Mole Poblano – The Famous Chocolate-Chile Sauce Served Over Chicken Or Turkey.

My primo Ricardo? He almost burned down the kitchen trying to impress a girl. ¡Ay Dios mío! It all started with mole.

Mole poblano… it's not just food, it's history, understand? The story goes way back to Puebla, Mexico, in colonial times. Some nuns—yes, nuns, can you believe it?—were trying to create a fancy sauce for a visiting archbishop. They threw everything but the kitchen sink into the pot: chiles, spices, chocolate, nuts, seeds… They ground it all on a metate, which is like a stone grinding board. Very spiritual. Very exhausting.

The archbishop loved it, of course, and the recipe spread. But it wasn’t just about impressing church officials. Mole represents a fusion of cultures, Indigenous ingredients meeting European techniques. It's centuries of tradition simmered down into one complicated, delicious sauce. It’s why everyone has their own version (and argues theirs is the best).

My abuela, Elena, she had a mole recipe guarded more closely than Fort Knox. She wouldn’t even let my tío near the kitchen when she was making it. Said he’d add cumin to everything. Cumin! Like that’s a crime against humanity. It took years to get her to write it down—years of strategically placed flattery and promises of homemade tamales.

Speaking of strategic... My sister, Sofia, tried to "help" Abuela once. Just tried. Sofia thought adding a little cinnamon would be “interesting.” Abuela nearly fainted. ¡Interesante! Like she hadn't spent 70 years perfecting the balance of flavors. Then Sofia started flirting with Abuela's mechanic, Miguel, while supposedly helping, and it was a whole drama.

Ricardo, though. Ricardo was determined to win over Lupita with his culinary skills. Lupita was a goddess—long black hair, eyes that could melt glaciers. He decided he was going to make Abuela's mole. Without asking. (That’s the first mistake). He figured, how hard could it be? ¡Ay, mijo!

He got the chiles soaking, which is good, I guess. Then he started burning the tortillas for drying them. The smoke alarm went off. Tía Mildred, who lives next door and hears everything, came running over convinced the house was on fire. She was in her rollers, wearing a muumuu, yelling about the neighborhood’s property values.

The worst part? Lupita arrived right as Ricardo was frantically waving a dish towel at the smoke detector. He looked like a stressed-out flamenco dancer. He tripped over the dog (Coco, the chihuahua with an attitude), and sent a bowl of toasted sesame seeds flying. They landed… everywhere. In Lupita’s hair, in Tía Mildred’s muumuu, even in Coco’s ears.

Lupita politely excused herself to "freshen up," which everyone knew meant she was escaping the chaos. Ricardo was devastated. Abuela showed up then, took one look at the disaster zone, and just shook her head. “Mijo,” she said, “you should stick to ordering pizza.”

We all pitched in to clean up. Sofia made fun of Ricardo for weeks. Even Miguel chuckled. But eventually, we got the kitchen back in order. And Ricardo, after much groveling, convinced Abuela to let him help her make mole again—under strict supervision, of course. It still wasn't perfect, but Lupita gave him a second chance. They’ve been married 15 years now, and every anniversary, he makes mole. He still burns a tortilla or two.

And Tía Mildred? She still talks about the Great Mole Incident of '08. Says it traumatized Coco.

Recipe

Ingredients 🌽🥘

• 4 oz ancho chiles, stemmed and seeded
• 2 oz pasilla chiles, stemmed and seeded
• 1 oz mulato chiles, stemmed and seeded
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil
• 1 onion, chopped
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 tbsp ground cumin
• 1 tsp ground coriander
• 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp ground cloves
• 1/4 tsp black pepper
• 1/4 cup blanched almonds
• 1/4 cup peanuts
• 1/4 cup raisins
• 2 corn tortillas, cut into pieces and fried until golden brown
• 1 bolillo roll (or similar crusty bread), cut into pieces and fried until golden brown
• 2 tablespoons Mexican chocolate (like Ibarra or Abuelita)
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 4 cups chicken broth
• 2 lbs chicken or turkey pieces (thighs and drumsticks work well)
• Salt to taste

Tools 🔪🥄

• Large pot or Dutch oven
• Skillet
• Blender or food processor
• Mortar and pestle (optional, but recommended for grinding spices)
• Fine mesh sieve

Steps

1. Rehydrate the chiles: Place the ancho, pasilla, and mulato chiles in a bowl and cover with hot water. Let them soak for 30 minutes until softened. Drain the chiles, reserving about 1 cup of the soaking liquid. ¡Importantísimo!
2. Sauté the aromatics: In a large pot or Dutch oven, heat the vegetable oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for another minute until fragrant. You don’t want it burned, mija.
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3. Blend the chile paste: In a blender or food processor, combine the rehydrated chiles, sautéed onions and garlic, cumin, coriander, cinnamon, cloves, pepper, almonds, peanuts, raisins, fried tortillas, and fried bread. Add enough of the reserved chile soaking liquid to create a smooth paste. This takes patience, sometimes you gotta add more liquid.
4. Fry the paste: Pour the chile paste into the pot with the remaining oil. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, for about 10-15 minutes. This step is crucial for developing the flavor. It will thicken and darken. Don’t walk away!
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5. Simmer the sauce: Add the chicken broth, chocolate, and sugar to the pot. Bring to a simmer, then reduce heat and cook for at least 2 hours, stirring occasionally. The longer it simmers, the richer the flavor becomes. Abuela always said “¡Con paciencia!” (with patience).
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6. Cook the chicken: Add the chicken pieces to the simmering sauce. Make sure they are submerged. Cover and cook for about 30-45 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through and tender. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt as needed. Don't be shy with the salt!
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7. Strain the mole: For a smoother sauce, strain the mole through a fine-mesh sieve, pressing down on the solids to extract all the flavor. This is optional but recommended for a truly refined texture. Ricardo hates this part, says it defeats the purpose...but Abuela insists.

Make-Ahead / Storage

• The mole paste can be made ahead of time and stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.
• Fully cooked mole sauce can be refrigerated for up to 5 days.
• Mole freezes beautifully! Store in airtight containers for up to 3 months. Thaw overnight in the refrigerator.
• Reheat gently over low heat, adding a little extra chicken broth if needed.

Side Dish Pairing

• Plantain empanadas filled with black beans and queso fresco (a sweet and savory contrast!).
• A simple jicama salad tossed with orange segments and chili powder (freshness cuts through the richness).

Tía Mildred always decía, “That Ricardo’s trouble started the moment he looked at Lupita.”

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