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Posts Tagged ‘great Mexican recipes’

final

I have been so bad about posting lately. This is to say I picture any one of you reading this have been seated in your recliners tapping your fingers thinking if Susie doesn’t post another blog soon I’m going to throw myself out the window. However, part of having a blog about cooking is actually filling it with colorful stories and interesting recipes on a regular basis. This past few months life simply keeps getting in the way. Recipes and stories keep piling up with no voice to move them off the shelf. Today is the day.

My daughter shared a funny story with me I thought I’d pass on. Over the weekend she and her best friend went to see the production of The Lion King currently on stage in San Francisco. Yesterday I got a phone call with an update of her experience including a critique of the show, what she wore, and the situations they got into while traveling to and from the city. San Francisco, from their location north of Sacramento, is 104 miles as the crow flies. On a weekend, or any day really, you have to factor in weather (it was raining), traffic (a given), and on this particular Saturday, Santa Con. Who knew?

After hearing her out I couldn’t help thinking the acorn doesn’t fall from the tree. She seems to have inherited my penchant for going directly from the frying pan into the fire. The story began with what she wore. As the description unfolded it appeared she was going for a look not unlike a colorful bird. The outfit began with a canary yellow dress with a feathery hem, topped by a cardinal red flowing jacket (I’m sensing a theme here), and to complete the ensemble a pair of over the knee peacock blue suede boots. So different are we when it comes to dress. Since my girl was small, clothes held a fascination for her her mother never shared. In first grade the child would scan her closet the night before a school day choosing a perfectly coordinated outfit for the following morning from hair band right down to shoes. Amazing. For me give me a pair of gloriously faded jeans molded to my contours over years of use and a wooly boyfriend sweater and I’m good to go. Perhaps the love of clothing skipped a generation, as her maternal grandmother has been a clotheshorse since she exited the womb. I believe she slid down the birth canal reading the latest copy of Vogue. Ideally Mother’s home should have an additional room to house the copious shoe boxes stacked ceiling to floor in her many closets.

The original plan had been to drive into the city and park in a parking garage close to the venue. The weather being weepy, my daughter’s friend who was doing the driving came up with Plan B. Plan B was to drive to Walnut Creek and take BART under the bay to their destination. My daughter in heels and with a bad shoulder was still voting for Plan A as they boarded the train. For those of you having ridden BART or any form of public transportation you know if you are left standing the only option is to cling to either a rope overhead or a pole if you are lucky enough to be standing next to one. On Saturday the train was jam packed with all manner of pumped up Santa’s, and holiday shoppers headed for a big spending day in the City. Hanging precariously to the end of the rope my daughter told her friend should her shoulder dislocate during the trip she would be responsible for manipulating it back into the socket. This news sinking in the friend announced to those nearby her friend had a bad shoulder. The news resulted in a lot of eyes of the people seated to begin surveying the floor or peering more closely at the devices in their hands. Believe me, for three years I commuted in the belly of Boston along the subway lines. Had you begun to deliver a baby on the floor of the train no one would have offered you a piece of newspaper to swaddle the baby in. A tough crowd those commuters. During many trips I was inappropriately rubbed up on, and I mean seriously inappropriately, had a man whisper sweet nothings in my ear, and had my pocket picked on several occasions. You learn to stand up for yourself fairly quickly and keep your possessions close if you find yourself hanging off a loop routinely. With all those occurrences happening not once did any gentlemen (and I use this term loosely here) ever say “here take my seat”. I believe if I’d tried they might have fought me for it.

I digress…..

They finally arrived at their stop in San Francisco arriving at the theater with only ten minutes to spare. No time for beverages or a pit stop they were ushered to their seats before curtain call which if missed means you also miss the first half of the show. The seats according to my girl were higher up in the theater allowing them only a view of the tops of the actors heads. Just before intermission, the two lattes she’d consumed prior to arriving at the BART station necessitated leaving before the act had ended. In the end she enjoyed the show and spending time with her best friend but didn’t have any immediate plans for getting on BART again.

To me all days provide an opportunity for adventure. It may not turn out exactly as originally planned but if there had been no Santa’s on the train would the story have been as colorful?

This dish is so flavorful and delicious and not difficult to pull together. I serve it in burritos, tacos, and even in taquitos. As pictured I served the meat in soft flour tacos with avocado, lime wedges, sour cream, and Mexican rice mixed with black beans and red onion. Yum and yum. Adjust the heat as desired by the number of chiles you toss in.

Crockpot Barbacoa

1/2 cup apple cider
3 garlic cloves, minced
4 tsp. ground cumin
2 tsp. oregano
1 tsp. chili powder
1 tsp. black pepper
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
4 Tbsp. lime juice
3 chipotle chiles in adobo
2 Tbsp. olive oil
4 lb. chuck roast
1 large onion, sliced thin
1 cup chicken broth
3 bay leaves

In blender puree all ingredients up to chuck roast. Set aside. Trim roast and cut into large chunks (about 6-8). Heat oil over high heat. Brown meat on all sides.

Line bottom of 6 quart crockpot with onion. Top with browned meat. Spoon adobo sauce over meat. Pour in chicken broth and add bay leaves. Cook on low for 10-11 hours. Shred meat.

Serves 4-6

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final2
With an outbreak of measles dominating the news lately, there’s a lot of talk flying around about vaccinating children. As a youngster the available vaccines were limited to polio (thankfully), DPT (diphtheria, tetanus and pertussis), and smallpox. Measles came along later, after I’d already suffered through it. As with most of my peers I survived the three most popular childhood diseases of the time, measles, chicken pox, and mumps. Of the three I probably enjoyed mumps the least. This, I suppose would like be saying you preferred an appendectomy to brain surgery. Mumps had my glands swelling up until I looked like an ardent squirrel tucking away nuts for winter. With the other two I simply scratched my way to health. Clawing my body to such an extent my grandmother put my mittens over my hands to prevent scarring. Still, I managed to wriggle out when miserable leaving several small poc marks above my left eyebrow as a memory of the ordeal.

Both my children were required to have all the needed vaccinations, by then including measles, prior to entering school. Moving around a fair bit in their formative years, I literally carried a loose leaf notebook which I referred to as their “papers” containing all required documentation allowing them entrance into pre-school first and all those following. My AKC Shih Tzu had less papers to her credit.

My brother-in-law from my first marriage actually contracted polio, or “infantile paralysis” as a child. For those of you youngsters unfamiliar with the disease, it is viral, usually entering through the mouth then targeting the nervous system. Back in the day when it reached epidemic numbers many children and adults were left crippled after coming down with it. The accepted treatment with no vaccine available were braces for the affected limbs. However, a woman by the name of Sister Kenny introduced an alternative treatment to the U.S. eschewing bracing the legs for a less conventional form of therapy involving massaging the affected muscles, a healthy diet, and retraining. Told her son would most likely be crippled my mother-in-law took him to Sister Kenny and if you looked at him today you would never know he had ever had the dreaded disease. Now, of course, there is an excellent vaccine created by Dr. Jonas Salk that successfully keeps polio at bay in the United States.Polio remains endemic in three countries – Afghanistan, Nigeria and Pakistan.

I have to admit I wonder why if a vaccination is available that will keep your child safe, you would choose not to allow him or her to have it. I do understand we are bombarded with side effect paperwork and articles with medications, but if I did not take any medication coming with frightening literature attached I probably would long ago have succumbed to pneumonia or massive infection. This is not in any way saying we should ignore such startling information,  because at times the cure can be more intimidating than the disease, just not be so cautious as to stand in the way of our well being or our children’s well being.

Another thing to consider is those coming in contact with your unvaccinated children. These kids are unable to defend themselves if too young to be vaccinated thus very vulnerable to whatever the unvaccinated child might be carrying. In essence the decision you make could impact many others around you.

You can’t protect your children from many things today no matter what precautions are in place. Helmets are available for everything imaginable. Last time I was in a toy store I was amazed at the armor for sale to accompany bikes, skateboards, roller skates, in-line skates, sleds, and toboggans. Pretty soon dolls will come with protective gear. If we purchase all this and still they get hurt, why not opt for a tetanus shot which virtually insures they will be protected at least from lock jaw? Forgive my confusion.

At seven, my son presented with a rash. Along with this lumpy bumpy skin, he had a fever, and a tongue that looked as if he’d recently enjoyed a raspberry lollipop. At first I thought he had measles, although he’d completed all his shots. Whisking him off to the emergency room, as it was a Sunday, I was ushered into an examination room to wait the appropriate three hours to be seen. A doctor came in surprisingly quickly to examine my boy. After some poking and prodding he left and came back in short order with two more doctors now wearing masks. Hmmm. Discussion ensued, and my uncharacteristically quiet youngster’s eyes grew bigger with the entrance of each new member of the hospital staff into the room.  Within an hour we had a quorum. Diagnosis, scarlet fever. At one time this could have been a death sentence. Fortunately, with penicillin it is treated much like strep throat. Highly contagious we were sent home and instructed to remain on “house arrest” for four days until the rash subsided and the contagious phase of the disease had passed.

Our family is big on doing things other families only think of for the most part. We get in odd situations, contract weird maladies, and in general live life outside of the box. My son also had shingles at the age of nine. Who knew? In children the disease manifests the ugly skin rash, but bypasses the pain involved in older patients. If not for the red army of bumps marching across his lower back I would not have known he had the disease at all.

We humans are such highly delicate mechanisms. Our bodies amazing on the worst of days with their intricately intertwined systems and largely misunderstood thinking processes all continuing to be examined while we’re alive and often after we’re gone in an effort to understand what makes us work.

This chile verde got an A+ from my chile verde in-house critic. Good and fairly easy to throw together. As always if you wish to beat the heat, make the Rotel tomatoes regular diced.

Crock Pot Chile Verde

8 flour tortillas
4 lbs. boneless pork loin, trimmed and cut into cubes

Seasoning Mix

2 tsp. black pepper
2 tsp. garlic powder
2 tsp. onion powder
2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. oregano
1 1/2 tsp. ground cumin

Mix spices together well. Place meat in large resealable bag. Add spices and squeeze and shake to distribute. Place in refrigerator for 1 hr.

Spray 6 quart slow cooker with cooking spray. Add meat to bottom. Combine sauce ingredients and pour over top. Cook on low for 9 hrs. Serve with flour tortillas, rice and refried beans if desired.

Sauce

1 Tbsp. chicken bouillon
1 cup water
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. ground coriander
1 tsp. oregano
1 tsp. lime juice
1 28 oz.can green enchilada sauce
2 12 oz. jars salsa verde
1/2 10 oz. can Rotel tomatoes
1 14 1/2 oz. can diced tomatoes

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2When the leaves begin to fall my mind often goes to my friends towards the east. During my “construction years”, as I always think of them, my feet didn’t allow much grass to grow beneath them. My saga began in California, took me first to Washington state, and brought me back full circle through Arkansas, Alabama, and twice through West Virginia. Was I to describe my time on the road in written form I believe I would capitalize my adjectives, as it was the kind of experience warranting a little extra attention.

Not a lifestyle fit for everybody I’m sure. Packing up and moving at a moment’s notice. Reaclimating at each turn in the road to a new environment and new people. We referred to ourselves as snails, carrying our homes on our backs. My ex-husband was my travel companion during those years. Born in Arkansas and raised in Texas, David was built for the life. By twenty he could be found most days working on the oil rigs lining the landscape outside of Odessa. When not drilling for Texas gold he hit the rodeo circuit riding the bucking broncos or straddling or straddling an occasional bull. Looking for all intents and purposes like the Marlboro man he suited the rough and tumble life he’d chosen. Accent his physical attributes with a smooth southern drawl and an extra ounce or two of charm, and the man cut through life like a hot knife might slide through a stick of cold butter.

While in Longview, Washington, which as I said previously was to be our first stop on our journey together, we met the Cole Family. The Coles were headed up by Oscar and Teddy. A warmer group rarely graced the planet. We were absorbed into their midst as one might be sucked into a vat of melting marshmallows. The family, a tight one on the worst of days, traveled together. Three of their four children, two girls, and one boy, all grown with families of their own moved from place to place like a caravan of gypsies changing schools and locations like most people change underwear. Parties at their house were generally food oriented and always boisterous. Women usually gathered in one or the other’s kitchens, sitting around the table chatting or preparing food at the counters. Being an only child myself, it was nice to be part of a large family unit and included in the fun.

The Cole women were generously cut, as they would tell you themselves. This I would suppose could be contributed to genetics on one hand and their absolute love of food on the other. Before long Cindy, the second oldest of the daughters, and I became the best of friends. With her mass of curly red hair and abundance of freckles Cindy looked like Rebecca of Sunnybrook farm and had a way with the soil that would have made her well suited for the role. In West Virginia our homes were situated a mile down the road from one another. Ours was a three bedroom rental, while Cindy and her husband Nicky rented a farm-house large enough to accommodate the two of them, their two children and two large hunting dogs answering to the names Dumb and Dumber. Most of the crews rented while on the road. There was no point in signing up for a mortgage as odds were you wouldn’t be there long enough to put a dent in the principal. Included with their house came five acres of fertile land which they quickly put to good use. A large patch behind the barn was cordoned off for Cindy’s vegetable garden. I love to garden. Certainly I’m not going to teach any classes on the subject, but I grew a prize worthy crop of okra once (not my favorite of the vegetable clan) and made my own pumpkins one year while living in Alabama. Cindy, however, had the touch. Walking among the huge stalks you might look down inside a leaf to find a cauliflower staring back at you, or see a bunch of broccoli protruding from curly leaves.

Along with the prolific vegetables she produced, the trees on the land were heavy with apples, plums, peaches, and apricots which I spent many a day gathering in baskets to help her put up in preparation for the cold winters in the state.

Around Halloween one year the three Cole women, Teddy the matriarch of the group, Cindy, and her younger sister Melissa, asked me to attend a Halloween potluck at their church. They all drove trucks so the obvious vehicle of choice was to be my 1979 Thunderbird having the most room. The T-Bird was built the year Ford decided to make a massive vehicle out of the formerly smaller model. Long in the front, it had bench seats and plenty of extras. It was vintage at the time. A polite word for old. Perhaps I shall take to calling myself vintage. Much nicer. David spent his time off sliding in and out from beneath the engine trying to encourage it to keep on running. We had already replaced the transmission and most of its working parts but it got me from Point A to Point B so I wasn’t complaining.

We decided to all go to the luncheon as cast members of the Wizard of Oz. I was to be the witch (a little type casting). Cindy was Dorothy. Instead of Toto lurking beneath her gingham napkin in her basket she tucked one of her delicious apple pies to share at the potluck. Teddy was the scarecrow and Melissa the Tin Man.

Outside fall had swooped down on the state with a vengeance. Brilliant leaves carpeted the area with a blanket of riotous color. The trees so beautiful they took your breath away. We took the back route that day, probably more because we looked somewhat ridiculous, than to save time. The road wound through farms with rows of corn standing at attention waiting for the last harvest.

Going up a steep hill the car began to gasp. One final breath led us to the side of the road. We had passed the last farmhouse about two miles back. Not knowing what else to do, we popped the hood and looked beneath it. Why we did this, as none of us would have recognized a problem, is beyond me.

With no cell phones at that time after much debate we sat on a rock by the side of the road, Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Wicked Witch, and the Tin Man and each ate a piece of Cindy’s delicious pie. A farmer came by in a beat up old pickup truck about an hour later. With room for only two in the cab the scarecrow and I (appropriately as the bed was filled with remnants of hay) rode in the back with an enormous dog who looked at me as if I was the daily special. At the farmers house we called for a tow. Never made the party. Not sure if we didn’t have more fun where we were.

Cindy passed away six years ago from cancer at 48. I look back at my times with her like this one and smile.

I have a long recipe and a short recipe for carnitas. These are for my friend who hates to cook who asked me for the short version. They are delicious and easy to put together.

Crockpot Carnitas 4 Layer Burritos

For the Carnitas

3 1/2 lb. boneless pork shoulder
1 onion, sliced thin
1 tsp.
1/2 tsp. pepper
1/2 tsp. lemon pepper
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 orange, cut in wedges
2 containers hot chunky salsa (or less if you prefer less heat)
1/2 pkg. Lawry’s taco seasoning mix
1/2 cup chopped cilantro

Spray 6 quart slow cooker with cooking spray. Place sliced onion in bottom. Rub pork with salt, peppers, and garlic. Place fat side up on top of sliced onion. Place oranges on top of meat.

Mix together salsa and Lawry’s seasoning mix. Pour over top of meat. Cook on low for 10 hours. Shred meat with fork. Return to juice in pan. Add cilantro and mix well. Discard oranges.

For Burritos

1 large ripe avocado
1/2 lime
salt and pepper
8 flour tortillas (burrito size)
2 16 oz. cans Rosarita green chile and lime refried beans
1/2 cup Mexican style cheese, shredded
Mexican Rice (arroz)*
Sour cream
Salsa

Peel and core avocados. Mash with fork. Add salt and pepper and squeeze 1/2 lime.

Heat beans in microwavable dish for 3 mins. Sprinkle with cheese and return to microwave for 1 min. on high.

Wrap tortillas 2 at a time in paper towels. Heat for 1 min. in microwave on high.

Spread 1/8 of the beans on each tortilla to within 2″ of outside border. Top with shredded pork, rice, and avocado. Tuck in ends and roll to form burrito.

Top with salsa and sour cream if desired.

You will have meat leftover. Freeze for future use or use in tortas.

Serves 8

*For the rice try this link. Also, http://www.mexicoinmykitchen.com/2009/03/how-to-make-mexican-style-ricecomo.html

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chille relleno

Last weekend was a busy one. Not much time to put my feet up and enjoy the Sunday paper.  Saturday night Rick and I took ourselves out to dinner, something we haven’t done in a while.  January hit the ground running this year. Fully charged with kinetic energy it seemed to pick up speed with each succeeding day.  Feel like I’ve been run over by a riding lawn mower, pieces of me scattered all over the state.  I’m hoping February will be featuring a bit tamer fare on its schedule of events.

It was the perfect night for date night.  Nothing was defrosted for dinner as I spent most of the day cooking for Super Bowl the following day. Hungry, going out seemed like the perfect plan. As beautiful an area as we live in, the downside of living here is all the excellent restaurants in the area are at least 45 minutes from home.  Now, I understand this is not a trip requiring hotel reservations or luggage, but when you’re of a mood to run out and grab a quick bite, the drive can be enough of a buzz kill to encourage you to take something out of the freezer, put your feet up, and forget the whole thing.  On Saturday, however, we were determined.

Our restaurant of choice doesn’t take reservations.  Located in the midst of a college town, it is mostly staffed with college students, as well as largely populated with same.  Knowing there would be a wait on a Saturday we drove in early. Even at that, we found ourselves waiting outside with a pager placated by the usual promise from the perky hostess of a “15 minute wait”. Not being our first rodeo we knew this meant our table would be ready closer to 40, which it was.

Super Bowl pre-partiers in the bar swelled the noise decibels to a notch above the sound barrier.  Seated by the kitchen, servers behind our booth carrying empty trays into the kitchen screamed “corner” at the top of their lungs as they passed by to avoid a mid-air collision with those coming the opposite way trays loaded with food.  Needing libation at this point, I signaled for a vodka and tonic with a twist and one was provided.

Two waitresses approached our table, one a trainee it was explained, the second the trainer. Having owned a restaurant I have infinite patience with new employees, knowing first hand how difficult those first days can be. New hires must memorize the menu offerings and prices, make themselves knowledgeable about the ingredients in each dish, all the while becoming familiar with the kitchen and staff dynamics and whatever restaurant geared computer system is in place. Stir this in a pot with first day jitters and missteps are generally unavoidable. Rick ordered the huge steak topped off with an equally large marinated mushroom depicted in the cardboard ad on the table. I ordered the steak and seafood special. Yum.  A teetotaler, Rick ordered a soda plus several appetizers to share.

After about ten minutes, our appetizers arrived.  Across the aisle from us was a family with three children. No food evident yet to distract them, all three apprentice monsters were actively engaged in sending their parents to an early grave.  The youngest disappeared and reappeared beneath the table every minute or two like a Jack-in-the-Box on steroids while the two older ones were fully immersed in seeing how many pieces of bread could be lobbed at one another before their father flicked them on the head.  Seated in the middle was an older woman who I assumed to be the grandmother guzzling a beer as if she had five minutes to live and this would be the last malt liquor she’d ever taste.  “Corner”, I heard as another waiter passed, immediately followed by a deafening crash.  Hmmm, a glitch in their highly sophisticated system.

Thankfully, Rick and I are rarely short of conversation because I believe I celebrated a birthday before dinner arrived.  In the meantime our trainee stopped by to refill Rick’s soda, unfortunately with the water pitcher, and clear our dishes. Fighting over scraps of bread on the table, our eagerly awaited meals were placed before us.  Mine appeared exactly as shown on the menu. A skewer of perfectly cooked scallops and seasoned shrimp nestled in a bed of seasonal veggies seated next to a juicy steak with a fully dressed baked potato.  Rick’s dinner was also the same as pictured, except for the steak.  The steak in the photo was thick, plump and juicy. The one resting on his plate looked more like the sole of a well used all-weather boot. It was about 1 1/2″ thick and was oddly corrugated.  Cutting into it, the reportedly medium rare meat didn’t show a hint of pink.  A crook of Rick’s finger in the server’s direction signalled this wasn’t going to work, wasn’t going to work at all.

After being inspected by our ladies in waiting, it was determined this was not as ordered. Apologies were issued and the plate was dispatched to the kitchen for rework.  Moments later the restaurant manager, John, a young nervous looking type already combing over his rapidly dwindling hairline, arrived at our table.  After profusely apologizing he assured Rick his reworked meal would be out in two shakes of lamb’s tail (in this case cow’s tail) and insisted on providing a dish of clam chowder compliments of the house.  Yea.

Insisting I eat before mine got cold, I dug into my dinner. I didn’t enjoy it as much knowing Rick didn’t have his, so offered him bites along the way.  The soup long eaten, and what remained of the oyster crackers having disappeared, no new steak had arrived.  Finally, the trainee came by to box up my dinner and Rick’s dinner was at last served.  Really?  This steak looked beautiful, plump and juicy as promised.  Cutting into it, unfortunately it was raw.  This was not going to end well. 

John arrived with a new apology at the tardiness of the recook, and the unfortunate fact that they hadn’t, in fact, cooked it at all and offered to comp Rick’s meal.  Rick thanked the man and explained we had owned a restaurant. As an FYI, he thought John should know the first steak served was not anything like the one now sitting on the table, but looked more like one you might pound, bread and cover with gravy. Rick was not slated to work for the diplomatic corp.  After some deliberation John, obviously having nothing else to bring to the table, came up with the explanation all cows are not constructed equally so it is this lack of continuity that probably led to the problem.  This, of all things during the evening besides the company, made the dinner worth the drive.  I must remember that the next time I get an odd-looking hamburger.  Perhaps the meat came from one of those dreaded non-uniform bovines.  Words to live by.

Chile Rellenos

Salsa

6 plum tomatoes, cored and chopped
1 small white onion, chopped
1 4 oz. can diced green chiles
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 tsp. freshly squeezed lime juice
1/4 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp. sea salt

Puree 5 of the tomatoes, onion and garlic in food processor. Heat olive oil in a saucepan over med. heat. Add the tomato puree, chopped tomato, and diced chiles and simmer 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add lime juice. Season with salt and pepper and keep warm.

Chiles

6 poblano chiles
3 cups shredded monterey jack cheese
1 tablespoon dried oregano, preferably Mexican
4 large egg whites plus 1 egg yolk, at room temperature
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper
Vegetable oil, for frying
All-purpose flour

Place chiles 1/3 of the oven below the broiler on cookie sheet covered with foil and sprayed with cooking spray. Turn frequently until charred on all sides. Place in resealable bag and close. Allow to sit for 10 minutes to steam. Remove the skin.

Make a horizontal slit across the top of chile below the stem (leave stem intact). At middle of slit slice lengthwise down to the tip of the pepper. Splay pepper and remove seeds. Discard.

Place the cheese in a bowl, then add the oregano, crumbling and rubbing it with your fingers to release its flavor. Season the mixture with salt and pepper.

Fill each chile with about 1/4 cup cheese mixture. Fold in the sides to cover the filling, then thread 2 toothpicks across the seam to form an X. You will probably need to make a second toothpick X to secure each chile so the filling doesn’t leak out when you fry.

Beat the egg whites with a mixer on high speed until soft peaks form. Add the egg yolk and beat 3 more mins.

Heat 1″ vegetable oil in a deep skillet over med.-high heat.

Place flour in a shallow dish. Season well with salt and pepper. Dredge peppers in flour.

Holding peppers by the stem dip into egg batter, allowing excess batter to drip off.

Cook in batches of 2, turning once until golden brown, 1-2 mins. per side. Drain on paper towels. Serve with warm sauce.

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