flavors

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.

SDC10737 300x225 Aidens Midnight Fig Jam

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.

SDC10723 300x225 Aidens Midnight Fig Jam

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.

SDC107351 300x225 Aidens Midnight Fig Jam

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.

Oct

13

Gorditas

family recipes / main dishes  Posted by / 2 comments

fryinggorditas 1024x768 Gorditas

I haven’t made gorditas in years and I’m not quite sure why.  I always loved them as a kid and their open faced counterpart, the sope or sopito.  Thick corn tortillas cooked on a griddle, then sliced open, deep fried and stuffed full of meat, beans, lettuce, tomatoes, salsa and cheese was heaven on a plate.  Hearty and delicious fare that filled me up and made me sleepy afterwards.  I love all the textures and flavors of them, the crispy thickness of the dense corn tortilla, the chewiness of meat, the soft beans and the freshness of the cold vegetables.  My mouth is watering writing this and I’ve just finished one!  And yes, I am laughing at myself…

Gorditas can be filled with just about anything.  Beans, meat, chicharrones in green chile – the possibilities and variations are endless.  Today I am making them stuffed with ground pork, refried beans with cheese and the chopped tomato, onion and cilantro mix I love so much.  I made salsa de molcajete too and I know my son Phillip will add a dollop of crema and sprinkle his with a little queso cotija like he always does.  Any way you have them, they are so good.  Decadent good.
slicegordita 300x162 GorditasSome of that decadence comes from LARD.  Yes, that’s right I said LARD.  Look, you can add vegetable shortening or olive oil or whatever you like to try and make a healthier alternative and it will work, even be good but there is no substitute for the piggy taste of lard.  You don’t make gorditas every day, heck I haven’t made them in years so my philosophy is this: if you’re gonna do it – do it up right.  Use the lard!  It’s just a bit and sure, it will clog  your arteries a bit but add a bit more chile to burn it out.  Live a little and then put away the recipe for a year or two.

gordita 300x204 GorditasMy grandmother made gorditas like no one else could.  Her swift hands made fast work of forming them while some of us used a tortilla press to get them perfectly round and of equal thickness.  Her hands worked gracefully, almost in musical rhythm and she never missed a beat.  Her gorditas were perfectly round, all uniform in size and all of the same thickness.  I still can’t do that, though I get the taste just right.  Watching her was like watching a magician and I would sit on my little red chair with my elbows on the table, chin in hands just admiring and daydreaming of the day I’d be standing at that stove making perfect bits of delicious roundness.

Well, I never could get them as perfect as hers anymore than I can get all the peel off an orange in one long curl like she did but they sure taste like hers and eating them again makes me all the more determined to get it right next time without using a tortilla press.  Some things never change though and when I see my grandchildren watching me at the stove, I know they are daydreaming of being the one at the stove making magic.

Gorditas

For the masa:
2 cups Maseca (corn flour)
1/4 cup white flour
2 tsps baking powder
1/3 tsp of salt
1 1/2 cup of warm water
1/4 cup of lard (or vegetable shortening)

Mix the maseca, the flour, salt and baking powder in a bowl.  Add the lard or shortening and the warm water.  Mix until the dough is smooth and can be formed into a ball.  Divide into balls and keep covered with a damp cloth.

Either using a tortilla press or shaping with your hands, make the gorditas in about a 4 inch diameter about 1/4 inch thick.

Heat the gorditas on a hot griddle or comal until cooked on each side.

Slice each cooked gordita almost to the end but keeping it together, forming a kind of pocket.  Some people don’t make the cut until it’s fried, but I like the insides crispy too.

Deep fry the gorditas in oil  until golden brown and drain on paper towels.

Stuff the pockets with any filling you like.  Beans, shredded beef, carnitas, chicharonnes in green salsa,  queso fresco, scrambled eggs with nopales, etc.

Sep

04

Mole & Potato Salad

stories  Posted by / 3 comments
grandama gina Mole & Potato Salad

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.

Aug

07

My Grandma’s Avena (Oatmeal)

breakfast / family recipes / history  Posted by / 1 comments

avena1 768x1024 My Grandmas Avena (Oatmeal)

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.

avena3 1024x768 My Grandmas Avena (Oatmeal)

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.

avena2 1024x768 My Grandmas Avena (Oatmeal)

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