I’d been burned before.  Last summer I found an old recipe for Brazilian coconut candies called  brasileiras.  I put all the ingredients together as directed – egg yolks, freshly shredded coconut, sugar – but they wanted nothing to do with each other.  I Googled “brasilerias” to find my mistake but the results were (not surprisingly) unhelpful.  A few weeks later, I attempted beijinhos de coco or “coconut kisses”. Similar to the brasileiras, they’re a combination of condensed milk, butter, and grated coconut that are rolled into balls and decorated with a single clove.  This version called for a final dip in chocolate and almonds.  I should have known when I wasn’t able to form the coconut into balls, mounds or anything like it that I’d made a mistake somewhere.  I kept going anyway, making an expensive chocolate almond mess.  I pretended they were edible, but after a day or two, I stopped kidding myself and threw the rest away.  I hadn’t looked a coconut in the eyes since.

That’s where I was yesterday when I read Julia Moskin’s New York Time’s article, “Milk in a Can Goes Glam“, that included this recipe for coconut brigadeiros by Leticia Moreinos Schwartz.  I needed something to bring to a friend’s house and these would be perfect (if it worked).  As Leticia explains:

“Brigadeiros are like the cupcakes of Brazil,” Ms. Moreinos Schwartz said. “They are at every birthday party.” (They are named for a once-popular politician, Brigadier Eduardo Gomes, who ran for president in 1945 under the slogan “Vote no brigadeiro, que é bonito e é solteiro” — “Vote for the brigadier, who’s good-looking and single.”)

Traditionally, brigadeiros have added cocoa powder and the fudge is then rolled in chocolate sprinkles.  The coconut version is similar to beijinhos, but I didn’t mind switching the chocolate to coconut as long as they had a new name (with a flirty origin) to make a fresh start.

Brigadeiros de Côco/Coconut Brigadeiros
Barely adapted from Leticia Moreinos Schwartz, The Brazilian Kitchen.  The recipe is straightforward, but I made sure I had a spare can of condensed milk in case I need to start over.  It called for corn syrup, which I usually avoid, but wasn’t taking any chances.  When my first batch produced the blob as promised, I decided to use my spare ingredients to switch out the corn syrup for honey.  Darker and sweeter, I decided to roll them in toasted coconut.

1 cup sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup coconut milk
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 teaspoons light corn syrup or mild honey
1 cup finely shredded unsweetened coconut (see note).

In a medium-size heavy saucepan, combine condensed milk, coconut milk, butter, corn syrup, and 1/2 cup shredded coconut. Bring to a boil over medium heat. Reduce heat to medium-low and whisk constantly until fudgy and whisk leaves trails in the mixture, 8 to 10 minutes. When mixture is ready, it will pull together into one soft piece, leaving browned residue on bottom of pan.

Slide mixture into a bowl. (Don’t scrape the pan; leave any residue behind.) Let cool to room temperature, then refrigerate until very firm, 3-4 hours.

Place remaining 1 cup of coconut in a wide bowl.  Scoop out a teaspoon of batter and roll into a ball.  Drop into the coconut as you finish rolling it.  Roll 4 to 6 brigadeiros at a time through coconut, covering surface completely. Lift out and shake off the excess.  Store in an airtight container at room temperature for 2 days, or refrigerate for up to 1 month. Serve at room temperature.

Yield: About 30 brigadeiros.

Note: If you’d like to toast coconut for rolling.  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Spread remaining coconut on a baking sheet checking often and stirring regularly, about 4-5 minutes.

A combination of limes, sugar, and cachaça, the Brazilian liquor made from fermented sugar cane, you can also use vodka to make a caipiroskas or light rum for a caipiríssima.  I briefly considered holding my glass out the window for a caipisnowcone.  However, you mix it, it’s worth the Fat Tuesday effort lest you wake up on Ash Wednesday all repentance and no sin.

Caipirinha
I’d made some for a family brunch that were a knockout.  Literally, I knocked everyone out, though I have to say that when they came to no one held it against me.  Wanting to avoid the same mistake, I adjusted my ratio of lime to cachaça per Claudia’s instructions.  If you can find sugar cane stalks, they make great stirrers for caipirinhas or mojitos.

1 lime, cut in eight pieces
1 tablespoon sugar
2 oz. cachaça
Crushed ice

Muddle the lime and sugar in an 8-10 ounce glass.  Add crushed ice to fill and pour in cachaça.  Stir and serve.

*Click here for a slightly different take and more recipes from A Thirsty Spirit, a great beverage site from my friend Alexis.

I’d been looking for a way to use chirimoyas since I came across them a few months ago in a nearby market.  Originally found in the Andean region between Peru and Ecuador, they’re also cultivated in small pockets throughout Chile, California, Spain, New Zealand, Australia, and Israel.  Heart-shaped and scaly, they could be a dragon’s paw and are almost as rare in my Brooklyn neighborhood, so I was excited when I found them.  Also known as custard apples, they’re like everything and like nothing else.  The fruit can be likened to strawberry, banana, pineapple, papaya, avocados, mango, ripe pears, and commercial bubble gum while Mark Twain described it more simply as “deliciousness itself.”

Not sure where to start, I found a Peruvian recipe for a meringue cake using chirimoyas.  I was worried that the combination of sugary meringue, manjarblanco (also known as dulce de leche) and sweetened cream would be too much.  I decided to shape the layers of meringue into smaller pavlovas to make individual desserts.  Believed to have originated in New Zealand and named after the Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova, it was a fitting choice.  After the whipping and whirring of the meringue, the crisp exterior of the meringues gave way to a mashmallowy center that mixed well with the manjarblanco.  Meanwhile, the chopped chirimoya balanced out the sweetness like a dancer who spins and flies then lands perfectly on point as though it couldn’t have ended any other way.  It was too much but just enough.

Merengues con Chirimoya/Pavlovas with Cherimoya
Adapted and translated from Yanuq from their recipe for merengado de chirimoya.  Though there are several steps, the pavlovas can be made well in advance and assembled just before serving.  Why the grated chocolate didn’t drive it all over the edge, however, I can’t explain.  I just know it worked.

1 whole chirimoya, peeled and diced (about 1 lb.)

4 egg whites, room temperature
Pinch of salt
1 1/2 cups of sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 tablespoon potato starch

1/2 cup manjarblanco (or dulce de leche, arequipe, cajeta)

1 cup of heavy whipping cream
1/4 cup powdered sugar

Grated bittersweet chocolate (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.  Using a small bottle or cup, trace 6 circles on the parchment paper, about 3″ each.  Turn paper face down on the baking sheet and set aside.

In a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat the egg whites with a pinch of salt on medium-high until frothy.  Combine the sugar, baking powder, and potato starch.  Gradually add the sugar mixture and continue to beat until it forms stiff peaks.

Fill a pastry bag fitted with a star tip with the meringue.  Pipe a disc of meringue to fill each circle on the prepared sheet then an a additional layer along outer circle to form a border.

Place the meringues in the preheated oven and immediately lower heat to 190 degrees.  Bake for two hours occasionally rotating pans.  Remove from oven and cool on a rack.

While the meringues cool, beat the heavy cream until slightly thickened. Gradually add the powdered sugar and continue to beat until soft peaks form.

To serve, place one meringue on dessert plate.  Add about one tablespoon of manjarblanco to the center of each meringue and top with a round tablespoon of chopped chirimoya and cover with whipped cream.  If using, garnish with grated chocolate.

Though I’d love to have homemade rolls every day, I stay away from bread recipes for first thing.  They never seem to rise and bulk up in the time promised.  I wake up early and spend the morning nervously peeking at the dough I lovingly covered in its blanky and placed in a draft free place to no avail.  One hour becomes two and there’s no breakfast in sight.  By the time it’s done, I’m too cranky to really enjoy it.  I didn’t get to sleep in yet the dough enjoyed a leisurely rise.  When I came across pan de yuca or yuca bread in a Miami, I was curious.  A combination of yuca flour (also known as tapioca starch) and cheese, it can be mixed and rolled as quickly as arepas then baked off.  

Searching for online recipes, I was surprised that I hadn’t heard of them before.  Popular at snack stands throughout Latin America, they’re known as pan de queso in Colombia, pão de queijo in Brazil, and chipas in Argentina while a popular food chain sells them with yogurt throughout Ecuador.  Though the dough can be made ahead of time, I started them this morning to see if they were as straightforward as they seemed.  I combined the dry ingredients and added grated mozzarella and two yolks.  Expecting something to go wrong, the mass of crumbly powdered cheese didn’t look like it could ever become a smooth mass.  I considered transferring it to a food processor or starting over, but after adding a little cream and kneading it a few minutes, it quickly took form.  In about twenty minutes, I had warm rolls, crumbly like bread but creamy like cheese.  Mostly, I loved that I could decide to make them in the haze of the early morning then have them right away, no rest required.

Pan de Yuca
Recipe from Ingrid Hoffman for her show Simply Delicioso.

Though I used mozzarella this time, similar recipes also suggest Oaxaca, queso blanco, Parmesan, or Cotija.  While they’re great for breakfast, they’re a perfect any time snack to have with coffee, tea, hot chooclate or as a side dish for lunch or dinner.

1 cup yuca harina*
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 cups fresh white cheese (Oaxaca, Mozzarella or Queso Blanco), finely grated
2 egg yolks, lightly beaten
2-3 tablespoons heavy cream, as needed

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil, coat with cooking spray and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the yuca harina and baking powder.  Stir in the grated cheese and eggs.  Mix well until a ball forms.  Turn out onto a floured board and knead with your hands until smooth.  If the dough still appears too dry, add cream one tablespoon at a time as needed.

Divide into 10 even pieces and roll into balls.  Place at least 1″ apart on prepared baking sheet.  Bake 15-20 minutes until golden.**  Cool on wire rack for 5-10 minutes.  Serve warm.

*Also known as tapioca starch/almidon de yuca/manioc starch, it’s widely available online or in Latin American markets.  It should not be confused with manioc flour used for farofa which is darker and has a grainier texture.

**I placed them under the broiler for an additional minute to brown evenly.  They will darken quickly under the broiler and should be checked frequently.

I’ve been going through this week’s New York Times travel section featuring Latin America, specifically  an awakened Chile, colonial Colombia, 36 Hours in Montevideo, Rio hot spots, Peruvian restaurants, and rejuvenated Mazatlán.  Travel exhausts me but its a fun read.

With the constant threat of rain, I did my usual food shopping this weekend under a white sky.  Along with the usual Mccann’s oatmeal, baby spinach, and salmon, I’m constantly running out for more peppers, plantains, and vino seco since starting this blog, loving the colors they add.  Walking through the gray today on a search for coconuts (more on that later), I couldn’t help but feel happy despite the rain.  I’d wanted to post this version of Aquarela do Brasil for a few weeks and today seemed like the perfect day, even more so when I read the composer, Ary Barroso, wrote it during a thunderstorm.

Escaping from a sudden afternoon downpour this week, I found the SAS World-Wide Restaurant Cookbook at the Atlantic Book Shop.  Published in 1960 and sponsored by Scandinavian Airline Systems, journalist Charlotte Adams visited 36 countries in search of the best restaurants and their favorite recipes.  I haven’t had a chance to try any of the recipes just yet, but I’m already in love with her descriptions where she’s quick to point out where to go continental and where to go native.  Speaking of  the proprietor of Los Caracoles in Barcelona, she describes a “hugely tall man of enormous girth with one of the most fascinating hair arrangments you ever saw and the manner of a magnificent ham actor.”  Visiting Cabeca Chata in Rio de Janeiro, she writes, “hammocks hang from the ceiling.  (This is typical of the hinterland.  You never sleep in beds.  In a hotel you must get a great room with hooks on the walls and you bring your own hammock.)  Quite marvelous monkeys made of rope also hang from the ceiling.”  El Galeón in Montevideo has a gold metal bar which should be garish but isn’t and she tries sea urchin for the first time in Chile’s El Parrón.  I never know what I’m going to find when I go into a used book store.  With such an unpromising title. I almost overlooked this one that so completely takes you to a time people dressed up to fly.

Most weekends, when I’ve been to the  farmer’s markets, had my brunch, and caught a matinee, I find myself at Rapisarda, the Cobble Hill store owned by Brazilian designer Claudia Rapisarda.  I’m not alone.  There’s always someone half-shopping, half-visiting Claudia.  The store itself is hard to describe.  A unique collection of pieces that she both designs and brings from Brazil, it vibrates with color.

It was during one of my visits that she tried to explain how to make farofa, a dish I had been reading about and wanted to try.  Claudia can’t not help someone, so she agreed to come to my apartment and show me herself.  In addition to the farofa, the menu grew to include:  feijoada, a black bean stew with pork (using kielbasa as a substitute for Portuguese linguiça); couve, collard greens sauteed in olive oil and garlic; fluffy white rice cooked with more garlic; sliced oranges; and, of course caipirinhas.

Orfeo Perro

After a quick trip to Buzios, I thought I had everything we needed – farofa, kielbasa, bananas, a Yorkshire terrier named for an iconic Brazilian film.  Quickly assessing the situation, Claudia banished the instant farofa for the manioc flour I had bought as a just-in-case, pet the dog, and decided we would need more garlic, a lot more.  I can be very precise (not to say prissy) about following recipes and started taking notes.  Within the first ten minutes, Claudia ran through the establishment of Pedro I in Rio de Janeiro in the 19th century, chopped the greens, gave me the history of the feijoado,  held a full can of olive oil upside down over my sauce pan to start the rice, and briefly demonstrated a samba to the music my sister was playing.  I gave up on the notes and started chopping garlic.

Here is a brief explanation of how it all came together:

Feijoado
Claudia started with the beans right away.  As she explained, most families always have a pot of black beans going, for themselves or for anyone who may stop by that day.

Soak the beans overnight with just enough water to cover.*  Bring one pound of black beans to a simmer with 6-8 cups of water (in addition to their soaking water), two bay leaves and salt. Add a half pound of kielbasa cut into 1-inch slices.  Lower to medium heat and cook covered for about one hour, checking regularly.

To make a sofrito, sautée half of a large, thinly sliced onion with minced garlic, and a few pieces of the kielbasa, taken from the simmering beans, in a generous amount of olive oil over medium heat.  Cook until the onions are translucent and the garlic is golden.

For a richer broth, take 2-3 ladlefuls from the beans, including a few pieces of kielbasa, and puree till smooth.  Return the pureed beans to the pot and add the sofrito.  Continue to cook uncovered until the beans are tender and the sauce has thickened slightly, about one more hour.  Adjust salt to taste.  Serve over fluffy white rice.

*I should confess that I forgot to soak the beans until a couple of hours before we started cooking.  Since we didn’t have time to allow much of the liquid to evaporate, I strained some of the stew and saved the broth to have as a light soup at Claudia’s suggestion.  Both the beans and the broth freeze well so, while it may seem labor intensive, one large batch can last a long time.

Farofa

To make the sofrito for the farofa, sautée half of a large, thinly sliced onion and minced garlic in a generous amount of olive oil and approximately 2 tablespoons of butter over medium heat.  Cook until the onions are translucent and the garlic is a deep golden color.

Add one banana, sliced in 1/2-inch pieces and a 1/4 cup of roughly chopped parsley to the sofrito.  Cook until the bananas have softened slightly, about 2-3 minutes.

Add 3 cups of manioc flour and combine.  Add 2 hard boiled eggs, sliced.  Cook, stirring constantly, until the farofa is lightly toasted, about 5-7 minutes.  Add salt to taste.

Couve
Rinse the collard greens or couve, then stack the leaves on top of each other, roll into a bundle, and chop into a chiffonade.

Heat the olive oil until  just fragrant then add about a 1/4 cup of garlic over medium heat till golden.  Add the couve, then sautée till bright green and tender.  Add salt and pepper to taste.

While we waited for the feijoada to finish cooking, Claudia mixed up a quick batch of caipirinhas.  The final result was as vivid and colorful as Claudia.  The garlic melted into every dish without being overpowering, the dry farofa provided the perfect balance to the rich beans and bright greens, and the oranges brightened the mix.  For a little heat, we added chopped serrano chiles to the beans.

It’s such a pleasure to learn something new that you know you’ll be enjoying for a long time.  It’s such a privilege to have an afternoon of good food, good music, and great friends.

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You’ll have to excuse me for not writing about food.  Yesterday, a ticket to see the American Ballet Theatre’s performance of La Sylphide at The Metropolitan Opera House fell from the sky unexpectedly, and I’m feeling a little ethereal today.  There was a magical Sylph, a Scottish reel, and a poisoned gossamer veil, but it was still not as dramatic as the Edith Wharton story I cast myself in when I realized I’d be sitting in the romantic boxes ringing the theater.  Watching principal Herman Cornejo dance the part of James, I thought of a Today segment I’d seen earlier that day about the recent emergence of Latin American artists and performers in film and television.  This has long been true at ABT.  In addition to the Argentinians Cornejo and Paloma Herrera, there is the Brazilian Marcelo Gomes, and the Cubans Jose Manuel Carreño and Xiomara Reyes, and Spain’s Angel Corella among the company’s principals, not to mention Billy Elliot’s David Alvarez.  It’s a truly American ballet company.