Normally, I’m drearily practical about buying flowers. Even in spring, I opt for fresh herbs I can eat instead of pretty flowers I can’t. After an awful winter, I just can’t make myself care about being practical, bringing home spray roses, tulips, and daffodils at every opportunity. Of course, I don’t really need to choose, so it was only a matter of time before I was adding dried lavender and fresh edible flowers to a recipe for torrejas with lavender honey syrup I posted on Devour the Blog.  I had a few to spare and decided to add them to this dessert as well. A blank slate of trembling coconut custard, I loved the color they added. Now that I’d ditched the sensible snow boots and heatech layers, I couldn’t have enough flowers.

Tembleque/Coconut Custard
Adapted from Carmen Aboy Valldejuli’s Puerto Rican Cookery. Full disclosure, I actually have a box of instant tembleque somewhere in the pantry. I can’t imagine why I would need to use it because it’s possibly the simplest dessert I’ve ever made. It sets up so quickly and with no eggs to worry about, you don’t need to panic about cooking it too fast or scrambling the pudding. I used individual custard molds but decided to pour the last cup into my flower mold baking pan from Williams-Sonoma, an impulse buy from a previous Easter that’s always given me trouble.  The custard flowers unmolded beautifully with a few taps. I briefly considered taking video instead of pictures to capture the gentle shake when you spoon into it but you’ll have to see it for yourself.

4 cups fresh or canned coconut milk
½ cup cornstarch
2/3 cups of sugar
½ teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon dried lavender, well wrapped and tied in a square of cheese cloth (optional)
1 tablespoon orange blossom water

Ground cinnamon or nutmeg to sprinkle (optional)

Rinse 8” mold or individual custard cups with cold water and set aside.

In a large heavy saucepan, combine cornstarch with one cup of coconut milk until well blended. Add remaining coconut milk, sugar, salt, and lavender sachet (if using) and cook over medium-high heat, stirring constantly until it comes to a boil. Immediately lower heat and whisk vigorously until thick. Remove lavender sachet if using and stir in orange blossom water. Immediately pour into prepared molds. Allow to cool slightly then refrigerate until set.

When ready to serve, unmold by carefully sliding the knife along the edges to loosen and inverting over a serving plate. It can be coaxed out but you get a cleaner line if you let it drop. Sprinkle with cinnamon, nutmeg or both to serve.

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.

Less easy to let go of is the overwhelming feeling that every action I engage in between December 26-January 1 forecasts the year to come.  I spent hours organizing my house not wanting to start the New Year with an unmade bed, unswept floor, or cluttered closet.  I spent so long deciding what to wear to a low-key party with friends, that I almost missed the countdown altogether.  Anxious about starting the year shoeless, I challenged my host’s shoes-at-the-door policy to no avail.  Then, after a great night (albeit in socks), I slipped backwards on some ice coming home.  Falling squarely on my Cuban passport, I pulled myself up for the first time in 2011 and decided not read too much into things.  A convenient resolution when the signs aren’t going your way.

With my annual New Year’s OCD somewhat in check, I went ahead with my plan to spend the day in the kitchen.  After years of forcing down lentils for luck (Spain, Cuba, Chile) every January 1st, I was looking for another dish to celebrate with and invited some friends over for dinner.  Really it was an excuse to try the turrón mousse recipe I’d found in Jose Pizarro’s Seasonal Spanish Food a couple of months ago.  I loved the idea of taking turrón, so closely associated with the sweetest and saddest time of the closing year, whipping them together with airy egg whites and little sherry, then serving them in a new way, taking a little of the past with me to the future.  Of course, in Mexico, I might make a list of unhappy events from the previous year then throw it in the fire before midnight but I worked too hard on 2010, good and bad, to let it go up in smoke.

Mousse de Turrón/Turrón Mousse
Adapted from Seasonal Spanish Food by José Pizarro.  Because the golden raisins (I prefer calling them sultanas) are left to marinate in sherry the night before, it literally took two years to make.  The original recipe called for just two egg whites but I increased it by one and added a little sugar to get more volume.

24 golden raisins
4 tablespoons sweet sherry
2 large egg yolks

3 large egg whites, at room temperature
2 tablespoons superfine sugar
1/8 teaspoon cream of tarter
Pinch of salt
2 tablespoons heavy cream
5 oz. soft turrón blando, suprema at least 60% almonds

Combine the raisins and sherry in a small bowl and marinate overnight.  Drain the fruit on the following day, reserving the sherry.

In a food processor, combine the turrón, egg yolks, heavy cream and sherry.  Pulse until well blended and smooth.  Pour out into a medium mixing bowl.

In a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat the egg whites on medium speed until frothy.  Add the cream of tarter and pinch of salt and continue to beat on medium speed until they hold soft peaks. Gradually add the remaining 2 tablespoon of sugar and continue to beat until they hold stiff peaks.

Blend a fourth of the egg whites into the turrón mixture to lighten it.  Gently fold in the remaining egg whites until well combined, working quickly so the whites do not deflate.

Place 4 marinated raisins among four glasses or serving bowls.  Divide the mousse between the glasses and chill at least 6 hours.  Top with raisins or caramelized almonds and serve.

Caramelized Almonds (Optional)
The water evaporates quickly leaving behind a coating of sugar.  It’s important to keep stirring until the sugar melts and caramelizes.

7 oz. blanched whole almonds
1/2 cup superfine sugar
1/4 cup water

Heat a large pan over medium to low heat.  Add the ingredients and stir them constantly.  The water will evaporate and the sugar will melt and caramelize, about 15-20 minutes.

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.

Butifarrón Sabroso/Caribbean Meat Loaf
Adapted from Puerto Rican Cookery by Carmen Aboy Valldejuli.

1 1/2 pounds lean ground beef
3 slices sandwich bread, crusts removed
1 cup of water
1 green pepper, seeded and quartered
1 sweet red pepper, seeded and quartered
2 garlic cloves, peeled
1 medium yellow onion, peeled and quartered
4 fresh cilantro leaves
1 ounce salt pork, washed
2 ounces lean cured ham, washed
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1 egg lightly beaten with 2 teaspoons of salt
1 14 ounce can of diced tomatoes
1 medium onion, peeled and sliced in thin rings

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Place meat in a large mixing bowl.  Crumble bread over water and soak.  Squeeze to drain excess water.  Add bread to bowl and mix.

In a food processor, add peppers, garlic, quartered onion, cilantro, salt pork and ham.  Pulse a few seconds at a time until well combined but not a paste.

Add pepper mixture, oregano, and beaten eggs two ground beef and mix until just combined.  Form into loaf and place in a 9 x 13 glass baking dish.

Place in preheated oven and bake until lightly browned, about 15 minutes.  In a food processor, add tomatoes and pulse a few seconds until smooth.

Lower heat to 375 degrees.  Pour tomatoes over meatloaf, evenly coating.  Cover loosely with aluminum foil and bake for one hour, basting occasionally.  Cover meatloaf with onions and bake an additional 30 minutes.

Serves 6 to 8.

I’d always thought they were simply Cuban and decided to try making them after writing about Argentina’s Ñoquis de 29 tradition.  Similar to ñoquis, we add flour to boiled yuca and malanga to form a light dough that’s shaped into figure eights and covered in syrup.  When I went in search of ingredients, the Mexican grocer wrongly told me the piles of yautia weren’t the same as malanga.  The Puerto Rican bodega next door was able to clear up the confusion.  What Cubans call malanga is yautia in Puerto Rico and elsewhere.  Puerto Ricans also have malanga but they’re referring to a different root vegetable (please don’t ask me what because I haven’t gotten that far).  While these buñuelos aren’t the only version, they are classically Cuban and simultaneously from everywhere else.

Buñuelos de Yuca y Malanga
Adapted from Nitza Villapol’s Cocina al Minuto.

For buñuelos:
1 lb yuca
1 lb malanga
1 egg
1 teaspoon, ground anise
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup, unbleached all-purpose flour

Vegetable oil, about 1 1/2 cups if using heavy pot or minimum amount required to fill deep fryer per manufacturer’s instructions

For syrup:
2 cups of sugar
1 cup of water
1/4 cup of lime juice
Zest of one lime
1 cinnamon stick
3 star anise
1 teaspoon vanilla

Peal and chop yuca and malanga into chunks.   Cover with water and 1 teaspoon of salt.  Bring to a boil then lower heat and simmer covered an additional 20 minutes till tender.  Force through ricer or food mill into sheet pan while still warm, spreading in an even layer. Cool completely.

Beat together egg, anise, and 1 teaspoon of salt in a small bowl.  On a lightly floured board, gather pureed vegetables into a mound on sheet pan and form a well in the center.  Pour egg mixture into well, then knead into vegetables. Knead in flour until mixture forms a smooth but slightly sticky dough. Dust top lightly with some of flour.

Cut dough into pieces. Form 1 piece of dough into a 1/2-inch-thick rope on a lightly floured surface and shape into a figure 8.

In a deep fryer or heavy pot (3 1/2-4 quarts wide), heat oil to 375 degrees.

Carefully add buñuelos to oil 3-4 pieces at a time and fry till golden, turning occasionally, about 3-4 minutes.

Drain directly on cooling rack placed over lined baking sheet or on paper towels.

To make the syrup, combine all ingredients except for vanilla in a heavy saucepan and bring to a boil.  Cook until it reaches the thread stage (230° F).  Remove from heat and add vanilla while still warm.  Serve with fried buñuelos.

Makes 12-14.

Its bothered me for awhile that I haven’t included more Puerto Rican recipes.  There are so many similarities with Cuban food, that I dip towards the more familiar Cuban side when in doubt, like a bird flying with one wing.  Recently, I found a copy of Carmen Aboy Valldejuli’s classic, Puerto Rican Cookery, which I hope will restore the balance.  There are many reasons to love this book.  To name a few, words like carefully and thoroughly are in bold making the recipes more emotional while delicioso and sabroso are translated to”Caribbean” when no other word will do; Rafael Tufiño contributed illustrations; and there’s a sweet black and white picture of her husband, Luis Valldjuli serving her a rum drink from the chapter he contributed on the back cover.

With everyone flying home for the Thanksgiving holiday, I thought Valldejuli’s huevos al nido, a combination of baked eggs layered with mashed potatoes, was a fitting recipe to try first.  I thought I could form the potatoes into tight little drums inside the individual ramekins to form an even crust.  The result was a messier mix of potatoes and cheese with golden yolks peeking through.  Not as smooth as expected, but even after a rough landing, you’re grateful to be home.

Taking Off!

Huevos al Nido/Eggs in a Nest
Adapted from Carmen Aboy Valldejuli’s Puerto Rican Cookery.

1 pound potatoes
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup lukewarm milk
1/8 kosher salt
6 eggs
2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan or Gruyere cheese
Salt and freshly ground pepper

In a heavy pot, bring potatoes to a boil in salted water.  Simmer covered until tender, about 20-30 minutes.  Drain the potatoes and set aside until just cool enough to handle.

Preheat oven to 300 degrees.

Peel potatoes and pass through a food mill or ricer.  Add butter, milk, and salt.  Grease ramekins.

Fill half of each ramekin with layer of mashed potatoes.  Carefully break egg over potatoes and sprinkle with teaspoon of cheese, salt and pepper to taste.  Cover with final layer of mashed potatoes and sprinkle with more cheese.

Bake about 20-30 minutes or until eggs are set to taste.

Plantains are my comfort food.  After my second failed attempt at making Cuban bread this afternoon (so near, yet so far), I wanted something sure.  When my new Food Coop friend Jennifer described the Puerto Rican style plantain pie she makes when her daughter’s home from school, I had to try it.  I’d seen different versions of the pie that used fried plantains and cheese.  Jennifer bypasses both to make this healthier version with mashed, boiled plantains that bring out the sweet and savory flavors really well.

Pastelón de Platano Sancochado/Boiled Plantain Pie
I used picadillo clasico as the filling which worked well, but stewed chicken or ropa vieja can also be substituted.  It was also great for lunch the next day with some crumbled queso blanco and crackers.

3 very ripe plantains (deep yellow with black spots)
1 tablespoon unbleached, all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon butter, divided

Picadillo clasico recipe, halved

1 large roasted red pepper, sliced
Stuffed green olives, sliced (optional)

2 qt ceramic dish or 9-inch pie plate

Preheat the oven to 385 degrees.

Slice the plantains into 2-inch chunks leaving the peels on.  Put plantains in a heavy saucepan with enough cold water to cover.  Bring to a rolling boil.  Lower to medium heat and simmer covered until the plantains are tender and peeking out of the peel, about 10 minutes.

Drain and peel.  In a separate bowl, mash the plantains with the flour and 1/2 tablespoon of butter until well blended.  Use a rubber spatula to line the bottom and sides of the dish with the plantain mixture leaving aside a small amount to cover.  Add the picadillo and smooth remaining plantains over the filling.  Dot with remaining 1/2 tablespoon of butter and bake for 25-30 minutes until heated through.

Add peppers and sliced olives to top and serve immediately.

Makes 4-6 servings.