aiden

Jan

24

Aiden’s Midnight Fig Jam

family recipes  Posted by / 2 comments

figs 1024x768 Aidens Midnight Fig Jam

Frigidaire and Jennifer Garner are teaming up to inspire families everywhere to roll up their sleeves and get cooking together. Starting today, people can join in the Frigidaire Kids’ Cooking Academy ( www.maketimeforchange.com) to get great recipes, how-to videos and tips, all designed to help involve kids in the kitchen.

My kid-friendly recipe is one for a fig jam I made this summer with my grandchildren on a hot night when we couldn’t sleep for the heat.  It was tons of fun making it and I love the idea that every or every post submitted, Foodbuzz and Frigidaire will donate $50 to Save the Children.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

Dec

23

The Simple Joy of the (Un)Common Tortilla

stories  Posted by / 5 comments
tortillas

tortillas 1024x900 The Simple Joy of the (Un)Common Tortilla

When I was growing up the best thing in the world to eat was a fresh flour tortilla right off the comal.  My grandmother Lupe would always slather the fluffy, white moon-shaped tortilla in butter and roll it up, tucking in the ends and wrapping it in a paper towel so I would drip butter everywhere.  She’d look down and smile while placing the treat in my hands.  I’d thank her and skip off with my treasure, braids swinging behind me as my little patent leather Mary Janes clicked on the creaky wood floors.  I’d usually head out to the garden or patio and eat my tortilla.  The melted butter and the soft floury texture of it tingled my tastebuds and no matter what I did, a little butter always dripped onto my chin.  It was perfection and I’d always want another.

Sometimes I’d try to roll them out in the kitchen with my grandparents.  I could never get them as perfectly round as my Papa could and he’d laugh and call them my 50 states, meaning that I made about 50 different shapes as randomly structured as states on a map.  He was proud of every single, weirdly angled tortilla I made though and showed them off proudly even if they were more than slightly triangular.

Butter tortillas, as I called them then were moments of pure bliss.  Simple as they were, they brought sheer unadulterated happiness and always, always a smile.  My sisters loved them too and we’d simply crave them far more than any ice cream or candy.  For some reason, the tortillas with butter signified home, family, being loved and cared for and brought with them the warmth and happiness of my grandparents house.

I’m 49 years old now and when things are going badly or I feel a little lonely nothing makes me happy again like a homemade flour tortilla, slathered in butter and rolled up with a little jacket of paper towel just like Grandma made.  I make them for my grandchildren now and they love them just as much as I did.  I caught myself the other day standing at the stove, handing Aiden and Jasmine a perfectly rolled tortilla with butter and was struck by the fact that it was me on the other end, my grandmother’s side handing out the tortilla.  As Jasmine skipped out of the kitchen, I saw myself at that age and hoped that her tortilla daydreams were just as wonderful as mine used to be.

There is something to be said for simplicity and the joy of plain, comfortable things.  My world is fast-paced, crazy sometimes, filled with information and sensory overload.  I can make it stop though by the simple act of making the simplest of doughs, rolling out a now perfect circle, heating it on a comal and turning it into a memory of a slower, happier time and taste the magic of my childhood.

Oct

09

A Pumpkin, Some Figs & Some Apples Walk Into a Bar: A Day of Baking Empanadas

baked goods / desserts / family recipes  Posted by / 2 comments
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SDC121533 1024x768 A Pumpkin, Some Figs & Some Apples Walk Into a Bar: A Day of Baking Empanadas

Well, they didn’t walk in and there was no bar, it was empanadas.  I had about 12 pounds of figs left from the last few days of fig harvest on our tree, bought some apples and a nice sized pumpkin the other day at the market.  As soon as I saw the pumpkins, I knew empanadas were happening.  I didn’t count on there being apple and fig ones too but the pumpkin ones were a no-brainer.  Grandkids were coming for the weekend and there was going to be an empanada bakeathon in my kitchen.

A couple of days ago when I bought the pumpkin it was cold.  In fact, I was wearing my Ugg boots and sweater on that market trip.  Even last night when I cooked down the pumpkin it was a bit chilly.  I couldn’t sleep so for some crazy reason, I hopped up at 1a.m threw the whole basket of figs into a pot with some cinnamon and sugar and turned it down to simmer then finally snuggled in with Jasmine, Aiden and Ozzy and eventually slept.  I woke bright and early and got the kids breakfast, took the dog out and surveyed my figs which had cooked down perfectly while I was in dreamland.  When I went to the fridge to get the butter for the masa, I saw the apples and they ended up on the chopping board.  I’m a little obsessed about baking.  Then it hit me that the sun was blazing and I had an oven pre-heating.  Fun.  Oh well – empanadas were happening.

We baked all day.  Empanada after empanada was rolled, filled, pinched, poked, egg washed and baked.  Jasmine turned out to be quite the expert at rolling and forming them.  I’m so proud of her.  Her little rounds fell off her rolling pin in perfect circles.  She is SUCH a baker!  Aiden on the other hand, hmmm.

Aiden decided to take a mixing bowl, fill it with Maseca (corn masa), cinnamon, sugar, salt, milk, warm water, some butter and some mace.  Then he mixed it all up, asking me every so often to taste; which I did reluctantly.  I deserve the Grandma of the Year Award for that one.  When he’d decided it was perfect, he dipped corn tortilla chips in it, pronounced it his gourmet dipping sauce and asked, “I’m a weely good chef, aren’t I Gwaaaamy?”  I said yes, choked down a few more of those chips with as little of the “dipping sauce” as possible and tried to foist the rest off on my son Phillip who wasn’t having any of it.  Wimp.

By the time Marissa got here to pick up her kids the house was filled with the smell of baking, she had two very exhausted kids (they’ll be asleep before they get home) and a basket full of empanadas to go.  I get the messy kitchen and a sad-eyed dog who’s just lost his litter mates (my grandkids).  Sorry Ozzy, it’s going to be a long, lonely week till they’re back again for Wepa Weekend with Grammy.

Empanada Dough

4 cups of flour
1 tsp of salt
1 tbsp of baking powder
1/4 cup sugar
4 eggs
1 cup of butter
Warm water
Egg wash

Mix the dry ingredients well, then cut in the butter.  Add the eggs and enough warm water to mix the dough into a smooth ball.  I add it about 1/4 cup at a time.  You don’t want to work the dough too much, just enough to get it smooth and elastic.  It seems to vary each time I make it depending on the weather or the flour’s absorbency.  My grandmother did the same, worked the water in bit by bit rather than a set amount.  Kinda like pie dough.

Once you have a nice smooth ball, cover it with a damp cloth.  I tend to prefer flour sack because it’s what my grandmother used and it works really well.  It keeps the dough from drying out and since I usually make tons of empanadas whenever I make them, the dough tends to sit for a long time.  Every time the towel dries I just sprinkle a little more water on it.

Form small balls of dough by pinching off a piece.  I say about the size for tortillas.  Keep those covered under the damp cloth as well.  Roll the each ball out to about a 4-inch diameter.  We like our empanadas big here but you can do them smaller.

Scoop a bit of filling into the center, then brush a little water on the edges of the dough.  Fold over.

Press down with your fingers all around the semi-circle then fold the dough over and pinch. Keep doing that all the way around.  It gives the empanadas a double seal and helps keep the filling in.

Take a fork and poke a few air holes into the center of the empanada, then brush with egg wash and place on a greased baking sheet.  Repeat until your baking sheet is full.

Bake at 350 degrees for about 10-15 minutes.  I go by smell so I never time them.  You want the empanadas golden brown.

Try to wait at least 20 minutes for them to cool or you’ll burn your tongue on the hot filling.

You can fill empanadas with pumpkin, cherries, pineapple, apples, pretty much anything.  Ours were filled with pumpkin, apples and a fig jam.  Some of them were a combination of fig jam and apple and some plain.

Buen provecho!

Aug

13

Isis’ Impromptu Tea Party

parties  Posted by / 1 comments

Cake 1024x768 Isis Impromptu Tea Party

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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).

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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.

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Even the big boys come to our tea parties

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