I have the little fig tree that could growing in our backyard. This place we moved into had been left in disrepair and the yard was buried under 6 foot tall weeds and dry brush. My son Phillip and my roommate David took turns with the weed whacker and one day, we found a fig tree. It was small, literally buried under weeds, bone dry and yet it was brimming with little green figs. My heart stopped. I LOVE figs.
Growing up, whenever we’d go to my Tia Luz’ house she’d have peaches and figs fresh from her trees and they were always so delicious. Like eating warm candy when you picked them from the tree. She’d always send my grandmother over baskets full of delicious black mission figs and whenever they’d show up, I’d be jumping up and down dying to get one into my mouth.
We weeded around the little tree, watered it faithfully and it astounded us with it’s bounty. At first, it was giving about a pound a day which disappeared as soon as we’d pick them. The following week it was giving about two pounds a day and I made jam. Just the other day, I went out and picked at least ten pounds. I sent five of those pounds to a friend in Chicago and we’re still brimming with figs. More jam is planned. I want to try a fig marmalade with lemon rind. The grandkids were here and I felt like making pastry, so I thought, “why not a tart?”
My recipes called for custard with the tart but I wanted something lighter and then I found a Greek-based custard recipe here with one of my fellow Foodbuzz Featured Publishers. It was almost what I wanted, but of course I changed it. I can’t help myself. Can never leave a recipe alone.
I used Julia Child’s perfect pie crust recipe because it’s my favorite flaky pie dough and is uber simple. I didn’t use honey for the custard, I used a syrupy balsamic with agua de azahares (orange flower water) and tangerine zest. I loved the tart but the next time I make it, I’ll slice the figs thinner like I would for a French Apple Tart. I halved these and while it was good and everyone loved it, it was a little much.
Custard (adapted from Gastronomer’s Guide)
2 pounds ripe black Mission Figs, sliced
16 ounces of plain Greek yogurt
3 eggs
1/4 cup sugar plus 2 tablespoons
3 tablespoons balsamic cream plus more to drizzle on figs
Zest of two tangerines or oranges
1 tsp. Orange flower water
Mix together the yogurt, eggs and 1/4 cup of the sugar till well blended. Add the balsamic creme, tangerine zest and orange flower water and mix. If the mixture seems runny, don’t worry it will set just fine.
Pour the mixture into a pre-baked tart shell – I used a large oval baking dish so if you are using a smaller one you will have enough batter for two possibly. Arrange the sliced figs all over the custard, slightly layering them. Drizzle more balsamic cream over the figs and sprinkle with the remaining two tablespoons of sugar. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 30 minutes or until the custard is set and the crust and figs are well browned.
Allow tart to cool for about 15-20 minutes before serving to give the custard time to set firmly and the juices from the figs to soak in. Serve warm.
Tags: baking, baking dish, balsamic, balsamic cream, balsamic creme, custard, custard recipe, disrepair, featured publishers, fig tree, Figs, grandkids, greek yogurt, julia child, lemon rind, marmalade, mission figs, orange flower water, peaches, perfect pie crust, pie crust recipe, pie dough, son phillip, tall weeds, tangerine, tangerine zest, tart, two pounds, weed whacker, yogurt, zest
Amaranth
Amaranth or amaranto in Spanish is an ancient grain. For the Aztec/Mexica people, it was a staple along with corn and beans. Some amaranth species are considered to have a 30% higher protein value than cereals like rice, wheat flour and oats.
This nutritious food was actually outlawed by the Spanish during the conquest of Mexico so I take great pleasure in eating it just on principle. Don’t get me started on the Conquista…but the people were absolutely forbidden to cultivate it or consume it. It is reported to contain between 75% and 87% of total human nutritional requirements! The Mexica were so cognizant of its high nutritional value that The Mendocino Codez indicates that over 4,000 tons of it arrived every year in the captial city of Tenochitlan.
The grain isn’t the only good part of the Amaranth plant. The leaves are spinach-like and absolutely delicious. In Ancient Mexico, they were often a part of tamales and still are to this day in certain parts of Mexico. I use them in tamales, salads, cook them like spinach and have even used them in a quiche, that’s how versatile they are.
I find whole amaranth stalks at Mexican markets, the grain I find in the bulk section at Whole Foods Market. I’m also working on growing it in raised beds for next summer. We moved into the Camellia house too late to start a summer garden, but I’m determined to have a full veggie/herb garden by next year.
Amaranth is an essential part of my pantry and I’m always looking for new ways to cook it. I make sure to always feed it to the grandkids when they are here just so they get that high nutritional content. I mean seriously this grain is a POWERHOUSE. It has protein, vitamins like A, B, C, B1, B2, B3, minerals like calcium, phosphorus and iron. It has a high amino acid content as well.
Dating back from Aztec times is the ubiquitous (in Mexico) Alegria candy. Alegria means happiness and I know these Rice Krispy-like treats make us happy here at home. The ingredients are simple and it’s fun to make. Toasted amaranth grain, pecans, piloncillo, lemon juice and water. Thats all it takes to make a candy that is pleasing and fun for the kids, economical and packed with nutrition. It beats the heck out of Rice Krispy treats that are packed with sugar and lacking in nutrition. Oh and one more thing for my gluten-free friends, amaranth is absolutely lacking in gluten!
Alegrias
3 c. toasted amaranth grains
2 lbs, piloncillo (Mexican cane sugar cones)
4 cups of water
Juice of two lemons
Chopped pecans
Toast the amaranth grains in a heavy skillet on a medium flame until they pop. They pop like popcorn so I recommend using a bacon grease screen. You want them very lightly toasted, don’t let it burn. Pour into a large heat-resistant bowl or a big pot.
In a saucepan bring the water to a boil and add in the piloncillo cones and lemon juice. Lower the heat and simmer for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally until thickened enough to where a little ball forms if you drip a bit of the syrup into a glass of water. When that happens, stir a bit more then remove from the heat.
Carefully pour the hot syrup over the amaranth grain and stir it in slowly, making sure it’s completely mixed through. Add in the chopped pecans and mix well. I use a wooden spoon and mix it quickly as it cools fast.
Scoop into a square cake pan (in Mexico there are special squares made of wood for it) and smooth it from side to side. Use a rolling pin with no handles or a bottle to roll across and press down to make sure it’s packed tight and even.
Cut into squares with a wet knife and let cool. You’ll have to wet the knife after each cut to prevent sticking. Once the alegrias are cooled, serve just like a puffed rice treat. My grandkids love eating them with a big glass of cold milk.
Buen provecho!
*Photo by Kurt Stueber licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 License.
Tags: acid content, amaranth, amaranto, ancient grain, ancient mexico, aztec times, Aztecs, bulk grains, codez, conquest of mexico, corn and beans, economical, frugality, gluten free, grains, grandkids, herb garden, Mexica, mexican markets, Mexico, nutritional content, nutritional value, nutritious food, pantry, protein value, sacred foods, tamales, versatile, wheat flour, whole foods, whole foods market
I'm waiting for my mole and potato salad
I know right? It sounds weird.
Not to Mexican households, especially mine. I love potato salad. Not that sickening sweet pile of mush that they sell in the grocery stores and the slightly better version sold at deli counters. No, I love the thick, chunky, tangy almost red potato salad my grandmother Lupe would make for picnics and bbqs. She didn’t do fried chicken. Hey we were Mexican. There were always hamburgers and hot dogs for the kids, chicken on the grill that my Papa Chava or some uncle would do. Maybe even steaks, but I don’t really remember what the grownups ate. I was there for the potato salad and my grandma Lupe’s amazing purple punch with cherries in it. If the mole was happening, that’s when I got really happy and excited.
My Grandma’s potato salad had big chunks of just firm enough not to fall apart potato, mustard, mayo, paprika, hard boiled eggs, big pieces of diced pickle, tiny bits of chopped celery, grated onion, and lots of pitted black olives. One of my favorite parts of helping was that I got to wear the olives on my fingers and play with them before eating. It was all she could do to keep me from eating them all. I always got at least ten and pretended that they were my crazy witch fingernails or Swamp Thing or whatever my fertile imagination was running with that summer.
Grandma always made tons of potato salad early in the day so that all the flavors would meld while it was still hot and have plenty of time to be cold by the time we were ready to eat. We’d help make her purple punch (still trying to find the recipe for that one), her green limeade one and the punch she put rainbow sherbet in. YUM. I seriously need to find those recipes. There’s be fruit salads and the melon ballers would be rocking in three different sizes, green salads, chile salsa, her mix of tomatoes, onions and cilantro with the pretty cilantro flowers in it and a hustle bustle of activity. The picnic table in the patio my mother’s cousin Jackie had helped built (I still remember being scared of his hammer), the patio with our baby hand and footprints embedded into the dark green cement where shelves of potted plants were everywhere and the sweet scent of Grandma’s flowers and the bay laurel tree would drift in. God I miss that patio. There was nothing like sitting in it playing marbles with my Papa or embroidering dish towels with Grandma and Auntie Jessie.
If there was mole, it was one of my favorite things. The spicy, chocolate thickness of dark red mole on tender, falling off the bone chicken meat mixed with the coolness of the potato salad was perfection. The mole was spicy enough for the adults and we kids made sure to put lots of lemon to cut the spice and mix in the potato salad that would turn red and taste absolutely delicious. The tang of the pickle went well with the lemon cutting through the spice and the occasional bite of egg, celery or olive added texture, crunch and interest. It was a party on a plate.
It’s Labor Day weekend and I’m planning on making potato salad for my own grandkids today. Will there be mole? Absolutely. Hot dogs too, grass fed beef hamburgers (hey it was on sale at Whole Foods) maybe some fish and definitely some icy cold fruit salad. There will be a fig tart with ice cream and most of all there will be memories of mole and potato salad.
Tags: black olives, chava, chopped celery, cooking, family, fertile imagination, fingernails, flavors, fried chicken, fruit, fruit salad, fruit salads, grated onion, green salads, grownups, hard boiled eggs, hot dogs, memories, mole, mush, picnics, rainbow sherbet, red potato salad, swamp thing, tiny bits
After all the intense summer heat of the past week, now that it’s finally cooler I have been craving Mexican comfort food. I wanted enfrijoladas, those rich, creamy bean and cheese bits of yummy that melt in your mouth. An enfriolada is something like an enchilada only a bean sauce is used instead of the red or green chile sauce. They can be made with either corn or flour tortillas, but I use flour because they make the dish extra soft and velvety. Enfrijoladas are not only great comfort food, they are very economical. Typically served with enfrijoladas are what we call Chiles Toreados which could mean either toasted chiles or bullfighter style chiles depending on who you’re talking to. Jorge Carbajosa over at Spanish Lesson has a good post on the word here. I use chiles jalapeños and thick slices of onion in mine. Some people use Salsa Maggi for flavoring but I like Knorr Suissa. The chiles are sliced into four pieces, toasted in oil along with the onions and then served over the enfrijoladas. My kids would kill me if I dared to take out the seeds since they like it hot and the whole point of toasting the chiles in such a manner is to make them hotter or mas bravos (like a bullfighter) but if you want them milder, go ahead and devein and seed them. The toasted chile flavor will still be fantastic and you’ll still get a bit of spice.
I had a pot of frijoles de la olla all ready, so I set about making my enfrijoladas and showed my roommate David how it was done. The local market was out of panela cheese which is what I typically use, so I ended up using a mixture of Monterey Jack and Queso Fresco. The dish is nothing if not versatile.
We sat down to watch Iron Chef America and have our dinner with the dog doing his typical sad-eyed gaze at us. He knows better than to beg and always gets a treat so what he did next shocked us all. Ozzy leapt and snatched, literally snatched a jalapeno off of David’s plate, gulped it down and ran.
Chiles toreados
It happened so fast we were stunned. Really? Did he just eat a chile? Then he came back and his little tongue was just rapidly licking his lip and I felt so sorry for him, I grabbed some cold queso fresco and fed it to him hoping it would calm the burn. This is where it gets really wacky. The little monster ran away from me and David, who was now pouring him milk and attacked Phillip’s plate stealing three more chile slices in the process. We put away our dinner dishes, kept the jalapenos high and away from him but he was still whining and trying to jump up on countertops after them!
El perro enchilado
My dog is a schnauzer mix and who knows what the heck the other part of him is but we’re certain it’s something Mexican and crazy. We kept trying to feed him milk but Ozzy was almost high from the chili rush and I literally had to hold him down and pour it into him. He was going nuts. I Googled hoping it wasn’t toxic and there wouldn’t be a vet visit in our near future. I kept feeding him cheese till he seemed to calm down, then I put him in bed. He slept quietly all night and woke up just fine but he scared the heck out of us. From now on, Chiles Toreados will be renamed in this house – Perro Enchilados (hot dogs) in his honor. Still shaking our heads over this loco dog who was sniffing at jalapenos this morning but didn’t have a chance to get to them.
Enfrijoladas
1 dozen flour tortillas
Cooked Beans
Milk
Oil for frying
Queso Panela (or Monterey Jack)
One onion, diced
Queso fresco
This recipe doesn’t really call for measurements, but I’ll try and estimate it out. In a large skillet, add about 1 tablespoon of oil and heat. Add in about 4 cups of frijoles de la olla and about a 1/4 to 1/2 cup of milk. Using a potato masher, mash the beans until smooth. Don’t use the masher until the beans are really hot or it won’t be so easy.
Remove from the heat and let cool.
Add to a blender once it’s cool enough and blend until perfectly smooth. Pour back into the skillet and re-heat.
Grate about a pound of cheese, either panela or Monterey Jack and dice the onion finely. Mix the grated cheese and onion together and put into a plate or bowl.
In another skillet heat up enough vegetable or canola oil to dip tortillas in. Using a set of tongs, quickly dip each flour tortilla (or corn if you prefer) into the oil, flipping over to get both sides. You don’t want them to fry to much. Literally about 30 seconds on each.
Once your tortillas are fried, using the tongs quickly dip them in the bean sauce. Try to do this quickly so your tortillas don’t fall apart. Corn tortillas hold up better, but flour ones are my favorite.
One tortilla at a time, place in baking dish, fill with the cheese mixture and roll. I use the tongs because they are usually too hot and delicate for me to adequately do with my hands.
Once all the tortillas are filled and rolled, spoon more bean mixture on top and pop into a hot 350 degree oven for about ten minutes. Just long enough for the cheese to fully melt.
To serve, sprinkle with crumbled queso fresco and top with chiles toreados. We usually have ours with Mexican rice or a salad but they are a filling and delicious meal all on their own.
Chiles Toreados
About 6-10 fresh jalapenos
Oil for frying
Tablespoon Knorr Suissa or Salsa Maggi
1 onion, halved and thickly sliced (optional)
Wash the jalapenos and cut off the ends. Slice down the middle and then again to get four long strips. In a cast iron or other heavy skillet, add just enough oil to coat the pan and heat on medium flame.
Once the oil is hot, add the chiles and onion slices. The oil will pop so be careful. Fry the chiles on both sides until just toasted, not letting them get too dark, then remove the chiles, lower the flame and continue to let the onions cook until well caramelized.
Throw the chiles back in and stir in the Knorr Suissa. Remove from heat and serve over the enfrijoladas.
Try not to have a crazy, jalapeno eating dog around.
Tags: bravos, bullfighter, chile sauce, chiles toreados, chilis, comfort food, crazy things dogs do, enchilada, enfrijoladas, flour tortillas, gaze, intense summer heat, iron chef america, local market, maggi, monterey jack, onion, onions, ozzy, roommate, spanish lesson, spice, thick slices
It’s 12:45 a.m after one of the hottest days of summer. It was 105 degrees!
The grandkids who are visiting for this week can’t sleep, house is too hot and my a/c wall unit is icing over. What to do, what to do? In the fridge was a massive bowl of the past two days harvest of figs from our tree just begging me to do something with but it’s been too darned hot. I took an almost midnight shower and came out to two small children that were hot, grumpy, tired and in need of something, anything to do to get them to relax enough to sleep. I went to the fridge, saw that big bowl of figs and remembered the jam I had been intending to make. “Who wants to have a midnight jam session?” I asked the kids. “We do!”
I had had an idea in mind on how to make my jam, an older recipe that called for cinnamon, lemon rind, fresh figs and sugar but whenever the kids help me cook, things change. I really like letting them improvise and find their way around my kitchen. We discuss flavors and ideas all the time. They’ve been cooking with me since before I started Dona Lupe’s so I’ve learned to trust them the way they trust in me.
Insomniac grandkids
Aiden took charge of this jam session. He just turned five on Friday the 20th and was in a very assertive mood. He handed me a bottle of caraway seed and said, “Grammy use this, it almost smells like figs.” Into the simmering cinnamon and water it went. What the heck, how bad could it be? I searched for lemons but we were out and being midnight by now, we were out of luck with a store. David suggested the rice vinegar in the pantry for a little acidity and it made sense to me so I added it. This was so not the jam I had planned on but as we all took turns chopping figs and adding them to the pot, the kitchen was starting to smell amazing.
Chop, chop, chop
Once the figs were all in the pot, Aiden handed me a jar. Surprised, I looked down at a square box of chili powder from the Indian store I frequent in Los Feliz. “Put some of that in Grammy” he said seriously. I nodded and added about two tablespoons, stirred it in with crossed fingers and tasted. Oh. My. God. That was some amazing jam! Things happen in midnight jam sessions, things you’d never expect but surprisingly sweet and good.
Jam!
We’re going on 1:00 a.m. now and the kids are drifting off to sleep while Aiden’s Midnight Fig Jam is slowly simmering on the stove. When he wakes tomorrow there will be toast smeared with his jam and the day, however hot it turns out to be will keep that spicy sweetness.
Aiden’s Midnight Fig Jam
5 lbs of fresh figs, washed, trimmed and chopped roughly
3 c. Sugar
1 cinnamon stick
3 c. of water
Pinch caraway seeds
4 tablespoons of rice vinegar
2 tablespoons of dark red chili powder
Set a large pot with the water and cinnamon stick to boil, then bring to a slow simmer.
Trim off the points and ends of the figs and rough chop them. Add the caraway seeds to the simmering cinnamon water, the sugar and rice vinegar. Stir until well blended.
Add the chopped figs, the chili powder and stir slowly. Let simmer for two hours till well thickened, stirring frequently so the sugar doesn’t burn and stick to the bottom of your pot.
Remove the cinnamon stick, let cool and store in Mason jars using proper canning techniques.
Best cooked at midnight to the strains of Luciano Pavaroti (you know we had to listen to Figaro), Lauryn Hill and Trio Los Panchos. Insomniac grandchildren optional.
Tags: acidity, aiden, captio, caraway seed, cooking, dona lupe, Figs, flavors, food, fresh figs, fridge, grandkids, grankids, heat, hottest days, insomniac, jam session, jams, lemon rind, lemons, midnight jam, midnight shower, music, pantry, preserves, rice vinegar, summer, wall unit
My oldest son Albert is a fiend for my fried chicken. He’s probably gonna scream and holler on the phone at me, but I call him Nano. I never call him Albert even though he’s trained the rest of the family to do so. He was a tiny preemie baby, nothing like the huge beast he is now and we called him Nanito, the nickname his father’s family dubbed him with the day he was born because he was so tiny. The name stuck, he’s been Nano or Nanito ever since and he HATES it. I can’t help it though, he’s still my baby boy that I’d do just about anything for.
Growing up, he was always asking me for fried chicken, coleslaw and mashed potatoes or my hamburgers. When he moved to San Diego where he was stationed in the Navy, he’d occasionally show up with a pack of big Navy guys all ravenously hungry, hand me some money and ask me to make my fried chicken for his friends. I never said no. When he married, he asked me to teach his new wife how to make it and that didn’t go over so well, so he just had me make piles of it and he and his brother ate it all in one day.
Nano is a big old beast now - I'm sure it's partly because of the chicken
With all the health problems I’ve had over the past year and a half, I’m not eating much in the way of fried foods. I’d mostly given it up before getting ill, but a serious illness then a gall bladder removal really have me vigilant about what I eat and how I prepare it. Fried chicken hasn’t been on my menu in a couple of years.
I had planned on doing a chicken salad today with the fresh chicken my roommate David brought home but he asked if I wouldn’t mind changing the menu to fried chicken. I considered and figured I might as well do him a favor and make it. Once in a great while is okay, right? Yeah I talked myself into it and he totally twisted my arm. I’m laughing at myself as I write this.
I don’t know how other people make fried chicken. The only kind I had when I was growing up was Kentucky Fried or the Mexican Pollo Frito en Salsa de Cacahuate that I make on occasion. It wasn’t until I married that I attempted it. The recipes I tried, I didn’t really like so I fiddled with stuff and came up with my own way. It’s simple, tasty and the batter is light and crunchy. Best of all, my boy loves it. It was a hit tonight too.
Nano’s Fried Chicken
1 large chicken, cut into pieces, trimmed, washed and patted dry
Olive oil
2 cups of flour, plus 1 cup
1 tbsp paprika
2 tbsp Knorr Suissa
Salt and pepper to taste
Dash allspice
3 eggs
2 tbsp buttermilk
In a medium sized bowl, mix together two cups of sifted flour with the paprika, Knorr Suissa, allspice salt and pepper, making sure its well blended. In another bowl beat the eggs with the buttermilk and in the third bowl add the plain flour.
In a large cast iron skillet add enough olive oil to fry the chicken in. I typically fill the pan halfway. Heat on medium flame.
Salt the chicken lightly and then dredge first in the plain flour, next the egg mixture coating the chicken completely and finally the seasoned flour.
Carefully add in the chicken one piece at a time into the hot oil. Fry for about 15 minutes on each side till golden brown on medium, then lower the flame and let the chicken cook another 10-15 minutes to ensure it’s cooked through.
Remove the chicken and drain on paper towels or brown paper.
That’s it! Simple but it takes a little care, watch to make sure the chicken isn’t getting too dark, don’t keep turning it or your crust will fall off and make sure it’s cooked through.
Buen provecho!
Tags: baby boy, beast, chicken, chicken salad, coleslaw, fiend, food, fried chicken, fried foods, gall bladder, gall bladder removal, hamburgers, hasn, health problems, mom, navy, nickname, potatoes, poultry, preemie baby, recipes, roommate, san diego, scream, sons
First Figs
One of my favorite poets is Edna St. Vincent Millay. I think her Renascence is one of the most astounding and brilliant poems ever, her unnamed sonnet that starts off “I must not die of pity, I must live” is my all time favorite, in fact it’s my personal mission statement. I love her poetry and one of my favorite books is A Few Figs from Thistles. I was curled up on the couch reading it when I got to thinking about the fig tree I’ve been nurturing.
The new house is a fixer upper and boy was it a mess. The backyard was literally a jungle of dry weeds and brush along with piled up trash. A week into clearing it, we found a little fig tree nearly buried under the weeds. Fig trees are hardy little things and can withstand a lot. I grew up with them so I knew with a little care, we’d have a bounty of figs. We cleared the area around it, I took a spade and dug up around it and started watering. Shortly thereafter, lots of little green figs started sprouting all over. Happiness!
mmmmmmm figgy goodness
The past few days have been busy and I’ve not had time to stalk the fig tree. Yes I stalk it every day waiting for that first fig, ripe, juicy, like candy in my mouth. So far nothing but green and one bird eaten skin. Reading Millay’s First Fig made me wander over to the backyard, book in hand and wow, the whole tree was bursting with purple ripe figs! Not even stopping to put the book down, I started picking figs. I filled up my shirt that was now doubling as a basket and stuck the book in my pocket.
I Twittered excitedly that the first fresh figs were in and got Tweets back about recipes, all of which I am going to try along with my own but today, for breakfast I just want that first fresh fig. I sliced them in half and had them with my pan y cafe. They were cold from the fridge, bursting with sweetness and absolutely perfect poetry.
Tags: candy, dry weeds, edna st vincent millay, favorite books, few days, fig tree, fig trees, figs from thistles, fresh figs, goodness, happiness, jungle, one bird, personal mission statement, poets, renascence, ripe figs, sonnet, spade, st vincent millay
Lavender & Mint Tea Cakes
Isis is here. Isis Lucia is my son Phillip’s four year old daughter and she lives in San Diego with her mom. I rarely get to see her but last night Phillip brought her over to spend the weekend so we’re pretty excited. What I wasn’t prepared for was the LLANTO. Llanto is Spanish for a whole lotta crying. Isis can cry at the drop of a hat. Phillip is great with her, but boy can she cry.
Don't let this happy face fool you, she can beat Niobe at crying.
This afternoon while we were waiting for Jasmine and Aiden to arrive and hopefully distract Isis from crying she dissolved into tears again. Phillip was pulling out all the stops to get her to quit but nothing was working. So Grammy (me), nursing a bad migraine opened my big mouth and said, “Isis want to make cake?” Instant smile.
Isis surveys her new domain from lofty heights
I scanned my pantry and couldn’t find what I needed to make cake but I did find one Duncan Hines box of white cake mix left behind by an old roommate. Bingo. Isis and I whipped up a boxed cake which I doctored with a little bourbon vanilla and buttermilk. I rummaged in the fridge and found butter as well as a lemon. Yay! Buttercream in the making. I whipped together butter and confectioners sugar with Isis wide eyed and happy wondering what I was doing. I explained about buttercream while adding just a bit of buttermilk to make it extra creamy. I showed her how to zest a lemon and that a little vanilla makes everything taste just a bit better. She helped me squeeze lemon juice and add it to the buttercream, then tasted it and nodded approvingly. I think Grammy made points today.
They didn't want tea but grape soda went well
The cake was in the oven and the lemon buttercream in the fridge when she started crying again. My head throbbed. Phillip looked desperate. I IM’d Marissa to please hurry over with the cousins and got the reply back OMW. The tears were still going and I scanned the yard looking, thinking and saw the little pink and white plastic table. “Isis want to throw a tea party for your cousins?” Crying stopped, she looks up and asks, “tea party?” I nod carefully, trying not to cause ripples in the migraine. “Si!” she chirps.
So now I have a tea party to pull out of um…somewhere.
Jasmine and Isis comadreando at the tea party
I take the now done cake out of the oven cut it into petit four type rectangles, top it with a blob of lemon buttercream, decorate with lavender and mint from the garden, set the table quickly, find grape soda and some straws and just before she hits the internal Cry button one more time, Jasmine and Aiden walk in the door with presents for their cousin. Tea party success! Everyone enjoyed it and even Ozzy got a slice of cake (well he ate the buttercream right off it, Ozzy is a sucker for butter even when I pollute it with lemon).
Let him eat cake!
It’s been two hours and still no llanto. She’s too distracted with cousins, jumping on the bed, the trampoline, running with the dog and Jasmine who is the social director of the cousins. Thank God. Fingers crossed, hope it lasts.
Even the big boys come to our tea parties
Tags: aiden, big mouth, bourbon vanilla, buttercream, cake mix, cousins, drop of a hat, duncan hines, fridge, how to zest a lemon, isis, isis visit, jasmine, lemon juice, migraine, pantry, roommate, son phillip, summer, tea parties, tea party, white cake, whole lotta, zest
Sometimes I make omelettes. It’s usually very rare that I eat eggs. Most of the time on those rare occasions that I eat an egg, it’s poached but every once in a blue moon I make omelettes. When that happens, my house goes nuts because they love, love, love my omelettes. I never start out knowing what kind of omelette it will be but they always turn out amazingly good. I just reach for whatever’s in the fridge and it builds itself.
Like this morning…
I stumbled out of bed, aching for coffee and thinking of breakfast. Opening the fridge, I saw the eggs and knew I’d be making an omelette. I saw argula, shaved parmesan, potatoes and a half an onion. I diced the potato thinly along with the onion and sauteed them in butter till brown and crispy, then slid them into a bowl. Next up, six eggs with a little heavy cream – whisked those, added a little salt and cracked pepper and poured them into the potato pan. The trick to a good omelette is having the patience to let the bottom set properly. I use a low flame and slowly spatula the edges letting the runny part slide on down till most of it is cooked.
Once the omelette was set, I flipped it over, filled one side with the potato/onion mixture along with a couple of handfuls of fresh baby arugula and folded it. I topped it with the nice grated parmesan and some cracked pepper and served it out to the roommate and my son Phillip who said, “Mom, I wish you’d make omelettes every day.”
Tags: arugula, baby arugula, blue moon, cracked pepper, egg, eggs, family, fridge, grated parmesan, handfuls, heavy cream, little salt, low flame, making an omelette, morning breakfast, nuts, omelettes, onion mixture, parmesan, patience, potato onion, potatoes, roommate, son phillip, those rare occasions
Oatmeal in a Latino home is nothing like oatmeal in other places. The microwave stuff is just ickygoop nonsense and it just plain grosses me out. The plain oatmeal I’ve had at restaurants I will never have again because, well it’s just plain boring. It sits in the bowl all sad kinda looking at you saying, “but I’m healthy.” Yes it’s healthy and filled with cholesterol reducing fiber. It’s great for your heart but it’s NOT my grandma’s oatmeal.
That wonderful little house on Goodwin Avenue in Los Angeles was always filled with good smells and flavors. The flowers, trees and herbs scented the air and the frogs singing in the evenings was magical. Mornings there were spent under piles of blankets in my Auntie Jessie’s bedroom with the antique oval framed picture of St. Teresa of Avila looking down upon me with sad eyes. Eventually, the scent of my grandma Lupe cooking would drift in and capture me. One of the aromas that always got me smiling was the cinnamony goodness of avena or oatmeal.
The oatmeal I grew up with was rich, decadent and almost like a pudding. My grandmother would pull out her hammered pot with the worn wooden handle, add water and cinnamon (canela) sticks to it and a handful or two of plump, juicy raisins. The water would boil till it was a deep, dark red and the house was absolutely redolent of cinnamon. The raisins would plump up huge as they drank in the cinnamon water and start to float up.
When that happened, my grandmother would add in the oats. She used old-fashioned rolled oats, or a mixture of grains and oats still with lots of fiber that my uncle would bring her from this grain place. No quicky five minute oats for her. No, she used the kind that takes at least 20 minutes. She’d lower the flame on her oatmeal pot and stir in those yummy oats slowly. They’d simmer away for 20 minutes absorbing all that cinnamon and raisin liquor. Then came the decadent part.
Grandma Lupe would take a can of evaporated milk and pour that into her simmering pot of avena. That thick, creamy, almost yellow milk would imbue the oatmeal with an intensely milky flavor and make the texture velvety. Slowly the oats would bubble, with my grandma stirring carefully so it wouldn’t stick. She’d had sugar bit by bit until her practiced eyes would tell it it was just right. She’d then let it simmer, stirring all the while for another five minutes just to make sure that sugar was well blended and not grainy.
There was nothing better than that avena. She’d serve me in a little bowl with fresh milk poured over it and a pat of butter on top. The first spoonful was super rich, super creamy and all kinds of delicious. The raisins would burst in my mouth tasting unbelievably, insanely delicious. I never forgot those mornings, made her avena for my kids almost every day and now, on a lazy Saturday morning am making it for my grandchildren whom I hope will have the same memories of a kitchen filled with love and cinnamony avena simmering in a pot.
Tags: aroma, aromas, auntie, avena, canela, cooking, family history, flame on, flavors, frogs, growing up, jessie, little house, lupe, minute oats, oatmeal, oats, plump juicy raisins, quicky, raisin, recipes, rolled oats, sad eyes, st teresa of avila, teresa of avila, wooden handle
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