Taken from a collection of Puerto Rican recipes my cousin had sent me a couple of months ago, it satisfied both my craving for a wintry stew and a little preview of spring.  Defying my own resolution to stay off the ice and close to home, I ventured out to Essex Market on the lower east side for a few key ingredients, questioning my sanity the entire way there.  I felt justified as soon as I saw the heaping bags of achiote seeds, newly packed white beans and fresh culantro.  Of course, I could have easily substituted cilantro but I wasn’t in a compromising mood.

Having only recently discovered ají dulce, a staple of Puerto Rican sofrito and recaito, and wanted to use it again.   Shaped like habaneros but mild and sweet, I love the fruity quality they add to the usual bell pepper and onion mix.  I only regret not buying more.  After a few online searches, I’ve found that culantro can be processed with a little olive oil then frozen and ají dulce can be seeded, chopped and frozen for later use as well.  I’ll have to test it out to see if the flavor diminishes but at the very least it might tide me over till I can have the real thing.

Habichuelas Blancas Guisadas/White Bean Stew
Adapted from Cocine Conmigo by Dora R. De Romano.  I found contradictory advice on whether or not the beans had to be soaked overnight.  The original recipe didn’t require any soaking at all.  I always prefer dried beans to canned so I wanted to see if these were a viable option for last minute stews.  I didn’t soak them and they cooked only too quickly (less than 45 minutes).  They would have been perfectly tender if I didn’t have to then cook them for an additional 20 or so minutes with the sofrito.  I saved the first batch for for salads and boiled second batch of beans.  This time I watched them closely and took them off the heat just before they’d completely cooked through.

The original recipe called for lard or oil flavored with achtiote or annatto seeds.  I used this fast and simple method for making annatto oil.  Anatto seeds can be found in specialty stores or Latin American markets.  Just as a comparison, next time I’ll extra virgin olive oil the sofrito and add a big pinch of saffron to the stew instead.  Chorizo or linguiça can also be added in place of or addition to the cooking ham.

½ pound habichuelas blancas (also known as judias blancas or navy, great northern, or white kidney beans)
2 tablespoons achiote/annatto oil
3 oz. cooking ham, cubed

1 green bell pepper, diced

3 ajíes dulces, seeded and diced
1 medium onion, diced

2 plum tomatoes, seeded and diced
¼ cup tomato puree
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and mashed to a paste

4 oz. calabaza or butternut squash, cubed
4 leaves culantro (cilantro)
½ tablespoon sea salt

Rinse beans well in cold water.  In a large heavy pot, combine the beans and 1 ½ litres of water.*  Bring to a boil then reduce heat to medium-low to maintain a gentle simmer and cover.  Cover and cook checking regularly until almost tender but still firm, about 30 minutes.  Remove from heat and drain all but 2 cups of the cooking water.

While the beans cook, combine chopped bell pepper, aji dulce, onion, tomatoes in a bowl and mix well.  To make the sofrito, heat annatto oil in a large pan over medium heat.  Add ham and saute until lightly browned, about 2-3 minutes.  Add pepper mixture, tomato puree, mashed garlic sautee until peppers are soft, about 3-5 minutes.

Add the sofrito mixture to the beans.  Add the calabaza, culantro and salt and return to a high simmer.  Cover and cook over medium low heat until the beans are completely tender and the calabaza is cooked through, about 20-30 minutes depending on how thick you would like the soup to be.  Adjust seasoning to taste and serve.

*The beans should be smooth and firm.  They may shrivel immediately after adding the water but will plump up again after a few minutes of cooking.

I realized today that it was August, not that it was much of a secret.  I had a hint of it last week when I went to the farmer’s market to stock up on fruit and there were no peaches anywhere.  I’m sure there will be plenty in the weeks to come, but it was the first sign that end of summer was in sight.  Summer Streets, the three days in August where the city closes Park Avenue to cars and opens it to just about everything else has become my end of summer consolation. From the Brooklyn Bridge to Central Park, there’s running, biking, picnics, dancing, tennis, music and – new this year – dumpster swimming pools (looks like fun but I just can’t).  I’m always amazed at how different the city looks from the one place you’re always told never to be – the middle of the street.

A few weeks ago, a friend gave me a list of Puerto Rican classics to try that included asopao de pollo.  As she described it, it’s a Puerto Rican risotto that’s not quite soup and not quite stew.  My soups often go to gumbo by mistake so I was curious to know what would happen if I made it that way by design.  At Jennifer’s suggestion, I checked my Puerto Rican Cookery book first.  I realized after additional searches that there were thousands of recipes for asopao, a one-pot, comfort food solution for family dinners and leftovers.  After reading them over, I finally circled back to Carmen Aboy Valldejuli.

One reason I chose Valldejuli’s version, is that she recommends making your own chicken broth.  Actually, she doesn’t recommend it, she just lists it in the recipe as a matter of course.  Throw in the neck, save the giblets, get it to a boil, add the broth.  I realized that I’d been taking the easy road the last few months, relying on store bought chicken broth, a handy solution but no substitute for the real thing.  In the same vein of self reliance, I decided to cut up my own chicken.  A small feat for most but a big deal for me because well, I’m just that prissy.  With a butcher shop around the corner, I’m used to stopping in, placing my order for whatever configuration I need, and heading home with a perfectly prepped chicken and neatly wrapped giblets.  That was before I started daydreaming through Thomas Keller’s ad hoc at home where he offers a step by step, beautifully photographed explanation of how to do it yourself.  If he’d included sound effects, I probably wouldn’t have tried it.  Still, when the snapping stopped, I did know my way around that chicken as promised.  While the butchering fad can go on without me, it felt good to know that if trapped on a dessert island (full of chickens) I was one step closer to not starving (provided of course someone else kills, plucks and dresses the bird).

Once the chicken was cut into 10 (to my eyes) perfect pieces, giving it a massage was positively soothing.  As the broth boiled with the spare parts, I mashed the rub together to season the rest of the chicken.  While that marinated, I set to chopping the rest of the ingredients.  When I had initially looked over the list the day before, I came across sweet chili peppers or ajíces.  In the past, I’d substituted red or green bell peppers but that didn’t seem right.  A staple of Puerto Rican sofrito, I thought it would be worthwhile to seek out.  When a local bodega told me it would be impossible to find, I was even more determined.  It had been awhile since I’d gone food questing so when I failed in Carroll Gardens I headed to Essex Market in the Lower East Side.  The Batista Market there has yet to fail me.  Right at the front, they had my peppers, small, green and shaped like habaneros but without the burn.  Next to it was the culantro, cilantro’s Latin American cousin that I was learning to do without but was thrilled to find north of Miami.

Gathering the rest of my ingredients, I started chopping, filling the kitchen with the scent of green.  In a few minutes, I’d used every used every mixing bowl I had to prep my one pot meal.  From there it was fast – a little heat and a new element every few minutes.

Despite my efforts, I let it go a little too long when I added the rice – definitely more risotto than soup and had to add a little more broth to correct it.  I was happy that I’d the effort to get it every detail right but, like most things that seem easy, it’s never so simple.

Asopao de Pollo/Chicken Asopao
Adapted from Puerto Rican Cookery by Carmen Aboy Valldejuli.

3 pounds dressed-weight whole chicken

2 peppercorns
2 garlic cloves, peeled
1 teaspoon, whole dried oregano
1/8 teaspoon paprika
2 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoons olive oil
1 1/2 teaspoons champagne vinegar

2 1/2 cups rice

9 cups of water
1 tablespoon salt

3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 ounce salt pork, rinsed and diced
2 ounces lean cured ham
1 chorizo link (2 ounces), cut into 1/2″ rounds

1 green bell pepper, seeded and finely chopped
2 sweet chili peppers (“ají dulce” or “ajíce” for short), seeded and finely chopped
1 yellow onion, peeled and finely chopped
8 fresh culantro leaves, finely chopped

1 cup (8 ounces) tomato sauce
1 cup fresh or whole canned plum tomatoes, chopped
8 green olives stuffed with pimientos
1 tablespoon capers
1/2 cup (4 ounces) pimientos, chopped in their juice
1 tablespoon achiote paste (optional)

1 cup petit-pois, frozen
1 pound asparagus, cut into pieces (optional)

Set rice to soak in water to cover for one hour.

Divide chicken into 8-10 pieces (drumsticks, thighs, breast, wings).  Separate backbone, carcass, neck and giblets.  Wash both well and set aside.

Using a mortar and pestle, mash peppercorns, garlic, oregano, paprika, salt, olive oil and vinegar to a paste.  Rub reserved chicken pieces with seasonings.  Cover with plastic and marinate in the refrigerator, at least one hour.

Add reserved backbone, carcass, neck and giblets to a large, heavy stock pot.  Add water and salt.  Cover and bring to a boil over medium-high heat for 15 minutes.  Reduce heat to medium, and simmer for an additional 30 minutes.  Strain and reserve broth and discard carcass.  Optionally, the giblets can be reserved to add to the asopao with chicken or discarded.

Heat oil in a heavy pot over medium-high heat.  Quickly brown salt pork, ham, and chorizo, about 3 minutes.  Reduce to low and add green peppers, aji dulce, onion and culantro.  Saute and additional 10 minutes.

Add tomato sauce, chopped tomatoes, olives, capers, pimientos and achiote if using and saute an additional 5 minutes.

Add whole chicken pieces and bring to a boil over medium heat.  Cover and cook an additional 30 minutes.

Add broth (about 6 cups) and giblets if using and bring to a boil.

Drain rice and add to pot.  Bring to boil over medium heat.  Reduce heat to low, add peas and asparagus.  Cover and cook until rice reaches soup consistency.

Makes 8-10 servings.

Like most people, I’ve been overwhelmed by the perfect storm of holidays we’ve had this weekend.  Being stared down by Cupid, I could barely make out the Metal Tiger and Abe Lincoln standing behind him.  Throw my birthday into the mix and I barely have enough time to get my guilt in order before Ash Wednesday.  Nevertheless, I wanted to commemorate the Chinese New Year in some small way.  When I first came to New York for school, Chinese-Cuban restaurants were my link to authentic Cuban food.  Chinese staff speaking hyper-speed Caribbean Spanish serving roast pork with bean curd or fried rice with maduros over Cuban map placemats.   I realized this winter that the reverse was also true.  When I was considering buying some heavy tropical fruit to bring back with me from Miami, I realized I’d be better off looking for the same items closer to home in Chinatown.

Looking for a recipe that was both Cuban and Chinese, I decided to make camarones jengibre or ginger shrimp.  The word for shrimp in Cantonese sounds like someone laughing so symbolizes happiness in the New Year while the use of ginger in Cuban cuisine can be traced to the influx of Chinese workers to the island beginning in the mid-nineteenth century.  The recipe itself was Celia Cruz’s contribution to the Babalu! cookbook, so I don’t know how it could be more Cuban.  With only tiger shrimp available, I took it as a good omen for the year ahead.

Camarones Jengibre/Ginger Shrimp
Adapted from a recipe contributed by Celia Cruz to Babalu! Favorite Recipes from the World’s Top Latin Chefs and Celebrities by Michael Valdes and Art Torres.

12 extra-large shrimp, shelled and deveined
1/4 cup fresh lime juice, divided
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4  teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped (about 1 cup)
2 tablespoons cilantro, chopped
2 tablespoons scallions, minced
1 tablespoon ginger, minced
2 tablespoons brown sugar, divided
Salt and pepper to taste
4 large slices of pineapple

In a large glass bowl, combine the shrimp, two tablespoons of lime juice, salt and pepper.  Cover and marinate in the refrigerator for 1 hour.  Drain the shrimp and reserve the marinade.

Heat the oil over medium heat.  Saute the onion until soft, about 5 minutes.  Add the shrimp and saute until they begin to turn pink, about 3 minutes.  Blend in reserved marinade and saute until fully cooked, about 2 additional minutes.  Remove from heat and stir in cilantro and scallions.  Set aside to cool

Combine remaining two tablespoons of lime juice, one tablespoon of brown sugar, ginger, and salt and pepper to taste.  Pour over pineapple slices and marinate at room temperature for one hour.  Remove pineapple slices, reserving marinade, and grill  over high heat until lightly browned, about 2 minutes on each side.

Arrange on individual plates and top with a few shrimp.  Spoon a teaspoon of the reserved ginger marinade over the shrimp and serve.  Sprinkle remaining tablespoon of brown sugar over shrimp to taste (optional).

Makes 4 servings.

]]> http://hungrysofia.com/2010/01/23/class-break/feed/ 0 hungrysofia http://hungrysofia.com/2009/11/08/kiosk-portugal/ http://hungrysofia.com/2009/11/08/kiosk-portugal/#comments Mon, 09 Nov 2009 03:41:40 +0000 hungrysofia http://hungrysofia.com/?p=2517 ]]>

The first time I went to Kiosk to see their Florida collection I was apprehensive.  A curated collection of objects brought back from their travels, I worried that, taken out of context and back lit in their Soho space, the cans of Materva and La Cubanita guava bricks would be all hipster irony and no heart.  When I finally went, I loved it and was excited to hear they were hitting Portugal next.  I’d only been there once in college but it’s still my favorite vacation of all time.  For three days we drove along the southern coast only stopping to eat, swim and sleep.  Like previous exhibits,  Portugal. What a Beautiful Place! is small collection of shelves set up with light box view of a trip you wish you’d been on.  With Avril au Portugal still floating through my mind, I wasn’t expecting to find so many practical why-have-I-not seen-this-before items.  Here are a few pictures of my trip to their trip:

A place for toothpicks

Metal Bread Toaster

Oil can what?

I actually needed a tambourine the other day and couldn't find one...

Frying Drying Dish

She's may seem wholesome but she's full of Maracuja, a passion-fruit liquor.

And of course a weather-predicting Rooster.

]]> http://hungrysofia.com/2009/11/08/kiosk-portugal/feed/ 1 hungrysofia IMG_5548 IMG_5544 IMG_5543 IMG_5533 IMG_5505 IMG_5509 IMG_5528 IMG_5526 http://hungrysofia.com/2009/09/22/sound-break/ http://hungrysofia.com/2009/09/22/sound-break/#comments Tue, 22 Sep 2009 04:35:55 +0000 hungrysofia http://hungrysofia.com/?p=2199 ]]>

I went to the Times Square simulcast of the Metropolitan Opera’s Opening Night Gala performance of Puccini’s Tosca this week.  Open air events in New York are a mixed bag.  They seem like a good idea but usually mean hours of discomfort and crowds fighting over patches of damp grass.  The Met’s broadcasts are the exception.  Before the city stopped traffic on 42nd Street, the Met was creating an island of sound in the middle of Times Square every September.  Last night, Karita Mattila’s Tosca threw jealous fits, betrayed a friend to the police, and killed a man – and she was the heroine.  Pure passion rarely leading to pure actions,  the quiet girl secondary roles are never a match for the opera’s courtesans and gypsies.  The angelic Marchesa Attavanti is only ever seen on the canvas Tosca’s lover Cavaradossi is painting, leaving Tosca to fill the stage and quiet the city noise.  Thrilled with the performances but disappointed in the new production by director Luc Bondy, the simulcast ended with the ovations and boos of the Lincoln Center audience.  This year the city shouted back.

My great uncle once wrote that he had an impure love for cities.  Though he was describing 19th century Havana, the New York City High Line is the perfect expression of the sentiment.  I’d been hearing about it since it opened but hadn’t gone till last weekend.  An elevated railway last used in 1980, it’s been transformed into an promenade cutting into the New York City Skyline.  With nature and design in perfect balance everywhere you look, it’s a beautiful tightrope.

Deciding to take advantage of Friday night late museum hours, my friend and I made our way to the Rubin Museum of Art a collection of art from the Himalayas.  After a quick drink in their K2 lounge buzzing with after work chatter, we made our way to the quieter hum of Gods and Buddhas.  That’s where we found “The Lord and the Subjects Twenty-Five.”  Disciples of the 8th century Tibetan teacher, Padmasambhava, each figure represents the devotee and the ability they achieved through their dedicated practice of Tantric Buddhism.  Lang Palgyi Sengee was able to make rainbows appear in the sky, Drubchen Khyluchung Loba who was able to attract birds and teach them Buddhist doctrine, and of course my favorite, Ma Rinchen Chog, pictured above, was able to levitate cross-legged and make even stones edible.  Seemingly unattainable, at least it’s something to work towards.

2.  Coconuts have three little black eyes on one the top that should be dry and free of mold.  The holes can be punctured with a corkscrew then drained.  When punctured, the coconut made the same “ahhhhhh” sound as a can of soda.

3.  To crack open the drained coconut, a few hard taps of with the blunt side of a heavy knife where the coconut is widest may be more ladylike, but a hammer works faster.  I had beginner’s luck with my first coconut.  After a few taps, I saw a perfectly straight fissure open up along its center.  The next three didn’t budge.  After a quick Howcast check, I heated the other three in an oven at 400 degrees for 10 minutes.  Once cooled, they opened easily with a few hammer taps.  Though most sites advice using a sharp knife, I used a strong butter knife, that didn’t bend, to pry the meat away from the shell in larger pieces, making it easier to peel the skin away afterward.4.  Grating coconuts was time consuming, but my hands have never been so soft and my kitchen smelled wonderful.

5.  I blended 6 cups of shredded coconut with 2 cups of very hot water, then passed them through cheesecloth into a fine mesh strainer to produce about 3 to 3 1/2 cups of fresh coconut milk.  Though it seemed like too little at first, there was always more to wring out.

6.  With all the tapping and draining and shell specks flying it was easy think I was doing it wrong.  In the end the coconut gave me what I needed, a perfect liquid moon.