Despite its nickname, Mexican green tomato or Mexican husk tomato, and—squint—vague physical resemblance, once shorn of it paper covering, the tomatillo is not really a tomato, nor the Spanglish name for one. It is a distant relative, a member of the large nightshade family, but its first cousins are the ground cherry and cape gooseberry. On the other hand it is, like a tomato, a fruit used primarily as a vegetable. Tomatillos have a bright, tart, herby flavor. They were used widely in Mayan and Aztec cooking, and are used today primarily in Mexican and Guatemalan cooking.
Not so very long ago, pretty much the only tomatillos to make it east arrived in cans. But they grow well here and can now be found in super markets and farmer’s markets. We know them best as the “green” flavor of green sauce, salsa verde. They also pair well with avocado for a guacamole with a twist, and turn up in soups and stews, even marmalade. Tomatillos taste best when cooked lightly, which also softens their tough skin.
The trouble I’ve always had with salsa verde is that it doesn’t taste like much of anything.
One reason may be that we mostly get large tomatillos in the market. Mexican food authority Rick Bayless says anything over a golf ball in size is wasted. (He didn’t put it quite like that, but, well, you know…) The other thing is, most recipes will tell you to boil tomatillos for ten minutes, until they soften, then cool and blend, but the end result is often watery and insipid.
I recently found a few fixes, resulting in a salsa verde with a good deal more guts. Foremost is to roast not boil the tomatillo, either under the broiler or, if you don’t mind the scorching, in a dry cast iron skillet over high heat. The other is to tune up the flavor with salt, sugar, and lime juice.
When choosing tomatillos, look for the small ones, and fruit that fills out its husk. They’re almost always sold and used unripe—green or purple. They turn yellow as they ripen. Store tomatillos in the refrigerator, loosely wrapped, for three weeks to a month. To prep, peel off the husk, and rinse the stickiness off the fruit. They’re ready.
Roasted Tomatillo Salsa
This is adapted from Rick Bayless. Peel and rinse a pound or so of tomatillos. Meanwhile, heat a skillet over a medium high flame. When hot, throw in a few unpeeled cloves of garlic and three or four serrano peppers. Roast the garlic and peppers in the dry pan, turning occasionally, until the peppers are blistered (they’ll be done first, and remove them) and the garlic is soft with a brown to blackened skin, ten to fifteen minutes. Peel when cool, and peel and seed the peppers. Add the tomatillos to the hot pan, and roast, turning, for another ten minutes, until the skin is blackened on the top and bottom and the fruit is collapsing. Alternately you can roast them under the broiler, about five minutes per side, being sure to keep the juice. When the tomatillos are cool enough to handle, put them in a cuisinart along with the garlic and peppers, and pulse until chunky. This will keep for up to a day, but finish the salsa an hour or so before serving: finely chop a small white onion (rinse under cold water if it’s too pungent), and add to the tomatillo puree. Add a handful of chopped cilantro, salt lightly, stir, and start to taste. Balance everything by adding small increments of salt, sugar, and a squeeze of fresh lime juice, until the salsa comes together. Great with any sort of Mexican and Tex-Mex inspired munchy….or pair, as we did recently, with grilled scallops and corn fritters. Muy delicioso.
