favorite things

Sep

19

Stuffed Squash Blossoms

Appetizers  Posted by / 0 comments

Fried and stuffed squash blossoms

Squash blossom season comes and goes quickly in a delicate flutter of pale orange petals that flavor soups, quesadillas and budins.  It happens so fast that if it weren’t for the brilliant color, you’d probably not notice the season unless you were looking for it.

I get excited when I see those delicate orange flowers with the bright green stems.  My heart skips a beat and I literally skip to the flowers as soon as they appear in my local markets.  I make as many dishes as I can get through before the season ends but no matter what I make, the stuffed flowers always, always happen first.  They are my absolute favorite things to eat and that first return from a market with squash blossoms always means I’m going immediately to the kitchen to quickly stuff and fry them.

Sometimes I take the time to make a salsa to dip them in but that’s usually after that first day heady rush to make them.  I simply can’t wait or be bothered to make salsa.  I just want my stuffed flowers.  They are light, crispy, slightly salty and all kinds of delicious.  Can’t live without ‘em and once you try them, I don’t think you’ll be able to either.

Stuffed Squash Flowers

1 bunch – about a dozen squash flowers, stamens removed and stems trimmed
1 egg, beaten
1 cup of flour
1 tbsp. Knorr Suiza (optional)
Queso fresco
Olive oil for frying

Carefully wash the squash blossoms and gently pat dry.  Remove the stamens and trim the stems.  Set aside.
Cut the queso fresco into small cubes and set aside.
In a shallow bowl mix the flour with Knorr Suiza (or salt and pepper if you prefer) and set aside.
In another bowl beat an egg.
Heat oil in a skillet.

Assemble the flowers by carefully sliding in a piece of the queso and making sure the petals cover it.  Dredge in the flour mixture and lay them on a tray.
When the oil is hot enough (think about the temp for frying chicken), take one of the flour dredged flowers and dip it in the beaten egg and slide into the skillet.  Let brown on one side, about three minutes then turn over.  I use tongs to slide them in and turn them.  Remove from the pan when they are golden brown and put onto a plate lined with brown paper or paper towels to drain.

Serve immediately with either salsa, a little cream or just plain.  Delicious!

Mar

17

Carne de puerco con mole y nopales (Pork with cactus in red mole sauce)

family recipes / main dishes  Posted by / 1 comments

In my family, we all have our favorite things my Grandma Lupe cooked.  I was just visiting my Aunt Jessie in the hospital and we were of course talking about food.  I asked her what her favorite thing was that my grandma cooked and she immediately smiled and said, “the mole with nopales and carne de puerco.”  Immediately, my mouth started to water in memory.  I haven’t had those in years and we chatted for a bit, talking about the ingredients and how to make it.

The mole was different than most, very piquant and delicious with a tangy, smokey flavor that haunts my memory.  I’ve never tasted mole like hers for nopales (cactus) and carne de puerco (pork) anywhere else.  The nopales are de-thorned, washed and sliced into 1-inch sections, then boiled with quartered onion for about ten minutes, then drained and set aside.  You can make them ahead of time and refrigerate them to save time.

Carne de puerco con nopales y mole

For the mole:

Chiles California’s (dried california chiles) 8-10 of them

1 small onion

water

salt to taste

Boil the chiles in water with one quartered onion until they are soft about 20 minutes.  Scoop out the chiles and onion with a slotted spoon and scoop them out  and cool them off.  Taking a sharp paring knife, cut into the chiles and remove the stems, veins and seeds then place them into a blender.  Blend until smooth.

For the pork:

2 pounds cubed pork (pork shoulder or pork chops with the fat untrimmed)
salt and pepper
1 small onion, diced
1 or 2 cloves of garlic
1 bay leaf

Fry the pork until it is browned and crispy.  Start off on a high flame then lower it and stir occasionally, to keep from sticking.  The pork needs to be very, very crispy, almost cooked through  into hard little nuggets.

Scoop the pork out and drain.  Set aside.

Drain off some of the drippings from the pan, leaving about two tablespoons in.  Add the onions and sautee them, scraping the from the bottom of the pan.  When the onions are nicely browned, add the cooked pork, a clove of garlic and the bay leaf.  Cook on low heat for about ten minutes stirring occasionally.  Add in the sauce and the reserved nopales and let simmer for another 40 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Remove the bay leaf and the garlic cloves and discard.

Serve with rice, beans and fresh tortillas.

Mar

11

Huevos con Chile

stories  Posted by / 0 comments

It’s morning and I’ve finally woken at a decent time, though I still can’t sleep at night for the silence.  I miss that L.A. lullaby of police sirens, music, traffic, voices, dogs barking and the Santa Anas ratting my window panes on a windy night.  I’m sitting on my bed still a little sleepy, wondering what to wear and thinking of those cold mornings in Atwater Village where the creaking of ancient hardwood floors would wake me and the smells of breakfast drifting from the kitchen would lure me out of my cocoon of blankets.

One of my favorite things my grandmother would cook was huevos con chile, scrambled eggs with salsa.  She’d wake up early, about 5am and throw open all the windows and doors to let the fresh air in.  She’d then go outside and water all her flowers and plants while my grandfather irrigated his garden.  From my bed, I would hear the water, feel the dewy morning chill and snuggle in to sleep a little more.  Safe, comforting sounds.  I’d wake again to the creaking of the floorboards, the rattling of pots and then the smells.

Sometimes I’d jump out of bed and run to help in the kitchen.  I’d see the comal going with tomatoes and chiles on it and know she was making salsa.  My grandfather would be there in the kitchen with his rolling pin dusted in flour, rolling out those massive flour tortillas he loved to make.  He worked powerfully and fast.  A quick three turns of the pin and he would have this huge tortilla that barely fit the comal.  I never failed to be amazed by how giant they were and he never tired of showing off for me.

My grandmother would put the molcajete in front of me and the peeled chiles, tomatoes and a few other things like roasted garlic cloves, translucent quarters of onion.  She’d start grinding the chile mixture while i stripped cilantro stems of their leaves and flowers.  She then would take about half of the freshly made salsa over to the stove where she’d scramble eggs and then pour in the salsa which sent off this luscious, spicy steam that made my mouth water.  Before I knew it, there’d be a plate in front of me with eggs colored red and green from the salsa, a scoop of beans with cheese, maybe fresh slices of avocado,  cantaloupe or papaya with lime and one of my Papa’s mega tortillas.

The first bite always tickled my tongue and put a smile on my face.  The eggs were always perfect, the tortillas fluffy and warm, and the best part was my grandmother finally sat down and I could jabber at her, my Aunt Jessie and my Papa while we ate.  What did we talk about?  Why food of course, recipes we wanted to try, how the chiles were growing in the garden and how many rows of cilantro there were.

What are your favorite memories of breakfasts?