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A salsa, a synchronised quesadilla and a weekend
Summary
From the memories of travel to the other side of the world, a symphony of tortillas, easy to indigenise and a pleasurable quick fix for a weekend dinner
Travel has provided me with some of the most memorable meals I have eaten, none more than the simple lunch I had in 2008 on a sunny, cool day under the bluest sky, near the edge of a cliff overlooking the inland sea misleadingly called Lake Titicaca in Peru.
An indigenous community called the Uru served freshly grilled trout—without spices and with boiled rice, grated carrot, and a condiment based on a local chilli called the aji. Before us were clear, blue waters, the horizon framed by the snow-clad Andes.
The wife and I were on a one-way, round-the-world ticket. We carried two backpacks and spent three months on four continents before we returned home. We never made a journey like that again, although we hope to.
I was reminded of that journey when our 20-something twin nieces visited this month. They’re American, of Italian and Indian origin, and they were on a similar round-the-world backpacking trip. They are currently somewhere in the Nilgiris, but they came here with stories of food, friends and family, after traipsing through, among other places, Mexico, Ecuador and Italy.
We’ve been following their travels on Instagram. The thing that interested me most—apart from the lands and people they encountered, was the food, especially in Mexico. Their feed is full of tacos, flautas (rolled tacos), sauces, condiments, meats and vegetables in a country that, like ours, revels in food with a kick.
Also read: A recipe for an eggless suji cake
That got me thinking last weekend about how much I missed cuisine from that end of the world. The wife was travelling, and that meant I had complete control of my kitchen. Her philosophy is to be prepared for the weekend, keeping a vegetable or two ready, along with a box of kokis, the Sindhi parathas. My philosophy is to take the weekend as it comes. With no school lunches to pack, I take the time to cook what I want, when I want.
So, last Sunday, the teen and I regarded our empty kitchen. We did not feel like eating out or ordering in. After a party the previous evening, she had woken up at 10am—uncharacteristic for someone who leaps up at 7am even on a holiday.
“Let’s make something nice," she said, as she settled next to me. I took down some cookbooks from our library, and we flipped through a few for ideas. Remembering the nieces’ time in Mexico, we settled on Mexican. Even though it uses substantially different ingredients, many not available here, some basics are, and it’s not too difficult to substitute the rest.
We decided to make sincronizada or synchronised quesadillas, so called because two of them are used, with a stuffing of ham and cheese. In other words, it is a Mexican ham-and-cheese sandwich. Now, the secret to these quesadillas is the salsa, by which they live and die.
Salsas are easy for Indians. They are easy to make but be aware that they are also easy to get wrong. It is important to get the balance of ingredients right, especially the sourness and the chilli. A good salsa is like a symphony: all the notes must blend. If a few go off, you’ll still get the song, but miss the harmonies.
As we always do, we made our own salsa (below), substituting fresh oregano or parsley with desi coriander. If, like the daughter, you are sensitive to spice, use only one chilli and remove most of the stalk and seeds. Salsas are versatile—you can eat them with chips, as a condiment or an accompaniment.
Of course, for a quesadilla, you need tortillas.
We went to the neighbourhood store and found ready-to-cook chapati, paratha, taftoon but, alas, no tortillas. Given the kind of things available for home delivery these days, I checked Blinkit, the delivery app, and there they were—Indian-made wheat-flour tortillas. I would have preferred corn, which is what they use on the streets of Mexico, but that would mean making them from scratch. I’m not that self-sufficient.
The tortillas were fine, but we had no ham. The beauty of a sincronizada quesadilla is that it can accept anything. The child noted that since her vegetarian mother was not around, we did not have to stuff it with paneer or beans or capsicum. But we had no ham either, so we used leftover shredded, roast chicken.
It was a lovely Sunday evening pursuit. She grated the cheese, toasted the tortillas and put the quesadilla together. I was only called on to flip it. Her eyes widened at first bite. It was like a healthy(ish) pizza, bursting with the flavour of salsa, chicken and cheese, a simple but ideal weekend dinner. Ay, caramba!
SINCRONIZADA QUESADILLA
Serves 2
Ingredients
4 tortilla
150g shredded chicken or ham
1 cup grated cheese
For the salsa:
4 medium tomatoes, chopped fine
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 chilli
2 tbsp chopped coriander
Juice of 1 small lemon
Salt to taste
Method
Mix all the salsa ingredients and keep ready. Drain any excess lime juice or liquid from the tomatoes.
Lightly grease a cast-iron pan. Place one tortilla on the pan with ham/chicken and cheese until lightly brown and cheese begins to melt. Keep the other tortilla ready, with fresh salsa spread over it. Salsa side down, flip the tortilla on to the one in the pan. Turn over the quesadilla, so the other side browns lightly. The melted cheese will keep the two tortillas stuck together. Remove, cut into wedges and serve with a sauce of your choice—a tangy chilli sauce, sesame sauce or even sour cream with fresh herbs works.
Our Daily Bread is a column on easy, inventive cooking. Samar Halarnkar is the author of The Married Man’s Guide To Creative Cooking—And Other Dubious Adventures. He posts @samar11 on Twitter.
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