Cocinando Con Quien: El Maíz de la Gente September 23, 2021
The ear I hold in my hand isworthy of an elephant. This enormous cob of corn is called Cacahuazintl, a favorite variety of the natives. Its kernels are giant pearls of starch, which most of us might recognize in size as the stuff of hominy. Hominy is the base ingredient of Pozole and other dishes, although its preparation requires removing the rather tough shell from the kernel. This is accomplished by soaking the kernels in an alkaline limewater solution, which can then be salted with Tequesquite, an evaporite crystal harvested from dry lake beds in the center of the country.
Cacahuazintl is most commonly enjoyed on the cob and often sold curbside, impaled with a giant wooden stick as a handle. For my taste, salt and butter are adequate condiments, but Mexicans decorate their ears with a host of items—including a generous slather of mayonnaise, lime, red chile powder, and grated cheese—causing the meal on a stick to resemble a greasy yellow Christmas tree. Also popular is a black mold, called Huitlacoche, which is cultured upon the ears when properly aged, and which I have not yet developed the courage to sample.
If kind readers assume that I know how to correctly pronounce the names of these foods, well, then, I thank you for the vote of confidence, but I must advise you that you are mistaken. Only Mexicans can pronounce them, and even the children do so without problem. I merely record them on this virtual paper, then promptly forget them until I reference them later as necessary. In this awkward way I hope to gain tenuous membership among La Gente del Maíz.
For the main course in this meal from Estado Morelos, my anonymous source prepares Tacos de Cecina. Cecina Enchilada a thin seasoned slab of pork flank, fried or grilled, and its salty picante flavor is similar to the blackened meats and fishes typical of cajun country. This savory meat is chopped and served in corn tortillas with a variety of fresh condiments. Featured today is: Pápalo, a wild leaf tasting a bit like cilantro, only more bitter; roasted Cebollitas de Cambray, which are large green onions; cucumber with lime, guacamole; and (never forget) salsa verde. For crunch, one can also add roasted green pumpkin seeds, or Pepitas, which are celebrated throughout Morelos as the critical ingredient in the region’s signature Mole Verde.
With this, I am ready to loosen my belt and fall asleep in my chair. Not so fast, say my dining companions, as there is more corn for desert. The postres of choice are sweet corn tamales, steamed in cornhusk, and containing whole kernels of Cacahuazintl. It is quite obvious as to why these folks consider themselves to be people of the corn, because, after meals like this, it is essentially what they are composed of.
Before dozing, I think back to my laboratory days and the corn genetics I once studied on Barbara McClintock’s experimental acre at Cold Spring Harbor. To compare an ear of Cacahuazintl with the wild type of Maíz, with its tiny grasslike seedpod, is like trying to locate the human features in a wormy tunicate. But whereas Darwinian selection in chordates took hundreds of millions of years to refine, Mesoamerican farmers managed a comparable feat with corn in merely a few millennia. The iconic plant is a miracle of science, greater than any stone pyramid. Its marvelous creation from such humble origins might be seen as a gift from benevolent deities, but the science is clear—this miracle was the work of generations of Mexicans. The siesta is well deserved.