Beef Cheek, Satur Farms Beets, Wagyu Carpaccio, Peppercress, HORSERADISH
2) Tuesday: Duo of Abalone: Slow Baked with Paprika, Cauliflower Purée, Tempura with Early Mesclun, Ibérico Ham, HORSERADISH
3) Wednesday: Poached Atlantic Halibut with Saffron-Mussel Velouté, Fava Bean Fricassée, Sweet Bell Peppers, Wild Rice, HORSERADISH
4) Thursday: Trio of …. Alright! I admit it! You see right through me. Lies! All lies! The insecurity is killing me though.

The truth is it’s been a whole lot of pasta and tomato sauce lately, nothing too interesting. I’m ashamed.

… but wait a minute. Nothing too interesting? Nothing too interesting! Wash my mouth out with soap and beet salad.

Pasta and tomato sauce remains the unsung hero of the bachelor kitchen. We take its domination of the singles cooking scene for granted. When Lebron James scores a billion points, dunks on a stable of 7-foot Eastern Europeans while flashing his pearly white smile (and does it night after night) do we say “nothing too interesting?”

Of course not! Pasta and tomato sauce has stared down and, through the sheer force of its affordability, wholesomeness, ease-of-preparation and tastiness, has vanquished all comers 3 nights in a row (alright … 5 nights). So while matzoh brei and Kefir might take the spotlight in this esteemed space, let’s remember who’s performance is so consistently stellar we forget to even recognize it. Pasta + Sauce — mad props, yo. No recipe necessary.

Okay. But the real topic of this post is Mayonnaise. Juntanistas, if you’ve written off mayonnaise you are making a mistake. The creamy white revolution is ripping through Santiago de Chile right now. The pioneer, Domino, is serving up hot dogs lavishly garnished with their show-stealer homemade mayo. Homemade mayonnaise has become the ante of the Chilean upscale fast-food scene poker game.

We all know that yuppie-choked US cities (NYC in particular) have a fetish for what I term “ironic gourmet.” Think of the foie grois topped burgers, PB&J restaurants, pricey rice pudding shops and guacamole samplers. The restaurants claim some special insight into the dish and present a menu chock full of different variations (while usually terming one variety “The Original” or “The Classic”). Mark my word, homemade Mayo is next.

The “ironic gourmet” scoresheet goes something like this:
- Seems vaguely foreign/minority: + 20 points
- Associated with your childhood/camping: + 30 points
- Served at nice restaurants: -50 points
- Can be combined with Nutella: + 40 points
- First location in Williamsburg: + 15 points
- You could conceivably charge 20x the ingredient costs:+100 points

By my reckoning, homemade mayo scores a 170 depending on how much you like Nutella.

.. And some top secret intel for you: Claire will be presenting her homemade mayo (she calls it aioli, psh) tomorrow. Consider yourself “teased”