El Diablo
Wednesday, December 8, 2010 at 11:31AM Human nature has masochistic tendencies, inadvertent or not. Everybody is bound to do something painfully stupid. The only hope is to do so in sanctuary. I tend to perform these acts in the kitchen, because I firmly believe that a lot of good things in a cooking vessel will create something greater than the sum of its parts. This time, I discover that there is an exception to the aforementioned rule, chiles.
I have a lot of experience with various fresh green and red chiles, and even habaneros, but not much with dried chiles. I dabble with chile de arbol, but dishes never come out very spicy. So logically, if I were to increase the dosage of these chiles--by say, 'a bunch'--I should finally get achieve some burn to combat Chicago's frigid weather. The result is a dish I am still facing the consequences a day later, what will now be referred to El Diablo.
;)
El Diablo is a simple braise of pork spare ribs, with a trotter thrown in for gelatinous glory. First I fry some ribs and a foot until dark brown in batches. Then I fry a sliced red onion, a head of garlic, and several handfuls of chile de arbol in the rendered fat. After several minutes, I add salt and a large can of crushed tomatoes, stir, and then add all the pork back in. I top off the pool with stock, then simmer covered for 2 hours, and a final 30 minutes uncovered.
The result is a red pot of hellfire. I make sure to sample with a spoon I don't like. All traces of vegetation (and life) have disintegrated, apart from the chile de arbol, each of which represent a middle finger to the digestive tract.
So none of the unctuous, hellacious cooking liquid goes to waste, I extract a cup and bring it to a boil. Then in a prayer for sweet relief, I add gold raisins, and then a cup of couscous, stir, cover, and remove from heat. Five minutes later I fluff with a fork, and now have an altar to place my ode to the dark lord on.
With a jug of Kefir near, I rip into a rib. The meat itself is perfectly seasoned, and not overcooked to the point of falling off the bone. I dip the next one into the cauldron of hellfire for extra spice, a bite that Adam Richman would abhor. It's so painful I pour a heaping ladle over my couscous, which has taken a liking to the color of El Diablo's fury. The raisins offer a dangled carrot of sweet relief. There is a lesson to be learned, but sometimes it's best ignored.
;)
Reader Comments (5)
How many chiles caused this? It looks good enough to eat. But if is this spicy for YOU, I best steer clear of this many chiles. Mercy!
There were probably 20ish dried chiles in that dish. The odd thing is that I'm finding myself craving it again. Great for this snow!
Sounds like something I'd be super into ;D hahaha, but then I'm a sick sick person when it comes to spicy food LOL - really really wanna try a bite now
As painful as it was, I find myself craving it now later. I wonder why...
masochist :D