Heard of hominy?

This is one of those foods which, when I first had it, I found myself thinking: how did I miss this? This is GOOD. I think I had it as part of posole, in a tiny Mexican restaurant in San Francisco's Castro District. Those were the days when the boys showed it on the street a whole lot more than they do now, i.e., well before we started chanting "we're here, we're queer. Let's get an espresso." Remember those days?

Don't lie. Of course you do. Very few of you are that young.

So, anyway, for a plate of food to engage me more than the parade of lovelies that were walking in and out and on the street meant it HAD to be good. And it was different. And while that restaurant is long gone, and the tone of Castro Street has changed somewhat (Armisted Maupin gets it right. OH, does he get it right), my taste for posole never left.

One of our favorite restaurants serves it regularly as "drink nibbles." They basically pan fry the posole until it's got that nice, crispy flavor that you associate, oh, with popcorn that's just a little burned, before it turns to that charcoally kind of BLECH that gives you heartburn when you eat it. Guy and I stole half of the plate of it that our friend Laura and her guest ordered one night, and it made me think of the stuff again. And now that we're exploring corn, well..

Remember how, in the prior blog, I told you how corn matures? Well, posole is mature corn. And when an ear of corn matures, it is NOT pretty. Think of someone with really bad teeth. REALLY bad buckteeth. That's a ripe ear of corn. The kernels get so big they push each other out of the way, the lines are awkward, it's hard enough to hit someone with, and certainly NOT something you can treat like corn on the cob for eating.

Mexicans dry this stuff. And it dries very well. And when anyone wants it , they soak it. And they soak it. And they soak it. A 36 hour soak is not unusual. Then they cook it. And cook it. And cook it. A three hour cook is not unusual.

Think I'm making this up. NOPE. I've done it. It was good, but this is clearly a preparation designed for folks who stay at home. Or who are restaurant professionals, and can spend all that time on this stuff. So this is one of those cases where I countenance using the canned stuff. It's cooked already, and it's nice and soft, and if you wash it, it's pretty good.

Hominy is a wonderful addition to soups, especially meat soups. If you have some left over chicken, raw or cooked, heat up some stock, or even water, add the chicken, the hominy, perhaps some green chilis and whatever veggies you have around (spinach or other greens are especially good), and you've got a hearty, main dish soup. Just heat it up, add some butter (for some reason, this just goes better with butter to me, than with olive oil), and you've got a nice side dish, almost a cross between pasta and couscous. But the way I like it... Well,the hell with temple days. Let's fry it.

Now, you CAN deep fry posole, and it's wonderful. I stay away from that preparation, because it's very hard to get canned posole dry enough to not feel like you're one of those ducks on the wheels at amusement parks, where people are shooting at you. The spitting oil WILL get you. I promise (I'll show you the spot on my hand). So when I fry it, I pan fry it, the way I will tonight with some lamb chops. All you do is this. Drain the can of posole in a colander or something like that, to get the "lion's share" of the water away. Then blot the stuff. If you're obsessed with this kind of thing, the way I am, spread out paper on a baking sheet, then spread out the posole on that, and blot it with another layer of paper. Just get it as dry as possible. Whenever you fry something, the drier it goes in, the nicer the crust is going to be when you get finished. Water steams things when it heats up. Dry things caramelize.

So you've got your dried out posole, and now take a nice wide pan, and put in a few tablespoons of butter, or if you want to feel more virtuous, half and half with vegetable, or olive oil. Get it hot, add the posole, and listen to the sizzle.

Learn to listen when you cook. That loud, vigorous sizzle, is the sound of liquid going off. You won't get anything brown and crispy until you stop hearing that sound. When it fades to a slow, almost crackling, browning is happening. Stir it now, and you'll see what I mean. Try to distribute the posole so that the non-toasted portions are now hitting the metal of the pan, and keep on cooking and stirring, until you have something as nice and brown as you like it.

There's your side dish. Or, if you're a pig, your lunch.

I should say that you CAN do this with corn OFF the cob. I don't like it as much, but you can do it.

If you try this, tell me how you like it. And if you gussy it up, please tell me what you do.