Show me a person who doesn’t like the movie Chocolat and I’ll show you a person with no joie de vivre, no heart. I always felt a little sheepish admitting that I do actually really love this movie–and in fact, would consider it among one of my favorites–because of the whole chocolate thing. The chocolate thing is merely the frosting on a cake that is–admittedly–mostly frosting; and which includes such lip smacking bonuses as sexy river pirate Johnny Depp, Grande Dame Judi Dench, Juliette Binoche with her perfect accent and perfectly accented in a red cape, draped in the gorgeous, textured folds of magical realism and small town politics in a story-book village. I felt slightly embarrassed, given my situation, that if I admitted my attachment to this movie, people might think I was equating myself with beautiful Vianne Rocher and her skill with people and chocolate. I worried about this until I discovered that most people actually (much to my disappointment) don’t think of this movie when they hear I make chocolate in a small village on the coast of Maine. Instead they say, “Oh, you make chocolate? Like Willy Wonka!”
I find this horrifying. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was one of those movies that haunted me all through my adolescence. I equated the house with the edible wallpaper to a freaky haunted mansion, and the image of that girl blowing up like a huge blue beachball gave me nightmares for years. The remake that came out a few years ago, instead of erasing those images, just added to the pile. Johnny Depp’s Willy Wonka is, arguably, one of the creepiest movie characters of all time.
So now, when people walk into my tiny village cafe and admire my delicate handmade chocolates displayed on pretty antique cake plates, and, then, for some reason completely beyond reckoning, equate the scene with Willy Wonka, I say (with a casual shrug and as much off-handedness as I can muster), “Oh really? Most people say Juliette Binoche, but I guess Willy Wonka fits, too.” Which, of course, is a total lie–but in the biz, we call it marketing by power of suggestion.
Here’s the thing about Juliette Binoche’s character in Chocolat: Vianne is not just a staggeringly gorgeous chocolateur, but also an amazing cook. Who can forget the dinner party she throws for Armande? And that silky, dark mole she ladles over roasted hens. It is that singular image that inspired the following meal.
Later in this series, I will post my method for making homemade meat stock (there is no better winter kitchen activity than simmering a pot of roasted bones and vegetables on the stove). And I do recommend using a meat stock for the mole. I have made it with vegetable stock (Steve is a vegetarian), and it’s tasty, but the final product lacks the suaveness and body that a meat stock gives it.
Oh, one last thing: There is very little chocolate in mole (contrary to the common belief in this part of the world that mole is a chocolate sauce), but I do feel that the kind you use is, of course, important. Don’t worry if you don’t have Mexican chocolate on hand. But, even if you are not partial to sweet-ish sauces, don’t be tempted to use unsweetened chocolate. If you want to go out and buy Mexican chocolate, Ibarra (in the yellow, hexagonal-shaped box) is probably the most available. However, let me make a recommendation: Taza organic stone-ground chocolate, made in Massachusetts, has several wonderful Mexican-style chocolates. They also make fabulous regular chocolate. It’s VERY different, so don’t be expecting smooth Valrhona or anything. It’s gritty and strong; but immensely flavorful. It’s really a whole different kind of thing.
Mole Poblano (adapted for the limitations of my New England pantry from the Simple Red Mole recipe in Rick Bayless’s Mexican Kitchen, copyright 1996, Scribner Press)
makes roughly 6 cups
- 8 garlic cloves, skin on
- 8 ancho chiles, or other mild, medium-sized, dark red dried chiles
- !-1/2 t dried oregano
- 1/2 t black pepper
- cumin
- cloves
- About 6 c chicken or turkey stock
- 3 T olive oil
- 2 oz whole almonds (or cashews or peanuts, whatever you have on hand)
- 1 medium white or yellow onion, sliced
- 1/4 c raisins
- 1 fresh tomato, or 3-4 whole canned tomatoes
- 1/2 t cinnamon
- 1-1/2 oz Mexican chocolate (or semi/bittersweet chocolate)
- 2 slices white bread
- sugar
Method:
In a large cast-iron skillet, roast the garlic until it’s quite charred on the outside and slightly soft, inside. Do the same with the chiles: slice them open, remove the seeds and press flat for a few seconds, each side, on the hot skillet. They will blister and smoke slightly. Try not to burn them too bad. Peel the garlic and set aside. Tumble the toasted chiles into a bowl, cover with hot water and soak for 30 minutes. Drain and discard the water.
While the chiles are soaking, pan roast your tomatoes in the hot skillet, until the skins (or flesh, if using canned tomatoes) are black and blistered and they start to goo. Set aside and allow to cool.
Add some olive oil to the skillet and toast the nuts until they are golden. Remove to a separate bowl with a slotted spoon, and then add the onion to the skillet. Cook until very brown–stirring very little. With the slotted spoon, add the onion to the nuts. Add more oil to the pan, if necessary, and cook the raisins until they puff, and then fry the bread. Add all, along with the cooled, peeled tomato, to the bowl with the onions and nuts.
Next, in a food processor, grind the soaked chiles, garlic, oregano, black pepper, cumin, cloves and about 1/2 cup stock. Press the mixture through a mesh strainer into a bowl. Do strain the paste. If you don’t have a strainer, borrow one from a neighbor.
Don’t wash the bowl of the processor. Instead, dump in the nut/onion/etc. mixture, along with your grated chocolate and the cinnamon, and process with about 1 cup of the stock until it is smooth.
Heat up your skillet again, add a bit more oil, and when it is very hot, dump in your chile paste. Cook and stir like mad until the paste is quite dark and thick–about 5 minutes. Add the nut puree and do the same. Add the remaining stock, stir to blend, partially cover and simmer for about 45 minutes. Season with sugar and salt to taste.
Prepare the chicken
Ingredients:
- One whole roasting chicken, or 2-3 Cornish hens
- salt and pepper
- Mole Poblano
Method:
Heat your oven to 350 degrees.
Rinse, dry, then quarter the chicken. Separate the thighs from the drumsticks, and rub down all of it with salt and pepper.
Heat a little olive oil in a large, heavy skillet until it is very hot. Brown the chicken pieces on all sides, and remove to a large, buttered roasting pan. Pour the mole over the chicken, cover with foil, pop in the oven and cook for about an hour and a half, or until the meat is soft and a bit of it pulls very easily from the bones.
Roast the sweet potatoes
Ingredients:
- 4 large sweet potatoes
- olive oil
- salt and pepper
Method:
While the chicken is roasting, peel and cut the sweet potatoes into 1-inch chunks. In a large bowl, toss them with a little olive oil, salt and pepper. Tumble them onto an oiled half sheet pan and roast until they are browned and soft–about 30-40 minutes.
Tortillas
Ingredients:
- 1-1/2 cups flour
- pinch of salt
- 2 T butter or oil
- water
Method:
Place flour, salt and butter into a food processor and whir until blended. Add water very slowly through the pour chute, until the ingredients come together in a ball. Wrap the dough in cellophane and allow to rest for 15-30 minutes.
Divide the dough into 6 pieces and, with a rolling pin, roll into thin disc. Cook in a dry skillet for a few minutes on each side, until slightly browned in places. Wrap in a towel and place in a basket.
Finishing
Serve the chicken on warmed plates, in a pool of sauce and sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds, with sweet potatoes and warm tortillas on the side.
Or pull the chicken from the bones, and stir it into the mole. Allow guests to make their own soft tacos with the shredded chicken, roasted sweet potatoes and some shredded lettuce or cabbage.
