Though a chile disappears from the plate in seconds, each step in the cooking process is labor-intensive and time-consuming.
When the chiles are prepped, Serrato fills them with big, bulky pieces of queso fresco, recreating the shape of the whole, raw chile. “Some people mess around and use mozzarella, but for me, no, it’s got to be queso fresco.”
When Serrato was a kid, she told me she’d help her mother separate the eggs, meticulously fishing any bits of yolk from the bowl of whites, watching it double, triple, quadruple in volume in the stand mixer. It was her favorite part. Then she’d add the egg yolks, and the meringue would go shiny and turn a pale, buttery yellow. Her mother would dip the chiles into the frothy batter, disappearing them one by one. With only the fine stem visible, the chiles sizzled ferociously in the hot oil as they fried into beautiful, puffy, vaguely chile-shaped clouds. These chiles were almost ready; they just needed to drain, to drip off all their extra oil, before going into a fresh salsa. “I knew from a very young age — this is something I have to learn,” Serrato said. She was about 16 the first time she made chiles rellenos for her parents to welcome them home the day they returned from a vacation.
Andrea’s mother, Rose, was born in Mexicali and now lives in Cabo. She learned to make chiles from Maria Reichart Almazan, her sister’s mother-in-law, who came from Acapulco, but she tweaked the recipe over the years. It’s Rose’s version that Serrato makes now, with a generous amount of batter on the chiles and sautéed onions in the salsa. To make that salsa, Serrato puts on a stockpot full of water to boil, then adds a few serrano chiles and whole tomatoes. Meanwhile, she purées garlic, water and salt in a blender. Once simmered, the hot tomatoes and serranos go in and get blended, too, but not completely. “I like to have it somewhat chunky, just a little chunky,” she said. This mixture is poured into a hot pan of lightly browned onion slices. The chiles, simmered in the salsa, are completely infused with its flavor, and the heat melts the cheese. Serrato serves them over tomato rice, seasoned with Lawry’s garlic salt, and a few corn tortillas. She packs the chiles up to go in her kitchen, and the lucky people who ordered via her Instagram account drive by to pick them up — piping hot, filling their cars with the scent on the way home. You don’t need to know how much care Serrato takes while cooking the dish, or how long each step takes, to appreciate its deliciousness.
“Two more things — very important,” she added, before I could hang up. “The best way to eat chiles is with the tortilla, not a fork. And be sure to make extra because, look, I don’t know how this is possible, but they’re even better the next day.”
