So, this "dark Mexican" thing. I kept hearing bits and pieces, seeing these incredibly rich, almost black dishes in photos, and it really got me curious. Not in a spooky way, you know, but more like, what’s the deal with that? What makes it "dark"? I figured, best way to find out is to try and make something myself.
I decided I’d tackle a mole. One of those really deep, dark ones. Seemed like a good challenge. Boy, was I underprepared. I thought, "It's just a sauce, how complicated can it be?" Famous last words, right?
First off, getting the ingredients. This wasn't like grabbing a can of tomatoes. We’re talking chiles I’d barely heard of. Ancho, pasilla, mulato, and a couple of others whose names I still can't pronounce right. Had to go to three different specialty stores. One place, the guy just looked at my list and sort of chuckled. That should have been a sign.
Then the actual making of it. My kitchen, for about two days, looked like a disaster had hit.
- Toasting chiles – smoke everywhere. My eyes were watering. The smoke alarm became my new best friend, yelling at me every twenty minutes.
- Seeding and deveining those things. Tedious. My fingers were stained for days.
- Then the grinding. Oh, the grinding. My trusty old blender sounded like it was about to give up the ghost. There were so many things to grind! Nuts, seeds, spices, even a little bit of dark chocolate. It was a whole production.
I remember stirring this concoction on the stove for what felt like an eternity. It started out a kind of muddy brown, but slowly, slowly, it deepened. That's when I started to get it. The "dark" wasn't just a color; it was a process. It was about building layers upon layers of flavor. It’s not quick, and it’s definitely not simple.
My first attempt? Honestly, it was… intense. A bit too bitter. I think I probably burned some of the chiles during the toasting. It was edible, but not exactly what I’d call a triumph. More like a learning experience, a very humbling one.
I gave it another shot a few weeks later. Took my time. Was more careful with the toasting. Watched everything like a hawk. And you know what? It was much better. Still not restaurant quality, probably, but it had that depth, that complexity I was chasing. The smokiness from the chiles, a hint of sweetness, a little bit of spice, all balanced. It was actually pretty good.
So, this whole "dark Mexican" adventure for me, it ended up being less about some mysterious cuisine and more about understanding the patience and the sheer amount of work that goes into creating those deep, developed flavors. It’s not just about throwing dark ingredients into a pot. It’s a craft. You have to respect the ingredients and the process. And yeah, I probably need a more powerful blender if I ever try that again. But it was worth it, just to see what all the fuss was about. Definitely gave me a new appreciation for it.
