You can't spell Mole without...

And that's how it goes sometimes.  You make a plan, and you think you've got it all under control.  You've already gone to get your ingredients first thing in the morning and you're about to tackle the big one.  That ambitious project.  

But something isn't right.  You start down the path and something doesn't feel bang on.  You didn't have your daily cup of coffee. You're wearing mismatched socks.  The ghost of Rick Bayless is trying to pull a fast one on you.  And before long, your Easy Slow Cooker Mole is making you think about hanging up your tortilla press for good.  So make the jump and check out the post-mortem.  

Those are six of the finest mulato chiles that I had purchased from Mexican Dry Foods.

And those three ancho chiles, don't get me started on them.

 Pasillas.  Five of them.  

Getting those measurements exact.  Almonds and raisins.  Not one more or less than was needed.

Intermediate pile of ingredients ready to go.  Feeling good.  Smells nice already.  

Getting the spices ready.  Mexican cinnamon already measured, freshly ground pepper on deck.   

And hey, freshly ground anise? No problem.  I got a pepper grinder that just worked pretty well for the pepper.  So run the star anise through there.  It had to go through a couple of times to get a fine grind but it worked like a charm.

 Abuelita going under the knife. And the lard, where the problem started.

So far, so good.  You throw everything into the pot when the lard is melted and start stirring.  Next on the list, piece of toasted bread.  Dammit.  Forgot to have something ready.  Ingredient lists that are split across pages always kill me.  Always.

One slap, and you have warm bread.  Two slaps and now you've got charcoal.  And in the time it took to burn that piece of bread, an entire pot of mole base got burnt just as bad.  It's what happens when you combine an unfamiliar ingredient and a divided in attention.  The Smoke Point of lard is well below that of canola oil, which I'm quite used to cooking with.  Our stove top pretty much has only three settings:  9 for when I'm boiling water, 5 for when I'm cooking, and 1 for when something is simmering.  In special cases when I'm cooking something with olive oil, I'll cook on 4 because I've learned the hard way that it has a lower smoke point.  And now, I've learned the hard way with the lard.  And an entire mole base.

But what the hell.  You can't stop.  You take a minute and regroup.  You cancel your dinner plans and give your friend a rain check.  And the only way you're going to learn the lesson properly is to eat your mistakes.  And you might as well go through the rest of the preparation so you can find all of the other pit falls and be ready next time.

But when you're already working with something that looks like this, you know it's going to be a tough lesson to swallow.

So you try and distract yourself by finding enjoyment in the little things, like trying to take the most dramatic picture you can of a blender jar.  Google image search only has one real good result, but it's not even accurate; it's a mix master.  I guarantee in the future you will be brought to tears by a picture of a dramatic blender that I will take.   

And you've still got the rest of dinner to eat.  Guacamole and a $4.00 bag of tortillas.  When you eat those chips, you understand where your four bucks went.  Only at Mexican Dry Foods.

And finally, at 11:30pm, because oh yeah, you've also grossly underestimated the amount of time the whole thing takes, you throw what you've done on a plate, along with a slice of bread, and slide it under the cell door  of the prison in your mind and wonder how you could've made such an amateur mistake.

Next week, I'll get it right.  




P.S. Rick is still alive.