molcajete

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!

Huevos con Chile

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?

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