Noviembre Market, Oaxaca

One year, I found myself in Oaxaca, “Land of the Seven Molés,” Mexico’s answer to Tuscany. Even the cab drivers in Oaxaca were foodies.  I’d always ask them the same question: “Donde esta el mejor molé?” (Where is the best molé?) and the response was always the same: “En la casa de mi madre” (In my mother’s house).

Oaxaca intrigued me – the most Mexican of cities I had experienced, it was also cosmopolitan, with wonderful contemporary art galleries, museums, fine crafts and food markets; you could meander through the town for days.

Soaking in Oaxaca was not my sole reason to be there, however. I was on a mission to find a woman I had read about in Chile Pepper magazine and Nancy Zaslavsky’s book, A Cook’s Tour of Mexico.             

I was determined to locate Susan Trilling and her cooking school, Seasons of My Heart.

This being the early nineties and I being computer illiterate, I attempted to reach her via telephone, fax and even hand-written letters!

No luck; my super-bad Spanish and her super-bad phone lines never seemed to connect.  Miraculously, one of my calls got through and was answered by an English speaking person. I made arrangements to be picked up in Oaxaca City to attend a cooking class out at her ranch (in the middle of nowhere).

I waited two hours outside my dumpy hotel on a too hot, blazingly sunny, noisy morning across from the Noviembre Market. I am not the waiting-around type, so my willingness to hang around so long surprised me.

At that time, Susana was just beginning to become well known by Mexican cuisine aficionados.  An expatriate with one set of Mexican grandparents, she had emigrated from the States with her husband Eric, a Dutch-born bon vivant (now a farmer) to Mexico.

Always a bit fearful of the famous (even the almost famous), I was eager to meet her but also a little uptight at the prospect. I envisioned a tall, slim, blondish, bitchy type with a flowing cape, sort of like a Mexican version of Martha Stewart. These were some of the low-self-esteem thoughts that were on my mind, driving the almost hour-long trip to the ranch. 

There was really no road out to her place, in the traditional sense of the word “road.” At one point we left the highway (we just went over the divide) and bumped around over fields and even went over a flowing river.  It felt like one of those old homesteaders’ movies I watched as a kid. I half expected to be asked to throw my backpack and passport out of the window to lighten the load!

Susana’s house was a beautiful loft-style edifice, perched on a gentle hill with a distant view of the famous Zapotec ruins of Monte Alban. Susana was youngish, with a brilliant smile and dancing mischievous brown eyes. She had two sweet little boys, Kaelin and Jesse Beau, along with two older adopted Mexican boys, Lider and Serafin.  Attired in traditional Mexican dress, and colorful ribbons in her braided hair, she was warm, friendly and approachable.

Susana helped me keep To Grandmothers House We Go alive by agreeing to do classes the next year with only four students.

The first year I arrived with four students and each subsequent year I brought a few more. Last year I arrived with nine paying students!  Susana has become not only my mentor of sorts, but also my friend. On our yearly visits she would request the craziest things from New York: Murphy’s soap, Tahini, cornmeal (no cornmeal in the land of corn!?). One time she even asked for a garlic kielbasa from Second Avenue. It stunk up the plane so bad I thought for sure it would be confiscated.

Every year Susana is involved in a big project. At first it was her book, Seasons of My Heart; which received 19 rejections before she finally got a publisher. (Our group even helped test recipes for the book.)

The year after that, we walked into her molé business (unfortunately, the truck bringing the molé to the States was often hijacked.) In addition to her Oaxacan cooking classes, she started bringing small groups to the Isthmus of Tehuantepec to study the very interesting and unique food from the coast.

Their largest project to date has been the completion of a large dome-shaped cooking school designed and built by her husband Eric. Who builds a huge cooking school in the middle of nowhere and fills up the classes?

Susana has introduced my groups to the locals who have taught us to prepare traditional molés, Mexican breads, chocolate, and Oaxacan string cheese. One year we witnessed a lamb being roasted in a pit in the ground.

Despite occasional setbacks (like a brush fire that came five inches from enveloping the school and hothouses), Susana remains upbeat. I always return home inspired – maybe just to paint my kitchen or re-write a recipe. Sometimes it’s bigger things, like plan a cooking tour to Sicily or to other parts of Mexico.

Over the years, Susana has worked with many well-known chefs; her celebrity clientele includes Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger (Two Hot Tamales), Rich Bayless (Frontera Grill), and even Diana Kennedy (the Escoffier of Mexican cooking). All have graced Susana with their presence.

In spite of all her high profile activities, Susana always welcomes my small groups every year.  She makes us feel special and welcome.

Ensalada de Betabel Bendito (Blessed Beet Salad)
From Seasons of My Heart, by Susana Trilling (Makes 6 servings)

Every year on Palm Sunday, the agricultural pueblo of San Antonino Castillo Velasco bursts with excitement. Starting before dawn, the villagers congregate in the cemetery, bringing the best of their harvest to donate to a large float of fruits and vegetables for Saint Antonino. The biggest fruits and vegetables are chosen and made into a big tower, with the saint on top, that takes six strong men to carry it through the village. Twelve young men are chosen to represent the disciples and walk behind the saint.  

Everyone gathers for a big Mass and the blessing of the fruits, vegetables and all donations given. After the Mass, the fruits and vegetables are auctioned off at one of the most animated auctions I’ve ever attended. I was lucky enough to get the beets off the float, hence the name: Blessed Beet Salad.

Ingredients:

For the greens:

• 1 pound beet greens, spinach leaves or Swiss chard, rinsed well

• 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

• 1 tablespoon fresh lime or lemon juice

• 2 tablespoons good olive oil

• pinch of salt to taste

• ¼ teaspoon ground black pepper

For the salad:

• ½ cup fruit or red wine vinegar

• ¼ cup olive oil

• 7 cloves garlic, finely chopped

• ½ teaspoon aniseed

• ¼ teaspoon ground black pepper

• 2 tablespoons lime juice

• 3 cups whole beets, cooked, peeled, and cut into ½-inch cubes

• 2 oranges, peeled and cut into wedges

• 1 tablespoon sliced green onion (white part only)

• 1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley leaves

Method:

For the greens:

If the greens are really big leaves, roughly cut or tear them.  Steam the greens for 10 minutes over 2 cups water. Drain for 20 minutes, then place the greens in a medium mixing bowl.

In a small mixing bowl, mix the garlic, lime juice, oil, salt, and pepper. Pour over the greens and toss well.

For the salad:

In a small mixing bowl, mix the vinegar, oil, garlic, aniseed, pepper and lime juice. Add the beets and allow to marinate.

At serving time, lay the greens on a platter. Spoon the beet cubes on top and top with orange wedges, green onion and parsley.

Excerpted from Seasons of My Heart, A culinary Journey Through Oaxaca, Mexico. (Ballantine Books, November 1999, ISBN 0-345-42596-0)