Rarely observed in the United States, it had been years since I’d done anything to celebrate the day that was always falling mid-week, mid-flight, mid-blizzard. This past weekend, I was getting my kitchen back in order when I thought of the Mexican rosca de reyes from Fany Gerson’s My Sweet Mexico that I’d wanted to try. Made from a  sweet, brioche-like dough, the rosca is shaped into an oval crown and decorated with jewel-like candied fruits and drunk with hot chocolate. Similar to the Spanish roscón de reyes, French gâteau des rois, and Louisiana king cake, fava beans or figurines representing baby Jesus are tucked into the dough before baking so that whoever finds it gets to be king, along with the dubious honor of paying for the cake and hosting a dinner on el dia de la Candelaria or Candlemas that follows on February 2nd, though traditions vary. I almost left it for next year when Three Kings Day lands comfortably on a Sunday and there’d be plenty of time to plan a real, traditional brunch – but then I decided to do it anyway.

Running to find a store open late on New Year’s Day, I found them all closed. Unable to will them open, I ran into a nearby deli to get what I could so I could at least get it started and leave it to chill overnight. The next morning while the dough was rising a second time, I was only able to find some dried figs and candied oranges – regretting that retro sugared-up, candied fruits were so out of style and out of stores. The non-melting baby Jesus figurines were not something I kept on hand, so my choice of fava beans was as much about necessity as tradition. Of course, when we cut it up, I had no problem finding the bean since I’d been the one to hide it. Whether it’s tamales and atole for friends in February or making another King’s cake next year, I don’t mind at all.  It’s one more thing to look forward to.

Rosca de Reyes/Three Kings Bread
Adapted from Fany Gerson’s My Sweet Mexico. Gerson uses the same dough to make the rosca de reyes and pan de muerto. The original recipe called for bread flour which I didn’t have so I substituted unbleached, all purpose flour in equal parts. I had limited fruits available so I added lemon zest and tossed in raisins at the last minute.

Like pan de muerto, it’s impossible to stop decorating once you’ve started. I had a very fixed idea in my mind of how it should look, but quickly realized there are countless ways to incorporate spices, nuts. fruits, and add ins. The recipe yields enough dough to make two roscas. After the final rising, I set one in the freezer to make later in the week. The dough can be very involved and I thought it could be a good make ahead solution if it works. I’ll update then.

For bread:
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast
2 tablespoons orange blossom water
2/3 cup whole milk
4 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon kosher salt
Orange zest from one medium orange
Lemon zest from one large lemon
4 eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup raisins (optional)

4 to 6 plastic, non-melting figurines or fava beans
3 ounces assorted candied fruits (orange, fig, acitrón or lime)*
1 egg, beaten

*For this version, I used candied oranges and dried figs.

For topping:
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup sugar, plus more for sprinkling (about 1/4 cup)
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Dissolve the yeast in the orange blossom water. Whisk in a 1/3 cup of the milk and 1/2 cup of the flour and blend until smooth. Leave in a warm place (about 70°F) until it begins to bubble and puffs up slightly, 20-30 minutes.

Put the remaining 3 1/2 cups of flour in the bowl of a mixer fitted with the dough hook. Add the sugar, salt, and zests and mix on low speed for about 30 seconds. Add the eggs, the remaining 1/3 cup of milk, and the yeast dough. Mix at low speed until it starts to come together. While mixing, add the butter gradually, in small pieces until incorporated, increasing the speed to medium. Continue beating for 10 to 15 minutes, until the dough is soft and comes off the sides of the bowl. If the dough is still sticky, add a little flour as needed but no more than 1/3 cup. Add in the raisins and incorporate into the dough if using.

Lightly grease a large bowl with oil or butter and place the dough inside. Cover with a towel and let rise in a warm, draft free place until doubled in size, 1 to 1 1/2 hours. Punch down the dough, gather the sides together and flip over so the bottom is on top. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 4 hours or overnight. When ready to use, remove from refrigerator , uncover and place a towel on top. Leave the dough to rise in a warm place (about 70°F) and bring to room temperature, about 1 hour.

For the topping, combine the flour, sugar, butter and vanilla until well incorporated. Set aside or chill for later use.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line to baking sheets with parchment paper or  non-stick liner and set aside.

Divide the dough in two large pieces by cutting not pulling the dough. Shape each piece into a large ball. Poke a hole in the center of each and shape into a large doughnut. Tuck the beans or figurines into the bottom of the dough at random spots. Set each rosca on a baking sheet. Lightly brush the dough with the beaten egg and sprinkle with remaining sugar. Scoop out the butter topping and form into desired shapes to decorate the cake. Top with candied fruits and sliced figs.

Place in the preheated oven and bake until the tops are golden and it sounds hollow when tapped, about 40-50 minutes. Slice and serve.

Makes 2 large roscas.

A couple of months ago, I was invited to a dinner at Romera hosted by Manu Muga of Bodegas Muga, a family-owned vineyard. Bodegas Muga has been cultivating varieties of grapes – Tempranillo, Garnacha, Mazuelo, and Graziano for reds and Viura and Malvasia for whites – on over 620 acres nestled in the Rioja Alta region of Spain for more than 70 years. Though widely distributed, they’re committed to small scale, artisanal production – heavy oak barrels are used throughout the entire process, egg whites are still used for clarification and the egg yolks still go to nearby convents to be turned into sweets.

The tasting menu by Dr. Miguel Sanchez Romera was memorable by design – each course meant to illicit a neurosensory response – a cuisine he developed as a practicing neurologist in Barcelona. It may have been the synapses but the wine, thoughtfully paired with each of the 11 courses, kept things buzzing along nicely. When the infused waters, dried herb mosaics, and chalices laden with Kobe beef had been had, the best pairing came at very end the end when it was just red wine and chocolate – in this case Muga Aro 2006 and house-made bonbons and tablets. A vivid red against the soothing chocolate, if the rest of the meal was a dream, this was the perfect way to be woken up.

Wanting to capture that same feeling, I decided to make truffles to take to a friends house for tapas and picoteo. It had been awhile since I’d attempted them and I’d forgotten how much fun it could be – temperamental but fun. Not stopping there, I also made these chocolate cookies. Resolutions would kick in soon enough but until then there’s a little more wine, a lot of more chocolate, and time to enjoy both.

These thoughts were running through my mind as I was coming off the Brooklyn Bridge this Saturday. After taking a break from long distances, I’m once again training for a half-marathon in January. We’re at the point now where each week sets the finish line one or two miles later, fooling the body to push further a little bit at a time. It’s always fun to tell people how far you’ve gone when you feel like you’ve really gone somewhere, though no mile is ever harder than the first. Each time I head out, I feel like I’m learning to run all over again. Once I get started, most runs, my favorite runs, have me feeling like a could go on forever – a reward for starting.

That’s what getting back to the kitchen felt like this weekend. I was coming down from my runner’s high, when I remembered a cake that I’d been wanting to make since starting Hungry Sofia - a tarta de Santiago or St. James Cake. I’d only ever had it around Christmas time when it would come ready-made and wrapped in cellophane from the Spanish market Delicias de España. A traditional almond cake from Galicia, its sold in bakeries all over the region, especially during the feast day for Santiago el Apóstol  in late summer. Since the Middle Ages, the cake has been served to tourists and travelers making the famous pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela – a reward for arriving.

I thought it would be complicated, but once I got down to comparing recipes, it was really just almonds, eggs and sugar and sugar baked in a single layer. It could be poured over a pastry crust or glazed over with apricot preserves but for this first time I kept it simple. I must have been thrown by the dramatic St. James cross that tops each cake into believing it would be harder than it was. I ended up fashioning my own from fleur de lys and snowflakes.

Of course, I’m not on a pilgrimage, if only because I rarely know where I’m going until I get there. Still, I do aspire to the kind of faith that keeps you moving. I don’t think I could have imagined the places this blog has taken me when I started or the people I would have met. New projects have been overwhelming sometimes but they’ve also kept me trying. Thank you as always for reading and I’ll hope you’ll keep following because I’m still really, really hungry. Tarta de Almendra O Merlo/Almond Cake
Barely adapted from Alfonso Merlo’s recipe found in Penelope Casas’ ¡Delicioso! The Regional Cooking of Spain. I found this book a couple of months ago and its become a favorite. Casas not only takes you to a specific region but a particular city, town, street, restaurant, kitchen with amazing stories and details.

6 ounces blanched whole almonds (about 1 cup)
6 tablespoons, unbleached all-purpose flour
3/4 cup sugar
3 eggs
Orange zest (optional)
Confectioner’s sugar

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour an 8″-inch springform pan and set aside.

In a food processor, coarsely chop 2 ounces (about 1/3 cup) of the almonds with the flour. Remove almond-flour mixture and set aside. Combine remaining almonds with 1/4 cup of sugar and process until finally ground. Combine with almond-flour mixture and set aside.

In a mixer fitter with the whisk attachment or using a hand beater, beat eggs at medium speed until foamy. Gradually add remaining sugar until pale and thick.  Stir in orange zest if using. Gently fold in the comined almond mixtures until well incorporated but do not over mix. Pour batter into the prepared pan and set in preheated oven. Bake until the cake is lightly golden and springs back to the touch, about 30-35 minutes.

Allow to cool then sprinkle generously with powdered sugard before serving.

With my mother in New York for a surprise vacation, we went to the Union Square Market for an indulgent mid-week visit. When I mentioned the peppers, she was excited to try them since on her last trip to Spain they were too far out of season to find. Coming home with our market haul, it was late for a big lunch and we had plans to meet more family that night for dinner so there was just enough afternoon left to fry them up. Setting out 10 to a plate, we took our chances. Most market signs compare eating them to Russian roulette though I thought it was more like watching fireworks – some flavors quietly appearing then melting away and others bursting through in a flash of red. The peppers become stronger towards the end of the season and I’d say our batch was 30/70, hot to sweet. Each distinct in its own way, after the first few, I couldn’t remember which kind I was hoping for.

Pimientos de Padrón/Padrón Peppers
Barely adapted from José Pizarro’s Seasonal Spanish Food.

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
8 ounces whole Padrón peppers
Sea salt flakes

Heat olive oil in a large heavy skillet over medium high heat. Add the peppers to the pan in a single layer. Sautée the peppers, moving constantly until the peppers begin to brown and blister, do not overcook. Remove from the oil and drain on a rack lined with paper towels. Sprinkle with sea salt and serve immediately.

While I love eggplant, I do not love to cook with it – usually having trouble from the first peels which fail to leave the eggplant as smooth or bruise free as I’d like. Sauteed or fried, they never cook quickly as promised, regardless of the recipe, or else demand more oil than I feel comfortable using for a light summer pasta. To solve this problem, Roden soaks the slices in milk beforehand and lightly dredges them in flour so they brown quickly without taking on too much oil, a technique she learned in Córdoba.

I still had a moment of doubt when the first batch started cooking and considered quickly dipping them in batter before committing the rest to the fryer. Hot from the oil, I drizzled a small slice with honey. From the first bite, I loved the barely there crispness of the flour coating encasing the creaminess of the eggplant – something like French toast with a savory finish – so they went in as is. Immediately addictive, I hurriedly took pictures while the pile I had set out got smaller, and smaller.

Berenjenas con Miel/Eggplant Fritter with Honey
Barely adapted from this recipe from Claudia Roden’s The Food of Spain. Instead of honey, the eggplant can also be served with molasses or melao de caña.

2 medium eggplants (about 1 pound)
About 2 cups milk
Flour for dusting or dredging
Olive or sunflower oil for frying
Orange blossom honey or molasses

Peel the eggplants and cut them into 1/3″ slices. Put them in a large mixing bowl with enough milk to cover. Place a small plate over the slices to keep them submerged for 1-2 hours then drain.

Cover a plate or pan with about one cup of flour sprinkled with salt. Dredge the sliced in the flour to cover all sides then shake off the excess.

In a heavy skillet or deep fryer, heat 2 inches of oil over medium-high heat so the eggplant slices sizzle when they touch the oil. Working in batches, add 4-5 slices at a time, turning them with a slotted spoon until they are lightly browned, about 1-2 minutes on each side. Be careful not to overcrowd the skillet or the oil temperature will fall and the eggplant will absorb too much oil. Remove the eggplant from oil and drain on paper towels or wire rack. Drizzle with honey or molasses and serve warm.

Serves 6 to 8.

Of course it helps to know what I’m looking for and this weekend I had a list (which I left at home but memorized in the act of writing out). I considered blending a batch of gazpacho to take advantage of the heirloom tomatoes that have been coming in but wanting something a little more versatile, I made pisto manchego instead. Traditionally, pisto is a sofrito that just keeps going – a combination of onions, tomatoes, zucchini, and fresh peppers sauteed in olive oil to the point of collapse. Most of the work is in preparing and chopping the vegetables. Whatever trouble Orfeo causes on our walks, he’s very helpful in the kitchen – attentive and quick to pick up any food I accidentally drop on the floor whether I want him to or not.

While most pisto recipes follow a similar pattern, the vegetables added to the oil in stages, I decided to make Anya Van Bremzen’s version where the tomatoes are passed through a box grater first. A small detail I know, but it solves a problem. Whatever heirloom tomatoes gain in flavor they lose in looks so that once I’ve cut around the crags and dents, I have very little tomato left. I found some Italian Heart tomatoes that had incredible flavor but - true to their name – would have been impossible to dice evenly. Quickly passed through a grater, the pulp and juices collected in a bowl, I was left with just the thin skin of the tomato without having to blanching or peeling. Eggplant can be added but a lot of Spanish recipes then reclassify it as ratatouille or pisto al estilo frances and besides I had other plans for the eggplant. I could have also added fried or roasted potatoes but wanted to have the option of folding it into a crepe or adding it to pasta later in the week so I kept it as simple as possible. Since Sunday, I’ve had it with poached eggs, added squash blossoms and folded it into a quesadilla, and thrown in browned chorizo. With very little pisto left but few zucchini and tomatoes summer days to go, I think Orfeo and I are going to hazard another market trip round this weekend.Pisto Manchego
Barely adapted from The New Spanish Table by Anya Von Bremzen. The pisto can be simmered down to an almost jam like conistency or undercooked so that the vegetables are soft but still retain their shape for a more textured stew. I knew I was going to be reheating it often so I left it a little soupy. I also added additional zucchini because I overbought and wanted to have a larger quantity on hand.

1/3 cup olive oil
1 large white onion, diced
2 medium red bell peppers, cored, seeded and diced
1 mediun green bell or Italian frying pepper, cored, seeded and diced
2-3 medium zucchini, (about 1 pound), diced
4 large garlic cloves, crushed to a paste in a garlic press
2-3 large ripe tomatoes (about 1 pound), cut in half
1/2-1 teaspoon red wine vinegar
Pinch of sugar
Salt and pepper to taste

Dice all of the vegetables in 1/2″ pieces and set aside. Pass the cut tomatoes through a box grater, reserving pulp and juice and discarding the skin.

In a large, deep sillet, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onions and sautee until they begin to soften, adjusting the heat so that they don’t brown, about 7 minutes. Add the diced peppers and zucchini and continue to sautee until the vegetable soften, about 10 minutes. Stir in the garlic and continue to cook about one minute. Add the tomatoes. Cover the pan and lower heat to a steady, slow simmer. If the pan dries out, add one tablespoon of water and continue to cook until the vegetables are tender, about 35-40 minutes . Stir in red wine vinegar and a pinch of sugar to taste. Season with salt and freshly ground pepper.

Bring to room temperature and serve on its own, with poached or fried eggs, roasted or fried potatoes, and plenty of bread. It can be served warm or cold.

Makes 6-8 servings.

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.

Though I love it now, it took me awhile to get there.  Coming just after dinner on Noche Buena, I thought of it as an adult dessert and waited for the cookies and brownies unless my grandfather prompted me to try one first.  Now of course I realize how wrong I was.  Marcona almonds mashed into a paste and mixed with honey, chocolate with dried fruit or creamy coconut bars – what was I waiting for?

Deciding to make my own last year, I tried a chocolate-almond variation.  Always the most accessible on the tray, chocolate was the gateway turrón that prompted me to try the others so it was a good place to start.  I thought they would make great pre-Christmas gifts this year and whipped up another batch for a dessert party later this week.  I’m still looking for a detailed recipe for Jijona and found another for yema tostada that made me long for a brulee torch.  If I decide to make them I will, no matter what day of the year it is.

Turrón de Chocolate y Almendras
I love all things chocolate and orange so I adapted this recipe from Kir Rodriguez’ Orange Grand Marnier truffles.  Any combination of almonds, hazelnuts, walnuts or dried fruits works well.

Ingredients:
250 g bittersweet chocolate (at least 70% percent)
40 g unsalted butter, at room temperature
115 g slivered almonds
1-2 tablespoons, Grand Marnier liqueur
Zest of 1 orange

Preheat oven to 350º. Spread almonds in an even layer on baking sheet and toast till lightly golden, 7-10 minutes. Cool on a rack and roughly chop.  Set aside.

Melt the chocolate in a double boiler or heatproof bowl over simmering water. Add the butter one tablespoon at time, blending well after each addition.  Remove from heat and mix in almonds, liquor, and zest until well combined.

Line a loaf pan with aluminum foil. Pour in chocolate mixture and smooth top. Refrigerate until firm, at least 2 hours. Chop and serve.

Normally, I go with the plain version made with potatoes and onions that I first learned in Madrid (where it’s never late).  The simplicity of a traditional tortilla is hard to improve upon and adding ham, chorizo or peppers makes it different but not always better.  I changed my mind when I spotted a tray of Spanish chorizo in a butcher shop on Smith Street that looked to good to pass up – so I didn’t.  After lightly browning the chorizo and adding the garlic and peppers, I slow-cooked the potatoes and onions in new Chilean olive oil I was trying out.  For once the potatoes didn’t drown out the chorizo though next time I’ll lightly roast the peppers first.  Two harrowing flips later, it was set and cooling.

I always associate tortillas with the holidays.  A tortilla with plantains is the first thing I ask for when I land in Miami and Christmas morning my aunt always orders a few sky-high ones from Delicias de Espana -more pillow than omelette- to start the day of picadera.  Versatile and even better the next day, it’s great with toasted baguette and topped with aioli and red roasted peppers when I’m in a rush and alongside white rice and black beans when I’m not.  Made on a Sunday afternoon when I had all the time in the world, it got me through the nights when I didn’t have any time at all.

Tortilla de Papas y Chorizo
This was the first dish I made for my grandparents as an adult (or at least I thought I was) and I remember the relief I felt when my grandfather announced I had found el punto de la papa – the point where the potatoes are just cooked through enough to easily split in half.  Of course, the flip is the most nerve wrecking part and, as I’ve said before, I’m superstitious about anyone else being in the kitchen when I do it.  Or maybe I just want to buy myself some time in case I need to repair the damage.

1 green bell pepper, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 Spanish-style chorizo, about 5 ounces, cut into ¼” pieces

3-4 medium, Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and cut into slices a 1/4″ thick
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
¾ cup extra virgin olive oil
6 large eggs, well beaten
1 tsp salt plus more to taste

Heat the one tablespoon of the olive oil in large heavy skillet over medium heat.  Add the chorizo and sauté until lightly browned, about 2-3 minutes.  Add the peppers and garlic and sauté, about 3 minutes.  Remove the chorizo and peppers from the pan and set aside.

Add the remaining olive oil to skillet and return to medium heat.  Add the potatoes and onions to the skillet and turn with a spatula, careful not to let them brown.  Sauté until the potatoes are just tender and break apart with slight pressure from the spatula, about 20 minutes.

Beat the eggs with the salt in a separate bowl.  Remove potatoes and onions with a slotted spoon and add to the beaten eggs.  Add the chorizo-peppers mixture and combine.  Adjust salt to taste.  Pour out all but about 1 tablespoon of oil and set aside.*  Add the egg mixture to the skillet and cook over medium heat until the eggs begin to set and the underside is lightly browned.

Take the skillet off the burner and cover with a large plate.  Holding the plate down firmly, quickly turn over the skillet so that the tortilla slides out onto the plate.   Return skillet to medium heat and add additional oil if needed.  Slide tortilla back into the skillet and cook on the other side, an additional 5-7 minutes until it reaches desired degree of doneness.

Flip the tortilla one more time onto serving plate.  Serve at room temperature, sliced into wedges or cut into squares.

*Note – I sometimes strain the oil I’ll be using and wipe out the skillet to remove any overcooked pieces of onion or potato before adding the eggs so that it slides out easily when flipped.

With so many variations, I wasn’t sure which way to go.  Most recipes called for equal parts milk and wine or even just red wine.  My sweet side won out so I soaked the bread with milk boiled with a little sugar and cinnamon before drizzling it with wine.  While the bread soaked, I thought they would never hold together for the final egg dip but they did.  Lightly fried, they crisped up quickly while remaining moist throughout, taking up the orange-anise syrup without becoming soggy or overly sweet.  I was happy I’d chosen a good Italian wine that I’d been saving.  At first, pouring it over bread to be fried seemed wasteful but for once I didn’t care.  I love eating wine and being back in the kitchen and finally making torrijas became it’s own special occasion.

Torrijas al Vino
Apart from the milk to wine ratio, I also debated between deep frying in a flavorless oil like canola or lightly frying them in olive oil.  I tried both and preferred the flavor that the olive oil added, keeping the savory and sweet in balance. 

1 day old baguette, cut on the horizontal into 1″-thick slices
1 cup whole milk
1 tablespoon sugar
1 cinnamon stick
2″ strip of orange peel
1 cup dry red wine
3 eggs, well-beaten

Olive oil for frying

For syrup:
1 cup of sugar
1 cup of water
1/4 cup of orange juice
2-3″ strip of orange peel
1 cinnamon stick
3 star anise
1/2  teaspoon vanilla

Place slices of bread in a deep dish or glass baking pan.

Combine the milk, sugar, orange peel, and cinnamon stick in a small saucepan.  Heat over medium heat until it just begins to boil.  Remove from heat and allow to cool slightly.  Pour over the slices of bread.  Pour red wine over the bread, turning the slices over so they soak up as much liquid as possible.

Add the oil to a large heavy skillet, about 2-3″ deep.  Heat over medium-high heat to 365 degrees.

Using a slotted spoon or spatula, lift the bread slices of the milk and wine mixture and dip into the beaten eggs, coating evenly.

Carefully, add the bread to the hot oil and turn until brown on both sides, about 2 minutes.  Remove and drain on paper towels or cooling rack.

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.

The syrup can be poured over the torrijas before serving or on the side, warm or at room temperature.

Makes 4-6 servings.