fivebyevif

In this age of Chipotles and Qdobas, tomatillo salsa has become ubiquitous with spicy, bland, and green. This is sad, for I know the truth, and really good tomatillo salsa won’t resort to unnecessary force, is never bland, and doesn’t even have to be green. Not unless you want it to be.

The problem is…well, I don’t really know what the problem is. Good tomatillo salsa isn’t hard, it’s just a combination of the right ingredients and a bit of technique.

I don’t mean to be preachy, but man — if I go to another Mexican restaurant, and get another insipid, spicy excuse for a tomatillo salsa, I’m gonna shriek. Here’s a recipe to prove why.

You will need:

• grapeseed oil
• 1 pound (or thereabouts) of tomatillos (about 5-6, medium-sized)
• 5 cloves of garlic
• 1 red onion
• 1-2 serrano chiles
• salt
• 1/4 tsp ground cumin
• 1-2 limes
• cilantro (optional)

• big grill pan
• food processor or a really good blender

Now, this is important, so read this before you do anything: DO NOT HUSK THE TOMATILLOS OR THE GARLIC. Those of you familiar with Mexican cooking are rolling your eyes at me, but I swear I did not know this back when I first started making this stuff. So, y’know. HENCE THE ALL CAPS.

Oil the grill pan with a light coating of grapeseed oil. Nonstick doesn’t matter. Oil that sucker up.

Cut the onion into fat rings (about 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick). Trim the stems off the tomatillos so that they will lie flat, husk-side down, but DO NOT REMOVE THE HUSKS. Peel the garlic down to their final outer layer, making sure to leave that final bit of tough skin intact.

If desired, split and seed your chiles. I do, because I am not fond of ridiculously hot food. You, however, may see things otherwise. Either way, you should probably remove the stem. It’s nasty.

Heat the grill pan over high heat. Add the onion to one side of the pan, the tomatillos on the other, and nestle the chiles and garlic cloves wherever you can put them. Move the heat to medium-high.

When the onions, chiles, and garlic start to brown, flip ‘em. The tomatillos you only want to move a little. If you want to flip them onto their bellies, go ahead, but don’t do it for too long.

The onions and chiles will finish first. Throw them in the food processor along with the cumin and some salt. Garlic will be next. Peel them, discard the charred husks, and toss the soft, garlicky meat into the food processor. Keep an eye on the tomatillos, which should begin to soften at the base. You may need to move the heat down a bit, especially if you notice smoke. If they split at all, or look like they want to split, take them off the grill pan.

At this point, if you are wise, you will leave the tomatillos in a bowl and let them cool and rest. If, however, you are foolish like me you will burn your hands stemming and de-husking the ripping hot tomatillos. Moral of the story: if you have asbestos hands like my mom, feel free to dig into those suckers. If you earn your living with your hands, let the tomatillos rest, take the husks and stems off later, and then pour the juices and the tomatillos into the processor bowl.

So, a note on char: it’s a great thing. A little bit of char at the base or edges of these vegetables will bring good flavor. That’s why the tomatillos and garlic get their protective coatings kept: they allow you to safely cook them to the point of softness, because you discard the husks and skins after you’re done with them.

That said, if your vegetables have lost all or most of their moisture, you’ve charred too much. These things should be soft and ooshy from the heat. They should not be charcoal. And the chile and onions should definitely be in the carmelized, but not burnt department.

Grind the ingredients in the processor until they are slightly soupy. Give it a taste! If you think it needs more salt, add salt. If you think it needs more acid, add lime juice…but only do it one lime at a time, and taste inbetween. If you think cilantro would be awesome (I do!) then add that and pulse to combine.

Finally, if you want something more…soupy…add water, a little bit at a time, until desired consistency is achieved. My tomatillos were plenty juicy, and did not need this.

There. You just made a tomatillo salsa worthy of saucing a burrito, getting intimate with a chip, or mingling with chilaquiles (which is where mine is headed). I have been making this salsa in one form of another for well over fourteen years, and this is the best recipe for it I’ve ever come across. Mad props to Steve Sando’s post about tomatillo salsa. The guy is some kind of genius, and I am so happy I found his beans and his site I can’t begin to tell you. Here in Missouri, decent Mexican food is hard to come by, and I yearn for the good stuff. I’ve yet to prepare anything of his (recipe or goods-wise) that was bad.