Bola's Mole in San Miguel
I spent the first week of February in San Miguel, Mexico. It had been eleven years since I’d been there and a lot has changed, including more buildings, restaurants, and a lot more tourists. But the unsteady rocky streets were exactly the same, and my feet and ankles were merciless. I was traveling with my college roommate, Shelley, my frequent travel buddy and we enjoyed four days eating, shopping, taking cooking lessons, and horseback riding in the Charco del Ingenio Canyon. Thankfully, the horseback ride was on our last day because we were sore for days afterwards.
Despite the rocky streets, we did a lot of shopping and eating, but my best memory of San Miguel was cooking molé poblano with Bola, a woman in her 70s who has been cooking for diplomats and local celebrations for 35 years. She’s never taught a cooking lesson, but our mutual friend, Paco, asked her to teach me. We spent the morning toasting chiles, nuts, seeds, and spices for her signature dish, molé poblano. Shelley and I took copious notes as Bola blended ingredients for what seemed like forever. Thirty ingredients went into the beautiful sauce and when it was time to stir it on the stove, Bola told us that in Mexican kitchens only one person is allowed to stir the molé. I was thrilled to be the chosen stirrer. For nearly an hour I stood over the stove where the deep brown sauce simmered and splattered all over my clothes, but I didn’t care. I knew we were in for a treat once Bola declared it was ready. While our molé simmered, she poached chicken thighs and we took turns pressing masa into tortillas which toasted on the griddle. It took several tries until I perfected my tortilla-making skills even though I’ve done it many times before. I guess it’s a technique one must practice daily, like most Mexican cooks.
Once the molé was perfectly thick and smooth, we spooned it over our chicken and sat down to lunch on the patio. We shredded the chicken into the sauce and scooped it up with our tortillas. Bola asked if she had done a good job teaching, and Shelley and I both gave her high praise. She asked if I would write down the recipe since she had never used a recipe before. She wanted to give it to her grandchildren, and I was honored to do it. As we were leaving, Bola gifted me with a cazuela, a clay dish used to make molé. Unfortunately, it was confiscated at the airport security and I had to leave it behind. And yes, I was extremely disappointed. Whichever officer that takes it home will enjoy it, I’m sure. All bitterness aside, I couldn’t have asked for a better experience in San Miguel than cooking with Bola. I won’t miss the rocky streets and sore feet, but I’ll always remember how to make molé poblano (and perfect tortillas). And before the end of February, I’ll follow Bola’s recipe and make my own molé with no less than 30 ingredients!
