Quintessential Quesadillas

22 of 40

Hello friends! I’m Walther, this is Peregrino, and you’re about to read essay #22 of “40 Before 40,” a memoir I intend to finish before I enter midlife.

In Ch-ch-ch-changes, I asked you if I should write an essay on quesadillas, and some of you said yes, and since it takes minimal provocation to get me going, here it is. I hope you enjoy it.

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You probably have your favorite comfort food, that tasty morsel that takes you back to simpler times, makes you feel better, and nurtures and recharges you to keep going. Mine is quesadillas.

Photo by Fernando Andrade on Unsplash

In my previous post, I mentioned I could write a whole essay about this dish, and some of you said I should, so here it is. I also realized that for some reason, Peregrino is kind of a big deal in the UK, where, I’m gathering, Mexican food isn’t as popular as in the Southwest part of the US where I live. This region was Mexico until The Gadsden Purchase in 1854, when Mexican President Antonio López de Santa Anna sold about half of Mexico’s territory to the US.

The point is this relatively simple dish that can be eaten for breakfast, lunch, or dinner has been my companion since childhood and is now a part of my kids' lives. And hopefully, by the end of this essay, you may have quesadillas as part of your culinary repertoire.

A quesadilla, for the most part, consists of two ingredients: tortilla and cheese. You’ll understand why I say, for the most part, later on. A tortilla is warmed up on a “comal” or griddle; you add some melty cheese on top, fold it in half, and it's ready when the cheese is melted.

Tortillas can be made of corn or wheat flour. Generally speaking, if you divide Mexico in half, the northern part will consume more flour tortillas, and the southern region will be partial to corn. This is because wheat is easier to grow in northern Mexico, and corn is easier to grow in southern regions. Corn tortillas date back to the Aztecs, who figured out how to make cornmeal and cook it into tortillas. Flour tortillas are a product of the three hundred years of Spanish rule over Mexico. When Muslims conquered Spain, flatbread became a staple in Andalusian cooking. The conquistadores brought the recipe to Mexico, and the rest is history.

There are two Mexican cheeses best suited for making quesadillas. The first would be Oaxaca cheese, named after the state where it is made, a white, semihard, low-fat cheese similar to Monterey Jack but with a texture similar to mozzarella. Some say Dominican friars brought this technique to southern Mexico; others say it was accidentally created by a lady who dumped hot water on milk coagulated past the point of making cheese. Either way, this stringy, lightly salted, melty cheese will satisfy.

The second one is Chihuahua cheese, a white, mild, semisoft, melty cheese that also takes its name from the state where it is made. In reality, Chihuahua cheese is a kind of Chester cheese made by Mennonites. It turns out that after the Mexican Revolution (1910), Mexico needed people to work in agriculture, and a community of Mennonites was looking for a new home since Canada, where they were at the time, had removed the privilegium they had to avoid military service, among other things.

The administration of Mexican President Álvaro Obregón and the community reached an agreement in 1922, and they settled in Cuahtemoc, Chihuahua, where they started living off the land. Eventually, they got into the cheese-making business to generate more income for their families, creating a staple cheese.

As for toppings, a good salsa goes a long way, but if you want to get fancy, some avocado slices are a great addition to your quesadilla. One of my favorite variations would be a “sincronizada,” consisting of two tortillas with cheese and slices of ham in the middle. The tortillas are synchronized, hence the name. I didn’t name it; I just eat them, okay?

A quesadilla can also be a canvas for other dishes. In Monterrey, my hometown, taco stands would offer “gringas,” which is a quesadilla with “trompo,” also known as “carne al pastor,” the Mexican version of the Doner Kebab, except it’s made with pork meat marinated in adobo and it is plain delicious. You can also have a “pirata,” yes, a pirate, which is a quesadilla with carne asada in it topped with avocado slices.

Now, there are places in Mexico where, apparently, reality doesn’t apply, and you can get a quesadilla without cheese. Yes, you read that right. You can order a chicharrón quesadilla, and they will serve it to you like it’s nothing. You may say, but Walther, isn’t that a taco? I would say, yeah, for a sane person. But the good people of Mexico City insist that a quesadilla without cheese isn’t a taco. The main difference is that in a quesadilla, the tortilla is more oval than round, that’s it. Naming conventions aside, quesadillas in Mexico City are delicious; just make sure you say “con queso” with cheese if you want them to add cheese.

As you can see, this humble dish is full of flavor, history, and controversy, and I’m all about it. Even if I make a very Americanized version with Kirkland Signature Mexican Style Blend Cheese and Tortilla Fresca Uncooked Flour Tortillas from Costco, they still come out pretty good. My kids are starting to ask for it, which makes me proud to pass on some of my Mexican culture to them through food. Maybe one day we’ll graduate to tamales, which is a different rant. I see a Mexican food series in your future. Oh my goodness, is this going to turn into a food stack? Only time will tell.

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Before you go

I have some questions for you

1. What’s your go-to comfort food?

2. Have you ever had a quesadilla?

3. If you haven’t, please make one and report your findings.

4. Green or red salsa for you?

5. Are the good people of Mexico City insane for saying quesadillas don’t need to have cheese in them?