"Excuse me, ma'am, but
can you tell me what these are called," I asked the impeccably
dressed woman next to me at the mushroom stall. My prior trips
to Mexico City had all occurred during the dry months of January
or February. I didn't know the city when it was green and the
markets full of rainy season delicacies: squash blossoms, huitlacoche,
and countless varieties of mushrooms. The previous week's excursion
to the Jamaica market introduced me to a large brown specimen
the vendor called by an indigenous name my sometimes clumsy
hearing could not capture even after four repititions. I bought
half a kilo--I'll buy half a kilo of practically anything--and
faithfully followed the laborious preparation process she had
described: peeling the caps, then poaching them to remove bitterness
before draining and sauteeing them with garlic and a bit of
chili. The resulting guiso remained somewhat bitter to my taste,
but I was intrigued. What other sorts of mushroom treats awaited
me? And thus I found myself at the San Juan market, surrounded
by basket after basket of mushrooms I had never seen.
"Ah, guapa, I will tell you these are the best mushrooms in
the world. I am Catalan. Where I am from these are called robellon,
who knows what they say here. You fix them very simply, you
don't want to cover the flavor. But first you must clean them
very carefully, there are tiny worms that live in the caps.
So you break them open, like this--"she gently split the cap
of the mushroom in her hand--"and you take the worm out like
this." With a delicate pull she removed a white worm scarcely
an eighth of an inch long from the cap. "Then you chop just
a little garlic, sautee it in olive oil, and add the robellon--cook
it just until the juice comes out, guapa, not any more. It is
a perfect dish!" And so a handful of robellon found their way
into my bag, followed by a quarter kilo of bright red tecomate
recommended by the robellon-lover's maid, who quietly corrected
the señora's naming of various species: "Bueno, she says
that, but WE say."
I left with six small bags of mushrooms and the necessary
accompaniments. Now as anyone who has ever inquired in a market
for cooking advice knows, you will receive as many different
recommendations as there are cooks. So I had the little squash
recommended by one, the epazote essential to another, the poblano
peppers a third said I could not do without. The only point
of agreement seemed to be olive oil and garlic. Back at the
apartment, I decided to experiment a bit. The resulting mushroom-stuffed
roasted poblanos were happily consumed by a pair of mushroom
lovers.
NOTE: The mushrooms available in the markets I visited were
gathered wild. I was sometimes told two or three names for one
variety, depending on who I asked. Because I am not myself a
trained mycologist, I did not attempt to translate any of the
names into their English equivalents; I found my own memory
of what particular varieties looked like too unreliable to identify
them with certitude. Shiitake mushrooms are not as prohibitively
expensive as most varieties of "specialty" mushrooms and taste
delicious. And button mushrooms, while they will not have as
pronounced a flavor as wild, taste good too.
Roasted Poblano Peppers with Wild Mushroom Stuffing
For the peppers:
-
2 Poblano peppers, roasted, peeled, and seeded
-
You can roast the peppers one of two ways: either in the
broiler of a gas oven, or over the flame of a gas burner.
When I am roasting more than one pepper, I find it most
convenient to use the broiler. Turn the peppers as the sides
char. Place the roasted peppers in a plastic bag to cool.
The steam will help the skin loosen. When the peppers are
cool enough to handle, you can rub the skin off with your
fingers. You might want to wear rubber gloves to handle
the chilis. And be sure not to touch your eyes! Then carefully
slit each chili up one side and remove the seeds. Set aside.
For the stuffing:
-
olive oil
-
a small yellow onion, diced
-
3 or 4 cloves garlic, finely diced
-
8 oz wild mushrooms
-
2 young zucchini, thin and not very long, diced
-
2 medium Roma tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and chopped
-
2 cups cooked rice
Pour just enough olive oil into a 10 or 12 inch skillet to
cover the bottom of the pan. Heat over low flame. When hot,
add the onion. As the onion softens, add the garlic. As the
garlic turns golden, add the zucchini. The zucchini skin will
turn bright green; when this happens, gently fold in the mushrooms.
Add the tomatoes when the juice just begins to run out of the
mushrooms. Stir gently, cooking until the tomatoes wilt. Remove
from heat and combine the vegetables with the rice. Spoon the
filling generously into the prepared poblanos. I served these
plain, but you can also make a simple sauce by sauteeing a couple
of peeled tomatoes in some olive oil with a bit of garlic.
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