Pollo En Adobo Verde – Chicken In Green Chile Adobo.

Ay Dios mío, you will not believe what happened with the chancla last Thanksgiving. It involved my cousin Ricky, a gravy boat, and Tía Mildred… it’s a long story. But it all started with this chicken.

So, Pollo en Adobo Verde, right? Green sauce chicken. This isn’t just some random recipe mija, okay? This is history! We're talkin' pre-Columbian times. Indigenous peoples in Mesoamerica—Aztecs, Mayans, Zapotecs, all of them—they were making versions of adobo centuries before any Spaniard even dreamed of a tortilla. They used chiles, spices, herbs, sometimes even chocolate (¡ándale!). The adobo was a way to preserve meat, but mostly, it was about flavor. Pure magic.

Then the Spanish came, brought their own flavors, their own techniques, and it all kinda… mashed together. That’s when you get the adobos we know today. Different regions in Mexico have different variations, obviously. Some use guajillo peppers, some ancho, some chipotle (if you like it smoky). My family is from Veracruz, so we lean heavily into the hierbasanta, the holy herb—that gives it that bright, almost citrusy taste. It's a whole thing.

This recipe, though? This one comes from my grandmother, Elena. She learned it from her mother, who learned it from her mother. It’s been passed down for generations, tweaked here and there, but the core remains the same. And trust me, if you mess with the core, your abuela will find out. Even from beyond. ¡Ay, qué miedo!

My Tía Mildred, though... she always thinks she can improve things. Every single time. Last Christmas, she decided to add pineapple to the adobo. Pineapple! Like anyone asked for fruit cocktail chicken. The look on my grandmother’s face… well, let’s just say the pineapple ended up as a decorative centerpiece. And she got the cold shoulder for a month. A MONTH!

The first time I tried to make this on my own, it was a disaster. I thought I was being clever, used store-bought chile paste. Big mistake. Huge. It tasted like sadness and regret. My papá, he tried to be polite, said it had "character." But his eyes were telling a different story. He reached for the Valentina hot sauce immediately. That’s never a good sign.

My sister, Sofia, she’s the competitive one. Every family gathering is a cooking competition in her mind. She saw my failure and pounced. “Oh, so you think you’re a chef now?” she said, all smug. “Maybe stick to ordering takeout.” ¡Qué bruja! We didn't speak for two days. Over chicken. Can you believe it?

I finally figured it out after about five attempts. You have to roast the chiles, peel the tomatillos, blend everything together just right. And most importantly, you have to let it marinate. Overnight. Minimum. Patience is key, mija. Especially when dealing with family drama.

Then there was the incident with the spilled salsa. During a particularly heated game of lotería (Mexican bingo), my uncle Ricardo knocked over a jar of my abuela’s homemade salsa directly onto the marinated chicken. Red everywhere. Disaster. We spent an hour cleaning it up. Abuela didn’t yell, she just stared. A look that could curdle milk.

But honestly, even with all the chaos, making this Pollo en Adobo Verde is… therapeutic. It’s a connection to my ancestors, a way to honor my grandmother, and a perfect excuse to gather everyone around the table (and argue). Plus, it tastes amazing. Even Tía Mildred admits it's good... when she's not trying to add pineapple.

Speaking of the table, remember Ricky and the gravy boat? Turns out he tripped because he was trying to sneak extra tamales from under the tablecloth. Tía Mildred, of course, witnessed the whole thing and wielded the chancla with expert precision. It was legendary. Absolutely legendary. Honestly, it makes me laugh every time I think about it.

Recipe

Ingredients 🌽🥘

• 3 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken pieces (thighs and drumsticks work best)
• 8 oz tomatillos, husked and washed
• 4-6 serrano peppers, stemmed (adjust to your spice preference)
• 1/2 cup cilantro, roughly chopped
• 1/4 cup epazote (if you can find it – it adds an amazing flavor!)
• 4 cloves garlic, peeled
• 1/4 cup white vinegar
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 teaspoon cumin
• 1 teaspoon oregano
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 1/4 cup pepitas (pumpkin seeds), toasted for garnish
• 1 lime, cut into wedges for serving

Tools 🔪🥄

• Large roasting pan
• Blender or food processor
• Large bowl
• Skillet
• Tongs

Steps

1. First, roast the tomatillos and serrano peppers. Place them under the broiler for about 10-15 minutes, flipping halfway through, until they’re blistered and slightly charred. Be careful, mija! They'll be hot. (And don't breathe in the fumes—trust me.)
   ⏱ Timer
2. While those are roasting, let’s get the chicken ready. Pat it dry with paper towels and season generously with salt, pepper, cumin, and oregano. Because flavor, okay? We need flavor!
3. Once the tomatillos and peppers are cool enough to handle (don't burn yourself!), put them in a blender along with the cilantro, epazote, garlic, and vinegar. Blend until smooth. It might be a little chunky, that’s okay. Abuela never worried about perfectly smooth sauces.
4. Pour the sauce over the chicken in a large bowl. Make sure every piece is coated. Use your hands if you have to! Don’t be shy. Really massage that adobo into the chicken. This is where the magic happens.
5. Cover the bowl and refrigerate overnight (or at least 8 hours). The longer it marinates, the more flavorful it will be. Seriously. Don't rush this step. Patience, I tell you! ¡Paciencia!
6. When you’re ready to cook, heat the olive oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the chicken, reserving the marinade. Sear the chicken on all sides until browned. Don’t overcrowd the pan; work in batches if necessary.
7. Pour the reserved marinade into the skillet and bring to a simmer. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook for about 1 hour to 1 hour 30 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through and falling off the bone.
   ⏱ Timer
8. Check for seasoning and adjust salt and pepper as needed. Sometimes you need a little extra spice, sometimes you don’t. Taste as you go, mija. Your palate is the boss.

Make-Ahead / Storage

• The chicken can be marinated up to 24 hours in advance.
• Leftovers can be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.
• Reheat gently on the stovetop or in the microwave. It actually tastes even better the next day!
• You can also freeze the cooked chicken for up to 2 months.

Side Dish Pairing

• Esquites (Mexican street corn salad) – it adds a nice sweetness and crunch.
• Grilled pineapple salsa - just don’t let Tía Mildred see you using it, okay?

Tía Mildred siempre decía, “A little pineapple never hurt nobody!”

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