Vagabondy Python and the Search for the Holy Cookie Grail

Ah, April.

It’s really the one big glitch in springtime, as I see it. I suppose life is always a delicate balance, and, to even out the lovely weather and flowers and green things, we have rain and allergies, and…taxes.

This year, I’m turning to cookies to see me through…and, hopefully, a healthy refund. Thanks, IRS!

I love cookies. Remember Cookie Monster?


That should give you an idea of how I feel about a good cookie. While I don’t go bat-crazy and stuff them in my face like he did, give me one well-made cookie (or two, if I’m being honest here), and I’m a content girl. I especially love me some oatmeal cookies. Maybe it’s the part of me that pretends that this is a “healthier” dessert choice, but dang it all if oatmeal cookies aren’t near perfection. Chewy, hearty, sweet and a bit salty, nothing whispers comfort like oatmeal cookies on a gusty spring day.

Here in DC, we’re lucky to have a local chain called Teaism, where a few years ago I was introduced to the glories of the Salty Oat Cookie. This year when I moved to DC, I discovered its spunky twin, the Chocolate Salty Oat Cookie. Oh. My. Goodness.

Salt on TOP of a cookie? Oh, yes. For those of you out there, like moi, who have a penchant for salty foods, this cookie is a dream. The first bite is salty, and as soon as that passes, the richness of the oatmeal kicks in and the added sweetness from a raisin or chocolate chip finishes it off nicely. Next thing you know, you’re left wondering where the hell salty oatmeal cookies have been all these years, hand sadly empty, crumbs trailed along the table and your shirt, a testament to the awe-inspiring power of new and exciting food combinations with sugar and salt.

Ever since my encounter with the mythical Salty Oat Cookie, I always put the salt required for oatmeal cookies on top of the dough right before it sets in the oven, and really…it’s pretty clever.

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Speaking of clever, I thought it would be pretty great to throw in some dried cherries and walnuts and chocolate chips into this oatmeal cookie recipe I found online that claimed to be the be-all, end-all of oatmeal cookie recipes. Quite the claim, but I'm a gullible person you know. Actually I prefer the term trusting, but whatever, anyway, this cookie recipe did NOT in fact bowl me over with its awesomeness, nor did my mouth do somersaults when I took a bite, nor was I super proud to share this with people at work. I mean... this cookie recipe is fine. It is, in fact, good. But when you have great expectations, and the result is only pretty good rather than spectacularly amazing, its a bit of a let down. They're crispier than I like (I prefer big, soft, chewy oatmeal cookies) and I thought it was strange the recipe didn't call for any vanilla. I should have known. Anyway, the quest is still on for the best oatmeal cookie recipe ever, which means I just get to eat a lot more cookies, which isn't really a travesty at all. Also, when I brought some in to work today, the whole bag was gone before lunchtime, and were actually pretty good when warmed up in the microwave for twenty seconds.

From new year, new food

By the by-- cookies are a great way to pay off your one friend willing and kind enough to do your taxes. I mean…SOMETHING has to nourish them through this trying time, no? At least, that’s how I see it. They spend an hour and a half on my taxes, I spend an hour and a half on cookies, and look: an in-kind trade that makes both parties happy and good with the government for another year. Thank you, Michigan-Tax-Man-Friend: you’re buena gente. Also, the cookies will be in the mail tomorrow, and, like I said, don't get upset that they're not absolute perfection.

Up next? Probably a re-cap of all the veggies I ate this week in an attempt to be slightly more loving to the vegetable section of the food pyramid. You have Asparagus and Cabbage to look forward to, you lucky tax-burdened beasts, you. In other news, my lovely sister Natalie and our good friend Jared are coming to the District THIS THURSDAY to visit with me for the weekend! Joy.

A Tale of Two Curds

They say that when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade.

That’s fine and dandy and all, but lets be honest--that’s a lot of lemons to squeeze. Also, when I get a tall glass of fresh lemonade, it’s usually downed pretty quickly because I love the stuff. But who wants to take their lemons and make something so fleetingly good? I say, when you get a bunch lemons (metaphorically or literally) go for the gold. The lasting kind, or, at least, something that lasts a few more days than fresh lemonade.

Go for Lemon Curd.

Don’t let the name fool you. Everyone knows and generally likes lemons, but curd? It reminds me of those small, light-yellow cheese curds they try to sell you in stores. Or in Wisconsin and Minnesota, where, while visiting a friend, I was once told, “The sign of a good curd is that it squeaks when you bite it.” Squeaking curds?? Um….

It also makes me think of that nursery rhyme:

Little Miss Muffett
Sat on a tuffett
Eating her curds and whey
Along came a spider
And sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffett away

I don’t know about you, but I’m still not quite sure what a tuffett is, exactly. When I was a kid, I had a dim picture in my mind of some soupy-porridge substance that made me feel terrible for Miss Muffett and her lunch. The only bit I understood was the part about a spider freaking Miss Muffett out so badly that she couldn’t eat her meal and actually ran away screaming, curds and whey left toppled upon the ground rather forlornly.

All in all, I say that curd, in its 2 various forms, gets a strange and mysterious rap. Not too many of us think “Man. I really wish I had some curd right now.” Or “Hey guys! Who’s in the mood for curd tonight?” Unless, maybe, you are from Minnesota and grew up with the squeaking cheese curds. I, on the other hand, Arizona raised, did not have cheese curds. What I did have in our front yard, however, was a variety of citrus trees laden with grapefruit, oranges, limes, and, of course, the humble lemon... which led to my favorite curd: the lemon kind.

Needless to say…it’s been one of those weeks, you know? The kind where work gets even more workish than normal and personal events take interesting and somewhat unexpected turns, all of which throw off your groove and leave you scratching your head and thinking “What the…? Where the…? ...I need to go to bed.”

To celebrate the lemons of life, I actually bought some rather sunny-looking specimens at the grocery and decided, rather smartly, that while it was still too early for lemonade it was perfect timing for some lemon curd. Now, I’ve only made it once before, for an Easter lemon pie I tackled last year, and I will say that while the pie was fine, I fell much more deeply in love with the custard I had created to fill said pie with. And while I love me some pie, in this case, I loved me the lemon curd more.

From new year, new food

The thing about lemon curd is that it is a great little topping to have a jar of. According to my mom and other various gourmet sources, its perfect in tart shells with berries on top, on hot scones or toast, on shortbread cookies, and, now that I think about it, could be pretty delicious on some raspberry sorbet. The possibilities are endless, and dang it all—its high time lemon curd gets the proper respect it deserves.

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(Whoops! How ever did my Dogfish Head 60 Minute I.P.A. get in that picture?? Mmmm.)

The premise is simple: fresh lemon juice (or lime, if you want to get even fancier with your curd), sugar, a pinch of salt, lemon zest, eggs and a healthy heap of butter, when stirred over medium-low heat for about ten to fifteen minutes, turns the sharp tang of lemons into a sweetened creamy spread that’s thick enough to stick to a spoon (which is another way to eat it, as I’ve happily discovered). Even better, its super easy to whip together after a long day, which means it’s great to have on hand for breakfast the next morning (as everyone at work thought when I brought a jar in.)

From new year, new food

(It's like bottled sunshine. But tastier.)

Either way you look at it, having a lemony week actually turns into something much better… a couple jars of tangy-sweet awesomeness that you can share with the people around you. And, might I add, much easier and longer-lasting than a single glass of lemonade. Between you and me, when lemons are concerned, I think I got the better end of the deal.

A Good Weekend

“No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other’s worth.” – Robert Southey

I stumbled across this quote while attending college in small-town Ohio, far from my family in Arizona, and I loved how accurate it is. It’s a double-edged sword of wordsmithery: on one hand, it’s horrible being so far from the people you hold dearest, yet on the other, you’re lucky to even have relationships that grow stronger with distance and improve over time. I still think of this quote on a weekly basis, as I’ve done for about the last nine years straight (it seems I am always separated from someone). But all of those miles and minutes spent apart fly out the window when things like road trips, dinner parties (and breakfast parties and lunch parties) and food comas and conversations and laughter create the most-excellent of reunions.

Oh, and I can’t forget the Diplodocus dinosaur shadows (courtesy of Lina):

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Now-- I know you’re excited to hear about all the fun I had last weekend, but I’d first like to say a big I’M SORRY to the blogosphere and my friends and family who are faithful readers… after moving into Our! New! Apartment! the last weekend of February, I’ve been struggling to balance between nesting in my new room, cooking lots of things with reckless abandon in our kitchen, and traveling quite a bit for work. Now that I’ve properly apologized, I want to mention that this blog will take a bit of a growing-pains turn and, while still maintaining its focus on home food (preferably international) recipes, I want to document all of the other things we are cookin’ up at le chateau as Erjona started calling our most-awesome of apartments. And yes, we are dorks, I already know that.

So, wanna know more about the dinner that Lina’s shadow dinosaur was trying to eat? Well, here’s a quick background: Whitney and Lina came to visit. We all went to said small-school in Ohio, and Whit and her hubby Andy road-tripped in from Columbus while Lina took the green line train in from Maryland, and, long story short, there was much rejoicing.

After visiting museums and walking around in the chilly weather, we got down to bizniz. And by bizniz, I mean the start of our 4-hour dinner. Also, I am giving props to Jamie Oliver right now for his delightful Italian cook book, Jamie's Italy, but also for how adorable he is in his writing. He’s so British and makes food sound even better when he gushes about a simple vegetable, saying “It’s bloody gorgeous!”

Okay, for starters—we like bread. To accompany the bread, we wanted Brie. Lina likes her Brie warm, and microwaved it a little too long. But I, for one, have never met a cheese (especially a soft, gooey, melty cheese) that I haven’t liked. So, we bonded with a puddle of melted brie. And it was goooood.

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(also, props to Lina and Whitney's positioning of the one working light in our kitchen so that we could actually see the food we were cooking and eating. You ladies rock!)

Next, Erjona put together an olive/sun-dried tomato Bruschetta which was also the bomb, but I don’t have a recipe because she got it out of a very classy jar from Whole Foods and paired it with a good Soppressatta. By the way…I don’t think I’ve accurately expressed my love of olives, but you should know that I LOVE them. So, apparently, does Andy, because he bought a jar just for himself and ate nearly the whole thing.

From new year, new food

We had voted earlier in the morning to go with Jamie’s Pasta Alla Norma, a Sicilian pasta dish that is pretty straightforward with eggplant, tomatoes, garlic, basil, and cheese.

From new year, new food

(demonstrating my sweet moves with the tongs)

I hadn’t ever cooked one of his pasta recipes, but it was simple and hearty and looked absolutely lovely on a chilly spring night. The eggplant was well-seasoned and meshed nicely with the other flavors and had a good kick from the red chili flakes.

From new year, new food

(As a side note…and multiple helpings of the pasta later, there was still quite a bit leftover. The pasta tasted even better on Monday when I brought it in to work where it fed me for two lunches straight. Score!)

After dinner we got all adventurous and decided to try a pretty simple suggestion of Mr. Oliver’s for something called gelato con olio e sale: good-quality vanilla ice cream with a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkle of sea salt. Huh. This was quite the curiosity, but we were all strangely attracted to that page in the book, and had buzzed about it for a big part of the day as we walked around the city. Oil? Ice cream? Salt? Oh my. Strange does it sound, but good does it taste! I kid you not. We all placed 2 scoops in our bowls with our new toppings, and I couldn’t help but think that I’ve come a long way with my ice cream topping choices. From bubble gum and Gummi bears as a kid to strawberries and chocolate jimmies in high school to… olive oil and salt. But you know what? It’s GOOD. Strangely good, like syrup and bacon or cheese and apples or chocolate and popcorn. The sweet-salty mix was creamy, a bit grassy from the oil and pretty addictive. Every single one of us got second helpings, and that’s when Andy went downhill, (I think he let the wine get to his head) and decided to make a vinaigrette of the oil, wine, and balsamic vinegar and attempted some new and unpalatable concoction of an icecream float… gross. I won’t go into details, but the rest of us happily stopped with the olive oil and salt combo. I’ve since successfully tested this combo on another group of friends, and now feel like a true ambassador for Mr. Oliver’s simple-desserts cause. (Jamie! Call me! We’ll collaborate on a new book!)

From new year, new food

(the remains of our ice cream ventures)

Sadly, the next day after a wonderful morning meandering through the DuPont Circle Farmer’s Market, and then a good brunch of leftover pancakes, fruits and a green chile and scallion frittata, Whitney and Andy had to hit the road and Lina had laundry and I had to take a nap. Priorities, you know. My next major reunion is with my sister Natalie and our friend Jared in about 3 weeks! (!) Needless to say, I’m not a big fan of distance, but it does help you realize how lucky you are to have anyone deem you worthy of a road trip, a plane ride, or even a four-hour dinner… and it makes the time you do get to spend together pretty wonderful, especially when it’s accompanied by fun surprises in the ice cream world.

I See Onions, I See France

Dear February:

I’ve decided that you’re a strange sort of month.

So far in D.C., I’ve noted that you’ve given us balmy Saturdays in the fifties that hint to a perfect Spring, yet today I wake up to snow that, throughout the day, has become a drippy and freezing type of rain that “spits” at you as my friend Vanessa says.

I really wish you’d make up your mind.

In order to help you along I’m going to do my part, and, with the help of some onions, a big pot, and wine, maybe we could officially say “Okay, WINTER, it’s been a fun ride… but let’s get down to business, move on with our lives, and boot you out for the next nine months.”

Whaddya say? I’m in if you are.

Love,
Samantha

Ahem. So, as you can see, I’m kind of tired of this back-and-forth weather action that February has been teasing us with. I’m also a major fan of soups and stews in general, and I figured I could earn some good weather-mojo by making a big pot of French Onion Soup and combine all of these feelings of mine into one meal. Kind of like a rain-dance, except I’m making soup… and I want sunshine instead. Good plan, no?

Now, here I go again being a big fat cheater on my blog. This was my conundrum: scrounge around for a French person to get a recipe out of…which *tear* I don’t really have right now… OR I could just look up French Onion Soup recipes.

So, I befriended Epicurious instead. This is not to say that I didn’t do research. Apparently, a lot of French food comes from old peasant recipes and the same goes for onion soup which has its origins as far back as the Roman Empire. Except, of course, the French one-upped that with the legend that King Louis XV was hungry in his hunting lodge one night (maybe in February?) and had Champagne, onions, and butter… and thus, the predecessor to the modern Soupe à l'Oignon was born. Oh, those French with their butter and good ideas about food…anyhoo. On to the show!

To start off, I put on a little Billie Holiday and began to cut up some onions. SIX whole onions to be exact. Now, I have been known to bawl my head off at chopping one onion. Imagine my joy when I had to slice up six of the little punks.

From new year, new food

(I like the little guy on the right. Looks like he's peeking out from all the others. Bah.)

Anyway, what I lacked in protective goggles I more than made up for in cheap sunglasses, and donned them like a true diva and repeated the song I wear my sunglasses at night, so I can, so I can see and sliced all the onions right on up, with barely a tear. FACT: I will now wear sunglasses whenever I have to chop a lot of onions. Isn’t that super sexy? Oh, I know.



(Proof of my cool factor. Yes, that's my reflection in a French Press. Don't hate.)

I then added a chunk of butter and garlic and cooked the onions on low-medium heat for a good 45 minutes…just stirring and stirring and added some salt when I felt like it, some pepper, a little bit of olive oil, some flour… as you can see, I got a bit bored and took some liberties with the spices and such. Eh, whatevs, it all turned out ok in the end, you know?


(First Stage)


(A little bit softer now)

Oh yes… and I cannot forget the thyme. I added a bit of that too. Then I added the beef broth, some water, and let the whole thing boil then cook down and I just kept stirring and tasting and adding in a ton of salt until I felt it was good enough to put into a bowl. In some versions of the recipe, I read that people added red wine and, at the end, a splash of balsamic, so I figured at this point I’d bastardized the poor recipe enough I might as well go the Full Monty and do both.


(Caramelized goodness)

I also sliced up a baguette and shredded a bit of Swiss cheese. Now, I really had wanted to use Gruyere, but my Safeway only offered a $17 hunk of the stuff, and I did NOT feel like spending that much. You know what I did feel like spending? $3.78 on some Swiss. See? Beggars can’t be choosers, you know. And, it was still good, so don’t shake your head at me and give me that look.

After toasting the cheese on bread in the oven and putting them on top of the soup, the whole thing looked so warm and inviting that I just wanted to hug the bowl close and tell it that I thought it quite a lovely companion on such a windy evening. But my French pretty much stops at bonjour! And au revoir and fromage because cheese is so good, it’s worth knowing how to say in multiple languages.



At this point, Erjona had come home and fixed a pretty radical salad. I poured us both a glass of wine, we caught up on the day, and chatted about our pending move (more on that fun event next time!)



The soup was warm, sweet from the onions, salty, with a hint of winter around it, and the bread and cheese combo on top made it pretty delish. I kind of want to try a version with Chicken rather than Beef stock, but that’s neither here nor there because I have Onion Soup A.D.D. and always want to try a better version of it. However, if anyone has a legit French friend that I can borrow and squeeze recipes out of, let me know. I can woo them with cheese, wine, and the promise of free soup.

But you know what? Maybe February isn’t so bad...especially when you have a few onions, good music, a cozy kitchen and your best friend to ward off chilly nights and fickle weather fronts. Even so, I wouldn't be displeased to have Spring show up a few weeks early (and don't be surprised if my good-weather-mojo-onion soup evening works its magic and we get some warm weather in the next week...)

Next up? No idea. Like I said, we're moving in a week and, as is the case with such events, small details like feeding ourselves come secondary to hauling big and heavy things up and down stairs. I'll let you know, though.

Albania Almighty

You know, I don’t usually like lamb.

It kind of falls into that realm of “the 3 meats I don’t tend to eat” which, at this point, are: Veal, Lamb, and Pork Chops. Veal for ethical reasons, Lamb because it tastes weird, and Pork chops because they’re boring as all hell. But I digress. In my entire life, there’s been a total of, MAYBE, 2 times I’ve enjoyed lamb.

Like I said, me and Lamb just don’t get on that well. Kind of like peanut butter and pickle sandwiches… we just don’t fit.

Then, something happened.

I discovered, I think, a whole new level of lamb-a-licious deliciousness in the form of something called Tave Tiranse. What is tave tiranse, you ask? I asked myself the same thing. Then I turned and asked my roommate and BFF Erjona (Air-ee-oh-na) because she’s the one who suggested it. Being Albanian and a pretty damn good cook to boot, I figured she could enlighten us all about this mysterious dish from the homeland, and that’s when the ball got rolling as the kids say these days.

You know, I have a lot to thank Albania for.



Not only has it given us the kindness in the form of Mother Teresa, the humor of the Belushi Brothers, and the kick-assedness of Eliza Dushku (does anyone remember seeing her first slay vampires in Buffy???) But most importantly Albania has granted me a great friend in the “lovely and talented” Erjona (as my Father calls her). Now, after 8 years of wanting to try Albanian food, I also have tave tiranse. Yeah. Somehow I lucked out on this whole LIFE deal, and I’m not sure why, but I’m grateful just the same. And it’s time to spread the love, you lucky beasts, you.

Oh…and I’m also kind of obsessed with my rambunctious group of work friends, and had been looking for a way to combine the two “friend-worlds” I’d been balancing myself between, so I decided to bring them together in one night of Mediterranean culinary pursuits. Armed with a bottle of wine each, these guys trooped into the apartment, parked themselves wherever they could find an open seat or window sill, and initiated poor Erjona into our dysfunctionally wonderful family. I, meanwhile, annoyed everyone with the intermittent whir of the food processor as I made some pretty fierce Hummus (while boldly ignoring the dirty looks from those who were actually trying to have conversations), and also subjected everyone to the sweltering heat of the oven as I made Lemon-Roasted potatoes.





What’s that saying about coming out stronger through the fire? Well, I think the heat performed some sort of magical chemical bonding action because the complaints were minimal (if any) and we had a grand ol’ time in such a tiny little space. To add to the din and general goings-on of the evening, I put on Devotchka’s Mad and Faithful Telling Album, mostly because I’m in love with their Eastern-European/Gypsy sound, but also because Erjona said it reminds her of home, and what’s an Albanian dinner with no music? Exactly. It’s just kind of impossible, you see.

I hope I’ve taken long enough to whet your appetite. And now. On to Albania and her majestic culinary traditions!

Before anyone got to the apartment I purchased two absolutely beautiful red bell peppers from the Harris Teeter around the corner. I don’t usually “ooooh” and “aaaah” over bell peppers anywhere, but man… these were gorgeous, and I was excited by such a serendipitous find in the produce section. I cored then chopped them into one-inch pieces and in a big pot, heated up some olive oil and put it on medium-low with a very slight sprinkling of salt. I basically cooked the living life out of these peppers for a solid 35 minutes, and they got nice and soft and turned only a little brown (props to me for not burning them!) I suppose this is similar to what the Italians call a soffrito, a very slow frying process over low heat that softens veggies and allows their flavors to develop.

From new year, new food

That’s when Erjona came home, took over the tave tiranse, and basically made the magic happen

Now, before you go all judgemental on me for not actually making this dish, I decided to be a supporter and feed people in other ways (Hummus! Potatoes!) and watch Erjona’s moves with the accuracy of a hawk. And this is what I witnessed:

After taking some lamb chops and cutting them away from the bone, she removed the excess fat, cut them into one-inch pieces, then added the lamb to the peppers on the stove and browned the meat.

From new year, new food

Roni then added a can of diced tomatoes and let it stew for a good bit.

From new year, new food

THEN she took a large block of feta cheese, crumbled it up into the pot, and let the whole thing simmer for good hot minute, tasted the dish for salt, and added some freshly cracked pepper.

We found a ceramic square dish, poured in the stew, and baked it at 400 degrees for a solid twenty minutes or so till it got a little brown on top and looked like the most delicious thing I’d seen in weeks. Roni tortured us all a bit more and let it cool on a windowsill for about 12 minutes to let things settle down a bit.

From new year, new food

And then…then my opinion changed forever regarding lamb.

It was a warm, slightly sweet dish from the peppers, but with a good hearty acidity from the tomatoes and saltiness from the feta. And the lamb? It was melt-in-your mouth good. I mean, I tried to chew it, but it just kept being all great and dissolving in my mouth like warm butter on hot bread, and I was simply forced to get two helpings. And the lamb didn’t taste weird at all! All of us grew quiet for a second or two (a miracle by itself), until someone piped up that this was going into their permanent recipe arsenal and everyone started talking about how fantastic it was all at once.

Mostly I couldn’t believe that something THIS GOOD came from about 5 ingredients and just a bit of effort and stove/oven time.

Make sure you have some crusty bread to mop up all the delicious juice with. We ate it with spoons, almost like a stew, and in this arctic weather we’re currently experiencing on the East side of the country, I can’t think of a heartier way to warm up those winter-chilled bones of yours.

You can thank me, Erjona, (and Albania) later.

From new year, new food

**As a side note, I’d like to point out there has been a large discussion in Erjona’s family regarding the actual name of the dish. Her mom, Merita, thinks it’s fergese tiranse, while Erjona and another cousin swear up and down that it is, indeed, tave tiranse. Literally, this has taken days and at least one trans-Atlantic phone call to the motherland and still has yet to be determined. I think after a record Googling session, Erjona decided that this was, actually, tave tiranse and not the usurper summer dish, fergese tiranse. Despite the dissension amidst my favorite Albanian family ranks, I just want to say Thanks Mama Merita for the recipe, and I’ll be calling soon for more Albanian dishes!

Cuba Libre- Parte 1

I’ve only had Cuban food once in my life, somewhere in the San Diego area about 4 years ago. All I remember is some amazing roast chicken, black beans, and that it completely rocked out with its socks out. I thought it was high time to try making it myself with the very helpful and capable hands (and family recipes) of Terra, friend and fellow food lover. Side note: Terra is half Cuban and had never made these recipes on her own before, and the recipes were emailed from her sweet and awesome Mama. Gracias Mami!

Of course, because it was Cuba Libre night and we’d invited Terra’s friends Jen and Chris over, we decided to start the evening out with a pitcher of Mojitos. For some reason, I’ve really disliked Mojitos for the majority of my drinking life, and I’m not sure why, because now I think they’re absolutely fabulous.

Mojito time! I crushed mint leaves with lime juice and sugar at the bottom of a pitcher, added some rum and ice, poured it in glasses, and finished it off with a nice splash of club soda. Very refreshing, and it made everyone talkative, happy, and not angry at all that they now had to wait for the meal from scratch. I must say, time seems to fly when you’re having a Cuba Libre night and food is cooking and the Gran Hotel Buenos Aires album by Federico Aubele is humming in the background. And YES I know Buenos Aires is in Argentina. And sounds nothing like salsa music in Havana, but don’t hate. Anyway.

From 2008

We decided to make Natilla, a Spanish egg-custard because it would need time to set if we wanted it for dessert. Terra’s mama had given strict instructions to CONTINUALLY STIR the milk, egg, vanilla, and sugar mixture…which I did. However, it was put into a too-small saucepan, and boiled over and everything smelled like burnt marshmallows. Terra argued that it had boiled over, thus it had boiled to the point of being able to set and thicken in the fridge. I argued that it did not actually boil, but got all hot and bothered and had just runneth over. We decided to try our luck and put it in the fridge and kept our fingers crossed. More on the Natilla That Refused To Set later! (Hope I didn’t give too much away.)

From 2008

Next came lots of chopping of onions, tomatoes, green peppers, and garlic. Terra was in charge of the Yellow Rice and I was pleasantly surprised when the recipe called for beer. Who’s ever had beer rice? Not me! Unfortunately, our fridge only offered Corona or Bud Light (nice… thanks go to Natalie, my sister, for those choices). Terra sautéed all the veggies, added some Corona, chicken broth, and the rice and let it cook. By now the burnt marshmallows smell was taken over by the Beer Rice, something we all preferred.

Meanwhile I kept chopping the exact same veggies for the Picadillo, which is basically just ground beef cooked up with lots of delish things and typically served with potatoes or Yellow Rice. So, I sautéed said veggies, added the meat, lots of seasoning of garlic powder, salt, pepper, bay leaves and oregano. We let that cook a bit, added half a can of tomato sauce and some white wine vinegar, and let the liquid boil away as we continually tasted it for seasoning and salt. Terra also cut up some plantains and fried them in veggie oil, then salted them after they turned a beautiful coffee-brown color in the pan.

From 2008

At this point, the Natilla had not set in the fridge, so we put the old gal in the freezer for good luck, which it needed a lot of. I hoped that my magical sprinkling of cinnamon would do something for it (which it did not. Ugh.)

The rice, it turned out, had too much liquid in it and had gotten kind of mushy. We decided at this point that it was because we had not accounted for the beer in the recipe and had put a cup too much of liquid, which might have well been my fault as when Terra was adding chicken stock to the rice, I started an argument about how many ounces were in a cup and how many ounces were needed for the recipe and what “use as much water as you would rice” would translate to in measurements. As this is only the second time I’ve made rice and completely forgot everything my G-Ma had taught me with the Pulao, I think I distracted the undistractable Terra. My bad, big T!

From 2008

The food: was okay. The yellow mushy rice, while it had a good flavor, was just that. Mushy. I got a little tired of the texture after a few bites. The plantains needed to have been really ripe, which they were not. I was hoping they’d be like the soft plantains I’m obsessed with from Ghana, but these little guys were too hard and more like a thick, chewy, chip. The Picadillo came out the best, and I can only imagine how good it would be if I wasn’t an idiot and could make rice correctly. The Mojitos made everything better, by the by, I HIGHLY suggest making a pitcher (or two, like we did) when you have your own Cuban food night.

And the Natilla? We decided to drop the idea of eating it that night, and thought maybe an entire night in the fridge would edge it along to custard heaven. The next morning I noticed it had kind of set on top, but never did anything more than that. It did taste good when I dipped my finger in it, but alas! I ended up having to throw the whole thing away and it made me sad for what-could-have-been, and how me and the Natilla just didn’t find a way to make it work. Sniff. Maybe the timing just wasn’t right, and maybe our paths will cross again in the future, but for now I have to just let it go and hope for the best…and the foresight to use a bigger saucepan next time.

Overall, I’d say it was a really FUN night rather than a culinary success. Mostly I’m looking forward to making some more of Terra’s Mami’s recipes without destroying them. Of the 4 dishes we scored a hit with One, and one outta 4 ain’t bad, folks. Unless you understand math, and then it is, but whatever, I was an English major.

Up next…. Not sure. I’m transitioning to DC and my BFF Erjona has promised me some sweet Albanian recipes, so I think it's time we trekked our tasted buds to that fun and surprising land across the sea! Or whatever else I feel like eating over the holidays. I love surprises.

A Taste of Home

Since the whole point of this blog is to try the home cooking of cultures around the world, I figured I’d start somewhere close to home…or, er…my parent’s house. Since I’ve never actually cooked Indian food, and, coincidentally, my G-ma lives there, I figured I could treat you guys to something awesome right off the bat. (By the by, my 100% Indian friend, Shabad, recently informed me that she should technically be called my naani, not G-Ma. Since I’m only 50% I figure he’s an authority on the subject. Then again, since I’m only 50% I don’t care as much and use both to make everyone happy, but “G-Ma” is how she signs my birthday cards because she is cool like that.)

G and I had planned our meal out ahead of time, and we both agreed that my first dish should be one of my favorites: Vegetable Pulau (a savory rice dish), Apple Chutney, and a Cucumber Raita which is a yogurt mixture. Unfortunately, the rest of my family was out of town being do-gooders building homes in Mexico, so it was just me, G, test-subject Dad, and my friend Terra who has never had Indian food but has a thing for rice. On to the food! Because it was good. And really? Not hard at all.

First things first, G said I had to get the chutney going. After peeling, coring, and dicing 4 granny smith apples, I put them into a pot and added golden raisins, chili powder, vinegar, salt, and sugar and put them to boil. Isn’t it pretty?





You just boil, stir, boil, stir, and boil till it caramelizes, reduces, and looks golden brown and, when tasted, is sweet, a little sour, and spicy all at once. Hello, beautiful:




While the chutney was boiling away, I got to work chopping the veggies for the Pulau. Playing sous chef to my grandmother’s verbal directions wasn’t exactly easy. Like I said in the first entry, she has nothing written down so I was acting like a crazy person trying to guesstimate how much a “palmful” was or how much a “tin” equates to in regular measurements. Yeah…I’m still guessing, but with this kind of cooking, I figure the more the merrier. Also, when I’d finally write something down, G would taste whatever was on the stove at the time, shake her head and say, “Nay, this isn’t right. Add more till I say stop.” Which I did, but it just made my notes look all wonky and I might have to hire a detective to help me figure out what we actually did in the kitchen. But I digress.

First, you thinly slice and brown some onions. Then you add Ginger-Garlic (as that is, apparently, one item and actually just ginger and garlic mashed up together), Salt, Haldi powder (Turmeric), Garam Masala ( I have no idea what this is, but G said it has cinnamon and cloves in it. You can buy a jar at an Indian food store or any good grocery) and added very finely diced tomatoes. I let it get “melty” as G commanded. So we let it melt and kept stirring, then added rice, water, and the veggies which included sliced cabbage, cut green beans, peas, and a potato cut in big chunks. We brought it to a boil then we took it off the stove and let it bake about 15 minutes. I took it out and learned that you have to stir it from the edges IN, not the middle OUT because that is a cardinal sin in Pulau-ology and tends to break all the potato chunks and mush it up, which is not a good thing. Then, unlike moi, you will hopefully use a hot pad to put the lid of the pan back on the vessel, or you will BURN YOUR FINGERS!

Do you know when was the last time I burned my fingers on something hot out of the oven? NEVER. Way to go me and my first food entry, I’m so hardcore.

So we put the Pulau back in the oven to let the liquid cook off and soften the rice. By now my t-shirt smelled like Indian food. This is when Terra arrived and said the whole house smelled good, not just me and my t-shirt, which is always a good sign.

I then peeled and grated half a cucumber, whipped some yogurt with a fork in its own container (makes it creamier), added enough yogurt as a side for 4 people to the cucumber with some sugar, salt, and ground pepper, and mixed. Super simple, that Raita. Plus, it's awesome as it cools down curries and Pulau and makes things extra delicious.




See? MMMMMM. I wish you could taste this, and if you have the spices on hand, it’s easy. Thinking back to my own kitchen, the only thing I didn’t have was the Garam Masala or the Ginger-Garlic, but both are easy to obtain.

The Pulau was salty, slightly sweet from the browned onions and veggies, but also spicy. The Apple Chutney was sweet and had a nice kick from the chili powder, and the Raita was cool and tangy. When all mixed together, the different flavors work ridiculously well together. Dad and I were the hungry ones and had seconds, G said I had “caught on quickly” (I think she was surprised about that), Terra loved her first Indian meal, and we all ate happily ever after.

And THAT, food adventurers, is my first attempt to bring my family’s recipes to you. As a side note, I’m not twitchy around spices anymore. Hear me SPICES? Bring it on.

Next up: Cuban Cuisine. Yay.