Chiles en Nogada Are a Taste of Mexican Summer

There are so many different stories about the origin of chiles en nogada—poblano peppers draped in a velvety walnut sauce— that I am a bit wary of every one of them. The most famous one claims that in 1821 the nuns from a Santa Monica cloister invented the dish to honor Agustín de Iturbide. Another legend says that the dish was invented by three girls who, in the midst of celebrating their boyfriends' return from the war of Mexican independence, received a bout of inspiration after they started praying.

To me, calling chiles en nogada the most representative dish of our country is really corny and wrong. If you ask someone from Sonora or Quintana Roo what they think our national dish is, they won't give you that answer. This is not a dish invented overnight, and I don't believe for a second that it stufcame from divine inspiration, either.

Call me a heretic—or at the very least unpatriotic—but I believe that the legend that comes closest to the truth is the one that says that during the Agustín de Iturbide festivities, someone made a few adjustments to a stuffed pepper recipe that included seasonal fruits and a walnut sauce. From that came the classic recipe that we have nowadays. The story about how it was created to include the colors of the Mexican flag might be true or not; what's undeniable is that the addition of pomegranate was a genius touch. It doesn't matter if the person who came up with it was a mother, a nun, or the town's bishop: the flavor that it adds to the dish is unbeatable.

In the middle of Mexico, the tradition of chiles en nogada is widespread. But they weren't as popular around ten or 15 years ago. Ever since CANIRAC (The National Chamber of the Restaurant Industry and Spicy Foods) decided to make the "official" chiles en nogada season start in July, restaurants from all over the country now routinely claim to have "the best and most delicious chiles en nogada recipe." CANIRAC invested $1 million to attract consumers and convince them that it's worth it to pay for such a costly dish.

In a way, the dish is a good example of utilizing an abundance of products that run the risk of spoiling in the heat, such as fruit, cheese, and meat. It also combines three distinct flavors: sweet, sour, and salty, with a touch of spice that results in a dish that diners either love or hate. When it was served to Anthony Bourdain, he called it "too sweet" and said that he didn't like the taste of meat with cinnamon.

Anthony, I'm not sure what they served you, but that wasn't a real chile en nogada.

But as chef Liz Garcia from Mural de los Poblanos says, "There are as many recipes for chiles en nogada as there are families in Puebla."

Chiles en nogada can only be eaten six months out of the year; at other times, the ingredients are not available or can't be found in their best condition. They are also expensive and complicated to cook, with the preparation often lasting at least a couple of days.

The ingredients not only need to be fresh, but they have to be carefully combined. I don't have any formal training as a cook, but from what I've learned in my life, the more ingredients you add to a dish, the harder it is to get a good result.

If the chilies taste too sweet, it's because sugar was added to them. Sugar is heresy! Sugar kills everything. To me, the golden rule is to fry every ingredient separately: tomatoes on one side; meat on the other; dry and fresh fruits in a huge pot, in which you combine everything at the end. Now, if your walnut sauce is not perfect, you'll end up with a great stuffed pepper that could never be called chile en nogada. Your guests will hold grudges against you forever.

The walnut sauce is as simple as the stuffing is complicated. The stuffing needs more that 20 ingredients; the nogada only needs around seven. I don't use milk or cream, but I do use sherry. (My grandma used to use a piece of bread from the day before, soaked in milk to make it more dense.) I peel the nuts by hitting them with a metal lemon juicer and then remove their skins carefully so that they don't turn bitter. If you never peeled a nut in your life, I highly recommend that you try it: it's one of the most Zen exercises that you will ever do.

There are many variations on the recipe. I have prepared some "refined" chiles en nogada (made out of fresh fruit, along with some dry fruit and seeds). I've done "vegetarian" ones (with mushrooms instead of meat) and "nasty" ones (with butter instead of oil). But sometimes I just want to go and eat them in a restaurant, because I get pleasure knowing that mine are the best, the most delicious. Just like all the other cooks who claim to have the most authentic recipe—either from their grandmas or from a convent—I'm proud of my chiles en nogada.

If you don't know anyone that knows how to make them, you should look for a good place that serves them. At a restaurant, if the nogada is not white or almost white (it can look ivory, have black spots, or sport a reddish coffee color) avoid it. If the stuffing is dry or pale, it means that it doesn't have enough tomatoes. If it tastes strongly of cinnamon or pepper, it means that it's really badly done, because the spices were added in the wrong proportion. If it tastes like it just came out of the fridge, ask to speak with the chef and punch him in the nose. And do it in my name.

I've been preparing chiles en nogada for 20 years and they are still a wonderful mystery to me. I can always tell if the stuffing is going to turn out well, judging the smell, the color, and the sound of the wooden spoon in the pot. But there is always another moment, five minutes before the guests arrive, when I start looking at the blender in terror: What if there is not enough cheese, or too much cinnamon? What if they want the sauce to be sweeter? As they start to serve themselves, the most important moment takes place: when I start to listen, after a few moments of silence, to people making sounds of happiness. It sounds like hmmm, but it's shortly interrupted by a full mouth, because they can't stop eating.

It's those three moments, intangible and unavoidable, that best represent chiles en nogada to me.

This article was originally published in Spanish on MUNCHIES ES.