DAMAGED Cooking: SANTO STEW (CON PUERCO)!!!

Every time a gringo makes a big batch of chile verde--um, excuse me, I mean "green chile"--I'm always the first guy they come to for approval. It's actually quite precious and totally endearing to see them, Walter Keane-eyes widening in glazed anticipation as to whether or not it passes my stringent Mexican guidelines.

And, typically, it doesn't. Ever.

Oh, of course I say it's "good", because, well, I'm not a total jerk. But I know and, especially, they know, that it's pretty bottom of the barrel but, bless this white little hearts, they try. And I can't fault them for that! Usually, they all fall prey to one big problem: they get a recipe off the Internet and make it comically hot, almost to the point where you can't even taste the flavors of the chiles and spices because you're desperately gasping for air as you run to the nearest bucket of ice water like an extra in a Tex Avery cartoon. Look, guys: HOT does not equal MEXICAN FOOD. The only thing it equals is TRYING TOO HARD.

But, still, when made right, I absolutely love love LOVE a good chile verde and, per usual, if you want something done right, you just gotta do it yourself (that's really becoming my culinary mantra, isn't it?). Of course, I put my own little twist on it, turning it into more of a stew, filling it with, in addition to the cuts of pork, a handful of cans of Ro-Tel (with lime!) and the like, plenty of corn, white onions, green onions, pinto beans, black beans and, for best effect, about three or four fistfuls of roasted green chiles, preferably made and bought off the back of a beat-up Ford F-150 in the Mexican part of town.





OK, so it's all been cut up and dumped in your pot, you got it cooking on medium...what's next? Nothing. You sit your ass down and wait SEVEN HOURS for it to cook properly. You can read ATLAS SHRUGGED, knit your dog a wool-cap or, as I did, lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling while silently crying over all the irrevocable mistakes you've made in your life. Regret!

Also, stir occasionally.



Seven or so hours later, you've got a spicy, insanely flavorful chile verde stew--SANTO STEW, as I have been known to call it--that will amaze all your white friends, except for that one friend-of-a-friend douchebag with the backwards ball-cap who says "Um...this is good bro, but I would have added, like, twenty habañeros because I can take the heat, you freakin' gaywad!" (Seriously, man--why do you always invite that guy???)

I served this with fresh crumbly queso fresco (made with a combination of cow AND goat milk), some fat-free sour cream and a couple of warm tortillas, fresh from the Mexican store.



Now you're probably wondering why I call it "Santo Stew". You know how, according to commercials, that professional football players apparently eat multiple bowlfuls of Chunky Soup while resting on the sidelines? I'd like to think that luchadors, whether in-between sparring or fighting Aztec mummies, would like to kick back and enjoy a nice, steaming bowl of my chile verde. It's provides all the energy they need to perform a triple-suplex on a werewolf, and it would make for a helluva commercial. Suck on that, Donovan McNabb!