I remember the first time I tasted Pierna Adobada (Roasted Fresh Ham with Adobo Sauce), I didn’t quite know what to expect. It wasn’t sweet like an American barbeque sauce but it wasn’t tangy like a tomato sauce either. It just didn’t fit in with anything that I had experienced before. The one thing I did know, however, was that the 4 hours it had taken to prepare and roast the ham was enough to make me crazy with anticipation.
I had been invited by my then Mexican boyfriend (later husband) to come over and learn how to make this special occasion dish that was only served once or twice a year. It started with the deveining and seeding of several types of dried chiles, a few of which I had never seen before. They smelled sweet and peppery, and gave me the thought that they might taste something a kin to a raisin. My sister-in-law (looking somewhat like a mad scientist) combined those chiles with garlic, cumin seed, red wine and a whole host of other ingredients and then into the oven it went. Then we waited.
While we waited, the family gathered around and started to talk. Other family members heard through the grapevine that we were eating Pierna and they too started to trickle in one by one. Soon the small, over-heated kitchen was filled with conversation and the wonderfully suffocating smell of roasting garlic. It was only the serving (and of course eating) of the Pierna that finally calmed the roaring sea of our voices. The Pierna was so much more than I had expected. The complex flavors were enough to challenge the pallet of one who had acquired a taste for it, and yet inviting enough for the novice to want to come back for more. And so I did.
I had been invited by my then Mexican boyfriend (later husband) to come over and learn how to make this special occasion dish that was only served once or twice a year. It started with the deveining and seeding of several types of dried chiles, a few of which I had never seen before. They smelled sweet and peppery, and gave me the thought that they might taste something a kin to a raisin. My sister-in-law (looking somewhat like a mad scientist) combined those chiles with garlic, cumin seed, red wine and a whole host of other ingredients and then into the oven it went. Then we waited.
While we waited, the family gathered around and started to talk. Other family members heard through the grapevine that we were eating Pierna and they too started to trickle in one by one. Soon the small, over-heated kitchen was filled with conversation and the wonderfully suffocating smell of roasting garlic. It was only the serving (and of course eating) of the Pierna that finally calmed the roaring sea of our voices. The Pierna was so much more than I had expected. The complex flavors were enough to challenge the pallet of one who had acquired a taste for it, and yet inviting enough for the novice to want to come back for more. And so I did.
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A recipe would be welcome, gracias!
ReplyDeleteSaludos,
Don Cuevas