Aguacate

The Sum

2011-10-11T16:25:00.000-05:00

I haven't cooked much recently. A few friends and I did brunch, but afterwards there was (are) a chingo of dirty dishes, piled in a filthy, colorful, abstract-sculpture kind of way, so I'm able to convince myself that it really would be wrong of me to disturb them.

Something I've realized, more now than I did before, is that when I think of myself or my personality, I don't separate my family from that concept. Obviously, there are variations, (Dad is the hypochondriac, Mindee is the type A (love you, don't get offended, hormones), Ian is the eccentric, Benjamin is the shrill one at campfires, etc. :) but I imagine it kind of like a mole; there are all these separate ingredients, and you taste the variations of the chocolate, ancho chiles, cinnamon, garlic, and a mess of other ingredients, but combined they've created a totally distinct flavor--that is a whole unto itself, and while hints of the former ingredients are there, they can be hard to identify and separate. (Think Top Chef name that ingredient challenge).

Someone told me once that I confused them with the way I used the pronoun "we". I use it without specifically mentioning the "others" that are contained in it, and consequently hearers would assume it was a you(listener)-and-I (speaker) "we", but it really is a my family-and-I "we".

I keep wanting to write about Murray. About all the things we (my sense of the word) think about and feel when we think of him. Things he loves, has done, stories he's told or been a part of--the time he found the perfect Jelly-Belly combination that tasted exactly like cleaning out the grainbins, the color of our new "chemical" Norvee 500, him falling in the river at Indian Bluffs and having to wear my pants back to Iowa City, his face when he told the story of lifting heavy objects without making noise--but like ingredients and my language have done, my memories and feelings meld into a whole, larger than just one ingredient represents, and I can't convey the depth with just one. All the mornings with obscene amounts of coffee, all the picnics, all the meals, lawn games, holidays, rides in the car...

“I am the sum total of everything that went before me, of all I have been seen done, of everything done-to-me. I am everyone everything whose being-in-the-world affected was affected by mine. I am anything that happens after I'm gone which would not have happened if I had not come.”

Midnight's Children Salman Rushdie

3 Years

2011-09-30T13:50:00.000-05:00

Just over 3 years ago I moved to Oaxaca. Just over 3 years ago, late one night after a party sprinkled with cacahuates con chilé de arbol and drenched in palomas, that post-party malaise crept up, probably exacerbated by the neighboring cantina's blaring "music."

I doubted being in Mexico, I missed my family, I wanted to have them to my apartment and explain things that I was just learning, and I wanted to tell them about delicious new things I had eaten, drunk, and seen in the market. So in my sporadically used journal, I wrote to them, but about them too--because while we are wonderful, intelligent, amazing, loving...all these positive things and many others, we are also vain as shit. So I wrote to them, and about us, and about the things we love, because they are things we do together, and share with each other. Then I started this blog, so I could share these things with them as they happened.

In three years, my life has changed dramatically in ways that I guess I knew it would eventually, but never really believed or understood--and that I still don't. In three years, I have written consistently less and less, but gone home more and more. In three years, I've shown friends and family around Oaxaca, and took them to eat in my favorite spots, played the knowledgable tour-guide/translator, and loved every minute of it. In three years, I've lugged suitcases full of mezcal, chocolate, and chilied bugs to the North--the anticipation of sharing these things and being with my family giving me much joy, even before the actual trip. In three years, I have had more compliments about looking beautiful or happy just after these visits than at any other time...and I get a lot of these (See?, I wasn't joking about that vanity thing). In three years there are some things that still haven't changed--I still doubt being in Mexico, and I miss my family all the time. In three years, I'm hoping that writing it down will still help share things with my family when I can't be there with them.

Would you Say I Have a Plethora of Possibilities?

2011-01-13T13:53:00.002-06:00

When I'm feeling pessimistic it feels hopeless that I could ever make the right choice about what to do with my life, where to live, sometimes even what to eat for lunch. Possibilities are bogs of primordially evil smelling mud that are slowly dragging me down and suffocating me, and worst of all the slow and painful process smells like shit.

Those are bad days. However, it's not always like that and some days I feel feverishly optimistic about all the choices that lie in front of me. Instead of stenchy-mud bogs, it's like I'm back in a Mr. Bulky's sampling their delicious wares, but this time without the threat of getting yelled at by an employee who realizes I'm not going to buy anything. It may still be something that will eventually drag me down and suffocate me, but instead of sludge it's Jelly Belly's, butter mints, gummy fried eggs, and coke bottles.

I think a lot about choices and possibilities over the holidays. There are the unpleasant, stenchy choices; what clothes will keep me warmest in temperatures for which I've grown too soft and wimpy? Why do stores in the US have so many varieties of everything that I stare unfocused at bright colored boxes like someone who has just had a frontal lobotomy? How can I keep living in Mexico when my family lives in the Mid-west, but how can I move back to the Mid-west when my Mexico has no -14º (celsius or farhenheit) and aguacates are $1 per pound?

But then there are those delightful choices that pleasantly roll around in my mind--what non-Mexican food will I be eating for lunch? Which can get a little out of control on its own, because I want everything, but feel confident I can do no wrong. I think about all the things I pine for during the year in Mexico and then I devour mass quantities of them. Blueberries, sushi, barbecue, breads with the perfect chewy crust, stinky and sharp cheeses, and much, much more.

Even with that plethera of pleasant choices, my return to Mexico always has a certain relief to it. The one brand of olive oil, the one lady who sells ginger, the one food option--Mexican.

Of course, there are lots of choices within that spectrum, but the one I miss most when I'm away, that I would happily eat during vacations in the US--the tlayuda. It's huge, it's grilled, it's stuffed with meats, beans, quesillo, veggies, there is talk of lard, it's un desmadre. Yum.

While I've never tried my hand at replicating and it's probably a little cold for grilling, I'm guessing you could use a 400-450ish oven and maybe your lowest rack. Start with a large corn tortilla, dry or slightly toasted, top with black bean puree, quesillo, your choice of cooked meat (it's usually chorizo, cecina, or tasajo--a lean salted beef (my personal tlayuda favorite), chopped cabbage, cilantro, avocado. Fold in half (they don't always fold, but my favorite place does and so you should too) and grill or toast on both sides until tortilla is warm and crisp. Slice in half and serve with salsa, rajas, spicy pickled carrots.

What other choice do you need?

Days Go By

2010-09-03T11:57:00.000-05:00

Where do months go? I know time is arbitrary blah, blah, blah, but it feels like days, weeks, and months have accidentally fallen out of my pockets like the numerous tubes of lipgloss I've unintentionally scattered around the world.

There are those times when hours or days seems to evaporate as you're laying on the couch in a Frito-Lays induced stupor with nothing to show for the time that has past, but a disgustingly thorough knowledge of Tyra Banks' modeling tips.

Then there are those times when the past stretches out behind you and you almost can't recognize the events along the way. Maybe you became a tenured professor and got promoted and can't really understand how you arrived at the position you're at at present and why people are looking at you like you are a responsible human.

I've fallen into the swallowing couch category before, but this time, the latter is my excuse for a very, very long absence from my gluttonous writing. Though to be honest, I wish more couch and Fritos had been involved..though rest assured there have been lots of tacos dorados, mangos, chilaquiles...ok, I guess I don't miss the Fritos.

Today, my second anniversay of moving to Oaxaca, I've been trying to remember all of the things that brought me to this point--the experiences and flavors I've tasted along the way--including this blog where I've tried to record and recreate them.

So I had to come back, shamefully recipeless, but back at least, to say: I love you OAXACA! Happy anniversary.

Mwah.

Spring Cleaning

2010-03-22T16:47:00.002-06:00

Spring!!!
It's here! Ok, my excitement probably isn't what yours in the norte is what with improving weather, that smell, the muddyness and that fresh chill...ok, I promise I won't do this again for a long time, but I'm taking a spring-inspired poetry moment...

in Just-
spring       when the world is mud-
luscious the little lame baloonman


whistles       far       and wee


and eddyandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring


when the world is puddle-wonderful


the queer
old baloonman whistles
far       and       wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing


from hop-scotch and jump-rope and


it's
spring
and
the
goat-footed


baloonMan       whistles
far
and
wee

...Whew, thanks, e.e. cummings, lovely as always. Ok, I think poetry is out of my system for the day. Speaking of getting things out of the system(winkwinknudgenudge), in a rash of self-projecting spring-mania not only did I do a thorough cleaning of my apartment (down to organizing my jumbled heap of hippie jewelry), but I've decided to do a raw juice fast. Which means for three days I will eat nothing but blended fruits and vegetables. No processing! No animal elements! No booze! No caffeine! Oh god, that last one gave me the shakes and a phantom headache just writing it. I'm shooting for three days, but I have several large bars of 75% cacao swiss chocolate at my apartment and a decent bottle of cabernet sauvignon, so if I make it through tomorrow, I will be damn proud. And to make sure there's plenty of work for that juice to do, I've had three cafe con leches, half a bar of 75% cacao swiss chocolate, half a block of queso fresco, a tamal, a big-ass eggplant sandwich (does anyone know what "nightshades" mean? I read something about them being "bad" somewhere, and that eggplant, tomatoes, potatoes are these, but apparently didn't care enough to follow up on that one.), a pile of sweet potato fries, and a coconut paleta--which is something I'll make sure you become acquainted with at a later date.

You may wonder, with my obvious relish of eschewing limitations, why I would choose to do something like this, but it's like the beauty of spring following winter. Or for me these last two year, that googly-eyed feeling I get for Mexico in the post-Christmas-visit-to-Iowa days. I'll have a fresh gluttonous love for that chocolate bar accompanied by a cup of coffee after a couple of days of not having it. Plus, I've got a trip to the Yucatán coming up! It's like cleaning just before a party, it's nice to have the floor sparkle, even if your friend is going to vomit all over it.

Lapsadaisacal

2010-01-19T12:05:00.001-06:00

Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! If I was a celebrator of Valentine's day I'd probably throw that one out there too, because I could possibly have another lapse and not be heard of for months.

Let me assure you, the lack of writing in no way correlates to a lapse of eating and cooking. Since my last post I've eaten my ass off...which in the hilariously illogical English language means that my ass is now HUGE.

Ok, not really, but as I try to happily accept my January plumpness (which I apparently did better last year), a result of many happy family meals and gatherings, I'm dealing with a minute culture shock. The other day someone asked me "Engordaste?" (Did you gain weight?/Did you fatten?). I'm not sure if it's that I'm just not used to people saying direct things to me about my weight, my midwest experience that only family members in the 60-plus category made negative weight comments to you, or the cognate ring in my ear of the word "engorge" that bothered me, but as a result I've tried to eschew more delicious baddies in a post-Christmas penance than normal.

That being said, I will never be a strict regimen person, in any form, but especially not food. I'm an ineffectual self-motivator, because I already know all my convincing tricks and that I make up facts and statistics 97% of the time.

So my "restricting myself" entailed turning down a cookie yesterday, and still eating 3 avocados before dinner. I'm going for minimum self-denial and avoidance of people that speak openly and honestly, and I should feel good and conceited again shortly.

No matter how many questions I may get or how squishy I may feel, one thing I will never restrict from my diet is the almighty sandwich (honestly, it's one of many, but this is a segue and I've already established that nobody likes or wants honesty, so callate).

During Christmas my sister introduced me to a fantastic cookbook, 'Wichcraft, which has less jinxes and curses than I initially hoped, but an ample amount of delicious sandwich recipes. We used it as inspiration for our "Fancy Sandwich New Year's Eve."

There was a roast turkey, bacon, avocado, and balsamic onion marmalade sandwich that caught my eye, not only because it sounds ridiculously delicious, but because a year ago, after making balsamic glazed onions for Christmas and then eating onion and eggplant marmalade at an incredible Italian restaurant in San Jose del Pacifico--I too developed a balsamic onion marmalade for sandwiches. But did not publish it in a book. And it made me angry, because I was hoping for intellectual property of this delicious condiment and had no curses to ragingly give people hiccups or nosebleeds...well, I had a certain kind of curse at my disposal, but my nephew is nearing a speaking age and I'm trying to refrain.

Once I made the marmalade and ate a pile of sandwiches, the urge to curse was out of satisfaction rather than hostility. So here, I present you, from a place at peace with having an idea that someone has already had and chubby thighs:

Balsamic Onion Marmalade
2 Tblsp Olive Oil
2 Medium Onions, sliced 1/4 inch thick
1/4 C Sugar
1/4 C Balsamic Vinegar

Heat olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add onions and cook until tender and translucent. Turn heat to low. Add sugar and balsamic vinegar. Cook for about 35-40 minutes stirring occasionally and until thick and marmalady. So easy!

Enjoy on all kinds of sandwiches. I did a roasted yellow pepper and zucchini sandwich with manchego and topped with the marmalade just the other day and it was fantastic. You could even use it in an appetizer: melba toast with goat cheese and balsamic onion marmalade--sounds good to me. Maybe I'll get some other recipes going so I don't lapse and see more ideas in a cookbook by someone else. Or maybe I'll just eat.

Happiness is a Warm Boozy Cider

2009-12-08T12:24:00.002-06:00

The only tongue in cheek element about that statement is my tongue checking my cheeks to see if there are any rogue drops of boozy cider that I missed savoring last weekend. Seriously. If Sr. Lennon had seen a recipe for my latest obsession instead of a firearm magazine, I think we would have a very different tune on our hands. Something you curl up with next to the fire and say in a mawkish mom-voice "Isn't that sweet?" (sans traces of irony).

Can I then, in clear conscience, present this recipe? Will I be responsible for a wave of musical production that is more cloying than acidic? More Barney than Oscar the Grouch? More bland smile than cynical smirk?

Several factors support the resounding "no" in my head. I'm fairly certain that if people read this and take inspiration away, it will be to make a boozy cider and curl up next to the fire instead of to write a song. Which, honestly, is all I'm going for. I've about got the edginess of a warm marshmallow which doesn't seem sufficient for musical inspiration . Plus, I figure, read the news and you'll find ample ludicrousness to inspire the strangest and most satirical of tunes.

My inspiration actually came from Thanksgiving. My fellow English teachers, the two lovely Mexicans stuck in the gringo office, and I had quite a lovely Thanksgiving spread for such a motley bunch of crumbums that worked the whole day. It was cool enough that having rich, autumnal-inspired menu items actually tasted good. Creamy spinach dip,fish in a pineapple-cinnamon sauce, orange-glazed beets, carrot-ginger soup, and boozy cider created an impressive cornucopia of fall treats.

Allison brought this inspiring concoction, lovingly spiced and spiked, and two days later I made it myself (as I always say, if someone does something you like, copy it and pretend it was your idea) and then again last weekend when I went with some friends up to the lovely cabañas in San Jose del Pacifico. Chilly mountains, adorable cabins, and fires were made to be drenched in apple juice, spices, and rum. It looks like for those of you in the midwest (Iowa especially), today (6-12 inches of snow, feels like -9°) was also made to be drenched in apple juice, spices, and rum. Maybe it will inspire you to do something creative or at very least not freak out while cut off from the outside world.

Ok, I've mentioned this before, but to reiterate, I'm not a recipe maker who is going to hold your hand and minutely guide you through this (especially for drinks). For that matter I'm not really a hand holder either, but that digresses into issues of clamminess. Anyway, the point is, I'll give you a basic outline and then push you into the swimming pool and see if you can swim. Yes, I am available to watch children.

Boozy Cider
Apple Juice
Cinnamon sticks
Whole cloves
Freshly grated ginger
Spiced Rum

Let the apple juice simmer with the spices for about 30 minutes. Add rum before drinking.

Homemade Prozac

2009-11-24T12:22:00.004-06:00

Blame it on the rain (for the record, Milli Vanilli lyrics do not come up often enough in conversation), this time of year, the association of fall with going to school and all the new beginnings that went along with it. I'm blaming my antsy feeling to start something new on all of these things. Or maybe it's just that I'm on my third cup of coffee and have eight more hours to sit at my desk before I can go home. Should probably blame it on that.

Wherever the blame lies, I've been playing the whatdoiwanttodowithmylife game also known as the existentialcareerlifemindmeld. I've played a lot of games, got really pissed playing (read: sucking at) a lot of games, but this wins the prize for the least fun game I've ever played. Despite my aversion, I keep coming back to it. Even though I much prefer the whatamigoingtoeatforlunch game or the whatcrazymixeddrinkcanimakewiththecontentsofmyfridgeandliquorcabinet game.

Amidst loathing and continuing to play this game,I contemplated graduate school, but the GREs, lengthy applications, economy, and not having 60 grand stuffed under my mattress scared me off. I also browsed employment search engines, but you'd be surprised how few things show up when I entered "lover of Mexico" and "eat" as keywords. I guess I'll have to wait until Rick Bayless retires to get my dream job as Rick Bayless.

I don't mean to sound down and out about my current sitch, because I'm not. I just have what a Peruvian friend calls patas de perro (dog feet), a sort of restless, wandering nature/mind--which isn't limited to just the geographic, either. But even with this disorder, I know Oaxaca is so great, I love being here, and I love my job. My students are lovely and impressionable enough that I'm creating a cache of students who speak my personal brand of English, I just met my friends new baby (ok, that was well over a month ago now, but my internal arguments are longwinded and pair as well with a long stare out my office window as a cold saison with pommes frites), I'm heading to the mountains this weekend, and I'm in the midst of planning my second annual Oaxacan Thanksgiving. Not too shabby.

I've also remembered that nothing soothes my restless, overthinking mind like the beautiful melding of salt, sweet, and an unhealthy dose of butter. A gem of a holiday treat from Food and Wine that my sister made last Christmas fills this criteria perfectly--Chocolate-Almond Saltine Toffee. I definitely raised my skeptical eyebrow at the idea of saltines in a candy context, but lowered it in a euphoric stupor.

This sweetly rich and salty memory gave me the motivation to finally write a damned blog entry, stop trying to plan something that doesn't need planned, and attempt my hand at this toffee without the use of a candy thermometer and a high propensity for disfiguring myself with moltent sugar. Which I believe at least as daring as flinging myself around on a trapeze without a net. If I can start growing a beard, I'm selling tickets.

Monday Market Mysteries Part II

2009-10-28T13:34:00.002-06:00

I thought the world had become a safer place. I thought I could stroll safely through the market without some unknown nemesis lurking beneath the lettuce, mangoes, and beets. I thought with the evil chayote locked away all was well. I thought. . .wrong.
A new blight has descended upon the peaceful market scene. One who feeds on a well-known market dweller, mutilating her shining, golden features into a monstrous distortion of leprous black and grey boils.
The worst shock came when I realized I knew this villain. Hiding out in Oaxaca she's passing herself off as a seasonal delicacy and going by the name huitlacoche. But I'd recognize her monstrous features and fiendish ways anywhere, she once pillaged my mother's garden, torturing my siblings and I with here cruel, sadistic exploitations of the sweet corn patch. We called her corn smut.

No joke here, huitlacoche really is the same thing as corn smut. It is probably the food that has intrigued me most, probably because of the disgust it provoked in me as a child and never thinking of it as something edible or delicious. I've been wanting to try it, but haven't gotten to it yet, maybe because it is a little bit terrifying. Bugs, worms, intestines, feet, are all a little intimidating too, but never presented the same problem for me, because I've always had a special loathing and skin crawling reaction to mold. Huitlacoche looks like the most sinister mold I've ever seen, like something that could only be spawned by damp, festering gym socks with mayonnaise on them or something. I mean, grey/black, tumorous looking growths don't exactly spark the confidence that crispy red chapulines do.

That being said, I've still been eager to try it, so I bought some at the market two weeks ago and asked the secretary of the English department, the all-knowing Flor, how I should prepare it. She recommended blending it with garlic and chili, then frying it and using it in quesadillas. It sounded promising, but I've uncovered a problem with foods that look rotten; they rot on me. It has happened twice now. The past two Monday's, I've sought it out at the market, excitedly bought it, and had to toss it out a few days later.

Another problem has been October's pressing social schedule. This is also where I'm laying responsibility for my infrequent blogging. There was The Battle of Miahuatlán festivities to kick off the month and ongoing town or school events all month, culminating in Day of the Dead this weekend. It's been fantastic, but I haven't been doing a lot of kitchen experiments. I've been doing a lot of quick visits to papas or taco stands before the evenings events commence. One day soon, however, I will either conquer huitlacoche myself, or eat it at an establishment that has better produce management skills than I do.

I leaned slowly back in my chair slowly shaking my head. Huitlacoche had slipped
through my grasp yet again.
"You've won this round, Huitlacoche, you devilish little smut" I muttered, narrowing my eyes at the gathering darkness "but I'll will devour you yet," I added with a slight smile while lifting an icy Bohemia to my lips "oh yes, we will meet again."

Breakfast Pajamas

2009-10-06T12:46:00.000-05:00

It feels like October. Yes, it is October, but the months here have rarely matched the descriptions I've stored away in my mental file cabinets. Today the sun is shining, the sky is blue, there is a cool breeze blowing, I'm reading ESPN to scrape up every accolade for my beloved Hawkeyes, and I'm wearing a sweater (I can barely contain my excitement with this one), all aspects darkly underlined on the October file.
To add to this excitement, my friends got an oven at their place. An honest to god oven!!! I commandeered it on a cool, rainy Saturday and made banana bread that my friend Jess made a couple years ago in the north country and I promptly tagged in my September and October files for future use.
I'm definitely projecting this fall feeling to a certain extent, I'm sweating wearing this sweater (my cool here is 70 degrees, not 45) and I won't get to watch a single Hawkeye game this season. That aside, I'm enjoying my faux-fall immensely. Tying certain aspects of my traditional fall to those I'm creating here.
My favorite fall traditions were generally also my laziest, it may be a coincidence, but more likely it is my undying love of being well pajamad. Living at home Saturday mornings at my parents house had me lounging in old flannel pants and playing Scrabble. My Louisville autumns saw me rocking the pajamas on my fire escape, listening to music, and enjoying a beer from BBC.
College has probably been the pinnacle of my pajama:normal clothing ratio(or low point if you're one of those "active" types). Looking back it seem like I was in pajamas for four solid years, but especially in the fall. Cooking breakfast on Saturday mornings before games, my friend Katie and I would daydream about owning cute pajamas with an egg and bacon print from the over-priced boutique. Later, as we would make our way to the game full of heavy breakfast foods and a bevy of beverages, we would host our pretend talk-show (our imaginary wardrobe being the aforementioned jammers) Breakfast Pajamas. Some may daydream about illustrious careers with fancy wardrobes, but give me a job where I can be a total ass and wear comfy pants with bacon strips on them.
For some reason unbeknownst to me, I can't ever remember what happened on this talk show. But I do remember making a condescending, mildly-amused, closed-mouth reporter laugh after pretty much everything we said. Maybe that was all there was. Whatever the content, the memories of football, crisp weather, breakfast, and cozy pajamas summarize everything I'm importing to Mexico for my full fall enjoyment.
These were the jumble of memories rolling through my head when I stumbled on something called red flannel hash. I've never gotten into the hash thing. Partly because the sight has always made me vomit in my mouth (just a little bit)and partly because my old roommate Roxie told me it was good, she generally lies. But red flannel made me think of pajamas and the recipe from epicurious involves beets and sweet potatoes, roots and tubers feel autumnal to me every time, plus there's bacon. It kind of screamed "I am fall, trick!" Maybe not the breakfast meal to take home to mom, nah, probably even mom would overlook the foul-mouthedness for the delicious.

Red Flannel Pajama Hash
serves 4
8 bacon slices
1 jalapeño, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
1/4 C fresh parsley
1/4 C sour cream thinned with about 1 Tbsp milk or fresh cream
1 C coarsely chopped cooked beets (roasted, steamed, boiled..whateva)
1 C coarsely chopped cooked sweet potatoes
1 C coarsely chopped cooked potatoes

In a large skillet fry bacon until crispy. Remove from skillet and crumble into a medium mixing bowl. Drain off excess bacon grease, but leave a thin coating in skillet.
Add remaining ingredients to bowl with bacon, salt and pepper, and mix.
Heat skillet over medium-high heat and transfer contents of mixing bowl to skillet. Using a spatula, smash hash mixture. Cook for about 15 minutes, turning up bottom occasionally to prevent sticking, but allowing to crisp and brown. Repeat smashing as needed.
Divide amongst hungry. Top with poached or over-easy egg.

199

2009-09-21T11:17:00.004-05:00

So Mexico turned 199 last week (September 16 for you nogoodnicks that think cinco de mayo is independence day). I had this big plan to list 199 things I love about Mexican food, but I got to 38 (1/5.24 of 199. .that's significant, right?) and decided I would rather go eat all these things I was talking about, drink mezcal, and get decked out in red, white, and green garb than finish this list. I made the right choice. But here are the 38 I got to.

Chiles Rellenos
So many different varieties of things I had previously thought of in single-fixed terms like "mango" or "banana." I'd never thought about the answer to (or question) "What kind of mango would you like?" Thank you, God, for inventing fingers and their ability to point at things.
Spicy peanuts (especially when they are free with beer)
Oaxacan Mole! And all the 27 ingredients that go into it. And how people defend mole from their region like their mother. I've met a lot of poblanos that poo-poo the Oaxacan mole in favor of mole poblano. I totally understand. If there was an Iowa mole, it would be so much better than any other state's.
Chocolate.
Mezcal. Once referred to as "tequila for grownups and hobos" it can be fierce, but is generally smoky, smooth, earthy, and intoxicating. Enjoy with chile salt and citrus wedges.
¿Con todo?
Fruit water
Lime and spicy with everything
Tomatillo tanginess
Los Danzantes
Ceviche
Ice cream and paletas near La Soledad in Oaxaca and from dudes pushing carts in Miahuatlán
Nanche, chayote, chamoy, epazote, and other mysterious things that I'd never heard of before and now know and love.
The Spanish word for pomegranate is grenada, which answers my query of why pomegranate syrup is named "grenadine" . . .which, yeah, I probably should have got from the "granate" part, but. . .I didn't. And now I do. And I find it very satisfying.
Cilantro's prevalence.
How my students almost always respond to the question "What is your favorite food?" with "My favorite food is Mexican food."
Spicy pork! Chorizo, cecina! So red! So luscious!
Chilaquiles
Squash flower soup
Al pastor or shepherd's style--pork cooked gyro-style. And the accompanying joke Al pastor alemán (german shepherd) that it is made of dog. Also the fact that if that joke is at times true, I don't care, because it's sooo good.
Licuados
Atole. A hot, sweet drink made from corn. It kind of reminds me of a runny Cream of Wheat in texture and has some vanilla and cinnamon flavors to it. Sold from carts in the morning alongside tamales. Perfect rainy day breakfast.
Tamales.
Quesillo and its amazing elasticity.
Tostadas
Nopales
Eating breakfast in the clouds in San Jose del Pacifico.
Hot chocolate.
Flan.
Buying grilled chicken in the street.
Huevos Rancheros from The Pelican in San Agustinillo.
Goat.
Mangos cut to look like flowers (or pine cones), sprinkled with lime, chili powder, and served on a stick.
Tortillas. Corn tortillas.
Enchiladas Verdes.
Tasajo. It's like the offspring of beef jerky and a ribeye. I didn't eat it for the first bit I was here, because of the cafeteria's tasajo's resemblance to shriveled ears. Now it's a highly enjoyable accompaniment to enchiladas or chilaquiles.
Tortas.

There are tons more, but that's as far as I made it. What are your favorites? Can you think of 71 more?

Y'all Know What This Is?

2009-09-03T10:07:00.003-05:00

I'm sure you don't. Those of you who have enjoyed popular music in the last few years probably know that it's a celebration (bitches), but not of what. I shan't keep you dangling in suspense any longer. Oaxaca and I are celebrating our one year anniversary today. All together now. . .Aaah.

It's pretty crazy. I can't believe it's been a full year already. We've had some turbulence (immigration, curvy mountain roads, chorizo aftermath), but Oaxaca and I really love each other. That being said, it ain't gonna last. Unfortunately, Oaxaca and I aren't meant for the long haul, because my family and that Vietnamese salad with vermicelli, mint, cilantro, basil, cucumber, and rice wine vinaigrette (what's it called?) don't live here. We're from two different worlds!

Reconciling the fleeting nature of our love, I've decided to enjoy the precious moments we have together. I also need to get serious about picking up some Oaxacan cooking skills, so I can carry Oaxaca with me and devour its memory wherever I go. Let's be honest, I'm in it for the food (cuisinedigger?).

To honor my anniversary, I decided to tackle my most beloved and also avoided dish(I've avoided cooking them, not eating them) . Chiles Rellenos.

Chiles rellenos are found in many areas of Mexico and the U.S. and can vary widely from the type of chilies to the guts. The first chile relleno I ever ate was in Taos, New Mexico at The Chile Connection when I was 11 years old. It was a poblano stuffed with shredded, spiced beef without the egg batter coating you generally see. It was wonderful and the first step in this downward spiral of my chile relleno obsessed life.

In Oaxaca they are usually filled with a spicy chicken called picadillo (which can also refer to pork or beef seasoned in the same manner), almonds, and raisins. The chiles are usually poblanos or chiles de agua, the latter are hotter and what we call banana peppers at home (I think. My chile knowledge isn't very large. I know, I know. I'll put it on the Ways I Must Improve as a Human list. Luckily, I can now check "share a delicious Oaxacan chile relleno recipe with the masses" off of that list.

Chiles Rellenos
Serves 4 (you'll want at least 2 each)

8 medium-large poblano peppers
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 large onion, halved and thinly sliced
4 cloves of garlic, minced
2 jalapeño peppers, chopped
2 tsp chili powder
2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp cloves
8 oz of tomato sauce
2 fresh tomatoes (preferably juicy ones), diced and juices retained
2 C chicken, cooked and shredded
1/2 C almonds, coarsely chopped
1/2 C raisins
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
vegetable shortening for frying

Using a long fork, roast poblanos over an open flame until skin is blistered and blackish. Try and roast thoroughly, because then the skin flakes off easily. Let me push the "using a long fork" part too. I first did this with the peppers sitting directly on my gas stove, sans utensil, and it was difficult to get the tops and tips of the peppers charred, yet surprisingly easy to do so to my fingers. Remove skin and set aside in a cover bowl to cool. Be careful not to tear the flesh of the peppers, you want them completely intact at this point, just minus the skin.

For the picadillo, coat a medium skillet with olive oil, place over medium heat, and add onion, garlic, jalapeños, chili powder, cinnamon, cumin, and cloves. Cook until onions are soft. Add tomato sauce, tomatoes, chicken, almonds, and raisins. If your tomato sauce is pretty thick and your tomatoes aren't very juicy, add 1/4 C of chicken stock. It doesn't need to be very liquidy (yeah, I know), but you'll want a little so you can cook it down. I used canned tomato sauce and Roma tomatoes, so I needed it. Cook, stirring frequently, until excess liquid is evaporated. Turn of heat and set aside. You can make the picadillo in advance and refrigerate. Just rewarm before the stuffing.

Now get back to the peppers. They should be cool enough to handle now. Make a slit down one side of each pepper. Gently, gently. Stuff them with the picadillo mixture, so they are full, but that the slit is able to close.

You can reheat the peppers and eat them at this stage if you like or continue on for the breading. If you choose the breading here's the way epicurious does it: heat 1/2 inch shortening to 375°F. on a deep-fat thermometer. Fold yolks into egg whites. Working with 2 chiles at a time, using a slotted spoon, dip chiles into eggs and fry, turning occasionally, until golden, no more than a couple of minutes. With a slotted spoon transfer chiles to paper towels to drain. Enjoy.

Final apology--I was so busy enjoying my homemade chiles rellenos, that I didn't photograph them. I also didn't do the batter, because I was impatient to eat them (thus the epicurious section). So another list addition "Take pictures of beautiful foods" and "Buy things (like batteries) when you need them instead of saying over and over " I need to buy. . ."" And now, I'm off to the cafeteria for a breakfast serving of spicy, red meat.

With all this talk of anniversaries I almost forgot (ok, I did forget, but then I got an email and remembered--bad daughter) that my parents are celebrating 32 years of marriage today! It might not be as exciting as a 1st anniversary between a place and a human, but it isn't too shabby :) Happy anniversary rents!

Margee and Martha

2009-08-25T18:36:00.002-05:00

The summer lull (aka No classes) at work has me watching lots of movies and reading lots of NY Times movie reviews. I've watched all kinds of random junk, pretty much whatever good quality pirated DVDs I can get my hands on. Rarely has it been a movie I sat down to watch, because I wanted to see it. One new movie that sparked my interest (based on content and not a monotonous 8 hour day) is Julie and Julia.

I haven't actually seen it, but everyone (Times included) keeps telling me how much they loved it, how much I would love it, and I believe them. I love a creative whim turning into a heartfelt success story. Something I love even more, however, is profiting on the use of others' creativity and turning it into my success story.

So without further ado (bahbahbaaaah!!!) adios, Aguacate. Hello. . .

Margee and Martha
The heartfelt story of two heartless women ruthlessly striving for culinary perfection. Though it may cost their souls, the gain of a homemade marshmallow of perfect proportion and density will make it all worthwhile.

Does this spell book deal segueing to movie deal or what? I bet Meryl Streep would do a pretty awesome Martha Stewart and if I ever think of a mid-twenties, blonde actress that doesn't annoy the shit out of me and actually eats (a lot), she could play me.

Maybe not. In reality, I do love Martha Stewart. I love how she's built such an empire, the lying to the feds, recipes ranging from incredibly simple to completely insane, the painstakingly beautiful desserts, her boozey drinks, her champagne and grapefruit sorbet, how I dream about someday getting married just because I want to have her berry-misu wedding cake. . . .However, I'm not planning on undertaking her oeuvre, not a chance. But I will pull out some of her simple and delicious recipes, rather than the more involved and my-god-why-would-you-bother ones.

So to combine my fleeting fancy of riding successes' coattails and Aguacate, I decide to make an avocado recipe of Martha's--Avocado Bruschetta with Green Sauce. And to move away from the themes of plagiarism to those lovely grey areas of inspiration, I have switched it to Avocado Tostadas with Green Sauce. In truth, partially because I can't find the quality of bread that I know Martha would insist upon.

Margee and Martha's Avocado Tostadas with Green Sauce
adapted from Martha Stewart Living July/August 1997
This is a great "final days of summer" meal or snack. Ridiculously easy to prepare and nice and light. Enjoy outdoors with some mezcal or a frosty mugged beer.

Serves 4
3/4 C Parsley
3/4 C Basil
1/8 C Cilantro
1/2 Jalapeño pepper, seeds discarded
3 Cloves of Garlic
5 Tbsp Extra-Virgin Olive Oil
1 Tsp Red Wine Vinegar
4 Ripe Avocados (aguacates maturas)
1 Tbsp Freshly Squeezed Lime Juice
3 oz queso fresco
8 Corn Tostadas

Finely chop parsley, basil, cilantro, jalapeño, and garlic. In a small bowl whisk together with olive oil and vinegar. Or if you don't have a completely crumbbum kitchen and possess a blender/food processor, ignore all of the above and blend it. It will be much more of a sauce that way. You could also cheat and use prepared pesto, but know, deep down in your soul that is spending time not chopping herbs,watching Law and Order: Special Victims Unit reruns, that Martha and I judge and loathe you.

Moving on. . .Remove pits and chop avocados. Toss with lime juice.

Spread sauce (or herb mixture) on tostadas. Divide avocados and queso fresco between tostadas. Salt, pepper, and green salsa (not the sauce you just made, a spicy one Anita's, Mrs Renfro's etc.) to taste.

Vacation, Boredom, Babies, Donuts

2009-08-06T17:07:00.000-05:00

My vacation is over. This is surprisingly bittersweet. The surprise is "sweet" tacked on the end of that word up there, but it was no accident. My vacation was wonderful, wild, fun, ridiculous, and completely exhausting. Sweetly, I'm back in Mexico and back at a job that for the next 2 months will involve mainly movie watching, facebook stalking, and epicurious.com salivating. It will be mind-numbingly boring in about 2 seconds, yes, but right now it is peaceful and relaxing in a way that only about 2 of my vacation days were.

It was really wonderful, though. I saw many of my favorite people and devoured many of my favorite things. Sushi, BLTs, sweet corn, fresh berry sorbet, salmon, pork loin with fennel, California style pizza (one thing I don't hate about CA). . . .the menu goes on and on. Let me assure you, between the leviathan culinary talents of my mother, sister, and aunt (I should also give my grandpa an "up and coming" award, he made a fantastic blueberry pie) and my mother's gardening prowess combined with Iowa's fecundity, I gorged steadily and happily on the freshest, most local (backyard), and deliciously/maniacally prepared food. Not once interrupted by the thought that I ought to get batteries for my camera and take pictures for you.

Besides eating, I also spent lots of time staring admiringly at my enormously-adorable, enormous nephew. Pinching his cheeks, accepting his slobbery kisses, and trying to sear my absentee aunt face into his memory took up a large part of my time.

Now that I'm back in Mexico, I'm spending most of my internet time looking at these beautiful photos that the talented Jess Nelson took of him. So adorable!

I'm also spending most (actually, all ) of my eating time in the post-vacation carryover of spoiled laziness zone. Which means, I haven't cooked anything. And I don't want to. And I don't really want to tell you about a new recipe, delicious Mexican food, or a clever family anecdote. And I don't feel bad about it, not one bit. (I think this post-vacation zone is also marked by large quantities of surliness).

One thing that I do want to do; eat a caramel cruller from Nord's Bakery. Donuts are my lazy, IdowhatIwant food. Unfortunately, I can't get them here. But I bet you can find them and tell me where you found them and how much you loved them. Even though you will be enjoying them and not me, I'll keep day dreaming about them. Mainly because of that picture of Barrett. Look at it again. Now look at this cruller picture. The way his chubbiness folds on his left side. . .do you see it? He's an almost-walking, human donut advertisement. And I'm sold. So I'm going to go back to gushing about how cute he is and salivating over the donuts he reminds me of. So there's that. Happy August.

Simple Syrup is People! Uh, I Mean. . .Important

2009-07-14T11:30:00.002-05:00

Perhaps you've noticed my month-long absence (say you noticed). Unfortunately, the last few weeks, I've been trapped in what I like to call "The Clima Oaxaca Vortex." This isn't at the hands of an evil supervillain (Though I like to think what that would be. Probably, my supervillain arch nemesis would be that tuna with sunglasses, a cereal personality, or whatever the putrid-embodiment of Applebee's would be, but I digress). Rather than any of these loathed enemies entrapping me, it has been Oaxaca's rainy season.

It has thrown things out of balance. Or it has thrown me and you (my faceless midwest minions) out of balance. The cold and the rain has me eating potato soup and a crockpotless version of crock-pot meat. Not menus exactly fit for my giant mid-western fan-base (I'm not calling you fat, I'm just exaggerating my popularity) suffering the mugginess of middle America's Junes and Julys. If I were living in Iowa in July and someone suggested I make a creamy potato soup I would be inclined to throw bricks at them.

To avoid such a painful calamity, I've come upon the means to resolving our differences. Of course, it's a beverage. But unlike most unifying, friend-making beverages, this one doesn't have alcohol.

It all began while I was mulling over simple syrup last Wednesday at dinner. Three memories came to mind: the worst dirty martini I've ever tasted, my dad cleaning, and the many times that I have cut corners.

The worst dirty martini experience occurred my senior year of college--my friends and I held "fake prom" in the spring of our junior and senior years. This entailed all the things that high school prom did--dressing up, going to a nice dinner, and dancing to cheesy music.

During the dinner portion of our evening, my younger brother ordered a dirty martini. Shortly after getting it, he sent it back. When he tried the next one, he had a confused and slightly disgusted look on his face. Thinking he was a novice dirty martini drinker, I figured I'd take it off his hands and get an extra drink. But it was wrong. It had a bland sickly sweet flavor with the normal touch of olive saltiness--it was like a flat olive soda--so once again, ignoring the "just chug it" advice of friends, the waiter was summoned and made to understand that something was amiss. It was then discovered that an old Absolut bottle was being used for simple syrup storage. In case you were wondering, simple syrup, vermouth, and olive juice is not delicious.

The second memory is not actually related to simple syrup in any way. But the "simple" portion reminded me of when my dad would clean using a product called Simple Green. It wasn't just the name that I remembered, but a whole "Simple Green is people!!!!!" production that put Charlton Heston to shame. Calm yourselves, dears, the recipe I'm building up to has no human ingredients.

I may have explained away any raised eyebrows over my first two associations (or raised more eyebrows with the fake proms and cleaning-inspired thespian father), but allow me to rationalize the pondering of things like simple syrup. More in depth than the explanation that I just truly enjoy thinking about minute food related things.

I mentioned that it was at dinner the other night, at Miahuatlán's finest establishment,Haciendita, that I was mulling over simple syrup. I was drinking a naranjada, a drink made from simple syrup, freshly-squeezed orange juice, and sparkling water--kind of like a sparkling orangeade. There is also a limonada which is the lime counterpart and definitely the jefe de jefes of drinks I've had in Mexico.

The restaurant I was at, has exceptional versions of both. I've made limonadas many times myself, but they pale in comparison to those at Haciendita. While enjoying this naranjada, I realized the weak pallor of my beverages lies in my circumvention of simple syrup. Which is foolish, because simple syrup is only equal parts water and sugar, boiled gently and cooled. It's SIMPLE! You can even store it for several weeks, preferably not in an old, unmarked, vodka bottle or something sinister that makes you feel like you're devouring humans in a futuristic distopia.

To help sustain vitality in the most sticky or rainy of months, I present: Limonada.
Limonada
alter amounts to make deliciously refreshing beverage to your sweet-sour-bubbly preference.

simple syrup
fresh-squeezed lime juice or orange juice for a naranjada
ice
sparkling water

For the simple syrup: 1 C sugar, 1 C water--put 'em in a small saucepan. Stir over medium heat until sugar dissolves. Let cool. Store in the fridge.

Put desired amounts of simple syrup and lime juice in a tall glass and mix well. Fill glass with ice and top with sparkling water. Tah-dah!!! Enjoy.

There Will Be Botanas

2009-06-12T10:53:00.001-05:00

If the GRE were all food-related analogies, I would ace that crap blindfolded. Spain: tapas as Mexico: botanas. Duh. The answer should always be botanas.

Is snacking at the root of my love of the Spanish-speaking world? Umm, yes. Definitely yes. Though I've only been to Spain and Mexico, the libation accompaniments I've eaten in these locales have impressed me more than anywhere else.

This time of year (well, this time of year in the States) I'm on the prowl for some quality snacks. Not just any snacks either, I'm looking for small, simple foods that pair well with drinking outdoors in warm weather. Let's face it, summer is the love-child of nature and drinking, obviously.

I love all snacks, but for those lovely June days, a basket of potato chips is not going to cut it. Guacamole, fresh salsa, marinated olives, cheese and fruit, hummus, asparagus wrapped in prosciutto are a few classics that are a little more appropriate for the warm, alcohol drenched days of early summer. Fresh and salty are basically the criteria I'm trying to meet.

Mexico gets it. The botanas here are simple and delicious and are the perfect fit for warm days. If I could modify the Mexican flag, the snake that the eagle is clutching would have "Fresh and Salty" written on its body. Maybe it's already understood that snakes are fresh and salty, but for my taste you never can be too blatant.

The primary snack that accompanies a beer here feels like a no-brainer, but has a couple extra touches that push it up a few notches. Peanuts coated with chili powder and served with a lime wedge may not sound dazzling (they should, but I'll allow that they might not), but they are. Peanuts and beer have always been buddies, but these badboys are a cold Bohemia's soulmate. I'm not sure if they sell these same pre-made spiced up P's in the U.S. (check your local Mexican grocery), but I think some Spanish Peanuts, a little melted butter, a few shakes of chili powder, a tad of minced garlic, a quick toast in the oven, and served with a lime wedge would do just the trick.

Hmmm, I might need to change my Mexican flag slogan to "Chili and Lime," because my next botana favorite is also heavy on these. Or maybe I'll just imagine that the red and green are representative of these. I swear I'm not trying to belittle or offend the entire nation of Mexico by imagining the flag in snack related terms. I think of all flags in food related terms. I think this is a product of my birthday's proximity to the 4th of July and subsequently a lifetime of U.S. flag birthday cakes.

Anyway, moving away from my food-culture broad-brushing and back to the snacks--my favorite bar snack so far is incredibly simple. It is a plate of carrots, jicama, and cucumber cut into strips, topped with fresh lime juice and chili. It is beautiful, fresh, delicious, and light (let the beer bog you down, not the snacks).

This spiced up relish plate, a bowl of chili peanuts, and some guacamole are my botana trio of choice--the perfect way to spend a warm fuzzy-minded afternoon in the sun.

The Thorn-in- My- Side Birds

2009-06-02T14:33:00.002-05:00

You know those books, those lovely, lovely books, that you pick up on a whim and get swept away in the story, the characters, the writing, and the emotions? The ones that keep you up later than you really want to be and sometimes feel an almost human affection for them? A Little Princess, The Grapes of Wrath, Pride and Prejudice, The Book Thief, Love in the Time of Cholera, The Bell Jar. . .the list goes on and on.

This past week, however, I finished The Thorn Birds, which I will be putting on a far different list. A black one. I hated it so much it will be hard not to look down upon people who say they "..thought it was ok."

Sure, I am a snob, but I'll admit that I'm not above liking things that most people think suck--it isn't all Ingmar Bergman films and John Steinbeck novels for me. I could (have, would, will) watch Cool Runnings repeatedly back to back and listen to some serious early '90s music mixes.

The crux of my tirade isn't how could someone love this, but how could apparently everyone love this? Taste is taste, I know it's relative and the idea of "good" taste and "bad" taste are ridiculous, but man, that book sucked it's way throughout most of the 20th century and became a New York Times bestseller--what is wrong with people!?!? (I'd say it was the '70s, but The Da Vinci Code reminds me that my generation is not so innocent either).

I kept reading thinking there had to be some redeeming quality, but the ridiculous dialogue and constant "tragedy" just kept going. I'm not sure if it counts as tragic if I'm exasperated instead of sad, though. I'll say this for Colleen McCullough, she sure is an inventive character killer. Death by pure spiteful will, burning in a bush fire, suffocation by wild boar, drowning-heart attack rescue...nobody dies the same (or a normal) death twice.

Why did I bother reading it? you may ask--I'm an idiot who finishes everything (in terms of books and movies only, unfortunately) I guess. Because if there ever was a time to quit anything, it was after page one of The Thorn Birds. But instead I hated my way through all 692 pages.

The one redeeming portion of the book was at the very beginning where they eat a dish referred to as "Jam Roly-Poly." I hate the name, but I can't blame that on the book, because apparently it is an actual old English dessert. It was described as biscuits laced with jam and topped with warm custard. It was a jam-biscuit beacon amidst my furious hostility at the "life's a shit-storm" theme and obnoxious early-20th-century Australian vernacular.

Moving on from the blinding hatred. . . I don't have an oven, so replicating a biscuity portion of this recipe was not going to be easy. I've faced worst feats before, for example: finishing The Thorn Birds. Stubbornness isn't one of the qualities I'm lacking, so working my way to the end of a book, movie, or final delicious end of a recipe idea are not areas where I am going to give up.

I decided to make a stove top corn bread to use as the base for pudding and jam. I used a basic cornbread recipe and just plopped the batter into an oiled skillet and cooked over low heat--with a final and slightly destructive flip at the end. I'll admit, I was craving buttermilk biscuits through the whole process though, just a thought if you've got an oven.

My toppings were store-bought strawberry jam and homemade vanilla pudding. The pudding recipe is one I've often used for fillings or dousings for anything that needs a filling or dousing (I was obsessed with making cream puffs in HS and this was a perfect filling). Like many delicious standards, this recipe comes from the staple-laden Better Homes and Gardens cookbook (a book worth lingering over).

The final result was pretty good, but only pretty good. The pudding was delicious as always, but paired with the sugary store-bought jam it was slightly cloying, in spite of the unsweetened cornbread as a base.

Luckily, it didn't inspire a passionate hatred like The Thorn Birds. After all, I did discover a good method for making cornbread sans stove and I gorged on the vanilla pudding leftovers the next day--which was quite satisfying.

Maybe it isn't so bad to venture into new and surprisingly sub-par territories, whether for books or recipes (on the rare occasion). It brings to mind past successes (even if it's in a longing kind of way) that should be revisited--I'm thinking cream puffs with the aforementioned pudding and a rereading of Anne of Green Gables are about due for another visit and all the affection I did not shower on The Thorn Birds.

Bacon Fever

2009-05-19T09:00:00.003-05:00

"Swine flu! I had bacon fever once, but it turned out the cure was just more bacon."

If statements like this represent "the norm" of communication between you and your siblings, what exactly does that say?

a. We all read The Onion a lot.
b. We have some psychological aversion to taking things seriously.
c. We have nearly every Simpsons' episode memorized and try to mimic them in every aspect of daily life.
d. We have a lifelong devotion to cured meats.
e. We grew up on a farm in Iowa; pork fervor is in our blood.
f. All of the above.

Oh yes, it is all of the above.

I know bacon loving has become quite the fad these days (I'm still not sure how eating fried meats becomes a fad, but whatever), but I'd like to take this moment to say: Tricks! The Perdues were here first! And we'll be here (with clogged arteries) long after you go running back to chicken and fish--or some weak sauce like that.

Bacon was present for many of my fond memories with my family. Some moments I feel like bacon was a member of our family. An abnormally silent, highly valued, and acceptably edible member, but still.

Bacon was there in BLT form with garden-fresh tomatoes after swimming lessons every Summer. Bacon has come to all our large New Year's day parties snugly wrapped around prunes and adding to the delight of the cleverly named "big sandwich." Bacon has been the steadfast breakfast partner to waffles, french toast, eggs, ableskiver, crepes and numerous other breakfasts that have been lingered over in my parents kitchen.

Last week I was in one of those rare moods when I was hungry, but nothing really appealed to me. I was wandering aimlessly around Miahuatlán mulling over the food in my fridge--none of my stock sounded remotely appealing except for a cantaloupe whose days were numbered.

I contemplated this cantaloupe and drifted into a daydream of eating melon and prosciutto in the Italian countryside with a glass of prosecco. Then I had the realization that: hell, I am in Mexico. Prosciutto's cousin bacon, good ole sturdy bacon, my life long friend, lives here. And bacon crept into my mind, infecting me, and reminding me of all the good times we've shared.

So I decided to make an Italian countryside-daydream into a small Mexican city reality that showcased the food-love of my life. I came out with: Bacon Manchego Quesadillas with Melon Salsa.

It was just the trick. It sparked my hunger, was fresh, sweet, and savory. I was excited about my new twist while maintaining some (probably minimal, yes) Mexican cuisine elements. I practically ran home to make it--I mean, it has BACON in it--who can walk? It had everything my bacon revering family would be excited about: bacon.

Bacon Manchego Quesadillas with Melon Salsa

I actually didn't pile on the bacon or cheese. With the amounts below (and using a little of the grease for frying) the flavors are all strong without being a heavy, meaty-cheese bog. However, do as your conscience dictates--bog away. Also, make sure your cantaloupe is nice and ripe. The salsa will benefit from a juicy one.

Quesadillas
1/4 lb of bacon
8 medium corn tortillas
3/4 C refried beans
3 oz thinly sliced manchego cheese
Melon Salsa
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1/2 of a medium onion, diced
1 C fresh cilantro, chopped
1 small-medium cantaloupe, cut into small cubes
1 jalapeño
Juice of one lime

Assemble the salsa first. Combine all ingredients in a medium bowl and set aside.

Cook bacon in a medium skillet until you obtain desired crispness (preferred crisposity?). Remove bacon from skillet, blot with paper towels, and break into small pieces. Drain standing bacon grease from skillet, but allow a coating to remain and set the skillet aside.

Evenly spread 1/4 of the refried beans on a tortilla. Evenly distribute 1/4 of the manchego and bacon on the beans and top with another tortilla. Repeat with remaining ingredients.

Heat the skillet (with the bacon gloss) over medium high heat. Place one quesadilla in the skillet and cook 3-4 minutes or until the tortilla begins to crisp and brown. Flip quesadilla over and cook an additional 2-3 minutes. Remove from heat and cut into quarters. Repeat with each quesadilla.

Top quesadilla wedges with melon salsa and enjoy.

I almost forgot my shameless self-promotion for the day! Whew, that was close.
Please go vote (highly) on my enchilada recipe! I love winning!

Frying Times

2009-05-13T12:47:00.003-05:00

Swine flu. Having nothing to do. A boss that is trying to deport you.
Come on, $25,000 Pyramid lovers, any guesses?
Brrrww: "The trying times Margee has had these last few weeks?"
Bing, bing! We have a winner!!!

If "Aaarggghh" (nice and phlegmy at the end) has ever been your standard response of disbelief and frustration for about a solid two weeks or longer, then I think you know where I'm coming from. Things and people that suck, just suck.

Fortunately, things have wound down. My back is feeling less and less like knotted tree roots and the "aarrrggh" sound is turning back into actual words, because swine flu scares have eased (mainly my boredom at being in my tiny apartment) and the aforementioned boss is no longer the boss. Woot, woot!

To really ease myself out of these trying times I have made a few visits to my friendly papas francesa man and turned the oil up to eleven for a little fryin' of my own.

I know there are the healthier comfort food options, but I prefer the unhealthy ones in particular trying times, because it's like a little gift. You're acknowledging that things suck and allowing yourself to partake in something you might not normally. Like your mind is saying "Yeah, it has been pretty bad. You go right ahead and eat those french fries while you stare darkly at nothing and listen to Leonard Cohen. Why don't you put a little more mayonnaise on them while you're at it?" Ahh. Thanks for understanding, mind, I think I will.

Every trick will tell you some different trick that is supposed to make the best french fries. Soaking in water, russet potatoes, chilling, draining--I have no idea. I've done it a thousand different ways and I really can't tell you what works best other than: hot oil + potatoes. Actually I don't even care if there are potatoes. Sweet potato fries (bake or fry) and these polenta fries have been some spud alternatives that I'm extremely fond of.

Regardless of what kind you want to make, I'm not going to run tests and tell you the best methods, I'm still in final stages of recovery, people! I'm leaving that part to you or you checking out Cook's Illustrated. They always have fantastic test kitchen recommendations to get "the best" of whatever. And their covers are just so dang purty.

My focus is on the eating of the fries. And what I want to be eating them with ( I mean sauce-wise because obviously I want to be eating them with beer).

My street french fries come with heavy drizzlings of mayonaise, catsup, hot sauce, and a nacho-cheesey sauce. I highly recommend recreating these. I would use Valentina for the hot sauce and maybe some Tostito's nacho cheese dip for the cheese. You though I was high class? Well, that was just a lie (but I do recommend eating these with a fork.)

If you aren't into the sloppy street-style fries, maybe make a variety of sauces to accompany your fries. Before Christmas at my family's Belgian Night, I made a trio of sauces to go with our fries.

First:
Saffron Aïoli Bon Appetit August, 2006

2 whole heads garlic
3 large egg yolks
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon saffron threads
3/4 cup canola oil
8 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

reheat oven to 350°F.

Wrap each garlic head in foil and roast until soft, about 1 hour. Unwrap and let cool. Peel cloves and set aside.

In medium bowl, whisk together egg yolks and lemon. Set aside.

Place 2 tablespoons hot water in small bowl. In small, dry skillet over moderate heat, toast saffron for 30 seconds. Stir into hot water, then fold saffron water into egg mixture.

In blender, combine 4 tablespoons canola oil, raw garlic, roasted garlic, and salt. Blend on high speed until creamy, about 2 minutes. Add egg mixture and blend 1 more minute. With motor running, very slowly add olive oil and remaining canola oil in steady stream, and continue blending until thick, about 2 minutes. Set aside.

Second:
Bloody Mary Catsup--I created this with store bought catsup, but added some items for a little more spice and a little less sugar, because for me, store bought catsup is much, much too sweet and this felt all fancy.

1/2 C prepared catsup
1/2 C tomato paste
1 Tbsp chopped sweet red peppers
1 Tbsp hot sauce (preferably Tabasco)
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp horseradish
Juice of 1/2 a lemon

Dump all ingredients into blender and blend until smooth.

Not that salt isn't a respectable and adequate companion for the fry-world, but sometimes in your darkest hours you got to jazz things up a bit. It doesn't even need to be very involved. Throw some garlic and parmesan cheese into store bought mayonaise and be thankful for those lovely Belgians that have given us possibly the most beautiful of coping mechanisms.

Let Me Count the Ways

2009-04-29T13:22:00.000-05:00

I recently broke a five-year stint and reentered the world of "people who go to the dentist." Ouch. I'm not that afraid of the dentist or that negligent about dental hygiene, but one thing I have been these past five years--poor and uninsured. Well folks, Mexico is just the cure for that, universal health care and reasonably priced private practitioners and I'm back in the game!

Unfortunately, my leap back onto the scene was not as painless as my bill. Five cavities. Yes, five. One for every year that I have not been to the dentist. Now, once again, I would like to stress that it isn't only on account of my grossness. I brush my teeth at least twice a day, usually thrice. I was told once that the enamel did not form properly on my molars and that is why I am so susceptible to cavities--as this makes me feel better about myself and hygienic practices, I often reiterate it.

Beyond excusing myself of any responsibility and reveling in the low cost of living in Mexico, I have also been reminiscing about my five favorite things I have eaten over the last five years that have contributed to my five rotting teeth. Aaah repetition, what a device.

Ice cream--that category could take up the whole list, but a few of my favorites have been last Labor Day's homemade pistachio (I shelled pistachios for a solid hour and it was very, very worth it), Ted Drewe's concretes, nuez and melon paletas from street vendors here in Miahuatlán, evening visits to Whitey's in Iowa City, and Martha's Grapefruit and Champagne sorbet we made several Christmases ago.

Donuts from Nord's Bakery in Louisville. I can't even explain how often I dream about their caramel krulers (It's what I imagine eating a cherub to be like) or their pecan rolls or their long johns (I didn't even think I liked long johns). My favorite Sunday morning ritual was to walk to Nord's buy two or three donuts and take them next door to the coffee shop for some Guatamalen Antigua and free copies of National Geographic. Ahh living.

Anything made by my grandma--she wasn't able to do a lot of cooking these last five years, but she still rolled out some serious sweets, especially around Christmas (chocolate souffle, almond cookies, buckeyes) and on birthdays when grandchildren received a giant rice crispy cake. I must also mention that she was a stickler about dental hygiene and everyone had a toothbrush at grandma's house--she would not be pleased that I am crediting her for contributing to my five cavities, but everything she made was sooo good I was never able to control myself or want to lose the flavor by a tooth brushing.

Fresh fruit pies--especially peach and raspberry. Every summer, when my mom has either gathered the fruit from her orchard or hunted out all the wild raspberries from every corner of Iowa it is time to visit and eat. She has so many different peach pie recipes too--one baked with cream, one no-bake with a glaze made from more peaches, one with a crumb topping. . .it goes on and on. I never get tired of it (dessert, snack, breakfast, appetizer) and could easily polish off an entire one myself if I didn't have to share.

Swedish Fish--this seems kind of sacrilegious. I know there are a thousand other things I have eaten in the past five years that have been made with love and talent that I should put instead, but the one sweet that keeps popping its red-fishy head up in my mind is Swedish Fish. I just love them. I don't know what it is, they are a weird texture and a very unnatural chemical flavor, but I adore these things, maybe it's something in my Scandinavian blood. Or maybe it is there awesome ad team that came up with "the one thing that sucks about friends is that you can't eat them." My sentiments exactly.
I also feel with the way they stick to my teeth and my fondness of binging on them after binging on other things before falling asleep in college has probably had more of a detrimental effect on my teeth than any of the other things on this list. I may have just had to shell out dough for their handiwork, but I'd shell out some serious pesos for a bag of those bad boys. Mmmmmmm.

To sweets and repeating our mistakes!!!

Dead Flowers and the Perfect Spring Meal

2009-04-22T18:38:00.004-05:00

The Rolling Stones might normally bring ideas of rock n' roll, strange gyrations, effects of heavy drug, alcohol, and eyeliner abuse, tight pants, whatever the opposite of aging gracefully is, and did I mention effects of heavy drug use? Yes, I am thinking specifically of you, Keith Richards (with the eyeliner thing too).

Since Easter, I've been listening to a lot of The Rolling Stones and its been conjuring images of Easter brunch and as I continued ambling down that strange road, spring menus pop to mind also.

Now, you may be wondering if The Stones have put out an Easter album or if I have a secret single copy of the never released "Lullabies About Fluffy Baby Animals" album. Sorry to disappoint, but as far as I know they haven't and I don't. Also, as far as my knowledge of their music extends, I can't think of any songs that they sing about celebrating Jesus' resurrection or bunny rabbits either.

It all stems from the orphans' Easter brunch I had last year. It wasn't a brunch for real orphans, I'm not even minutely that benevolent, but rather for myself and friends of mine in Louisville who lived too far away from their families to make the trip.

I constructed the menu based on what I feel are Easter (and spring, for that matter) meal essentials--items heavy on fresh herbs and or citrus. A mushroom, thyme, and Parmesan quiche, French toast with lemon curd, and mimosas. Thanks to the lovely persons I invited, monkey-bread, wine, and a banana cream cake were added to the list.

The company was lovely, the meal was lovely, the flattery of my culinary prowess was lovely, and to top off all that loveliness it turned into an old-fashioned campfire singalong (sans campfire) which included a more authentically country-twang version of Dead Flowers (The crooner we had is Kentucky not some awkward English boy pretending to be). So there lies connection numero uno.

Secondly, I'm very, (let me emphasize with italics) very manic-depressive when it comes to the weather. Luckily, I've been enjoying rain-free Junish weather since November, but on the other hand, I don't have the general over-energetic mania I normally get around this time of year. The Rolling Stones have that same energetic push that I think could fairly be described as manic, like spring, that just makes you want to play drums on your steering wheel or do cartwheels in dewy grass or dance around like. . .Mick Jagger.

Since Easter feels more like the start of spring to me than any other time, partially due to the food involved, I've started day-dreaming over classic springtime menus. Ham and potatoes are some of my family's Easter traditions. These cut across all seasons for me, but the way they are prepared can spruce their springtime cred up a bit--honey glazes or fruit sauces for the ham and fresh chives or parsley for the potatoes seem to be like little Easter bonnets--definitely a springtime thing. The dessert is always fruity (usually citrus) and light--a beautiful lemon chiffon cake with raspberry cream from Fine Cooking and Martha's coconut cake have been some of my past favorites.

This Easter I traveled home (listening to Sticky Fingers (I'm driving this far-fetched interweaving home)), slept, and ate some, well, Mexican food. I was thinking of all the things I would like to make for an Easter brunch and spring meals, pining over the nonexistence of lemons, angel food (which requires an oven), and many other non-Mexican things I can't have while the perfect spring-Easter meal was being rapidly devoured right in front of me (into me?) in all its Mexican glory--enchiladas verdes.

I hadn't ever thought about how perfect enchiladas verdes are for spring or for an Easter brunch. I've been eating them incessantly since I moved here and never thought of compartmentalizing them into a seasonal entree (seasons mean something entirely different here too, so it really wouldn't work). My case for putting them into the spring file; to start, they're a beautiful mossy green. I feel like that's enough explanation right there. But to continue, they are also tangy--thanks to those little tomatillos, full of fresh herbs, and have a hint of citrus (sometimes lime juice is added, but I think tomatillos have an almost citrus taste themselves), but are still warm and comforting with filling layers of tortillas, so they fit nicely into the delicate spring balance of being fresh and light, but also warm and filling.

Also, they are not heavy, cheesy, meat-filled monsters like the enchiladas you will find in the U.S. Often, they are only tortillas and sauce with a sprinkling of queso fresco and thin slices of onion. You can have them topped with any number of delicious items like eggs, shredded chicken, cecina, or beef. My personal preference is with an over-easy egg or shredded chicken.

Enchiladas Verdes--adapted from Bon Appetit, June 2007--this sauce would also be perfect for chilaquiles verdes or served with eggs.

3 lbs tomatillos, husks removed
3 large jalapeños, chopped
6 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 1/2 tsp cumin
1 1/2 bunches cilantro, coarsley chopped
3/4 C parsley, coarsley chopped
1/3 C mint, coarsley chopped
1 Tbsp sugar
1/2 C chicken stock
1 Tbsp fresh-squeezed lime juice
corn tortillas*

Cover tomatillos and jalapeños with water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until tomatillos are soft (this didn't take long for me, but the tomatillos here are much smaller than the ones I've seen in the states. Bon Appetit suggests 15 minutes simmering and 15 sitting in the water). Drain and let cool.
Chop tomatillos (If the tomatillos have absorbed water try to get rid of it, but keep the seeds) and jalapeños (discard seeds if you want a milder sauce) and place in a blender or food processor. Add remaining ingredients except tortillas. Blend.
Return mixture to saucepan and heat over medium low heat. Heat until warmed thoroughly or until a desired thickness is reached.
Place corn tortillas in a separate skillet and cover with a small ammount of salsa verde. Heat for a few minutes over low heat to soften tortillas. Transfer tortillas to serving plates and fold in half twice. Cover with additional sauce. Top with egg, chicken, cecina etc. as well as onions and sour cream. Ahh, bliss.

*of course you can use store bought, but the taste doesn't compare at all. Check out this video tutorial on epicurious--be inspired to make your own.

The Agony and the Ecstasy

2009-04-03T13:33:00.002-06:00

I haven't undertaken a project the scope of painting the Sistine Chapel's ceiling or anything. Don't worry, I'll be sure to complain about a big project if one comes up. This title just keeps popping into my head because
A) Assorted, illogical things are always sprouting up up there.
B) I keep thinking about how everything has positive and negative points
C) Overdramatization with titles is the way I live my life.

The positive and negative isn't supposed to sound depressing. If you think of it a certain way it can be rather comforting. No matter what you do there will be some bright spots, and no matter how much little things might be bumming you out, there will be little things that bum you out in anything (I'm not sure if that comes of the way I mean it too, but I think it's supposed to be a relief).

I keep thinking about how much I love Mexico (happy), but I'm probably not going to stay forever (sad). But then I also think, when I go back to the U. S., I'll get to see my family much more often (happy, fun), but then there will be winter (sad, gross). I might go back to school (interesting, exciting) and I might go back to school (homework, gross).

This title seems very applicable to most foods as well. It seems that often there is an inverse relationship of agony and ecstasy. Taste goes up , health goes down or health goes up, taste goes down. I know this isn't true of many, many things--I love the s**** out of lots of healthy things, but I also enjoy a giant pile of animal products that have been cooked on diner griddles in the old fat remnants of other animal products and then topped with cheese.

The agony isn't just related to thoughts of "oh, this is so bad for me." Nah. It's generally that it feels bad for me as my system struggles to digest it. For example, I had the unfortunate realization, when I was home over Christmas, that my sturdy Midwestern frame with generations of dairy-farm blood flowing in its veins has come to the inconceivable conclusion that it cannot handle cheese very well. Unfortunately, my whole family smelled this realization as well, because Christmas is not a time when I'm going to sit back and not eat pound upon pound of cheese.

Man, I could go on and on about the pain I've inflicted upon myself in my ecstatic consumptions. However, I'll just leave you with my most recent edible example of food's duality. Some pictures are worth 1000 words--this one is worth approximately 3000 calories. Aaah the glory.

It isn't easy to tell exactly what the slop is so I'll give you the breakdown.

Step 1: Boiled potatoes, cut into wedges are the foundation for this monstrosity

Step 2: Add a heaping mound of guacomole--this batch was simply avocados, tomatoes, garlic, and a green habanero salsa.

Step 3: Fry bacon. Add to life-shortening mound.

Step 4: Fry egg in bacon grease. I wanted the egg to be over-easy, but you would be surprised how difficult that is when you are trying to flip it with a butter knife. Ahh well, toss it on the pile.

Step 5: Finish with Valentina and freshly ground pepper.

Hopefully your ecstasy at this ridiculous dish outweighs the agony. My stomach felt a little over stretched and resentful the next day (it should've been thankful I didn't have cheese), but thus is life--plus, I'm still getting some residual ecstasy from the memories. Also, I have tagged this as "breakfast", because of the egg, potato, and bacon combo, but I don't know if I would try to live through a whole day after eating this. Mmmm. Enjoy.

Afternoon Delight

2009-03-25T17:55:00.001-06:00

To clarify: this title in no way relates to the song of the same name or its surprisingly adult-themed innuendos. Though, I keep playing those karaoke scenes from Arrested Development over and over in my mind.

My afternoon delight evokes lazy afternoons when there is nothing to do at that moment or in the future. Books are read, games are played, and cocktails are drunk in the sunshine (or if it is March and you don't live in Mexico, hopefully in the sunshine or by a fireplace). Sometimes one, sometimes one too many, but it doesn't make any difference, because on these special afternoons there's nothing you have to do and you are void of any nagging guilt that you should be doing something.

I had more than my share of these afternoons in college and a fair dose in Louisville too. A couple of my favorites include post-work $2 margaritas during Jeopardy, drinking champagne after a late breakfast and watching Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen, and post bluegrass brunch Orange Bourbon Sours and the complete first season of 90210. Those were lovely, hazy afternoons.

Here in Mexico I'm working all week and on the weekends I'm generally off to the beach or Oaxaca City (which both invite a certain kind of afternoon laziness, but it isn't the same as being home or sprawled across a friends couch).

Not long ago I decided to get a few things accomplished around Miahuatlán for the weekend--clean, run some errands, eat at my favorite local spots, and just generally laze about with an afternoon libation or two.

Generally my afternoon drinks of choice are something to play around with. I may use a recipe for inspiration, but generally I just raid cabinets and refrigerators to concoct something interesting. Cucumbers, grapefruit, and gin;oranges and bourbon; capers and vodka; have been a few delightful combinations I've come across. A couple of weeks ago, I had it in my mind to make a traditional daytime libation, the bloody mary, but maybe give it a little twist.

I had been inspired to have a bloody mary when checking out at the grocery store. I needed to spend a little more money to meet my maximum coupon value (my job gives me little grocery store coupons as part of my salary, but they won't give you change. Therefore it has become my mission to spend every penny of each coupon with minimal out of pocket expense.) I was already purchasing tomato juice and the impulse items happened to include a small bottle of vodka.

Olives were easy to come by, but alas, I had no horseradish or worcestershire. I tried to amend for the missing horseradish by using my precious Sriracha (which I smuggled back after Christmas), to me it has a certain horseradish flavor to it--the same type of spice. To make up for a little extra saltiness I used some of the olive brine and soy sauce. It was pretty delicious, but I would like to have some worcestershire the next time I make it.

I'm not filling this out in true recipe form, because I think personal preference is very important especially when it comes to drinks--I may tend to like mine a little spicier and a lot vodkaier than most, plus to write it down as a recipe would mean I'd have to remember what measurements I used--and I don't.

Sriracha Bloody Mary "Outline"
Along with the tomato juice, vodka, sriracha, and olive juice, I splashed a little bit of soy sauce (if I had had it I would've used worcestershire too) in and a hefty squeeze of lime. garnish with celery, pickles, olives, cocktail shrimp, pickled green beans, cucumber. . .I saw a recipe that recommended making bacon salt (bacon grease + salt) to rim the glass. Doesn't sound too shabby, but I would probably end up sticking the slices of bacon and a curl of endive in--drinkable BLT.

Great Expectations and Yams

2009-03-20T16:30:00.008-06:00

There are certain things that inevitably make me happy. Planning a trip somewhere new. Getting long emails from old friends. Eating trout in a lovely mountain-side shack. Seeing pictures of a frijolito looking shockingly human. Watching a hip, tough-looking twenty-something Mexican boy carry around his bag that says "Be the Prom Queen" (this one makes me happy over and over again).

I've been fortunate enough to have several of these pleasing moments this past week. Whether they were pleasant surprises, ridiculous things that cross your path, or the rare ones--a wave of inspiration that results in something that actually matches up to your imagination, they make me so satisfied and content.

Imagination and expectations have been something I've always reveled in and simultaneously struggled with furiously. Planning things (I think I've mentioned my obsessive party planning) and picturing the way things will be is half the enjoyment, but sometimes if the outcome doesn't match up it can be quite crushing.

When I was a kid, my family had this great alphabet cookbook that we got from sending in flour proofs of purchase (Gold Medal...? That's flour right?). It had an "A" is for Apple Pie recipe to alphabet breakdown accompanied by these fantastic illustrations that I would drool over.

"H" was for Honey Comb Cookies (or something to that effect) and had a picture of a beehive, drops of honey, and the most delicious-looking, golden cookies. They looked like the cookies that the Berenstain Bears were always eating and with the alphabet cookbook they were within my sweet-butter hungry reach.

I built up in my mind that these cookies would be everything I loved about honey and cookies--which was no small feat mind you. But with an illustration like they had and the Berenstain Bears' apparent enjoyment, how could they not be?

The cookies were made. They were soft, not crisp. They didn't carry the buttery honey crunch of which I'd dreamed. They did not remotely resemble the cookies that Brother and Sister Bear ate. It was crushing. I had dreamed of honeycomb transformed into something less messy and sticky and more buttery (almost like a honey shortbread. . .mmm which gives me another idea), but all I got was a bland, dark brown (couldn't even be called tarnished gold) rounds. I even had a real name, not just my familial relationship title, and I still couldn't get the cookies I wanted? That's when I first bitterly understood the obnoxious advice "I know it's not fair, but sometimes the world's not fair." Oh, didn't I know it.

Years later, when my friend Jess and I were touring London, I think I found what I was hoping for in those cookies in a British candy bar she introduced me too (and has my eternal thanks for). Even with this eventual resolution, since the early honey-cookie disappointment I've tried (and generally failed) to have a little restraint in my recipe hopes.

So last week when I had a couple of yams I needed to use up and decided to concoct a coconut curry around them, I tried not to get too carried away with my expectations.

The recipe was inspired by a butternut squash curry that my former filthy, Louisville-hippie mansionmate, Liz, would talk about. Not talk really, but have a Pentecostal-worthy spell about. I decided that the yams would be a nice starchy staple-substitute for the squash and could be balanced with some poblanos and calabacitas (similar to zucchini) to give it a little green and crunch.

My plan was initially bogged down by thick, syrupy coconut cream which I had purchased thinking it was coconut milk. I was able to remedy this by mixing a small ammount of the cream with some chicken stock to cut the sugar, but retain the coconut flavor, so keeping that in mind, use this recipe loosely, because I would recommend using coconut milk and maybe adding just a little honey. In spite of this setback, it turned out delightfully, I was incredibly pleased that it turned out as delicious as I'd imagined--serious catharsis for my experience with those damnable honey cookies.

Yellow Coconut Curry with Yams
4 Tbsp oil
6 garlic cloves, minced
1 medium onion, chopped
4 chiles de arbol, crushed (keep the seeds--easiest to crush straight in the saucepan)
2 yams, peeled and cubed
2 poblano peppers, seeds and stems removed, cut into large chunks
2 medium zucchini (I'm not ready to introduce you to another "mystery" yet.), cut into chunks.
1 can of coconut milk*
1 C of chicken stock*
2 Tbsp honey*
3 Tbsp yellow curry powder
*like I mentioned, I accidentally purchased coconut cream and had to make adjustments for that--so dip your fingahs in and figgah out how much you need of what.

In a large saucepan heat the oil over medium heat. Add cloves, onion, and chiles. Saute for 1 minute. Add yams and saute for 8 minutes, stirring occasionally to keep yams from sticking to the pan. Add the poblanos and zucchini saute for an additional 3 minutes. Add the remaining ingredients and turn heat to medium-low. Cook until yams are desired tenderness--15-20 minutes. Serve with rice and flatbread.

I didn't have any, but I think some basil would also go nicely in this dish, mmm and maybe some raisins and almonds. Oh man, I got to go eat!

Creamy Symbiosis

2009-03-11T17:51:00.003-06:00

I've always enjoyed exercise, walking, running, bike riding, as long as I'm not being forced to do it. Here in Mexico I don't have a lot of time (or equipment) for most of those things, but I do often walk to or from work. Sometimes it is difficult to pull my little shoat body out of bed and get on that dusty road, though. I have never been much on motivation, but I think I'd just never found the right kind of motivation.

Recently, I have developed a ratio between the number of times I walk to school and the amount of ice cream cones I allow myself to buy that week.

The more I walk, the more ice cream cones I eat. It's probably fixed somewhere about 1:2 (1 being the walking of course), but I have alternate formulas for situations where I might walk twice in one day (it somehow gets me more ice cream). I think this revelation is going to replace the one all the textbooks use, about the little fish that cleans the big fish's teeth. Which is more appealing to you? Eating ice cream or whale plaque?

I don't know why it has taken me this long to develop the perfect symbiotic relationship. The dudes with their ice cream carts have been strolling around since I first moved here and I started walking between home and work not long after that. It may partly be due to my slowness to realize what a gem was being pushed along in front of me.

The first month or so that I lived here I tried to adhere to the "Things You Aren't Supposed to Eat in Mexico" rules. Then I remembered how boring and stupid rules are, unless it is a rule that is allowing me more of something instead of limiting something. I mean, I don't drink the tap water (neither do Mexicans for that matter), but who could really expect me to live here and not eat the cheese, the most delicious meats, and numerous fruits and vegetables? No way. I think I'd rather gets parasites. (Knock on wood that a future post isn't "So I Though I'd Rather Have Parasites. . . .")

I feel that ice cream was an odd carry over from my early, prudent days. I just kind of forgot I wasn't eating it much any more. (Don't ask how that happened--it boggles the mind). Don't worry, those days are far behind me.

My weekends spent in Oaxaca city always included a stop at these lovely neverias wedged between two churches. The ice cream is delicious, like the homemade ice cream we make at my parents in the summer, but with a larger and more exotic variety of flavors--queso, mezcal, pistache, melon, fresa, tuna (don't be disugsted, it is cactus fruit) it goes on and on. I sort of assumed, I don't know if it was because of the fanciful wrought iron chairs and umbrellas in creamy pastels, but somehow I became (only temporarily) one of those people that reserves a really good thing for a special occasion. Which is not an idea I support in the slightest. I must have been having some sort of identity crisis.

But then one fateful sunny day, all my foolhardiness came crashing down. I was hot and walking to work when I passed by an elderly man and a cart of frozen gold. I got a cone piled high with nuez (pecan) and limon (I'm not translating that for you) and this sweetest of all symbiotic relationships was born. It was every bit as delicious as the ice cream in Oaxaca and my dirt road to work was no less lovely than the curly metal tables.

Now you may be thinking, eating ice cream all the time in Mexico is all well and good, but I live somewhere where March is cold.

This is another foolish mindset that means one thing--less ice cream. Folks, I don't care if you are in a blizzard and your heater is broken, ice cream will still make everything better. Maybe you can create a symbiotic relationship of eating ice cream and scooping the driveway.

My family has used many delicious ice cream recipes over the years, but recently my sister discovered a fantastic one that uses cream cheese. It gives the ice cream a velvety texture and doesn't seem to melt as fast as other homemade varieties we've made, that turn soupy very quickly. I'm not sure if this is the exact one, but I have a lot of faith in Gourmet and their take on cream cheese ice cream. So if you don't see a wrinkled old man pushing a cart down your street, don't fret, just mix, freeze, and enjoy.

Monday Market Mysteries

2009-02-25T13:20:00.001-06:00

Agathe Christie, Mary Higgins Clark, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle can all bite me. My mysteries involve fruits and vegetables and things that I'm not sure if they are fruits or vegetables. How about that for suspense? Instead of tension and suspense being so thick you could cut them with a knife, I've got tangible mysterious things you can actually cut with a knife. And eat. If you dare. Whahahaha.

Grocery shopping has always inspired a few What the hell. . . .?-moments--generally at food, sometimes disgusting magazine covers. Shopping in Mexico at the market, my double-take-What the hell. . . ? reaction is constantly escalating. Not just because my love of profanity grows each and every day, either.

The whole market scene is completely overwhelming. It's crowded, hot, colorful, and delicious. On my first trips to the market, the mysteries were totally overlooked. My inability to successfully maneuver the crowds, being a (comparatively) gangly figure, and my blond hair, made me feel like an oddly yellowish leviathan with poor coordination. A leviathan that didn't speak Spanish very well.

The conspicuousness has decreased a bit (the "güera"s that greet me denote more of a familiar and amiable circus freak than a space invader) and my success at maneuvering through the crowds and the Spanish language have been consistently advancing. So now, instead of focusing on my conspicuous pain and useless tongue, I notice little heads of things I've never seen before peeping out at me.

Things with spikes, things with eyes, things of every color, shape, and size! All Dr. Seusiness aside, the fruits and vegetables are amazing, mainly because there are things I have never seen before, not even at Whole Foods for a thousand dollars per pound.

One of my first mystery purchases was what looked like a gourd's impression of my own dear sweet aguacate. Or an avocado that has had extensive plastic surgery. The shape is similar, a little more tucked and puckered in places, but it's smoother, tauter, and has opted for a chemical peel to remove the dark age spots and sun damage, resulting in a much lighter green, youthful appearance.

I wasn't exactly sure what it was or what to do with it, but my first instinct said "Bite it," so I did.
It was a little gross. Maybe gross is too strong of a word. It was fresh and crisp, true, but also a definite flavor I would describe as Elmersesque. It didn't make me gag, but it wasn't exactly a pleasant surprise. A little more work than my lazy instincts would like was definitely necessary.

So I chopped it up, sauteed it in some garlic, whipped up some spicy peanut sauce, cooked some rice noodles, and my mystery gal played well with others. It absorbed the other flavors nicely , but retained more of its squash-like crispness than zucchini and summer squash generally do. Oh, and it lost its glue taste.
So this is the part where you can't put the book down, because you're just dying to know who the killer is-- or in this case what this fruit is, right?

The rain pounded against my office window. The wind howled like a blood-thirsty wolf as I sat hunched at my desk. The lights flickered off . I felt a presence--I knew they would come find me, I had gotten to close to the truth and had to be stopped--the lights flickered on, I looked up.
"Aah, so it was you, Chayote."

I've never noticed chayote in the U.S., but I've also never looked for it. If you happen to stumble upon it, check it out. Or make yourself some spicy peanut noodles and throw in whatever the hell you want (I'm dying to rip off The Onion and add a tagline to my blog so it's Aguacate: Now with Twice as Many Swears).

Spicy Peanut Noodles
or as I prefer calling them "Hot P-Noods."
I always make a huge batch of these, because they're great leftover.

1 package rice noodles--I prefer a medium thickness with this sauce, but again, WtHYW.
2 Tbsp peanut oil
4 cloves of garlic, chopped
3 cups chayote, peeled and chopped (zuchini, brocoli, peapods, green beans...you really can't go wrong)

1 red bell pepper, cut in strips
1 cup natural unsweetend peanut butter
1/2 c soy sauce
1/4 c sriracha
1/4 c honey
1/4 c water
Spicy peanuts to garnish*
Fresh cilantro

Begin cooking rice noodles according to package directions.
In a medium skillet heat heat peanut oil over medium low heat. Add garlic. Sauté for 1 minute. Add chayote and bell pepper. Sauté for 5-6 minutes or until vegetables are tender. Lower heat and add remaining ingredients. Mix well and taste for desired spiciness, sweetness, and saltiness. Simmer on low heat for 2-3 minutes or until sauce is warm and vegetables are desired tenderness. Mix with rice noodles and top each serving with spicy peanuts and fresh cilantro.

*spicy peanuts are essentially peanuts coated in chile powder--easy to substitute if you don't have ready made ones at hand.

Vitamina T

2009-02-16T12:19:00.002-06:00

¿Febrero, Febrero, por qué eres cruel en todo el mundo?

I may not be enduring blizzards and sub-zero temperatures (Fahrenheit sub-zero! Now that is a crazy thing), but in spite of a general balminess, February is still kind of sucking.

The semester is ending, so the normal finals mess is getting cleaned up. I'm hoping once it is over I will suddenly find myself with abnormally high levels of energy or I may consider switching my high levels of coffee consumption for speed.

Generally at this time of year, I'm fighting off a cold and trying to consume as many oranges and grapefruits as I can. I even resorted to putting those Emergen-C packets in chamomile tea one particularly bleak February when I lived in a cold, dank, hippie-basement. Thankfully, this year, I haven't been stuffed up with a vague, foggy wish to die at all (knock on wood). Therefore, my vitamin of choice has switched from "C" to "T".

"Vitamina T" is a joke I've heard repeatedly here in Mexico. It refers to the "T" heavy diet of tacos, tlayudas, tostadas, tortas. . ..I think you get the idea. While it may only be a joke, I have a strange faith in the curative (comfortingly curative) properties of all these delicious items. These past few weeks I have turned to them again and again. They give me a nice little pick up and a few moments of quiet enjoyment-- a meaty, spicy solace.

So if you do or don't have a cold and February is bumming you out a little bit--make yourself a batch of the major "T"--(¿señor T?)--tacos. The ease of preparation itself is a bit curative. There are as many possibilities as delicious Mexican dishes that start with the letter "T". Be creative!

*slow cook some chicken, pork, or beef in the crock-pot. You can choose to jazz it up with some seasoning, (citrus juices, garlic, or use my mama's crock-pot meat) or just leave it as is.
*pick up a pack of chorizo at the grocery store--if you don't live close to a grocery store that sells chorizo. . . nah, you aren't looking hard enough, you live close to a grocery store that sells chorizo. If "strange" meats make you uncomfortable, don't read the ingredient label. If you are very comfortable with all meats, cook up those blood-red, ground up salivary glands, lips, and cheeks and enjoy their facey goodness.
*beans and rice (for those animal-haters). I used to frequently make a bean and rice mixture for tacos using Zataran's Black Beans and Rice mix, it already has spices mixed in, so it makes it nice and easy. Cook according to package directions, then throw in a can of refried beans, a can of corn (drained), and some chopped jalapenos. If you want to get really crazy you can use this mix with some meat.
*tacos dorados. Deep fried tacos=deep fried comfort. If you do it right, they are crispy and delicious, not heavy or greasy.

Regardless of what main ingredient you choose, there are a few things that are a MUST for a real taco.
--corn tortillas. . . don't insult me, your tacos, or Oaxaca by putting your goodies on flour tortillas or those crispy molded shells. Seriously. You can warm them up in the microwave or toast them in an oil free skillet (or you can be really legit and dip them in the meat juices before you warm them in a skillet.)
--diced onions or some shredded green cabbage
--fresh cilantro
--salsa. The chunky, tomatoey salsas of my youth aren't to be found here. Usually you get a green salsa or a warm color (anything from 60s sofa-yellow, true-red,tiger-lily-orange, or a zombie-purple-red) that is primarily pulverized peppers. Chunky tomato salsas are still good, but the simpler, hotter ones can really showcase the flavor of the meat without overpowering it. Mrs Renfros is a good salsa verde choice.
--limes. They've got vitamin C, if you have a cold--you can lazily kill the proverbial birds

I hope you enjoy a batch soon and make your February a little bit less gruesome.

Salivation is Free

2009-01-30T11:55:00.005-06:00

Salivation, salivation, salivation is free! If you haven't noticed, I can't help myself when it comes to plays on titles, songs, anything that has words I can change to be about food I guess. Also, if you don't understand that reference, shame, shame, and please go here to be informed.
I've been extremely busy at work this week. The end of the semester is nearing and besides the normal scramble, two of my classes' partial and final exams were pushed up several weeks. Yuck.
So I've been busy, rushed, tired, and apathetic in the kitchen (the few moments I've been in the kitchen). This doesn't mean, however, that I haven't found (or been presented with) a few delicious things to salivate over in my time at the office. I thought I would share a few things that gave me salivation this week, and maybe you will find some inspiration for the weekend or just work up a good appetite for your next meal.

A lovely (albeit brief) Bon Appetit article my friend sent me. All about Oaxaca! I'm so proud. It mentions a few lovely places and some delicious restaurants in Oaxaca.

Epicurious--perfect enough on its own, but I've especially been finding solace in Around the World in 80 Dishes. It spotlights "the globe's most iconic recipes." Very delicious. I'm anxiously awaiting for them to unveil the Mexico recipes.

This Food and Wine blog-post Never Mind the Butter, Here's the Sex Pistols, appealed to me, I'll admit, just because of the title. I mean, I love butter, way more than the next girl, but I really have no use for brand recommendations here in Mexico. I like the idea of Johnny Rotten in a butter commercial though.

I've also been dropping frequently in on www.contestcooking.com, which is exactly what it sounds like. They post upcoming recipe contests and links to the sites. I love inventing recipes and imagining I'm going to win something delicious for it. I'm especially excited about a grapefruit contest. Mmm.

One final lovely for you, Chowhound. Restaurants, cooking, wine, and beer recommendations. Even the description "voracious devotion to hyperdeliciousness" excites me.

Enjoy! I'm off to nosh away a good chunk of Oaxaca's natural resources. Then tomorrow a three-day weekend at the beach should recuperate me enough to resume my own expounding. Happy Friday!

No Deja para Mañana. . . .

2009-01-12T13:06:00.015-06:00

I eat a lot of stupendous Mexican food. Loads. I love it, I crave it, and I devour it like I'm going into hibernation and need to build up fat reserves for months ahead. If I haven't had tacos in a span of a couple days I start to get edgy. I ponder over how much it might cost me to buy a whole spit of al pastor. I trade info about what restaurants have the best enchiladas verdes with my coworkers like insider stock tips. Oh and cecina. Cecina is my abusive paramour that I am always yearning for and who sometimes treats me so bad (only internally).
This is just the tip of my fanatical love of the cuisine. But for all that insanity, I rarely ever make any Mexican food. Every time I go out to eat, which is pretty frequently, I eat these amazing dishes (Usually, there have been a few sub-stellar moments in my dining experiences). "Every time" is not much of an exaggeration either. I have eaten pizza twice at the beach and three times in Miahuatlán (once was so horrible I can't even think about it without gagging. It was like Taco Bell and Totino's got together and came out with a St. Louis style Mexican pizza. I can personally advise these companies that it would not be a wise or successful venture and if they take that venture, you have been warned).
Beyond these scattered moments, I haven't eaten anything else that wasn't Mexican food. Since I frequently partake in these bountiful resources of Mexican food that surround me, when I make dinner I'll concoct something that bears as much resemblance to Italian and Asian food as possible. It ends now. Not the eating out or the attempt to fill the void in my life which the lack of Italian,Indian, Thai, and Vietnamese restaurants has caused, but the fact that I'm not even attempting to make some traditional Mexican dishes. I'm seizing the day. I'm taking up the mantle of a favorite quote of mine: No deja para mañana lo que puedes comer hoy. Translation: Don't leave for tomorrow what you can eat today. I love it when buds of truth spring up on the cafeteria white board.
Well the new year is upon us and at last I have a functioning stove in my new apartment. The bag is packed for my journey into traditional Oaxacan cuisine. It may be wrought with peril, but neither I nor my subjects (the people I make eat my food) are weak of spirit or stomach. I decided to begin my expedition with a dish that I have done extensive research on (meaning: I've probably eaten it at least once a week since September). Chilaquiles.
Chilaquiles rojos, chilaquiles verdes, chilaquiles con pollo, chilaquiles con huevo. All delicious and fantastic variations of fried tortillas in a sauce. The classic chilaquiles (rojos) sound, look, and essentially are, slightly soggy chips in a tomato sauce. I know that doesn't exactly sound appetizing, but they are fantastic. Some recipes I've seen layer and bake the chilaquiles like a lasagna. I have never had them this way (and do not have the oven-capacity to make them this way), but have always been served a generous portion of tortilla "chips" messily swimming in sauce, dolloped with crema and queso fresco crumbles. I say "chips", because chilaquiles are a breakfast dish traditionally meant to use up stale tortillas. Mexico's pan perdu. You slice them up, fry them, and top with sauce. I used some really nice tortilla chips to avoid my apartment smelling like a Moby Dick's (replace Moby Dick's with Long John Silver's if you haven't lived in Kentucky.)
I consulted a few recipes, but overall just followed my well-informed gut. So here you are friends, my first real recipe for an authentic Mexican dish. I hope you enjoy. I must say, I'm still brimming with pride over the compliments I received on them.

Chilaquiles
serves 4

2 tbsp olive oil
4 cloves of garlic
2 medium onions
1 lb of tomatoes, chopped
1/2 cup of chicken stock
2 chiles de arbol, crushed*
1 canned chipotle pepper, chopped, or 1 tbsp of a chipotle sauce**
1 bag quality corn tortilla chips
crema or créme fraiche or sour cream
queso fresco***

Heat oil in skillet on low heat. Dice garlic and 1 1/2 of the onions, add to skillet. Sauté over low heat until onions are tender, stirring occasionally. Add tomatoes, chicken stock, chiles de arbol, and chipotle sauce. Stir and sauté 5 minutes. Transfer tomato mixture to a blender and puree until smooth and return to skillet. Cook over low heat until thoroughly warmed. Slice remaining onion into rings. Divide chips among plates, cover generously in sauce, top with onions, queso fresco, and crema. Enjoy. Don't wait until tomorrow!

Shredded chicken or a fried egg are often found atop chilaquiles. They are a delicious way to give some extra heft to the meal.

*don't discard seeds, unless you wish to cut back the spice
**the chipotle also adds more heat, but a nice smoky flavor too. If you want to cut back the spice, cut back the chiles de arbol and taste and add more if needed.
***queso fresco can be found at many large chain groceries and always at a Mexican grocery. If you can't find it, substitute some feta or goat cheese crumbles.

One Size Larger Satisfaction

2009-01-06T16:49:00.018-06:00

I could use a little bit bigger pants these days. I'm still wearing my old ones around, but I don't have the roomy comfort that pre-Christmas Margee enjoyed in them. This fact, however, is not getting me down. Not in the least. It's like a lingering euphoria from my holiday vacation in Iowa. The extra effort taken in putting these pants on is like them saying, "Whoa. You had a fantastic vacation, huh? You ate all that? And you rarely changed out of your pajamas or went outside? You drank how many different kinds of wine and delectable American beers? Sounds sweet."
Oh pants, you don't even know how sweet it was.
I wanted to relay to you all the minutiae of every meal I planned, cooked, or partook, but as my pants can testify, the food was so much.
To carry over a small bit of my gluttonous and lazy holidays, I have an array of photos (this is the gluttonous part) and no running commentary or recipes (this is the lazy part). If you see something that particularly entices you, let me know, and I can supply you with the recipe. Otherwise, sit back and enjoy the photos and your constricting trousers.

Belgian Night

Christmas Eve Hors d’oeuvres

Christmas Eve Dinner

Left-Over Prime Rib Eggs Benedict Breakfast

Mother and Sister's Birthday Dinner

I would also like to mention that Christmas day, Winter Hog Roast, New Year's Eve, and New Years were all sumptuous and beautiful celebrations as well. Unfortunately (well for you, for me it really wasn't the least bit unfortunate) I was too busy eating, cooking, college football watching (wooo Hawks!), or adoring my new nephew to take any photographs of those lovely spreads. Cheers to a delicious 2009 and all the things from 2008 that have made us fatter, happier, and livelier.

Things Fall Apart

2008-12-16T12:01:00.010-06:00

I don't mean that in the tragic Chinua Achebe way or in a more minor you're running late, fall on some ice, rip your pants, and everything makes you want to cry way either. I'm thinking of a gentle unwinding, a decrease of items on your "to-do" list. The satisfaction of things becoming simpler, like sloughing off dead skin or a cookie crumbling as you dunk it in hot chocolate. These are the disintegrations I have in mind.

My stomach also has a specific idea of things falling apart. It is specifically thinking of my mom's recipe for a pork roast slow-cooked in soy sauce, herbs, and garlic that gently loosens and makes delicious meat-heap sandwiches. With my normal eloquence and flowery language I've dubbed this salty, herby, tender mess "crock-pot meat."

As things in Mexico fall apart (exams, grades, moving, packing, dressing as a cowgirl for a Christmas parade and riding on a skittish horse in skirt. . .) and I move closer to my vacation in Iowa (Tomorrow! Tomorrow!!!), I've been thinking of crock-pot meat. My mom has exerted all effort (conscious or not) to reinforce my association of this recipe with coming home. My first trip home after going away to college: crock-pot meat. Trips back to Iowa from Louisville: crock-pot meat. Coming home for Christmas after moving far away to Mexico: crock-pot meat? :)

Even if you don't have a daughter you want to welcome home to below-freezing temperatures from a warm, distant land (ahem), pick up a roast, throw a few things together, let it do its thing. Very little effort, but a bit of foresight since it takes 8-10 hours, will supply a simple hearty meal that is very appealing amidst all the elaborate holiday fare. Don't be daunted by making a whole pork (or beef) roast either. It keeps well, either in the fridge or freezer and is equally delicious when reheated.

Crock-Pot Meat

3-4 lb beef or pork roast

1 1/2 cups water

3/4 cup soy sauce

bay leaves

3 cloves garlic

1 Tbl thyme

1 Tbl rosemary

peppercorns

Cook on low in crock pot 8-10 hours*

* Think of all the things you can accomplish in this span of time while the meat is gently falling apart and soaking up that salty goodness.

I'm hoping to put up some photos and recipes as I nosh through the holiday season, but it is possible that it may be delayed until the New Year. If that is the case, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!! I hope everyone has safe travels and delicious stuff to look forward too. Feliz Navidad!

Joyce to the World

2008-12-09T12:24:00.004-06:00

This week is hectic already and is only going to become more so as we progress. I'm scattered, tired, a wee bit stressed, and a whoa bit caffeinated. I was trying to think of something I'd eaten or made that I wanted to write about, but my thoughts kept deteriorating into a manic stream of consciousness. . . .egg and bacon sandwiches were good no no too much about breakfast its tiresome tired need another cup of coffee someone just finished it off and I can't believe how #$#%#$ weird crazies in the office I just want to go home and stuff myself with sushi and mulligatawny myself how do you explain reflexive pronouns to students when they don't understand possessive adjectives or even subject pronouns I can't wait until exams are finished Ill sit by the fire and use the oven to make cookies I'm awfully tired I wish I had a blanket and an obese family-sized jar of Nutella under my desk I don't want to go sign my new lease today and go to the bank those lousy financial bastards then Im going to need to pack up all my stuff not tonight Im having Spanish practice with allison maybe we'll go to Meet I could eat their fajitas again those were so good. . . .
See how exhausting that is? Ugh. You have my old roommate, Roxie, to thank for this venture, since we were just reminiscing about how she subjected me to the book on tape version of Ulysses back in college. Yes, it was as gross as it sounds.
My exam prepping, stressing, and giving, moving, and hopefully general tenseness of the body should all be over by this weekend. So next week I will hopefully have a less Joycean blog and return the simple joys and delights of stomach and kitchen with plenty of superlative descriptions. Which reminds me, I have some superlatives and comparatives to pound into youths heads. . . . please excuse me

Leftover Thanks

2008-12-03T13:19:00.003-06:00

O.K. Thanksgiving is done. But one of the best parts is still leftover. . . .get it?

I feel like "leftovers" isn't an adequate term. I mean it is what it is, but it sounds so blah. Truthfully, they can be, but I'm thinking of the glory of Thanksgiving leftovers. I want a word that encapsulates the mashed potatoes that are reinvented with sour cream and cheddar or those delicious scraps of turkey transformed into the most glorious of sandwiches.

Ahh sandwiches. Sandwiches are the pinnacle of all that is delicious and simple for me. I want a holiday where the traditional food is sandwiches. All different types of sandwiches. Everyone has to make up a new sandwich and bring it. Or everyone brings separate pieces and the holiday is spent concocting new and delicious sandwich combinations.

Until I've fully developed that holiday, however, the tradition of Thanksgiving turkey sandwiches is the closest I've got. They are also the pinnacle of reinventing leftovers. A few simple steps, a few quality items, a few scraps of the demolished turkey and you have a phoenix rising from the ashes, but better, because it's a sandwich.

I didn't have leftover turkey this year, but my spicy chickens from across the street endured a late night plucking and supplied a sturdy foundation for a couple sandwichings.

So, if you still have a few scraps of that turkey around, or tucked some away in the freezer, get it out. I've concocted a recipe to mimic my sandwich de las sobras. Don't have your sandwich be a thoughtless, half-hearted jumble. Give the sandwich its due attention. It deserves our thoughts, our respect, our thanks.

makes 4 sandwiches
I was so thrilled with these sandwiches, I double-blogged today in hopes that I would catch you with some turkey scraps searching for meaning in this crazy world. . . .

3 C of cooked shredded turkey (or chicken)
2 Tbsp olive oil
5 Tbsp paprika
1 tsp cayenne pepper
4 crusty rolls
4 oz Manchego cheese, 8 slices
2 C shredded green cabbage
1/2 C fresh cilantro
2 Roma tomatoes, sliced
mayonnaise (if desired)

Heat olive oil in skillet over medium-low heat. Add turkey or chicken and toss to lightly coat with olive oil. Sprinkle with paprika and cayenne. Cook until thoroughly heated. Halve rolls and lightly toast. Place two slices of Manchego on bottom half of each roll. On each roll, top cheese with 3/4 C of the warm turkey. Toss the cabbage and cilantro together and divide between the sandwiches. Place several tomato slices on cabbage. Lightly spread mayonnaise on top half of roll. Place top half on to the tomatoes. Satisfy.

The Non-traditional Tradition

2008-12-03T13:17:00.004-06:00

Thanksgiving has become a weird holiday for me. It used to always involve going to the lodge at Camp Wakonda with my extended family, avoiding relatives that I rarely saw with my siblings and first cousins, trying to stuff as many of my Grandma's butterhorns down my throat as humanly possible, hiking back to a cave to look for the gold of Jesse James, and playing the loudest most ridiculous games of Pit. It was pretty fantastic.

Recent years, however, I have not made it back for this tradition. In college, I worked at a clothing store and had to be present for Black Friday, I took the opportunity of a week off and went to Barcelona with my friend Katie, I studied abroad in Greece, and my traditional Thanksgivings were replaced by hordes of shoppers and The Mediterranean.

Post-college I found out what a rarity it is to have a week off for Thanksgiving. Due to distance and time constraints, the family gathering was out yet again. Several of my friends from college were in a similar situation, so we formed our own little Thanksgiving. One year in Chicago was hosted by my friends Jeff and Jake and catered wonderfully by my friend Katie, whose previous cooking experience consisted of almost setting our apartment on fire making patatas bravas for her Spanish class. Heaped with wine, Katie's grade school songs, and video confessionals of our doubts of the chef's abilities, we had a fantastic holiday--no fires, delicious food.

Last year, the four of us reunited in Louisville and were joined by my friends Madhu and Emily. Traditional fare, an abundance of wine, multiple games of Celebrity (with Madhu consistently ignoring the rules), karaoke, and horse racing dominated the holiday. Thoroughly lovely, maybe excluding the wine-dreidel-drinking game we devised in a fit of ill-conceived creativity.

My tradition has become doing something nontraditional. Luckily, this is much easier than keeping with tradition.

Most traditional Thanksgiving elements were out this year, because of the oven-absence and limited time. These limitations didn't hinder me. I'm not one to skip celebrating a holiday, even if the outcome has minimal resemblance to general associations.

Chili-rubbed, roasted chickens were procured, partially for their resemblance to a turkey, but in larger part because the smell and sight of these crimson fowl roasting across the street from my apartment had been tormenting me for weeks. Also, the friendly proprietress agreed to have them warm and waiting for us when we returned from work. And people say Thanksgiving preparations are stressful. Pshaw.
The birds were fetched, some rice was sent along, a vat of my potato soup was prepared, carrots and squash were sautéed, and our lovely compañera, Flor, brought lovely, golden flan for dessert. To round out the Oaxacan and Mexican elements, mezcal and tequila were abundantly supplied.
There was feasting, there was music, there was a general fowl and potato induced ebullience. It was thoroughly delicious. And while I miss my old traditions, family, and friends, I am very thankful for non-traditions, new friends, and to be in Mexico. (I was avoiding turning mawkish as long as possible, I swear, but I find it is inevitable when talking of Thanksgiving.)

Soup and Sniffles

2008-11-26T13:00:00.003-06:00

My boohooing the absence of Midwest seasons is over. Completely. It is 45 degrees (according to TWC) at my parents house today (feels like 35). Here, it is 70 and I'm wearing a sweater and scarf. I mean, I've always been a weenie when it comes to the cold, but this is a little much. I can even recognize that. In my defense, the locals are wearing parkas and stocking caps in the evenings. I'm starting to have panicky knots in my stomach about what 30 degrees is going to feel like in a couple of weeks. That's probably even being a bit optimistic that it will be 30 degrees. I'm consoled by the idea of my parents' fireplace, a functioning oven, and the fact that I'm planning on eating my weight in Christmas goodies, Indian, Thai, Korean, and Japanese food every single day.
My point, however, was that this past week has felt really cold. I know this probably doesn't garner much sympathy since I just said it was 70, but it has. Mwweh (that's the noise I always imagine my voice sounding like when I'm being very whiny). I also had a nasty cold that won't go away. (another Mwweeeh). Between my morgue of an apartment and the incessant whistling and rattling of failed nasal breathing, I discovered a desire to make soup. I probably can't even claim to have discovered a desire. A frigid apartment and nasal maladies are pretty much signs that soup is hunting me down.
Soup appealing to me was the glimmer in my sad mucousy week (did I mention my 16 year old dog died too? It really was a pitiful stretch). I love making soup. It has a tendency to always be exactly what you need. I can't think of another food that is quite as comforting and necessary in sad, sick times. It is one of the easiest things to mess around with, without fear of losing the delicious. No real planning and gathering the correct ingredients necessary. Look in your fridge and around your kitchen and you should be able to whip up something warm, smooth, and satisfying. Also, a delicious meal that can be cooked in a single saucepan satisfies my minimal-dish-usage quota (which gets even more strict when I'm ill). Up until last week, though, making soup in Mexico hadn't occurred to me. Not once. But now, a chill in the air and snot in my nose has put it back in my repertoire.
Potatoes were the dominant vegetable at hand, so potato soup it was. Nice timing too, since I started making creamy potato soups about a year ago, when my friends came to Louisville for Thanksgiving. Potato soup in bread bowls and K Cider was the welcoming meal I made in a fit of nostalgia, replicating one of our favorite meals in college. My potato soup impressed me so much, that throughout the winter, I regularly made large pots of it, varying it each time depending on what was around. So convenience and a double dose of nostalgia made this recipe, feel free to throw in some bacon, broccoli, celery, cheese, or any delicious random thing that you have lying around. Well, maybe not Krispy Kremes, save those for dessert. That would be the ultimate body and soul soothing meal, fit for the sick or wallowing.

Creamy Potato Soup
6 tablespoons of butter
6 cloves of garlic, minced
2 dried chiles de arbol*, crushed
1 medium onion, chopped
1 pound of potatoes, cubed
12 C chicken stock
2 C of carrots, sliced
2 C of zucchini, chopped
3 C milk
salt
black pepper

Melt 4 Tbsp of butter in a large heavy saucepan over low heat. Add the garlic, onion, and chiles. Simmer over low heat for about two minutes (make sure to keep it low so the butter doesn't burn) or until onions are translucent. Add potatoes and remaining butter. Cook for 3 minutes more over low heat. Stir to keep vegetables from burning. Add chicken stock and raise to medium-high heat.** Cover and cook until potatoes are tender, stirring occasionally. When potatoes are tender, add carrots and zuccini. Cook 5 minutes. Ladle about 4 cups of vegetables and liquid into a blender (it should be heavy on the potatoes). Puree. Return to saucepan. Reduce heat to low. Add milk. Cook until thoroughly heated or desired thickness (if you want a really thick soup you can puree more potatoes). Salt and pepper to taste. Serve with some crusty bread and white cheddar. Maybe crumble some bacon on top. Oooh yeah, bacon. Oh! And have a Happy Thanksgiving, mis estadounidenses. Safe travels! Safe gorging!

*These bitches are HOT. If you aren't a spice-monger, you may want to hold off or cut back.
Also, if you crush them by hand, don't touch your eyes for like a day. It BURNS!!!!
** This is a more expedient method, but feel free to cook over low heat for an extended period, just as long as the potatoes get cooked, it's all good.

Oscar's Grocery

2008-11-21T10:23:00.004-06:00

"Oh man, I'm soooo hungry."
"Me too. Let's get something to eat."
"Hmm. I'll go anywhere, but not Oscar's Grocery."
"Eww no. It looks sooo gross. I heard they had fingernails in their bread."
"Whoa. I heard they had boogers in their soup."
"Egh. Oh no! It looks like everything but Oscar's is closed!"
"Oh man, I'm SO hungry! What are we going to do?"
"I guess we'll have to go to Oscar's."
"Oh gross. I guess I'll get a cinnamon roll. I hope there aren't any fingernails. . ."
"Me too. Well here we go."
"Hey. . . .this is. . . .really good!"
"Oh my gosh. This is the best cinnamon roll I've ever tasted!"
"WE LOVE OSCAR'S GROCERY!"

The enchanting dialogue you have just read is a rough recreation of a game my siblings and I used to play entitled: Oscar's Grocery. We would use this role-play whenever we would have a stick of gum. We would roll the stick up so it looked like a cinnamon roll and go through all the steps until we were forced to acquiesce and buy food from Oscar's. Then we would timidly bite into our "cinnamon roll" and let the surprised delight and praise for this ill-reputed grocery spring forth. I know what you're thinking. The answer is yes. Yes, we were home-schooled.
I've always had the same Oscar's Grocery attitude towards banana-flavored things. Not with such a level of disgust that we held for Oscar's, but why would I pick banana when there were other possibilities? I like bananas and banana bread, but beyond that banana just always seemed like such a blah option to me when there are things like peaches, melons, and berries.
Over the weekend, Matthew, Allison, and I headed to the Lagunas de Chacahua. On our way we stopped for breakfast in Puerto Escondido. The restaurant had a tantalizing list of licuados.
Licuados are a blended drink of fruit, milk, and either sugar or honey to sweeten it. Occasionally they will include nuts or chocolate instead of fruit. They are similar to a smoothie, but since milk is used instead of only fruit or yogurt they are fairly thin.
I was excited for a cantaloupe licuado, but when Matthew tried to order it, the proprietress informed us that there was only banana available. Blah, I think would appropriately summarize my internal response. I've always been a supporter of bananas in smoothies where other fruits are featured, it gives a nice heft, but as a solo artist? I quickly opted for an orange juice. Matthew went ahead and got the banana licuado. Fortunately, just like in my childhood game, just because I'm not thrilled about something, doesn't mean I'm not going to try it (Not eating vs. eating--which did you think would win?). Good thing too, because the licuado was fantastic. Sweet, smooth, cold, and the banana was anything, but blah. The next day in Chacahua, Matthew's second banana licuado cemented my love of the drink. "I LOVE BANANA LICUADOS!" So at my first chance I recruited Allison (and her blender) to make my own.

Licuado de platano
This will probably make about three large servings
6 ripe bananas
3 C milk
5 Tbsp honey
1 tsp vanilla extract

Throw everything in a blender and whrrrrrr until smooth.
If you prefer things extremely cold,
throw in a cup of crushed ice. Salud.

Pizza Escondida

2008-11-18T13:17:00.006-06:00

Three day weekends. Three day weekends in Mexico. Three day weekends in Mexico during November. Three day weekends in Mexico during November at the beach. Three day weekends in Mexico during November at the beach with pizza. These are all wonderful things, but the last one is truly wonderful because of that delicious little word pizza.
You know what's bad about pizza? Nothing. You know what's bad about loving pizza and living in a small town in Mexico? A lot of things. Primarily that I don't have an oven and there are two pizza places in Miahuatlán--one is ok and the other is positively revolting. Enjoying a truly delicious pizza this past weekend was a rare and delightful pleasure.
During my weekend travels I spent Sunday afternoon through Monday morning in Puerto Escondido. The town is one of the larger (if not the largest) towns on the Oaxacan coast. It is a popular tourist destination, because of incredible surfing, bountiful nightlife, and lovely beaches. The crowd that this drew, however, at times made me feel like I was simultaneously at an extremely large frat party and Bob Marley cover band concert. Frat boys and trustifarians? What a lovely combination.
Fortunately, the blitzed and shirtless are not the only ones drawn to Puerto Escondido. The town has a large number of visitors and expats from Italy. Apparently this is partially due to a popular Italian movie Puerto Escondido. While they may be among the bare chested numbskulls I sneered at, with the Italian tourists came the Italian restaurants. So it's all right by me.
Capers, mushrooms, ham, and artichokes smothered in mozzarella sat atop a perfectly sweet and mildly vinegary tomato sauce. Oh and the crust. I am a true believer that the crust is what divides a good pizza and a great pizza. This one was great. It had that slight crackery-crispness in spots that gives way to a soft chewiness, with a nice floury feel when it first touches your mouth. Mmmm. This reminiscence will get me through another pizzaless month.
Though I haven't been able to make it here, my favorite pizza crust recipe is from one of Ina Garten's cookbooks. I think it is Barefoot Contessa: Parties. I don't have the cookbook here, but I found the recipe on the interweb and copied it for your pizzaing pleasure.

Ingredients

For the dough:

1 1/4 cups warm (100 to 110 degrees F) water
2 packages dry yeast
1 tablespoon honey
3 tablespoons good olive oil
4 cups all-purpose flour, plus extra for kneading
2 teaspoons kosher salt

Directions

For the dough, combine the water, yeast, honey, and olive oil in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a dough hook. Add 3 cups flour, then the salt, and mix. While mixing, add 1 more cup of flour, or enough to make a soft dough. Knead the dough on low to medium speed for about 10 minutes until smooth, sprinkling it with flour, if necessary, to keep it from sticking to the bowl.

When the dough is ready, turn it out onto a floured board and knead by hand a dozen times. It should be smooth and elastic. Place the dough in a well-oiled bowl and turn it several times to cover it lightly with oil. Cover the bowl with a kitchen towel. Allow the dough to rest at room temperature for 30 minutes.

Divide the dough into 6 equal parts and roll each one into a smooth ball. Place the balls on a baking sheet and cover them with a damp towel. Allow the dough to rest for 10 minutes. Use immediately, or refrigerate for up to 4 hours.

If you've chilled the dough, take it out of the refrigerator approximately 30 minutes ahead to let it come to room temperature. Roll and stretch each ball into a rough 8-inch circle and place them all on baking sheets sprinkled with cornmeal. (You will be able to fit 2 pizzas on each 18 by 13-inch baking sheet.)

Top with desired ingredients. Bake for 8-12 minutes (or until crust is golden brown) at 450 degrees. (The version I found on the internet was for grilling these bad boys, but I'm pretty sure these are the directions in the cookbook.)

These pizzas are so good. I love the size they are and playing around with different toppings for each pizza. It's a good clean out your fridge creativity exercise. Here are two of my favorite topping combinations I've created in my pizza frenzies. Throw them on in whatever proportion you see fit. Usually I use diced tomatoes, garlic, and oregano instead of pizza sauce, but again, as you like it.

Fresh Thyme
Bacon (cooked)
Potato (bake or boiled, but definitely cooked)
Mushroom
Parmesan cheese

Shredded chicken or pork
Black beans
Tomatoes
Green salsa
Mozzarella cheese

Mountain Breaktrekking

2008-11-13T11:29:00.011-06:00

The past two weeks I have been wallowing in the glories of breakfast for dinner. Eating hotcakes at the cemetery lit my fuse, and I've been churning out breakfast for dinner fairly often since. I get home from work after dark, I'm tired, I'm fairly ravenous, and breakfast at dinner time is the only thing more relaxing than having a masseuse waiting for you (or so I tell myself until I can find a masseuse to live in my apartment and wait for me). If you have eggs, potatoes, and a few staples, a delicious meal is in store for you. A thousand different possibilities await. I usually bounce between a garbagey scramble of eggs, potatoes, and whatever random goodies I have in my fridge, or soft-boiled eggs with fried potatoes on the side. Sometimes when I feel ambitious I may throw in a serving of those cornmeal hotcakes.
So in all my breakfast worship, I decided it would be nice to have a delicious breakfast in the morning (wild, I know). My schedule and propensity to sleep until the last minute make this a rarity, so last Sunday I decided to think of a special place to perpetuate my feverish consumption of breakfasty goodness.
San José del Pacifico is a small town in the mountains about an hour from Miahuatlán. It is a famous backpacker spot, because of its beautiful perch, maybe, because of its reputation as The spot for magic mushrooms, definitely. In my mind, however, it is the spot where a few weeks ago Matthew had an incredible breakfast at Comedor de Yazmin. Unfortunately, I had eaten just before heading up the mountain. I did have a taste of the deliciously simple eggs, rice, beans, and tortillas, and have been planning my ravenous return ever since.
San José del Pacifico

Sunday was the day. Matthew and I hopped on a camioneta, rode up the mountain, and disembarked, empty vessels waiting to be filled. We walked down the main road, took in the view, and walked up to a closed restaurant. YAZMIN!!!!
We found another restaurant and had a good breakfast, but it didn't satisfy me the way I imagined Comedor de Yazmin would have. So after hiking around and returning to Mia, I resorted to yet another dinner of eggs and potatoes. This time with rice and beans. Mmmm. I sort of feel foolish putting up a recipe that involves eggs and potatoes, but I will anway, just in case it gives you some kind of idea. This is my take on huevos a la mexicana, I've never seen them here with potatoes, but potatoes are so good! You will often get a side of rice, but I don't believe you can overstarch a breakfast, so do it all if you like.

Huevos a la Mexicana a la Margee

5 Tbsp olive oil
5 garlic cloves, minced
1 medium onion, chopped
1-2 jalapeños, sliced
3 medium potatoes, cubed
6 eggs
1 Tbsp milk
2 roma tomatoes, diced
1 can black beans
corn tortillas
Salt

Heat olive oil in medium skillet over low heat. Add garlic, onion, and jalapeños (add as many as spiciness dictates and include seeds), sauté for 2 minutes. Add potatoes and raise heat to medium. Cook potatoes until tender and golden or to your desired crispiness. You may need to add more oil as they cook, but don't overdo it, because the eggs will go in the same skillet. Crack eggs in a bowl and use a fork to whisk with the milk. Add tomatoes to eggs. When potatoes are finished, turn burner to low and pour egg mixture over potatoes. Flip mixture as needed to cook evenly. Rinse black beans and warm in separate saucepan. In a separate skillet, warm corn tortillas over medium-high heat. Serve eggs with beans and tortillas on the side. Salt as desired. Serve with salsa and Valentina. Eat. Go hiking.

Hotcakes para Los Muertos

2008-11-03T12:33:00.019-06:00

I've been floundering.
Last weekend was Dia de Los Muertos and it was incredible. I've been grappling with how and what to write all week.

Should I focus on all the food I ate? Can I even remember all the food I ate? What about all the crazy things I saw? What about the incredible art and costumes? What about the more serious and touching aspects of the holiday? What about the holiday itself? How can I blend all of these and throw out a delicious recipe with my usual charm and wit?

On top of these downward-spiraling questions, I was feeling especially Un-charming and witless this week. I was struck with a serious bout of food poisoning Monday, amidst a review I was holding for the first major English exams (don't worry, this isn't going to be another long, drawn-out puking story, but I am considering renaming my blog "Vomiting through Oaxaca"). So recovery and examinating Oaxaca's youths has absorbed me.

But now, dear friends and family, it is Friday. I am finished with preparing, giving, stressing, and grading and have tested the strength of my stomach with one of Miahuatlán's finest hamburguesas. I feel good.

So back to El Dia. I spent the weekend in Oaxaca city with Matthew and two of his good friends (or Canadian reprobates as he's fond of calling them). It was one of those weekends that was so active that on Monday things I did Friday felt like they happened weeks ago.

The city was wild. Altars with food, drinks, photos, flowers, and many other things to commemorate the deceased, were everywhere (ofrendas is the name, I think). Sand paintings of skeletons and saints decorated with marigolds lined the streets and sidewalks. Children dressed as dead brides and devils paraded through the colonial streets and graveyards. Families visited cemeteries and held gatherings. It was such an amazing combination of these very touching memorials, these intricate and temporary religious pieces, and a crazy celebration.

My head is reeling as I try to describe and include all the various activities and eats, so here are some photos to help me clarify how incredible it all was.

Sand-painting about to be tromped by
a parade of little dead brides and devils

Flores. Flores para los muertos!!!

Pan de muerto
There were all kinds. Huge loaves, loaves shaped like bodies, but they all had these little heads in them (representing the dead) and are a little sweet and flavored with anise.

In the evenings we ventured to the Panteon General (the main cemetery in Oaxaca). Outside was like a carnival, street food, games, etc. Inside was very solemn with more altars, sand paintings, and an amazing choir and string ensemble. Everything was lit by candles placed in the niches along the wall--which were graves too. We listened to the music and walked around the cemetery.

Outside, we played some games and ate a bunch of food. Including some not very delicious yellow mole and some very delicious mini hotcakes with honey and cajeta (or as I like to call it--goat caramel.) The night was pretty cold and these babies were soft, warm, and sweet--and they were little, silver dollars always taste better to me.

I remembered how awesome hotcakes can be. I generally am a savory breakfast girl and I always get annoyed at how soon I'm hungry again if I make a meal of hotcakes (damn empty carbs). As an evening snack, dessert, or an accompaniment to eggs--well, then I'm down with the hc's.

I was originally thinking I would try my hand at a traditional food associated with dia de los muertos, like tamales, hot chocolate, or a mole. But I have hotcakes on the brain. So I decided to take elements from the tamales and hot chocolate traditions and work these into some hotcakes.

Cornmeal hotcakes with Chocolate and bananas
I was originally going to make these monday, but because of my incapacitation (wheee...bleh) and exam craziness, I have yet to make them. I'm aiming for tonight, so this is a recipe in the raw...vaya con dios

3/4 C Flour
1/2 C Cornmeal
1 1/2 tsp Baking Powder
1/2 tsp Baking Soda
2 Tbsp Sugar
1/4 tsp Salt
1/4 tsp Cinnamon
2 Eggs
3/4 C Milk
4 Tbsp Butter (for frying)
Nutella*
Bananas

Mix all ingredients except for the butter, Nutella, and bananas. Heat griddle over medium-low heat. Melt two tablespoons of butter in griddle. Spoon batter (about two tablespoons per cake, really as big or little as you like) onto griddle. Fry about 2 minutes per side or until golden brown and puffed. Top with Nutella and bananas to your specific whim. Feast.

*I was planning on concocting a chocolate syrup with some of the spiced elements of my hot chocolate recipe, but Nutella is so wonderful, why overcomplicate things?

I made them! They were delicious!
Check the consistency--you may need to add a little more milk.

Windy Roads and Ceviche

2008-10-27T12:53:00.009-06:00

My alarm-rooster crowed at 6:00 on Saturday morning. This time, however, I didn't want to cut of its non-existent head and stew it. I was happy to get up and be on my way. A weekend on the beach was only a few hours away!

Miahuatlán is only about a 3.5-4 hour bus ride away from Pochutla which is the launch pad of sorts to get to a number of Oaxaca's insanely beautiful beaches. This past weekend, with the majority of Miahuatlán's güeros (also known as my coworkers: Matthew, Erica, and Allison), I hopped on the 7:00 a.m. bus and set of for San Agustinillo.

As the bus curved, ascended, descended, curved, curved, ascended, braked for some goats, and curved through the mountains my excitement mounted, but so did something else.

As we wound our way toward the sea, my stomach and a sweaty fear wound about inside of me. I was going to be sick. As much as I had been denying it to myself during the ride (I don't get car sick. I just haven't eaten enough yet. I've done this trip several times before. . .), it eventually made an inarguable case. The curved roads, mango nectar, and stars all aligned against me and I vommed in a bag (wheeeeeee. . .teh, teh).

Getting sick is gross. Getting sick while using public transportation in the mountains where you can't really stop and so you hold a bag of partially processed mango nectar and stomach acid in your hands while you are afraid you might spill it on yourself or someone sitting next to you and realizing you still have an hour more to go before you will stop is Really, REALLY gross. Believe me. Even with all this, the most devastating thought running through my head was that I wouldn't be able to eat ceviche.

Ceviche is a dish where some type of fish (around here usually tuna or some other white fish) is cured in lime juice, mixed with tomatoes, onions, peppers, topped with avocados and served cold.

It's almost like a fish salsa, you even eat it with crisp tostadas. You can also find ceviche with shrimp or octopus, but Ceviche de pescado (with fish) has won my heart and stomach.

Every time Matthew and I have gone to the beach, we have eaten ceviche. It's kind of become a mission to eat it at as many different places as possible and then compare them--the one in Puerto Angel is sweeter than the one in Mazunte. Don't get it at Tanya's, it isn't very good...etc. It's perfect to have such a filling and refreshingly cool dish after being in the sun all day. All these things rushed through my mind just after getting sick and made me feel worse, much worse.

Well, I made it to Pochutla without further incident. Shortly after getting of the bus I drank a 7up (nectar of the wretched), ate a nice, safe chicken breast, and I was healed. We found a fantastic hotel in San Agustinillo, swam and swam and swam, I tried some of Erica's ceviche there, and had my own on the beach in Zipolite for dinner. It was my favorite so far.

Just because you might not live close to the beach--don't despair! I found a ceviche recipe on Epicurious that sounds fantastic. They add corn, sweet potatoes, and yuca, which sounds really good, but isn't necessary. I would probably leave these three out and add some diced tomatoes. Actually, for those of you who have access to my mom's salsa, I would cure the fish like they recommend (and make sure it's a very high quality fresh fish at that) and mix it with my mom's salsa(or some other high quality salsa). Then enjoy with some corn chips or tostadas! I found a recipe on Food and Wine that more closely resembles the ceviche I've enjoyed here on the lovely Oaxacan coast.
To health! To Ceviche!
To segueing a puke-story into a ceviche recipe!
Enjoy :)

Con Todo

2008-10-21T13:08:00.004-05:00

"¿Con todo?" is a question I have developed a whole new level of understanding and appreciation for as I begin my journey into the world of Mexican street food.

It first started when Matthew persuaded me to try one of Miahuatlán's hamburger monstrosities. Believe me, monstrosity is the only just description. A hamburger con todo, began as a thin beef patty, but soon jalapeños were sizzling, queso Oaxaca and a yellow cheese were melting together, a slice of bologna was frying with the cheese, this mess was placed on the patty followed by a hot dog (which I believe was wrapped with some sort of bacon), jalapeños, onions, tomatoes, lettuce and the hamburger's holy trinity of sauces (catsup, mayo, mustard) also managed to perch themselves atop the jumble and ta-dah.

Watching this was a definite mix of horror and pleasure, but knowing Matthew had survived an earlier meaty liaison boosted my confidence in my ability to successfully digest this amalgam of questionable beef and pork parts. It was startlingly fantastic. Matthew stated it well when he said, "I didn't even think I liked hot-dogs, until I had one on a hamburger." I wish I could Fed-Ex you one.

My second "con todo" encounter was with an elote. An elote is essentially roasted corn on the cob on a stick. An elote con todo is essentially the acid-dropping uncle of corn on the cob on a stick.

The elotera didn't think I knew what I was getting myself into. After every ingredient she would repeat the query, "¿Con todo?" with raised eyebrows and would only continue after I had assured her "Si, con todo."

The corn was rubbed with lime juice, thickly spread with mayonnaise, salted, rolled in queso fresco, sprinkled with chili powder, drizzled with several kinds of hot sauces and handed over with a wary smile. Again, fantastic and I'm not really a fan of mayonnaise.

I think my next stop will be papas francesas con todo. I'm not exactly venturing into the unknown with that one (I've been told it includes catsup, hot sauces, mayonnaise, cheese sauce, and mystery white sauce), but even if I was, I can't foresee the day when I'll reply negatively to a "¿Con todo?"

Now, I don't have recipes for any of these, the ease and extremely low cost make any desire for me to replicate it seem foolish and strenuous. If you are feeling like a total insaniac and want to do it yourself, good luck and let me know how it turns out.

Big Yellow Fall

2008-10-15T12:38:00.013-05:00

Winter temperatures this year will be in the 70s for me. I will go to the beach in January. It will not snow, it will not ice, Mexico is very nice.

I keep repeating things of this nature as I mope over lovely fall foliage pictures and mental whiffs of baking from the sweet Midwest. It is a pretty good consolation, but I'm not easily convinced. I think when I come home for an Iowa Christmas I will be fully (Pain-fully) convinced, but until then I'll probably pout a little longer.

Recently, I've been thinking a lot of the trees and baking I've enjoyed during past falls in the Midwest, Louisville (if you consider it the Midwest) in particular. Louisville has gorgeous fall colors and I had the most gorgeous little kitchen (that included an oven) while I was there. It is kind of like pushing a bruise--it hurts to keep messing with it, but it's oddly satisfying, so I'll keep pressing.

I've been reveling in a destructive daydream where I walk around Old Louisville and Cherokee park before going home and warming up by making a dinner of acorn squash with lots of butter and brown sugar, wild rice, and chicken with a lemony-dijon sauce. I accompany this with a bourbon barrel stout from BBC or a Schlafly coffee stout, and finish with a warm pan of apple crisp. Now, I am sorry, my Louisvillians, because I never made you a meal as seasonally delicious as this one. Don't, however, let my absence stop you and I won't let the lack of fiery trees and an oven stop me.

My desire for fall and baking has been manifesting itself into refrains of "Big Yellow Taxi" (Joni was talking about not appreciating fall and ovens enough, right?) and lots and lots of applesauce. It's a nice stove-top substitute for my favorite baked dessert, my great grandma's apple crisp. It also keeps well, is delicious cold, and tossed with some granola has a nice crunch like the apple crisp. Add a little plain yogurt or milk (if you have something other than the weird irradiated box kind) and granola for a substantial breakfast.

Now, I don't really have an exact recipe for this, my cooking style is as disheveled as my person, so take my instructions loosely and see how you like it. I like to put in any number of spices with the apples, pretty much anything that smells like it would be in pumpkin pie or a strongly scented candle called "Autumn" will be good. I've been using these little things called 'pimientas negras' that I thought were black peppercorns, but taste like cloves.

Applesauce
2 lbs of apples (preferably a tart apple like Jonathans)*
1/2 C of sugar
1 C of water or brewed chamomile tea
2 Tbsp cinnamon
1 tsp ginger
1tsp cloves

If you want the apples to really break down and be more of a traditional applesauce you will need to peel them. I prefer them chunky and with skins.
Quarter the apples and remove stem and seeds. Chop into quarter sized chunks. Toss in saucepan with sugar, water or tea, and spices. Cook over medium-low heat until desired tenderness.

*If you don't have tart apples around add a couple splashes of orange juice.

Also, for you of the oven-elite, here is my great grandma's apple crisp recipe.
Grandma Dorothy's Apple Crisp
4 C sliced apples (I use more and a tart apple is best here too)

1 C sugar

2 T flour

1/4 t cinnamon ( I use more)

1/4 t nutmeg (random combinations of the aforementioned spices would fit well in this recipe)

dash of salt

Mix and place in greased 9x9

Topping

1/2 C brown sugar

1/2 C oatmeal

1/2 C flour

1/2 C butter

Mix till crumbly, place on top of apples, bake at 350 for 30-40min. So easy, so delicious!

And for some more delicious fall recipes for the oven-blessed, my friend Jess has you covered.
Shoo de dooo dooo bop bop bop...

Chocolate Saves the Day....Always

2008-10-10T17:00:00.008-05:00

Blonde hair, blue eyes, general stubbiness of figure, and a propensity for hypochondria are a few things I have received through genetics. Love of dark, hot, delicious, bold, black coffee is among those things as well.

Any family gathering, the tea kettle is constantly whistling to keep the coffee flowing. It is hot, taken black, and consumed at an alarming rate. For the record there are a couple (married in--I'm just sayin') who take it with cream and sugar. Nonetheless, they enjoy a fine cup of coffee.

Prior to coming to Mexico I would look at one of those little maps with the symbols for different regional products and salivate over all the little coffees dotting Oaxaca. I was going to be close to some prime coffee dots and enjoy every minute of it.

Devastation, thy name is Nescafé. It's practically flowing in the streets, with lots and lots of sugar. Belh. It's like it had a hostile take over and forced all real coffees out. All those delicious coffee symbols I dreamt about are not being sold or drunk here, but, you, my friends to the north, are apparently getting it all. So enjoy it, please, because I am not.

Amidst my struggles with all the sweet, hot sewage around (and the pounding headache I get if I avoid it), I have found something sweet and hot that has salvaged my faith in Mexico's hot beverages. Maybe even salvaged my faith in Mexico. Hot chocolate. Please don't insult this hot chocolate by picturing that powder with the bunny. The chocolate here is real chocolate with hints of nuts and cinnamon.

Mayordomo, a little chocolate shop here, has a variety of chocolate mixed with vanilla, almonds, cinnamon, hazelnuts or combinations of several of these and it is delicious. It comes in little squares and looks like a gritty Hershey's bar that you plop right into some milk, heat, stir and enjoy.

Nothing can beat a hot chocolate like this on a chilly, rainy day.
For those of you who don't have the luxury of a Mayordomo, I've tried to come up with a delicious substitute based on chocolate daydreams and a recipe from Bon Appetit, March 2004.

6 cups of milk (the fattier the better)
7 cinnamon sticks, broken
3/4 C packed brown sugar
1/2 C unsweetened cocoa powder
3/4 tsp vanilla or almond extract

Combine milk, cinnamon, and sugar in a medium saucepan, simmer over low heat, stirring until sugar dissolves. Remove from heat, discard cinnamon sticks, add cocoa and extract of your choice. Return to low heat and simmer. Stir until blended. Serves six or one with a large thirst for chocolate and a rainy afternoon to kill.

Bon Appetit calls for a lot more spices (cardamom, cloves, nutmeg...) and has you steep them in the milk for 20 minutes before adding the cocoa. I prefer a simpler more instantly gratifying approach, but alter it as your patience and spiciness demands. I'm a firm believer in altering everything to your own taste, so play around with it. I think it would be delicious with a little cayenne pepper.

If you happen to be in a bout of significant laziness, heat some milk and throw in a quality chocolate bar. Green and Black's Organics make one called "Mayan Gold" that has a strong chocolate percentage and hints of cinnamon and orange. Mmm.

One last chocolate-related item: There is a contest, "The Chocolate Adventure Contest," where you make up a recipe with Scharffen Berger chocolate and an "Adventure Ingredient." It's pretty fun to brainstorm and come up with different stuff and you may just win $5000. So if you don't have a large tin of cocoa around the house, you better get to the store.

Breakfast....¿Donde estas?

2008-10-02T09:54:00.007-05:00

When I began working at the university, every morning at 10 o'clock my fellow güeros and I would go have breakfast (classes hadn't and haven't started yet).

For 19 pesos (roughly 1.75) you could get chillaquilles, enchiladas verdes, or a rotation of other possibilities, a pastry, and coffee (very sweet, but hot and caffeinated).

Now, in the name of cost cutting, our friendly breakfast couple is gone and replaced by a soulless buffet line where not even the coffee is hot. So now it is 10 o'clock, I'm not enjoying chillaquilles, my stomach is growling, and I have 4 hours until lunch, but here are some photos that remind me what breakfast should be, so I don't break down and give in to the slop.

Live to Eat

2008-10-01T09:33:00.004-05:00

Any day, whether a generally recognized holiday, family event, or a day when a few of us have some free time together, serves as an excuse for my family to have a party. Regardless of something or nothing being celebrated the basic formula remains the same.

1.Planning and discussing what will be eaten and drunk and combing through cookbooks, pantries, and liquor cabinets are half the reason we have parties at all. This could start days, weeks, or months in advance to maximize party-planning enjoyment (my sister and I have already started planning our 3rd annual pre-Christmas International Dinner)

2. During the actual event the food being eaten, food eaten in the past, and food eaten around the world are wedged at the top of our conversational hierarchy. Future parties are planned, familial culinary successes lauded, and outsiders culinary shortcomings paraded.

3. Traveling also holds an elite rank among topics. Stories, photos, and maps are often passed around to relate a recent trip or clear up a dispute over some geographic locale. Traveling is also a particularly important topic as it nicely intertwines with and segues into food discussions (see# 2).

4. The final element in all this is the frenetic level at which it is all done. Ranting, yelling, and hurriedly finishing the meal 10 minutes after everyone has arrived are not stressful elements, but adrenaline, diversion, and home.

Since I'm living in Oaxaca and away from the happy tumult, I'm hoping to enjoy it vicariously via blog. So Ill be filling my fam (and other interested parties) in on my eats and travels until I can do it in person. Maybe I can figure out how to play some Ramones or a track of jungle squawkings to give an idea of the noise level too.