The peppers have been in my pantry for too long. Part of a gift from my mother...they were nestled in a basket with pumpkin seeds and authentic Mexican chocolate. All waiting...to be made into a mole sauce. She knew I was interested and wanted to give me the opportunity to experiment on yet another culinary adventure. I would walk into the pantry and see them and put them on my mental to do list. Almost every time. Mole is not something you can rush through though. I wanted the right day. That day never seemed to come. It was one thing or another. A sick child...a busy day at work...too much time taking care of the necessities. A day turns into a week...and a month...and a year. Then someone gets ill and in between visits to the hospital and getting through the regular hustle and bustle...the special little peppers get shoved to the side of the pantry somewhere near the panko and the boxes of pasta....for someday.
Then the very woman who got you the peppers...leaves you. Now when you see the peppers...there is a sadness that she will never get to taste the delicious meal you are about to prepare. There is a guilt that you never did it while she was alive. There is even the strange feeling of the awareness that once you use these peppers...cook them in the way they were intended...they will be gone. A little part of me kept them there I think like a smile or a nudge from her... a little "hello" if you will. Just yesterday while we were playing cards I realized that the last time we had used the deck she was there with us. Her essence on them like a fingerprint of memory. I found the urge to make this sauce yesterday. I believe she whispered into my ear, "enough waiting...make the mole".
I put on music that I liked and let the family keep each other company for a bit. It was Ma, me and my mole in the kitchen. I lined up my ingredients as if I were prepping for a cooking show. I think in my head I might have even described what I was doing... an audition playing in my head. This mole was intimidating me. Just a silly little sauce making me question so much. Doing the new might just seem like a new recipe to the outsider but it is usually so much more. First. I threw the many types of dried peppers into a pan to begin their transition. Next, they soaked with golden raisins to create a pool of rich colored liquid. The pan then met its next batch of goodies...oregano, fresh thyme, pumpkin seeds, peppercorns and a cinnamon stick. They filled the kitchen with even more aroma. The pan was used a third time for the round of extra virgin olive oil, garlic, onions and plum tomatoes. They were sauteed until the point of perfection and thrown into a blender along with the ground spices and soaked peppers and plump raisins. Mexican chocolate melted into the sauce as it whirred in the blender. My dutch oven warmed as I seasoned my chicken thighs with salt, pepper and a fresh lemon. The scent was now of a restaurant...somewhere exciting. While everything simmered for hours I prepped the rice and the crisp and fresh cilantro, lime, radish and onion slaw.
We waited. I started to wonder if piles of dishes, tons of prep and hours of time on a free Sunday (a rare commodity these days) was worth it.
It was. It was worth every seed that needed to be picked from the peppers. It was worth the energy and time and money and hope that was put into this little dish. It was layered and rich and gave your mouth an experience that you don't get to have on just a "regular" day. It was the kind of dish that with each bite makes you grow a little bit sad that it will eventually be gone. The beauty of it...I have a second batch waiting in the freezer for next time!
It is hard to let go of the things that were so very thoughtful. She was a master at finding things I would cherish. She thought of things I wouldn't have and found the things she knew I would adore. She listened like no other. One day in passing while watching a cooking show I might've mentioned wanting to make this sauce. She would remember and research it and find a way to get what was needed. I miss this part of her the most. The way she would just know what to get....better than I would even know what I needed. I will be sad when the peppers are gone but I now have a new meal in my recipe box...a notch in my apron's belt if you will. I also spent a Sunday with a much missed mother and her mole...even if only in spirit.
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