lemons

Aiden’s Midnight Fig Jam

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.

Caldo de res and Memories

Don’t you just love rainy days? I do. I am not a fan of summer with the exception of luscious summer fruit. I’m the type of person that likes to curl up with a steamy mug of coffee, a hand-made afghan and my laptop. Occasionally, I replace the coffee with hot chocolate, tea, atole or cider and the laptop with a book or notebook to write in. Maybe it has something to do with me being born in December. I love waking up in the grey, chilly morning wrapped in my blankets with my little jalapeno-eating dog at my feet. I wake up brighter somehow in spite of the gloom of the day. If there is rain, thunder and lightening I am positively glowing. Those are the days I wake up singing, my head full of memories, recipes, words that beg to be written down and a poem in my soul. Those are the days I make hearty soups, caldos, stews and those are the days I bake bread.

One of my favorite soups for a chilly day is caldo de res. It’s a vegetable laden soup with rich, falling apart tender bits of beef in a positively nourishing beefy broth. It’s served in a big bowl with Mexican rice, steaming hot tortillas, bright yellow sliced lemons and a freshly made salsa sitting in a squat basalt molcajate.

Whenever I make it, it takes me back to that little kitchen on Goodwin Avenue where I spent most of my formative years. My grandmother is always present in those memories, her apron and those tiny, gentle hands that seemingly had magic in them. She was magical with spices, herbs, plants and cooking. Anything that came from her kitchen was redolent with aroma, absolutely delicious and the kind of food that begs for yet another bite even if you can’t eat another one.

My Grandma Lupe was a genius in the kitchen. We are alike in a lot of ways and oh so different in others. I rarely remember her measuring, unless it was a new recipe. She loved watching food TV shows, The Galloping Gourmet and Julia Child with the same intensity that I watch Food Network.

I remember her pantry full of baking supplies, kitchen gadgets and cookbooks. You could find magic in that pantry: bright spices, cans of baking soda, big clear acrylic bins of flour, beans, rice. It was like Ali Baba’s cave of treasures in there to my younger self. A truly otherworldly and magical place. That tiny kitchen with it’s bright red little breakfast table, the old stove and creaky floors was heaven to me and my imagination and palate were fueled by it. It haunts me in a good way, the kind of haunting that makes me write stories about it, reconstruct recipes, share them and recreate smells and a place for my own grandchildren to weave their dreams in.

One of the things I remember most is her caldos. I loved those bright bowl full of celery, potatoes, carrots, meat, onion, corn on the cob, cabbage and zucchini. The herbs and garlic she put in were unseen because she’d pull them out before adding the veggies. My grandfather (Papa) hated biting into a piece of garlic and she made sure he didn’t.

The meaty broth was nourishing and perfect on those chilly days and it was fun food too for the child I was. Think about it. I got to scoop brightly colored rice into it, squeeze lemon and add a small bit of that yummy salsa. I got to dip my freshly made tortillas into it and eat my own creation. Everyone at the table made it their own, each adding either more salsa, no rice, less rice, more rice, rolled their tortilla and dipped it, made tacos out of it, etc, etc. Fun food and I never once thought it was healthy or icky with too many vegetables. It was just delicious and fun.

I miss those chilly afternoons around the small table, sitting across from my Papa, giggling at my Auntie Jessie and watching my Grandmother move around the kitchen as gracefully as a ballet dancer making sure everyone had warm tortillas, their glasses were full, the salsa was ok. I don’t ever remember her just sitting down and enjoying. She was the uber hostess, the caretaker, the matriarch and she waited on us lovingly. Even on big holidays when there was a table full of people she’d rarely sit. Everyone would try to get her to sit down but she was too focused on caring for us.

To me now, caldo de res equals comfort, happy memories and beyond that, it’s just plain delicioso. What are your best memories of food and family?

Fig, Citrus & Lemon Verbena Marmalade

Photo courtesy of the lovely and gracious Darlene Chan who is the best person you’ll ever want to have on your side.

figsnbread Fig, Citrus & Lemon Verbena Marmalade

My little fig tree in the backyard has been so generous.  I’ve made jam, a tart, pudding, candy, dried some, given away tons and still have more figs every day.  The jam I made with the grandkids  was such a success (and gone so quickly) that I have been planning on making more for a few days but hadn’t gotten around to it.

One of my Twitter amigas and an amazing cook, Maura Hernandez blogged an amazing recipe for her Mermelada de Higos, a spicy version that had me drooling. That got me thinking about marmalade which I adore and I started wondering what it would be like to merge with my figs.  I had some fresh Meyer lemons and a few tangerines in the house, so I thought, “Why not?”  Scanning the pantry I was annoyed I was out of cardamon which I thought would give depth to the marmalade.  I did find orange flower water and the lemon verbena that we recently planted has been flourishing so I adjusted the recipe compiling in my head.

The recipe came together easily and perfumed the house with an almost flowery citrusy scent.  The resulting marmalade is figgy, slightly bitter from the citrus and flowery.  Completely delicious and oh so good on the warm bread I baked.  The citrusy notes of tangerine, lemon and the verbena give it an almost summery, light taste.  I can see making tons of this to eat on those bleak, grey days when the taste of summer will be so welcome.

5 pounds of chopped, fresh figs
3 Meyer lemons, thinly sliced
3 tangerines, thinly sliced
10 lemon verbena leaves, finely chopped
2 cups of water
3 cups of sugar
1 tablespoon orange flower water
Dash cinnamon

In a large pot, bring the water to a boil, then lower the flame to it’s lowest setting.  Add the figs, Meyer lemon and tangerine slices, cinnamon, orange flower water, 1/2 the verbena and sugar.

Let simmer and cook down for about four hours, stirring occasionally.  In the last hour, add the second half of the lemon verbena.  All the water should be cooked down and you should have a thick, rich marmalade.  If still too watery, let simmer another hour or so until it cooks down.

Serve with yummy homemade bread.

Makes 3 Mason jars full.

Buen provecho!

Mojarra Fritas Feast

salsa Mojarra Fritas Feast

I know it seems crazy to want to fry things in summer’s heat but whenever summer is right around the corner, I get to thinking about frying some Tilapias for Mojarra’s Fritas. I love, love, love Mojarra’s Fritas which would probably freak out my grandparents. They both were from Central Mexico and hated even the word fish, so I didn’t grow up eating seafood at all with the exception of American canned tuna and if we opened a can at Papa and Grandma’s house, my grandfather would be grossed out by the smell. Lent was particularly hard for my very religious, Catholic grandparents since they hated fish so much. My love of all things seafood came much later in my life.

An old boyfriend taught me how to make Mojarras and I contributed all the sides that I always make with it now. I never make the dish without those particular sides because it all goes so well together. For this fish feast, I make white rice topped with a garlic-lemon butter sauce, a cucumber jalapeno salad, salsa de molcajete, purple onions en escabeche, sliced avocados, freshly made corn tortillas and for dessert, a roasted pear flan. Yeah baby, I’m getting hungry already and I haven’t even started writing out the recipes.

Make all the sides and dessert ahead of time so that you can serve the fish almost immediately. The fish will be fork tender and delicious and you will have some very happy guests.

Make fresh corn tortillas. If you don’t know how, here’s a great video on how to make them.

Cucumber-jalapeno salad

6-8 salad cucumbers, peeled, scored with a fork and sliced thin
4 fresh jalapenos, seeded, de-veined and finely diced
1 bunch green Mexican onions, very thinly sliced
1 bunch cilantro, stripped from the stems and finely minced
Juice of two lemons
Salt to taste

Peel the cucumbers, rinse, then taking a fork, score it all the way around. When you slice it, it will look like a little flower. I slice them thin, about 1/8 inch thick. You don’t want them too thin, you want texture. Place them in a deep salad bowl.
Add the jalapenos, onions, cilantro, lemon juice and salt and toss together. Cover and refrigerate until you’re ready to set the table.

Purple onions en escabeche
5 red onions, thinly sliced into rings

1 cup of vinegar

7 cloves of garlic, peeled

1 tsp cumin seed

1 tsp dried oregano

1 bay leaf

1 cone of piloncillo (brown Mexican sugar)

Heat the vinegar in a large pot, along with the garlic, spices and sugar until the sugar melts.  Add in the onions and continue to cook on a very low flame for about an hour.  Let cool, then refrigerate.  Serve cold.

Salsa de molcajete
4-6 tomatoes
6 chile gueritos
3 cloves of garlic
1 onion, quartered
cilantro
salt to taste

Roast the tomatoes, chiles, onion quarters and garlic on a comal or griddle until well roasted but not burnt.

In a stone mortar (molcajete) mash the roasted garlic and onion with some coarse salt until almost creamy.

Peel the chiles and tomatoes and add to the molcajete one by one mashing them into a chunky salsa.

Strip cilantro off the stems and stir into the salsa. I usually use half a bunch for this amount of salsa, but it really depends on how much you like cilantro.

The salsa should be chunky and rustic.

Garlic-lemon butter sauce

4 cloves of garlic, peeled and mashed into a paste
Juice of one lemon
2 cups of butter

On a low flame, melt the butter with the garlic, stirring to prevent from burning or browning. Add the lemon juice when the butter is melted through. Set aside and keep it warm. We serve the butter over both the fish and the white rice.

Roasted Pear Flan

4 Anjou pears, cored and sliced thin
2 tbsp melted butter
1/2 cup sugar
3 egg yolks
1 (5 ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 eggs

Spread the sliced pears on a baking sheet and brush with the melted butter. Roast in a 400 degree oven for ten minutes or until nicely browned. Let cool.

In a small saucepan melt sugar over medium heat, stirring frequently, until sugar is a dark, caramel-colored liquid. Remove from heat and pour into a 8 ramekins. Quickly turn the ramekins to coat bottom and sides with the caramel, then arrange the roasted pear slices on the bottom of each and let cool.

Heat oven to 325.

Put the condensed milk, milk, eggs, egg yolks and flavorings into a deep mixing bowl and whisk together until well blended.

Pour the flan mixture into the ramekins and place each ramekin into a large baking dish filled half way with water. Bake for 1 hour.

Remove from oven and remove the ramekins from the water carefully.

Cool and then refrigerate for at least a few hours before serving. Just before serving, cover the ramekins with a plate and invert. I always run a sharp knife along the sides to loosen them up before inverting.

Mojarras Fritas

The first step in making good mojarras fritas is finding a good piece of fish. I like to head out to the Cabrillo Beach area early in the morning and buy it as fresh as I can get it. Can’t make it to the beach? Local markets in L.A. Carry nice Tilapias – I buy from Whole Foods Market but you can find Tilapia all over Los Angeles. Buy one fish per person. My feast serves 8 people.

8 fresh Tilapia
Olive Oil
Coarse Kosher salt

Trim off the dorsal and side fins off the fish and score the sides of the fish with a sharp knife. I make three long cuts on each side. Wash the inside of the fish well, then rub both the inside and outside of the fish with the kosher salt and set on brown paper to dry off. Here’s a great video on how to prepare the fish for frying.

In a large skillet, pour in olive oil a little over half way to the top and heat on medium flame. When the oil is very hot, carefully slide in a fish and fry till very crispy and brown (about ten minutes). Turn over and do the same for the other side. I do two at a time to work quicker, but depending on the size of your skillet and the Tilapia, you may only be able to do one at a time. Drain the fish on brown paper and serve immediately with all the sides. We take a little bit of everything but the dessert and put in a hot tortilla to make incredible fish tacos.

Buen provecho!

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