I see people pining for cacio e pepe at a Roman trattoria. I hear people saying over FaceTime how they would trade their firstborn for a bowl of wonton noodle soup in Hong Kong. Me, I also want to travel, and I want to eat those dishes. More than those, though, the noodles I require are Mexican sopa de fideo.
In Mexico City and its environs, sopa de fideo is a widespread restaurant preparation, served as a middle course during lunch. “Fideo” is Spanish for noodle or pasta, and “sopa” is, yes, soup. Sometimes sopa de fideo is precisely what you might imagine: a brothy soup upraising twigs of thin pasta. The iconic version of sopa de fideo, the one I chase, insists the pasta shards be fried in hot oil, then simmered in a thin tomato sauce seasoned with onion and garlic. The preparation is a little bit pilaf, a lotta bit risotto, and as invigorating as it is consoling.
This version of sopa de fideo is part of a school of dishes known as “sopa seca,” aka dry soup, which includes rice, both plain and flavored with tomato. I know. “Dry soup” is an oxymoron. The Diccionario Enciclopédico de la Gastronomía Mexicana explains: “se llama sopa seca porque se sirve después de la sopa aguada o líquida.” Literal translation: “It’s called sopa seca because it’s served after soups with lots of broth.” Egoistic translation: “Do not overthink. Make at home, because you are not traveling to Ciudad de México anytime soon.”
I cook pasta all the time. I had never thought to cook sopa seca de fideo, also known as “fideo seco” or simply “fideo.” Perhaps because the memories of versions I have eaten in Mexico, including the pristine fideo at the homey Raíz Cocina Contemporánea in San Pedro Cholula, are mesmeric. (Yes, the same Cholula as the hot sauce brand common in the United States; no, that Cholula is not made in this Cholula, a historic town in the state of Puebla.) Or maybe I have never made fideo seco because every recipe serves at least four people, and though I love fideo seco, I only have one stomach and one dog. Still, desire and immobility are potent bedfellows. So, the other week, I hybridized a few recipes from books in my home, including Marilyn Tausend and Ricardo Muñoz Zurita’s La Cocina Mexicana, Pati Jinich’s Pati’s Mexican Table, and Thomas Schnetz and Dona Savitsky’s Doña Tomás.
I took the oregano from one cookbook; the chipotle en adobo addition from another; the one-pan sauce-making from another. One recipe says to cook the tomato sauce first; another says to fry the fideo to start. I learned that there is no hard-and-fast rule around sopa seca de fideo, provided you follow the foundational blueprint. Use the thinnest noodles possible. Most Mexican markets sell packages of fideo, in sizes ranging from 10 to 12 ounces. Often, the noodles are packed in coils. You could substitute angel hair pasta. Either way, you want to break the dry noodles into bite-size pieces. Shut your eyes now, Italian cooks: You then fry those pasta shards in neutral oil until toasted and golden brown like poplar in fall.
The sauce begins with chopped white onions and garlic, cooked in oil until soft. Add Mexican oregano and tomatoes, either fresh or canned, and cook until they begin to collapse. I add a lone chipotle en adobo at this stage. Into a blender the sauce goes, where it is whirred until quite smooth. Then return the sauce to your pot and add the roasty, toasty fideo. Much like risotto, you cook the fideo in tomato sauce, adding broth or water in heavy glugs, until the fideo is lithe. You want your noodles full-bore tender. We are far past al dente here, people.
I have seen sopa seca de fideo garnished in incalculably different ways. Some kind of cheese, like queso fresco or Cotija, and, say, a streaming dairy, like crema or yogurt, is wise. At Raíz in Cholula, blobs of avocado puree ring the fideo pile, as do tiles of shaved radish. Crunch, richness, sharpness: contrast, whatever that looks like to you, is the goal.
Who knows when I will next board a plane bound south from where I live? Until then, the only Mexico-related movement that’s certain will be at my kitchen table in New Orleans, with one fork traveling from a tangle of fideo to my open maw.
I see people pining for cacio e pepe at a Roman trattoria. I hear people saying over FaceTime how they would trade their firstborn for a bowl of wonton noodle soup in Hong Kong. Me, I also want to travel, and I want to eat those dishes. More than those, though, the noodles I require are Mexican sopa de fideo.
This version of sopa de fideo is part of a school of dishes known as “sopa seca,” aka dry soup, which includes rice, both plain and flavored with tomato. I know. “Dry soup” is an oxymoron. The Diccionario Enciclopédico de la Gastronomía Mexicana explains: “se llama sopa seca porque se sirve después de la sopa aguada o líquida.” Literal translation: “It’s called sopa seca because it’s served after soups with lots of broth.” Egoistic translation: “Do not overthink. Make at home, because you are not traveling to Ciudad de México anytime soon.”
The sauce begins with chopped white onions and garlic, cooked in oil until soft. Add Mexican oregano and tomatoes, either fresh or canned, and cook until they begin to collapse. I add a lone chipotle en adobo at this stage. Into a blender the sauce goes, where it is whirred until quite smooth. Then return the sauce to your pot and add the roasty, toasty fideo. Much like risotto, you cook the fideo in tomato sauce, adding broth or water in heavy glugs, until the fideo is lithe. You want your noodles full-bore tender. We are far past al dente here, people.
I took the oregano from one cookbook; the chipotle en adobo addition from another; the one-pan sauce-making from another. One recipe says to cook the tomato sauce first; another says to fry the fideo to start. I learned that there is no hard-and-fast rule around sopa seca de fideo, provided you follow the foundational blueprint. Use the thinnest noodles possible. Most Mexican markets sell packages of fideo, in sizes ranging from 10 to 12 ounces. Often, the noodles are packed in coils. You could substitute angel hair pasta. Either way, you want to break the dry noodles into bite-size pieces. Shut your eyes now, Italian cooks: You then fry those pasta shards in neutral oil until toasted and golden brown like poplar in fall.
I cook pasta all the time. I had never thought to cook sopa seca de fideo, also known as “fideo seco” or simply “fideo.” Perhaps because the memories of versions I have eaten in Mexico, including the pristine fideo at the homey Raíz Cocina Contemporánea in San Pedro Cholula, are mesmeric. (Yes, the same Cholula as the hot sauce brand common in the United States; no, that Cholula is not made in this Cholula, a historic town in the state of Puebla.) Or maybe I have never made fideo seco because every recipe serves at least four people, and though I love fideo seco, I only have one stomach and one dog. Still, desire and immobility are potent bedfellows. So, the other week, I hybridized a few recipes from books in my home, including Marilyn Tausend and Ricardo Muñoz Zurita’s La Cocina Mexicana, Pati Jinich’s Pati’s Mexican Table, and Thomas Schnetz and Dona Savitsky’s Doña Tomás.
Growing up, fideo was a staple in our house. This “mexican spaghetti”, as my husband likes to call it, is so easy to make and requires minimal ingredients. Everyone’s version of fideo varies depending on how their family made it, where they are from, etc. We always had two versions, a “soupy” one and dry version, also known as fideo seco. I won’t even lie that I have resourced to using broken up angel hair pasta for my fideo and have just as delicious results. You do you, no right or wrong way of making this deliciousness.
Fideo is made with Vermicelli pasta which can be found just about anywhere. I have seen it at my local grocery stores, Walmart, and Target. You can also order it online off Amazon or here. As I mentioned above, broken up angel hair pasta or even spaghetti works great too. The process used to make fideo is the same process used to make my Mexican rice. Fideo is a little less “attention-seeking”, if you will. Your water to pasta ratio does not have to be perfect and you really can’t mess this recipe up. If you add a little more water than you wanted, you get the soup version of fideo. If not enough water, you get the dry version. Both are equally delicious and can be enjoyed as a side or dish of its own.
Want a comforting and delicious side for your Mexican dish? Forget about traditional rice and give this traditional Mexican fideo a try!
Next time you can’t decide what kind of side dish to make to accompany your Mexican meal, definitely try this out! It’s a little different than Mexican rice but just as quick and easy. I promise, you won’t even miss the rice with this! If you want to make it a dish of its own, just ladle it into a bowl and top with queso fresco and some salsa. Serve with flour tortillas and you’ve got a simple and delicious meal to enjoy!
How to Make Fideos — A DELICIOUS, SIMPLE, Authentic New Mexican Side-Dish
What is the difference between pasta and Fideo?
Pasta is a more general term used to describe any Italian-style noodle. While fideo specifically refers to a type of thin, long noodle commonly used in Latin cuisine. The term “fideo” can also refer to a dish made with the noodles, such as “sopa de fideo,” a soup made with fideo noodles.
Is pasta considered fattening?
The consumption of pasta, when eaten as part of a balanced diet which includes vegetables, fruits, leans proteins, is not associated with an increase in body weight. Although, pasta is high in carbs, which can increase weight when consumed in large amounts.
What is fideos pasta made of?
Modern fideos is typically made from durum wheat. The pasta is short, thin, and slightly curved. This classic shape appears to have been retained for several centuries, as have recipes which use the pasta. Fideos pasta is commonly eaten in Spain. The history of fideos begins in the 13th century, when Spain had a large Muslim population.
Where can I buy fideo pasta?
Fideo is available in Mexican stores or the Hispanic food aisle of most major supermarket groceries. If you can’t find one, you can use angel hair pasta or vermicelli and cut them into the size of a fideo pasta, or any length you prefer (source: Leite’s Culinaria ). Fideo is also popular in Tex-Mex restaurants around the world.