Thank the gods it's time to make Mole again.
Not that it's ever not Mole Season, but I tend
to like to make it around Tamale Season. I was
rather beyond fortunate that my in-laws swept
me away at the tender age of 18 and spent three
days teaching me to make mole. The women nigh
onto sang and danced their stories, making me one
of the family. Before the mole making began, I had
to promise that I would never share the secret
familial recipe with anyone other than my daughters.
In this world of sibling equality, I've included my sons,
obviously. This old family recipe has right around 100
ingredients; it takes weeks just to amass them. Today,
I'll stem and seed the chile pods and put them on the
boil. I don't even want to talk about all the grinding
and straining that comes later. Through the weeks,
we've all been collecting leftover wine to add to the
mix, if there even is such an animal. Bits and pieces
of chocolate need to be melted (and tasted) as one of
the most fun ingredients. Spices only to be found in
Southern Mexico, much cherished and held close to
the heart must be organized. Ripened bananas . . .
better stop before I tip my hand. These wonderful,
magical ingredients coming together in a three-day
cultural journey of memories, both sorrowful and
joyful, will soon be served over scrumptious chicken,
black beans and yellow rice . . . thus ending in joy
our three days of mourning and remembrance of
our loved ones long lost.
break bread together
sharing both joy and sorrow
remembering you
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