A little more exotic than what I’ll find at the Farmer’s market (though they abound in Chinatown), pitayas or dragon fruit got the “it girl” treatment by the New York Times. Café Bustelo is up for most popular now that the family owned company was bought by Smuckers for $360 million. Mexican cuisine of course has always been wildly popular but the prestige is catching up since its designation by UNESCO as Intangible Cultural Heritage. Mexico City’s Pujol made the S.Pellegrino World’s 50 Best Restaurants list, Calendelaria, a new taqueria, opened in Paris (allegedly its first though I find it hard to believe), and the number of Latin restaurants in London are rising to keep pace with a growing demographic from South America.

Though school is out, I love flagging how to’s (since by the time I need to look for one it’s too late) and the Kitchn posted a great guide to grilling featuring Lourdes Castro, who’s book Latin Grilling: Recipes to Share, from Patagonian Asado to Yucatecan Barbecue and More   just came out. This month I was contributed my own how-to on Devour the Blog when I made Salvadoran pupusas. I got to duck behind the stand at Soler Pupusas for my lesson and I look forward to seeing them again at their new Smorgasburg location. Finally, in a shark jumping move for magazine coverage of el bulli’s closing, Esquire Spain created a scratch and sniff logo for their Ferran Adrià cover.

I still remember going to see it with my sister and our two best friends.  Spending a spring break day in Coconut Grove at what we thought of as an art house theater, mostly because they played Almodóvar movies to packed audiences and French movies to half empty ones, we were all waiting to hear from colleges in New York (I got my acceptance that afternoon making the day that much more vivid).  It was also the first wide release we’d seen from Mexico so it satisfied our yearning for suburban bohemia until we could get to the real thing.

Won over by the beautiful story, beautiful Italian actor from Cinema Paradiso,  and beautiful food, it became one of our favorites.  Tita, Rosaura, Gertrudis, and Chencha translated into half-serious shorthand for each other when we were being self consciously noble, uncharacteristically vindictive, fiery and up for anything, or cheery beyond all reason.

Of course in a film full of swoon worthy food, the scene where she cooks with rose petals is the swooniest.  Reading over Laura Esquivel’s novel and some of the ingredients she listed – roses (preferably red), anise, honey – I had something sweet in mind and decided to make arroz con leche.  After adding the ground anise and letting is cool, I set out a few different toppings to try every possible combination – from chestnut honey to diced pitaya – the blank slate of rose infused pudding  mingling beautifully with anything I wanted to add, depending on who I felt like being just then.

Arroz con Leche y Rosas/Rose Rice Pudding
I love adding rosewater to desserts but I’m always wary – too little and it’ll be overpowered, too much and it will taste like perfume.  I made a bouquet garni (favorite new cooking term) dried rosebuds and added it to the rice and water while it boiled then removing it before adding milk, sugar and lemon zest.  Though I didn’t realize at the time, rose pudding is actually a Persian dessert called sheer berenj, seasoned with cardamon and chopped pistachios,  so I set those out as well.

1 cup medium or short grain white rice, well rinsed.
2 cups water
¼ cup dried rosebuds
4 cups of whole milk
Grated zest of one lemon
¾ cups of sugar
¼ teaspoon ground anise
1-2 tablespoons rose water (optional)

Optional toppings:

Chopped pistachios
Toasted almonds
Roasted chestnuts
Honey
Ground Cinnamon
Cumbled Maria crackers

Wrap dried rosebuds in small square of cheese cloth tightly gathered and tied together with kitchen twine, alternately use a sachet or tea strainer.  Add to large sauce pan with water and rice.  Bring to a high simmer over medium heat.  Stir occasionally until most of the water is evaporated, about 5-8 minutes.

Carefully remove the rosebuds and add the milk and lemon zest.  Return to a high simmer, stirring constantly.  Stir in the sugar.  Reduce heat to medium low.  Watch closely, stirring occasionally so that the rice does not stick to the bottom of the pan.  Continue cook until the rice is tender, 20-30 minutes.*

When the rice reaches the desired consistency, remove from heat.  Pour into a large mixing or serving bowl and stir in the ground anise and additional rose water if using.  Set aside to cool, serve warm or chilled with toasted nuts, honey, crushed cookies or cinnamon.

Notes:
*The arroz con leche will thicken slightly as it cools.  I err on the side of removing it soon because I prefer a looser pudding.  If it gets too thick, you can always stir in a little more milk at the end to reach the desired consistency.
**If storing for later consumption, press a piece of plastic wrap against the surface to prevent a skin from forming.

After a few days in this in-between state, it’s soothing to come across any one thing that’s consistent and unchanging.  This time it was Panques de Jamaica.  Set under identical square shaped cake stands, guarding the windows of Miami’s coffee kiosks, it couldn’t be more fitting that their logo is a rooster.  Plain as madeleines but denser (and fatter), they go well with tea but are really built to stand up to a heaping café con leche.  More pound cake than muffin, with a tight even crumb, they’re topped by a smooth dome that can’t be cleanly taken apart but only pecked at like a bird.

The only nod to time passing is that they’re now sold sealed in loose plastic bags like ill fitting uniforms.  Noticing the new label, I was struck by the short, simple ingredients list that not even Michael Pollan could object to.  Having assumed that they fell into industrial Twinkie category along with everything else I used to love but have learned to fear, I felt so much affection for the tight little cakes that had held their own against the over-processed onslaught.  The “panqué legitimo” stamped at the bottom of every one sold, seemed less like a logo, and more like a creed.

Of course the illegitimate ones are great too and there are a million variations.  I loved the miniature  panquecitos that were brought to your table at Versailles if you were early enough for breakfast, one of my favorite rituals whenever I’m home.  Regardless of the hour, we were welcomed by Ernesto, the maitre’d who’d been there as long as I could remember, always perfectly pressed in a three piece suit whether it was 8AM,  8PM or 80+ degrees outside.  When he wasn’t there last year, I had the terrible feeling that something was wrong and learned he’d passed away a few months before.  I also noticed that the panquecitos never made it to the table though it only seemed right that something should be missing.  When I went back again this Christmas, they were still gone and Versailles was irrevocably different in the same way.  In the conceit that you’re hometown should stand still, Brigadoon-like when you’re not there, these two events felt somehow connected, and I couldn’t help but feel that Ernesto had taken them with him.

Panquecitos de Naranja
Adapted from Nitza Villapol’s Cocina Criolla.  Finding a recipe to follow was more difficult than I imagined.  I used to have trouble with cakes and finally found tricks and techniques to make them airy and light.  Panques on the other hand can be a little plain, dense and best the next day for dunking.    Though literally “pound cakes” with an accent, I couldn’t find any recipes that were even close to the traditional quatre-quarts proportions of 1-lb each of flour, sugar, butter, and eggs.

I made the first batch like madeleines, letting them chill a few hours to get the smooth bump, but they came out too crisp (and a little pretentious).  Trying a different recipe altogether, I carefully folded in the flour the ingredients and they were too tender, more cupcake than poundcake.

I knew that I wanted to add some orange and almond flavor and finally found a version to play with that included milk for added moisture.  The crumb was even though they didn’t quite dome as prettily as Iwould have liked.  While they were still warm, I brushed them with a quick orange glaze for additional sweetness.

4 oz. unsalted butter
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon almond extract
Freshly grated zest of one orange

2 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon kosher salt

1/3 cup whole milk
1/3 cup orange juice

For syrup:
¼ cup orange juice
¼ cup sugar

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter ½-cup muffin pan and set aside.

Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt and set aside.  Combine milk and orange juice in a small cup or bowl and set aside.

In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat butter on medium speed for one minute.  Gradually add the sugar and continue to beat on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes.  Add eggs one at a time, beating for about 30 seconds after each addition.  Beat in almond extract and orange zest.  Batter may separate.  On low speed or by hand, add flour mixture in three batches alternating with the milk mixture and ending with the flour.

Pour batter into prepared pan and bake in the middle of the oven until a tester comes out clean, about 25-30 minutes.  Remove from oven and cool on a rack for about 5 minutes.  Unmold and set upright on cooling rack.

To prepare the syrup, combine the lime juice and sugar in a small saucepan over medium heat.  Stir until sugar dissolves.  Lightly brush panques with orange syrup.

Tired of tilting windmills (or in this case ventanitas) looking for a great croqueta, I tried this version of croquetas with Gorgonzola and jamón Serrano from Cuisine à Latina.  Served with dollop of fig jam, it was a perfect balance of sweet and savory.  I love appetizers for lunch so I threw together a salad of arugula and sliced pears to have with them.  It was lovely though I missed the banter of people crowding the bakery windows, the constant whir of the espresso machine, and the pack of saltines and wedge of lime that comes with every order of croquetas, leaden or not – the cost of going it alone.

Croquetas with Blue Cheese and Jamón Serrano
This recipe is adapted from Michelle Bernstein’s Cuisine à Latina and can also be found here.  Though a little labor intensive at first, they can be made ahead and frozen so they’re prefect for parties.  I would try them with prosciutto as well.

3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium Spanish onion, diced
1/2 cup unbleached, all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1 1/2 cups whole milk
2 ounces Gorgonzola dolce or other creamy blue cheese, crumbled
1/4 pound Serrano ham, cut into thin 1/2-inch strips
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
Pinch of cayenne pepper
2 large eggs, well beaten at room temperature
1 cup dried bread crumbs
Canola oil, for deep frying

Line a baking sheet with parchment or wax paper and set aside.

Melt the butter in a heavy saucepan over medium heat.  Add the onions and sauté until soft but not browned, about 4 minutes.  Add the ham and cook about one more minute.  Add the flour and cook, stirring constantly until well incorporated, about 4 minutes.  In the meantime, gently heat the milk until hot but not boiling.  Gradually stir in the milk, turning constantly until the sauce has thickened and is pulling away from the sides of the pan.  Add the Gorgonzola and stir until its completely melted.  Season with salt, pepper and cayenne.

Pour the mixture onto the lined  baking sheet using a rubber spatula to spread evenly.  Bring to room temperature then cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until set, at least one hour.

Lay out 1/2 cup of flour, beaten eggs, and bread crumbs in separate mixing bowls.  Dust hands with flour and spoon the béchamel mixture into walnut sized pieces and roll into desired shape.  One by one, roll the croquetas in flour, then drop into egg mixture with a fork or slotted spoon, then transfer to bread crumbs.  They should be completely coated in bread crumbs or they will leak when cooked.*

Add about 3″ of oil to a large heavy skillet.  Heat over medium-high heat to 360°F.  Working in batches, carefully add the croquetas.  Gently turn until brown on all sides, about 3 minutes.  Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels or re-purposed grocery paper bags.  Return the oil to 360°F between batches.  Serve immediately.

Makes 16-20 croquetas.

*At this point, the croquetas can be frozen up to 1 month.  Arrange them on a baking sheet and freeze until firm then transfer to an airtight bag and freeze. Do not defrost before frying.

After a wonderful fall break, I thought it was appropriate to wake up my blog the same way I wake up myself – with a cortadito.  Landing in Paris was exhilarating, tinged with pink and capped with gold, the city smells like butter.  From the first moment, I wanted to go in twenty directions at once.  Exhausted but not wanting to lose the day, we went to the closest cafe for a quick lunch before heading out.  Ordering in broken French, our waiter responded in broken Spanish.  We weren’t getting very far until he hit on exactly what we were looking for – a cortado.  Relieved to be understood, I finally  felt awake.

A shot of espresso with a splash of hot milk, websites and blogs break down the rules and ratios – 1:1, 2:1-2:3, foam or no foam – but miss the point.  The milk just needs to top off the espresso so, light or dark, it’s hard to go wrong.  Known as a macchiato in Italy where it’s decorated with foamy leaves and hearts and a café noisette for its slightly nutty notes in Paris, in Miami they’re always diminutive cortaditos.

The cortaditos served at Versailles (the Miami restaurant not the palace) are my favorite.  Made with evaporated milk, it’s caramel in a cup and perfect with pastelitos in the afternoon.  That’s how I prepared it when I was finally home in Brooklyn.  Though I had walnut and pistachio baklava instead of guava pastries, the effect was the same.  Stronger than a milky cafe con leche and smoother than a café Cubano, a cortadito is just what you need, when what you need is to catch your breath.

Café Cortado

2 ounces freshly-brewed espresso
1-2 ounces steamed evaporated or whole milk
Sugar to taste

If using a stove top espresso maker, fill the lower chamber with cold water.*  Insert the funnel and fill with coffee.  Pat smooth with back of spoon to level off but do not press down.  Replace upper chamber with handle and lid and screw tightly.  Place pot over low heat.

When the coffee just starts to percolate, take the first few drops and add it to the measuring cup with a few teaspoons of sugar then beat it to form a creamy paste while the rest of the coffee percolates.  Off heat, pour in in the rest of the espresso in a steady stream and mix until well blended with the sugar emulsion.  Pour into the individual demitasse cups and add steamed evaporated or whole milk to taste.

*Many espresso makers have a line indicating the proper water level.  The water should always come below the safety valve and should not come up through the funnel when it’s replaced on the base.

When I was little, the center of the universe seemed to exist at Casablanca.  A bustling Cuban café on 8th street in the then sleepy little town of Miami.  When my grandfather took me for lunch, I loved sitting at the counter where the vinyl covered, revolving stools gave me a 360 degree view of the action.  When my parents took me at night, the same café was usually empty which gave my sister and I the odd run of the place.  We’d feed quarters into the jukebox and play Donna Summer songs as my father talked about what life would have been like/could be like for us in Cuba.  I don’t know exactly why I chose Donna Summer.  I wasn’t crazy about disco (I didn’t want to dress like a that when I grew up) but there was something about her voice that kept me coming back.  It was lonely and defiant.  It spoke of another world I couldn’t possibly understand at that age.  The boldness of it drew me in and it was endless.  Very much like the breaded steak on my plate that I always ordered for dinner.

Bistec Empanizado, a thin, pounded steak marinated in orange juice and garlic then breaded with a light layer of cracker meal, has always been my go to dish at a Cuban restaurant.  It’s served with a couple of wedges of lime and a seemingly impossible challenge: figure out where to cut into this blanket of steak that’s bigger than the plate.  I’d work my way through it by cutting into bite-size triangles as the spill from the florescent café lights would illuminate the quiet Little Havana main street like a Hopper painting.  The entire world consisted of my parents, my sister and I and Donna Summer, who sang of a life with fabulous possibilities that had to be enjoyed in its entirety because it was the last dance.  This illusion, however,  would be wiped out by the time the sun rose the next morning and we belonged to the world at large again.

It wasn’t until my early twenties that I heard the term ‘comfort food’ used.  It was always in reference to mac & cheese, mashed potatoes or french fries.  As with most things strictly American, I thought it didn’t apply to me.  That it was a catch phrase people used as an excuse to eat something they know they shouldn’t.  Every time Ana Sofia asked me what I wanted her to try for this blog, I would request Bistec Empanizado.  It’s impossible to get a good one in New York and having it once a year when I go back to Miami for Christmas hardly seems right.  But as soon as I took my first bite, I realized why I always asked for it.

I lead a pretty great and complicated life that somehow manages to work out smoothly.  I savor living in a city where every block offers you a chance for that ‘last dance’ and delivers  in the most phenomenal of ways.  But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss that sleepy Miami town, a city that no longer exists.  I miss sitting in that fluorescent lit café with Papi, Mami and Ana Sofia, feeding quarters into that jukebox, and hearing about the possibilities of the life we’ll have when we go back to Cuba, along with the echos of the sweet heartache of the life I was yet to discover here in New York.  This is the recipe lets me wrap myself in that comfortable blanket of nostalgia where I can nestle until sunrise.

Carmen Pelaez is a playwright and actor whose works include Rum & Coke, Mariposas and the Loteria Plays.

Bistec Empanizado

1 pound sirloin steak, cut into 4 pieces and pounded to a 1/4″ thick
2 garlic cloves
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup freshly squeezed orange juice
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice

1 1/2 cups cracker meal made from Cuban crackers
2 eggs, well beaten

Canola oil

Parsley, finely chopped

*Cuban or tropical crackers are available in Latin American markets and most grocery stores.  Saltines can be substituted.

Using the side of a large knife or mortar and pestle, mash the garlic to a paste with salt and pepper.  Blend in the citrus juices.  In a large glass bowl, pour marinade over steaks and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

Drain steaks well and pat dry, discarding the marinade.  Dip the steaks in the cracker meal, then the beaten eggs, then the cracker meal again, pressing the steak into meal until well coated.

In a heavy skillet, heat 2 inches of oil over medium-high heat to 375º.  Add the steaks, turning them once until they are browned, about 2 minutes on each side.

Remove from oil and drain on a rack lined with paper towels.  Serve with lime wedges and white rice.

Makes 4 servings.

Today I took my first steps in what I hope will end with the triumphant crossing New York City marathon finish line and not sleeping through the Staten Island start, crying on the 59th Street bridge, or passing out in Central Park’s closing stretch.  Looking ahead the long Saturday training runs I have planned between now and November, I decided to play around with fresh fruit batidos (also known licuados or preparados depending on the accent).

Well before Jamba Juice took over the planet, Miami was dotted with fruit stands selling mango, mamey, papaya, guanabana, and coconut shakes and juices – sometimes from a brightly painted wooden stand, sometimes from a re-purposed grocery cart, sometimes from a well-rigged bicycle.  A cross between a fruit smoothie and icy shake, typical Cuban add-ins include whole milk, ice cream, condensed milk, sugar and even cream cheese.  The last time I visited my favorite batido stand, I ventured to ask the woman working the counter how much sugar they used.  She gave me a look that asked plainly, “what would you like to hear?”  To make sure that the fruit in my smoothie isn’t overpowered by sweeteners, I swapped the ice cream for kefir, a milk drink similar to yogurt that’s also recommended for post-run recovery.  Having recently dreamt that my favorite bodega was shut down (obsessive I know but a pretty common anxiety in gentrified Brooklyn), I ran over to grab my favorite tropical fruit purees and pulp.  Normally, I try to use fresh fruit, but in this case the colder the better.  I also doubled up on the fruit to balance out the tartness of the kefir and substituted honey or agave for the sugar.  There are still a million variations to try but the summer’s only just started and I have a lot of miles to go.

Batido de Mango
Finding good tropical fruit can be a challenge in New York.  I’ve been pretty lucky with mangoes so far this season so I use fresh ones to make this shake whenever possible.

2 cups mango chunks, fresh or frozen
1 cup plain kefir (or plain yogurt)
1 cup crushed ice
Honey or agave to taste

Add ice to blender, and pulse a few seconds at a time until well chopped.  Add the mango and kefir and blend until smooth.  Add honey or agave to taste.

Makes 2 servings.

Batido de Papaya
I’ve been looking for a way to add papaya to my diet and this worked well.

Substitute 2 cups of papaya for the mango in the above recipe.

Makes 2 servings.

Batido de Mora
I wanted to include a recipe for blackberries which are starting to appear at the farmer’s markets.  I love the combination of blackberries and orange juice but threw in the banana at the last minute for a creamier texture.  The blackberry juice can be strained to pull out the seeds but I like to leave them in.

1 cup fresh blackberries
1/4 cup orange juice
1/2 cup plain kefir (or plain yogurt)
1/2 banana (optional)
Honey or agave to taste

Using a blender, combine the blackberries and orange juice and process until smooth.  Strain seeds if needed and return to blender.  Add the kefir and banana if using and blend until smooth.  Add honey or agave to taste.

Makes 2 servings.

Before the official start of  summer’s grilling, beaching, hazy half days, I wanted to thank everyone who’s been reading and commenting with my first cookbook giveaway.  Since its release last year, Michelle Bernstein’s Cuisine à Latina has become one of my favorites.  Raised in Miami by her food-loving Argentinian and Jewish family , she’s become known for the contemporary Latin cuisine with Spanish, South American, Caribbean and Mexican accents that she serves at Michy’s and Sra. Martinez in Miami and Palm Beach’s MB.  The book is full of great recipes to make at home for anyone who’s home is always elsewhere.  To win a copy, let me know what dish your most looking forward to having this summer.  Leave a comment here (one entry per person) between today and June 4th midnight (EST) when I’ll pick a winner at random.

I couldn’t think of  a better way to celebrate my 200th post than with a game of dominoes.  Growing up Cuban, we loved playing dominoes when we were kids.  Our grandparents were happy to have us quiet and entertained for a couple of hours and we were happy to swirl the clacking tiles around the table, dunking oreos in milk between matches, and enjoying the late of hours of a Sunday afternoon.  Then we got older and everything changed. No longer at the kids table, we might venture into a vacant chair after dinner or during a family vacation to play with los viejos, but it was a different story.  Trying to keep up, you may set your piece down but lived in fear of “the look” from your partner across the table (the one who got stuck with you).  A look that asked why, oh why would you put that piece down?  Not one for strategic thinking, I never had an answer.  The other team would laugh and reap whatever reward your mistake allowed.  The game was the same but the expectations were higher.

This past Christmas, I took my place at the dominoes table once again.  I’d traded my milk for wine but still liked swirling the tiles, the moment when one game is over and another is starting, and loved being in the game.  Newly obsessed, when a friend asked me to make a cake for his partner’s birthday a few weeks ago,  the elegant black and white cake with three layers of pastry cream I’d planned, went square and turned into a domino.  Past the age where you can celebrate staring 40+ candles in the face, I thought it would be a fun way to hide his true age in plain sight.  One cake would have been too obvious so it became three  — would he be turning 24 or 42, 27 or 73, 35 or 54?

After that, I couldn’t resist going for a whole set of double-6, this time petits fours with guava filling and a lime glaze.  Set on frilly cupcake liners they can glide across the table for a quick game.  I wouldn’t suggest rapping them twice to skip a turn, flicking them across to your partner to set down for you, or slamming them on the table when you have “domino!”, but whatever tiles your left with, you can eat.  My dominoes, my rules.

When I decided to take a break last week, I wasn’t sure if my 200th post should come just before or just after.  Is it the end of the round or another just beginning?  Going through my site this past week, I still didn’t detect a strategy but could definitely see how one post lead to another and another.  I’m looking forward to the next hundred and hope you’ll keep reading and commenting because I’m still very, very hungry.

Guava Petits Fours with Lime Glaze
This recipe started with Dorie Greenspan’s Black & White cake from Baking: From My Home To Yours, one of my favorites, so I adapted part of it for the cake layers.  I was just short of my usual cake flour and used an unbleached King Arthur cake flour for the first time.  While regular cake flour promises a finer texture, I found this cake just as light and I loved that it didn’t have the metallic, chemical scent of bleached cake flour.  I’ve noticed that more stores are carrying it, and it’s definitely worth trying.

2 cups cake flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 sticks (10 tablespoons) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup sugar
3 large eggs
1 egg yolk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Zest of one lime
3/4 cup buttermilk

Filling:
1 cup guava preserves

Syrup and glaze:
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup lime juice
Zest of one lime (optional)
1 cup confectioner’s sugar

Black gel paste for decoration

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter a 9-x-13 sheet pan with butter and dust inside with flour, shaking out the excess.  Line with parchment paper and set aside.

Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat together butter on medium speed for one minute.  Gradually add the sugar and continue to beat on medium-high speed till light and fluffy, about 5 minutes.  Add eggs and yolk one at a time, beating for about 30 seconds after each addition.  Beat in vanilla and lime zest.  Batter may separate.  On low speed or by hand, add flour mixture in three batches alternating with the buttermilk and ending with the flour.  Do not over mix.*

Pour batter into sheet pan and bake in a the middle of the oven until a tester comes out clean, about 25 minutes.  Remove from oven and cool on a rack for about 5 minutes.  Unmold and set upright on cooling rack until room temperature.**

Heat guava preserves over medium heat until smooth and spreadable, about 5 minutes.  Remove from heat and set aside to cool.

To prepare the syrup, combine the lime juice and sugar in a small saucepan over medium heat.  Stir until sugar dissolves.  Add zest if using and set aside to cool.

Using a long serrated knife, slice cake in half horizontally.  Set aside top layer.  Lightly brush bottom layer, cut side-up with lemon syrup.  (Use syrup sparsely, no more than 2 tablespoons).  Cover cake with cooled guava preserves and top with remaining layer, cut-side down.

Sift confectioner’s sugar into bowl.  Strain remaining syrup into confectioner’s sugar and beat on low speed until smooth.  Set apart 1/4 cup of the glaze.  Ice cake with remaining glaze and allow to set for 20 minutes.  Using a serrated knife, carefully trim ends from cake and cut into even squares.

Add gel coloring, no more than one drop at a time, to remaining glaze until desired shade.  Using a pastry bag fitted with a small tube attachment, pipe black icing onto cut squares to make dominoes.

Keep decorated petits fours refrigerated.  Take out about 20 minutes before ready to serve.

Makes 28-32 petits fours.

Notes:
*I usually fold in the dry/wet ingredients by hand then mix on low speed for a few seconds until just combined.
**At this point, the cake can be well covered in plastic wrap and frozen until ready to use.