gluten-free

Crunchy, light and fun, heirloom-corn tostadas will set you free this summer

An heirloom-corn tostada topped with beans, salad, shredded chicken and pico de gallo

By Leslie Brenner

Why doesn’t everyone eat tostadas, all the time? It’s a question that nags me noon and night — especially in summertime, when the idea of something light, healthy and fresh, but also delicious and satisfying (and gluten-free!), is top of mind. Plus they’re infinitely adaptable.

What is a tostada? It’s a crisp corn tortilla topped with something appealing. It could be a cold, inviting ceviche. It might be a fresh salad with a layer of warm beans. Perhaps it’s a thatch of cool shredded lettuce topped with warm tinga de pollo. Or an irresistible spin on avocado toast. Whichever way, the tortilla underneath provides delightful crunchy contrast.

People in Mexico, where tostadas were invented, understand their terrific appeal.

And tostadas have been a thing in Southern California for ages. When I was growing up in Los Angeles, giant salady chicken tostadas layered with beans were found in just about every Mexican restaurant: the perfect lunch. My favorite version, as a young adult working in Hollywood, was conveniently located across the street from Paramount Studios, at a show-biz hangout called Lucy’s El Adobe. But you could find chicken tostadas everywhere.

More fashionable these days in the Golden State — and differently wonderful — are simpler, flatter seafood tostadas topped with things like ceviche or octopus salad. A stall in downtown L.A.’s Grand Central Market called La Tostaderia specializes in them, but they’re also found on mariscos (seafood) trucks and stands all over town.

“Places like that are all over Mexico,” says Olivia Lopez, owner of Molino Olōyō in Dallas, and Cooks Without Borders’ Mexican cuisine expert. Known as marisquerías, they are small spots selling mariscos, often arrayed on tostadas. They are popular in Colima, the coastal state where she’s from, and all along the Pacific coast. And they’re trending. “Marisquerías are expanding all over the country,” says Olivia. “It has become a trend in maybe the last 10 years.”

Bright, light, fresh and tangy, a tostada makes an irresistible lunch or snack. Dress it up a bit, and you can invite it to a special dinner. Or tostada party, which Olivia has done recently at a couple of pop-ups.

Yep — Olivia knows how to dress them up. On Molino Olōyō’s Instagram feed, you’ll find one topped with pickled cabbage, chicken in mole, homemade crema, pickled onions and salsa macha.

I fell head-over-heels in love with her Scallop Ceviche Tostada the minute I laid eyes on it, and even more when I tasted it. It’s a blue-corn tostada spread with avocado purée, topped with a bright and voluptuous scallop ceviche and drizzled with a tangy Scallion Condiment. Salsa macha is spooned around, adding depth, and crunchy toasted peanuts go on top.

It’s cheffy and gorgeous, to be sure, but surprisingly easy to achieve at home. Especially if you happen to keep a jar of Olivia’s outstanding Salsa Macha in the fridge, and you’ve made the tostada bases in advance. The scallop ceviche itself is a snap to make; it takes all of about 10 minutes.

Do try this at home

Before heirloom masa harina changed my life, I never made tostadas at home. But now that it’s remarkably easy to make outstanding corn tortillas that don’t involve GMO corn, I make them all the time. It’s a no-brainer — and no need to fry the tortillas to get the crunch. Just make a batch of tortillas, set them on a rack on a baking sheet and let them dry out and get crisp in a low oven. Alternatively, you can use leftover tortillas — simply dry them in the oven.

Then let your imagination go wild.

As a starting point, you might use avocado on top of the crisped tortilla. Olivia’s scallop ceviche creation uses avocado purée, but you could also smear some guacamole or smashed avocado on there, or dress it up like an avocado toast — pretty slices, a generous squeeze of lime, some fancy salt and a grind of black pepper or smattering of chile flakes. In full-on summer, juicy slices of heirloom tomato are a delightful addition. Cilantro leaves are always welcome.

I love the simple treat, because it really features the fabulous, deep flavor of the heirloom corn tortilla — and it’s also vegan and gluten-free.

You don’t need a recipe for it, but here’s a recipe anyway.

A Mexican home-cooking classic

If you’re a fan of Chicken Tinga (Tinga de Pollo) — an easy stew of poached chicken, tomato, onion, garlic and chipotle chile — you can do as Mexican home cooks do and make second-day Tostadas con Tinga de Pollo with the leftovers. Just spoon some reheated Chicken Tinga over a tostdada piled with shredded lettuce, garnish with crumbled queso fresco, if you like, and maybe a squiggle of crema (Mexican sour cream). Bright-flavored raw salsa verde adds tangy dimension.

Or join me in reliving my youth and construct an addictive Chicken Salad Tostada.

Last summer, I got in the habit of keeping tostadas handy, along with the makings of pico de gallo (tomato, white onion, serrano, cilantro) and avocados, and on the weekend I’d make a pot of frijoles de olla. Using organic roast chicken picked up at the supermarket (don’t tell my kid!), I found myself making these a couple times a week. I also stared keeping cans of organic pinto beans around, in case I needed to have this and didn’t have time to make beans. (Yes, they’re that crave-able!)

This summer (which hasn’t even officially started yet) is shaping up to be a repeat.

When you make them, they look giant. The salad spills over the tortilla. You think, that’s so big — how can I possibly eat that? You can; it’s mostly lettuce. The contrast of its cool freshness with the rich, warm beans is marvelous. The avocado and chicken make it substantial. The pico de gallo makes it superbly juicy and bright.

In other words, buen provecho: I hope you enjoy my favorite lunch!


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Recipe for Today: Heading toward the weekend, we’re thinking endless guacamole

Guacamole, made the traditional way — with the same ingredients Diana Kennedy used in her recipe in ‘The Cuisines of Mexico,’ but in different proportions

By Leslie Brenner

Is there anything more festive than a molcajete filled with guacamole? As a party-starter — whether it’s a party of two or twenty — it can’t be beat.

Our friends who garden seem to all have cilantro that’s gardening at the moment, and its delicate lacy blossoms make the nicest garnish, if you can get them.

Of course you’ll need ripe avocados, which is why we’re talking about this now. Memorial Day weekend — summer’s unofficial kickoff — is just about here, and if you grab a few avocados that are not quite ripe, you can put ‘em in a paper bag and they’ll be ready to smash just when you need them.

Whether your Memorial Day festivities skew toward carne asada or burgers on the grill, or even a fabulous vegan mixed grill, you don’t need to overthink the party-starter. Haven’t made plans? Mash up some guac, tear open a bag of chips and invite a friend. See? The party’s here.

Fridge-clearing and fabulously flavorful, Sunday Souper Soup will set you up deliciously for the week

Sunday Souper Soup with lentils, carrots, celery, onions and greens in a white bowl on a green Tiffany basket-weave plate. In the back ground is harissa from a tube.

When a nation of restaurant-goers turns (almost overnight!) into a society of captive home cooks, the stresses caused by fridge management can be monumental.

Keeping everyone in comfort food is easy: There’s pasta and cheese for that. Rice concoctions galore. Potatoes are a no-brainer in any form. Pizza is a track-pad click away.

Still, you diligently keep the fridge stocked with healthy fresh things: broccoli and kale, carrots and cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, salad greens and herbs.

So that by Sunday, the crisper drawer is stuffed with stuff that’s not so crisp, and you’re left beating yourself up about waste. Meanwhile, what are you going to put on the dinner table in the coming week?

If besides all that stuff you can rustle up a few basic staples, I’ve got great news for you: You can turn those hapless refrigerator victims into a Sunday super-soup that’s so incredibly flavorful that no one would ever suspect you of anything so nefarious as using up tired greens. It’ll solve the coming week’s lunch question and provide a dinner or two — all while saving money and helping you dodge a food-waste bullet.

It gets even better: You can pack the soup with an arsenal of life-affirming, enchantingly aromatic spices and herbs that turn the whole project into an anti-inflammatory, anti-oxidant, flavonoid-rich powerhouse. It is vegan and gluten-free, and therefore sends you into the coming week feeling vital and positive. That gigantic pan of bacon-enriched mac-and-cheese you devoured on Thursday, washed down with three glasses of wine? It is vitamin water under the comfort-food bridge. Today is a new day.

The essential staples you’ll need: onions, carrots and celery (diced together they make what the French call mirepoix); lentils; a can of tomatoes; olive or other oil; salt and pepper. These, plus water, form the base of the soup. And if you follow our master recipe, that’s all you really need for a delicious one. The basic outline is sweat the mirepoix in oil, add lentils, tomatoes, water, salt and pepper, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer till it’s soup — under an hour.

Our master recipe — which we first wrote about pre-Covid, in a story back in January — explains how to incorporate all those vegetables crying for rescue from the fridge: everything from root vegetables (turnips, parsnips, celery root, beets) to Brassicaceae (broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts and whatnot) to fresh legumes (string beans, peas and such) to leafy greens. The veg can be raw or cooked, so that small dish of roasted cauliflower with Punjabi spices left over from Friday dinner can find a new life in a lush (and zero waste!) soup, and the lonely cupful of sautéed greens from four days ago may gain delicious new purpose.

And you’ll want to spice it up: turmeric, coriander seed and cumin seeds are great places to start; ginger and garlic are your aromatic allies; fresh and dried chiles are always welcome; nigella seeds and flax seeds add nutritional heft; so do mushrooms, dried or fresh. Herbs — fresh and dried — are superb additions.

Again, our January story gives a lot of the health background and zero-waste benefits. Give it a read first if you’re interested in making the soup as powerfully healthful as possible. Otherwise, I invite you to explore the recipe.

And then take a deep dive into that crisper drawer and make soup!

MASTER RECIPE: Sunday Souper Soup

Say hello to the green gazpacho of your dreams

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There are a grillion versions of green gazpacho out there — many of them likeable, some (like Yotam Ottolenghi’s in Plenty) lovable. But I’ve never found one that made me stop and say, OK, you are the green gazpacho of my dreams.

I enjoy versions with yogurt, but the green gazpacho of my dreams is vegan. And even though a gazpacho without bread is technically not a gazpacho, the green gazpacho of my dreams is gluten-free. That’s because when I crave green gazpacho, I’m craving something very clean and pure. I’m wanting something intensely chlorophyllic, and herbal — but also tangy.

The green gazpacho of my dreams is something I can throw together in a flash, as a satisfying and energizing lunch, or a refreshing prelude to a lovely summer or late spring dinner. It should be basic enough to make for myself and family on a weekday, but gorgeous enough to start off a celebratory dinner party with friends (if we are ever able to do that again!).

Green Gazpacho Banner.JPG

It has to have body, and a little richness. I’ve seen recipes for versions involving avocado, but I’m nor looking for that kind of unctuousness. (Though I do adore diced ripe avocado as a garnish on classic Gazpacho Sevillano.)

Sometimes the way out of a culinary conundrum like this is to go back to the basics. I looked to traditional ajo blanco, the cold almond and garlic soup from Malaga, Spain that’s also known as gazpacho blanco, white gazpacho.

Yes! Raw almonds add just the right body to this soup, without the tannic bite that’s so nice with the walnuts in Ottolenghi’s Plenty version. If almonds work here, perhaps raw cashews would as well. I tried that on round two, and liked it even better — it imparted a little more roundness and depth. But either works great.

You’ll want to use your best sherry vinegar and olive oil in this soup; they are more than just supporting players.

Here is your ticket to summer-long green greatness:

As you can see in the recipe, the ingredients are basic, easy to keep on hand for when a craving comes knocking. No need for advance planning, as you don’t need to chill it; just plop two or three ice cubes in each bowl before you serve. Or make it ahead, and chill it in the fridge. For maximum delight, garnish it with a flurry of soft herbs — any combination of dill, chervil, parsley, cilantro, basil, mint, chives, tarragon, celery leaves and sliced scallion greens (OK, those last two are not technically herbs, but you get the idea). Or just add a swirl of your best olive oil on top.

RECIPE: The Greenest Gazpacho

What to make for Super Bowl Sunday: a big ol' pot of crazy-good Texas chili

A lot of people I know are really, really upset. Why? Because the Dallas Cowboys did not go all the way to the you-know-what.

Here's what I think they should do on Sunday, February 5: Make a big pot of Texas chili, turn on the TV, and pretend it's the Cowboys playing in the Super Bowl.

Why not? As long as they have something deliciously Texan to eat, that's the important thing. Right? After all, they're probably going to watch the Super Bowl. And the Super Bowl is, after all, in Texas this year. So chili is the thing. Maybe you want to make some guacamole, too (it wouldn't be the first time).

Dried ancho chiles

 

But back to the chili: Beans need not apply. Because we are in Texas, y'all. It's all about the meat. You can make a pot of pinto beans and serve it on the side, if that's your fancy. Just soak the beans overnight, drain them, place them in a big pot, cover with water by an inch, add an onion (cut in half), a bay leaf or two, a few whole garlic cloves (you don't even need to peel them), and (this is optional), a piece of slab bacon. Bring to a boil, then simmer a couple hours, till the beans are nice and tender.

But I digress.

Here's the way I feel about chili: You could use an "easy" recipe. You know, one that uses chili powder and ground beef. But as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing like chili made the old fashioned way: by soaking whole dried chiles and grinding them to a paste. I also prefer to chop the beef roughly by hand rather than using ground beef. 

Start with the right cut, not something lean: I like a well-marbled piece of chuck. Enlist your butcher's help with this. Then use a sharp knife to cut it into 1/2-inch dice.

Then you'll toast a bunch of dried ancho chiles in a dry pan, cover them with boiling water and let 'em soak. Half an hour later, purée them with a little of the soaking water to a lovely smooth, thick paste. Brown the meat, cover it with the purée and stir together.

Adding chile puree to browned beef for chili

Isn't that lovely? This is why cooks love to cook. 

Add some of the liquid from soaking the chiles, some garlic cloves and onion you've charred in the dry pan then chopped, freshly ground toasted cumin seeds, dried oregano, a couple of bay leaves and cayenne for heat.

Simmer it all together for a couple of hours: The beef will become incredibly tender and all those wonderful flavors will meld and deepen. In other words, it cooks down into crazy-good Texas chili. 

 

Here's the recipe:

Just the thing for watching (or not watching!) a hugely important football game in Texas. Let everyone serve themselves out of the pot. Put out bowls of chopped onion and grated cheese as garnish. Feel like making cornbread, or corn tortillas? That will go great – as will guacamole and chips. And beer. 

Houston, we have *no* problem. 

Luxuriously rich, easy-to-make, flourless Mexican-chocolate cake is blow-them-away fabulous

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It all started with a recipe in Michael Solomonov's Zahav: A World of Israeli Cooking. The recipe, for a flourless chocolate cake – in which Solomonov and co-author Steven Cook use almond flour in place of wheat flour – is called "Chocolate-Almond Situation." I was drawn to the recipe because of its unusual name. Why "situation"?

Also, it looked so easy and good I couldn't resist. I melted chocolate, heated the oven, and went for it. 

Rich, luxurious and profoundly chocolatey, with a wonderfully moist, velvet-cream texture, the dessert was a big hit. And it was as easy to make as brownies. Another bonus: It's gluten-free. I posted a snap of it, with a description, on Instagram, tagged Solomonov and Zahav and added, "But still dying to know, Chef, why it's called a 'situation.'" 

"Gorgeous!" came the comment from Zahav. 

"Thank you!" I wrote. "Now why is it called a 'situation'?"

No answer. 

Meanwhile, I had an idea I couldn't get out of my head: Mexican chocolate. Wouldn't it be cool to make this cake using Mexican chocolate instead of regular dark chocolate? 

Last winter, my friend Michalene and I had enjoyed the most amazing Mexican hot chocolate at El Cardenal, a Mexico City restaurant known for its epic breakfasts. The drink, silky and incredibly rich, was prepared at the table by a waiter who used a molinillo, a traditional wooden chocolate whisk. I had to rush off early to catch my flight home, but Michalene surprised me by sending me a box of Doña Oliva chocolate tablets, which they use and sell at the restaurant. I was stunned to find that I could use a tablet to make a cup of chocolate almost as delicious as El Cardenal's; I've been rationing them ever since.

Since I'm always craving a cup, Mexican chocolate has been on my mind for months – especially since the start of winter. 

Could I maybe use the tablets to make a Mexican-Chocolate Situation? 

Nah...those tablets are too precious.

Meanwhile, I'd seen really cool-looking Taza organic Mexican-style stone-ground chocolate tablets at the supermarket. Maybe I could use those! But when I saw the price – they're $5 per 2.7-ounce tablet on the Taza website – I realized they'd be way too expensive, as we'd need four or five tablets for one cake.

Instead, I tried hunting down the Ibarra Mexican chocolate I grew up with. I didn't find it at my local supermarket, but found and purchased a box of Abuelita, another industrial brand.

What a disappointment: I brought it home and tasted it. It tasted nothing like chocolate. Just like sugar and chemicals. No way was this going into my cake (or yours). 

I was back to the drawing board.

Then, as she often does, Michalene came to the rescue. She suggested using the same high-quality 72% cacao chocolate I first used for the Situation and adding spices and other flavorings you'd find in Mexican chocolate. After all, I already had almonds in the almond flour. She suggested not just cinnamon and vanilla, which is what I'd naturally reach for, but also ancho chile powder and brandy. 

I made a couple other little tweaks to the recipe, for instance, changing the amount of chocolate to equal three 3.5 bars (10.5 ounces) rather than the 11 ounces the original called for. 

I whipped up the chocolate batter, added the ancho chile (just a touch), the cinnamon, the vanilla and brandy, mixed in the almond flour, spread it in a pan and baked.

Eureka! Same wonderful texture and richness, and now it had that dreamy Mexican chocolate flavor.

It was such a hit at dinner that one of my guests would not leave until I wrapped up two slices for him to take home.

You can bake it in a round pan and slice it into wedges, but be sure to make them small, as it is very, very rich. I'd say one 9-inch cake serves 10-12, rather than the 8 you'd expect. For an elegant dinner party, you might want to garnish it with a dollop of whipped cream, or whipped cream mixed with crème fraîche. You know what would be wonderful? Nata, the Mexican-style clotted cream El Cardenal serves at breakfast with the pan dulce known as a concha.

Or you can bake it in a square or pan and cut it into brownie-like bars. Dust them with powdered sugar or not, as you like. Honestly, they were so creamy, chocolatey and rich, they didn't need any adornment. 

Here's the recipe:

As for why it's called a "situation," well, that remains a mystery. Chef Solomonov, care to comment?