Included in 19th century cooking manuals, according to Mary Urrutia Randelman these fritters were sold by Chinese street vendors calling out “Bollitos! Frituras!” through the streets of Havana.  It all seemed very poetic, but when I sat down to the task I couldn’t help but think it should be easier.  Was there a trick to it that I was missing?  I could picture entire families sitting around the table and pitching in to peel the peas.

The frying at least was simple as promised.  Quickly processed with mashed garlic and lightly seasoned with salt and pepper, I thought the batter was way too loose, but when I dropped it in the oil (with my new favorite gadget the cookie scoop), they puffed up and went gold in a couple of seconds.  In their raw state, they tasted something like soy beans but once fried they had a bread-like texture I wasn’t expecting.  I sprinkled them with lime juice but they really started singing when I added a mango-pepper jelly to set off the bite from the garlic.  A few frituritas later, I decided maybe they weren’t too much trouble after all.

Bollitos de Frijoles de Caritas/Black-Eyed Pea Fritters
Adapted from Memories of a Cuban Kitchen: More Than 200 Classic Recipes by Mary Urrutia Randelman and Joan Schwartz.  

1/2 pound black-eyed peas, dried, picked through and well rinsed
4-5 whole garlic cloves, mashed
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
2-4 tablespoons water (optional)

Soak the black-eyed peas in water at least 8 hours or overnight. Change water at least twice.

Drain peas and rinse well.  Rub off the outer husks with the black spots, saving the white beans.  Combine the beans, garlic, salt and pepper in the bowl of a food processor.  Pulse until it forms a smooth paste adding water if needed.  Adjust seasoning to taste.

In a heavy skillet, heat 2 inches of oil over medium-high heat to 375º.  Working in batches, scoop out one rounded tablespoon of the bean mixture and add to the oil, 5-6 at a time.  Turn the fritters with a slotted spoon until they are puffed up and golden, about 1-2 minutes.  Be careful not to overcrowd the skillet or the oil temperature will fall.  Remove fritters from oil and drain on paper towels.

Sprinkle with lime and serve.

Apprehensive about starting something I couldn’t finish, I’ve been sticking to the top deck – frying, stewing, and sautéeing. This week I decided to risk it and try something I’d been putting off for when Mrs. Tappan TGF320 was in a good mood. I first came across socca (also known as farinata) in an old Mark Bittman piece that resurfaced a few week ago. A kind of crêpe or flatbread, it’s made with simple batter using garbanzo flour, water and olive oil. Fresh herbs, parmesean, and sliced onions can also be tossed in. In Uruguay, where there was a large Genovese immigration, its known as fainá. Served on top of pizza, it becomes fainá a caballo or fainá on horseback.

Because the cast-iron skillet (for the fainá) and pizza stone are both preheated inside the oven, I’d know soon enough if it was going to cooperate before I’d committed the batter. In case it was a fail, I bought the pizza dough pre-made and figured the tomato sauce could be frozen. The batter could rest for anywhere from 2-12 hours so I could always try again later. In the end, none of that mattered because after a about 15 minutes my oven was steadily working its way up to blazing hot. Moving fast, I rolled out the pizza while the batter rested and messily added the toppings. Because it needs a few extra minutes, the batter went in first followed by the pizza. Done at about the same time, I added a drizzle of olive oil to the fainá and dropped the skillet down to the broiler to brown the top. The broiler made a half-hearted attempt at crisping but it didn’t matter too much. It had put in a good day’s work and needed a rest.

Fainá a Caballo/Chickpea Crêpe atop Pizza
In minimalist fashion, Bittman makes a resting period for the batter optional but the batch I left out at room temperature for a couple of hours came out the best. Still, he does figure out how to do it without a wood burning oven and cooper pan so keeping it simple has its merits.

Known as socca in Nice, cecina in Tuscany, farinata in most of Italy, and fainá in Genoa, Uruguay, and Argentina, it can be served atop pizza or as an appetizer. I did read that canola or sunflower oil is often used in Uruguay where olive oil can be expensive but haven’t tried. I included the recipe for the pizza I made  as well but any variation would work, though a sauce heavy slice balances out the crispness of the flatbread well.

For the fainá (barely adapted from this article by Mark Bittman):
1 cup chickpea flour (also sold as garbanzo flour)
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 cup lukewarm water
4-5 tablespoon olive oil, divided
1 tablespoon fresh rosemary leaves

Sift together the chickpea flour, salt and ground pepper. Slowly, stir in the lukewarm water, whisking constantly to eliminate lumps. Stir in 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Cover, and let sit for two hours at room temperature or refrigerate for up to 12 hours.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees and place a well-seasoned cast-iron skillet inside.

Stir the rosemary into the batter. Carefully remove skillet from oven and pour 2 tablespoons of olive oil into the heated pan, swirling to cover the pan. Pour in the batter and place in oven.  Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, until it’s firm and the edges are set. If it looks dry, brush lightly with olive oil and place under the broiler to lightly brown the top. Watch carefully.

Sprinkle with salt or pepper. Cut and serve on its own or toss it on some pizza.

For the pizza:
1/2 pound thawed, frozen pizza dough, divided and formed into a ball
3 tablespoons olive oil, extra virgin
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, peeled
1 teaspoon sea salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 pound ripe tomatoes, cut in half horizontally
8 ounces fresh mozzarella, sliced
¼ cup parmesan or manchego cheese, shredded
1 tablespoon fresh oregano, chopped

Shape the dough into a ball and allow to sit at room temperature at least 20 minutes or up to an hour before shaping.

While the dough rests, prepare the tomato sauce. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat until shimmering.  Add the onions and cook until golden, about 15 minutes.  Using the side of a large knife or mortar and pestle, mash the garlic to a paste and combine well with salt and pepper.  Add to the skillet and sauté and additional 2-3 minutes, stirring constantly. Pass the cut tomatoes through a box grater, reserving pulp and juice and discarding the skin. Stir in the tomato pulp.

Bring to a simmer then turn the heat to medium-low. Cook, partially covered, stirring occasionally, about 30 minutes. Season with additional salt and pepper to taste. Use immediately or puree until smooth. Makes about 1 ½-2 cups.

Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface to a 10-12-inch circle.  To stretch the dough, hold the dough between the palm and fingers and gently press the edges while you pull it counter-clockwise, to form an oval.  Place the dough on the peel and cover with 5 or 6 slices of mozzarella. Spoon the tomato sauce on top, leaving a border, and sprinkle with shredded cheese.

Position the peel at the far edge of the baking stone and, in one smooth motion, slide it toward you, leaving the pizza on the stone.  Bake until the edges are golden brown and the cheese is bubbling, 8-10 minutes.  Transfer to a wire cooling rack, sprinkle with oregano, and wait several minutes before slicing.

A few months ago, when my friend Achy (whose fantastic blog you can find here) was visiting, I invited her over for a Cuban breakfast then thought better of it. For the most part, Cuban breakfast is cafe con leche and pan tostado. The coffee I could make but I have yet to find good Cuban bread north of Tampa and a latte doesn’t really justify a trek to Brooklyn. Making it an early lunch instead, I made a tortilla Española and tomato and avocado salad but wanted to offer something more.

The week before, I’d planned to make croquetas for a surprise party but they were the first item dropped when time ran short. Quickly blended with béchamel sauce, they’re supposed to be an fast solution for leftover ham, chicken or seafood but I rarely take it easy on myself. Always looking for a twist or complication, I’ve made them with chicken, peppers, and hard boiled eggs, gorgonzola and Jamón Serrano, and am thinking of a mushroom and shallots combination soon (or leeks I can’t decide). For this lunch, I wanted the same, simple ham croquetas I might have have picked up at any Cuban bakery in Miami when you’re lucky enough to find them freshly fried.

With ham filling leftover from the cangrejito pastry puffs that did make it to the party and a simple béchamel sauce, I threw them together at the last minute. With the first bite, I knew they were the best ham croquetas I’d ever made and, with the second, realized I hadn’t written anything down and couldn’t remember exactly how I’d done it. This weekend, with a pound of cooking ham once again left behind from a kitchen fail (don’t ask), I decided to retrace the steps of the earlier batch but get it all down this time. Coming this close to home, I couldn’t resist adding the short stack of saltines and lime wedges croquetas typically come with. Except for the missing mi vidas and cariños the waitresses bring with every order, it could have been a morning at Versailles. 
Croquetas de Jamón
This a very simple rendition of a fritter that can be embellished and seasoned in a million different ways. Perfect for tapas, I’m sure I’ll get more practice going into the holidays. Before frying, I heated the oil to 375 degrees, the standard temperature in most traditional recipes. Though they came out well, I think I may have had fewer eruptions if I’d lowered the heat slightly (closer to 365 degrees) which I’ll try the next time.

8 ounces cooking ham, cubed
1 tablespoon dijon mustard

3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup unbleached, all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1 1/2 cups whole milk
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
Pinch of freshly ground nutmeg

2 large eggs, well beaten at room temperature
1 cup dried bread crumbs
Canola oil, for deep frying

Line a baking sheet with plastic wrap and set aside.

Combine ham and mustard in a food processor and pulse until it forms a smooth paste.

Melt the butter in a heavy saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the flour and cook, stirring constantly until well blended but not browned, about 2 minutes.  In the meantime, gently heat the milk to a gentle simmer but do not let it boil.  Gradually stir in the milk, whisking constantly until the sauce has thickened and is pulling away from the sides of the pan. Remove from heat. Add the pureed ham and mix until well combined.  Season with salt, pepper and nutmeg.

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

Lay out 1/2 cup of flour, beaten eggs, and bread crumbs in separate mixing bowls.  Dust hands with flour and spoon the béchamel mixture into walnut sized pieces and roll into desired shape, about one tablespoon per croqueta.  One by one, roll the croquetas in flour, drop into the egg mixture with a fork or slotted spoon, then transfer to bread crumbs.  They should be completely coated in bread crumbs so they don’t leak when cooked.

Add about 3″ of oil to a large heavy skillet.  Heat over medium-high heat to 375°F (see header).  Working in batches, carefully add the croquetas.  Gently turn until brown on all sides, about 2 minutes.  Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels or re-purposed grocery paper bags. Serve immediately.

Makes 20-24 croquetas.

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.

Established in the Colchagua Valley, between the Andes and Pacific, the olives are gently shaken from the trees with the same machine used to harvest grapes in the surrounding vineyards (though I like to imagine the work done by a crack team of gentle giants). The olives are pressed within four hours of harvesting – by-products are repurposed as organic fertilizer and even the pits are used to fuel the generator. The company launched its O-LIVE & Co and award winning Santiago lines in the US last year. Not limited to a single producer, Jim Leahy of Sullivan Street Bakery has also started to market Chilean olive oil under his own label.

A few months ago, I received some bottles of Olisur and planned on doing a well considered tasting and comparison to the Spanish olive oil I keep on hand. Unfortunately, I found myself short one night mid-recipe so I cracked open the first bottle without any ceremony, telling myself there was plenty left to do a real tasting later. Since then I’ve used it for vinaigrettes, sofritos, sauces, stews, beans and fish. No tastings but lots of flavor – grassy, peppery, green. Having drained the first bottle to the last drop, the remaining two were in danger. There’s nothing better than a night of picadera so I planned on putting together a grazing menu for some friends for long weekend catch-up, serving the olive oil on it’s own with just some bread for dipping.

For the rest, I was going to round up the usual Mediterranean suspects – manchego, membrillo, prosciutto – but decided to go south instead – all the way south. I knew we’d probably skip dinner so I made sweet and savory pork empanadas from Chilean viticultarist Valeria Huneeus and galleticas de aji amarillo topped with a feta cilantro dip. Curious about other Chilean products, I made my way down to Soho’s Puro Chile and found tinned king crab ready for dressing and almonds dusted with merkén, a Mapuchen spice made from cacho de cabra (goat’s horn) peppers and blended with coriander and cumin.  Similar to a smoky pimentón, it’s been making its way into everything since.

Of course I had to include wine and stopped by Puro Wine. The Carménère they recommended had its own story. Originally from the Medoc region of Bordeaux, cuttings were brought to Chile in the mid-19th century shortly before a plague of phylloxera made the grape all but extinct in France. The vines thrived in Chile but in disguise. For over a hundred years, they were confused with Merlot, giving Chilean Merlot its distinct quality but robbing the Carménère of its own identity. Rediscovered in the 1990’s, an in depth study confirmed that it was actually “the lost grape of Bordeaux,” thriving in the same Colchagua Valley where the olive groves took root, because no one told it not to.

Galleticas de Ají /Ají Crackers
Inspired by Three Generations of Chilean Cuisine by Mirtha Umana-Murray.

4 oz. unsalted butter, room temperature
1 1/2 -2 tablespoons ají amarillo paste
1 cup unbleached, all-purpose flour
½ cup parmesan, shredded
½ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper

In an electric mixer fitten with the paddle attachment, beat the butter at medium-high speed until it is pale and fluffy, about 2-3 minutes. Blend in the  ají amarillo paste and continue to beat until just combined, occasionally scraping down the sides, about 1-2 minutes. Combine flour, parmesan, salt and pepper. Using a wooden spoon or spatula, stir in the flour mixture for a couple of turns. Return to stand and mix on low speed until flour is just incorporated. Pour onto a piece of plastic wrap and shape into a log. Chill until firm at least 1 hour or overnight.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees with the rack in the middle. Line a baking sheet non-stick liner or parchment paper.

Cut the log crosswise into ¼” slices placing them on the prepared baking sheet about ½” apart. Place in the oven and bake until golden, about 20 minutes. Cool on sheet for 5 minutes then transfer to rack.

Yuca Frita con Salsa a la Huancaína
Adapted and translated from Yanuq.

1 or 2 yucas, peeled, rinsed, and cut into chunks
(fresh or frozen) Canola oil for frying
Salt

2/3 cups of milk
3-5 aji amarillo, jarred in brine, drained, seeded, and chopped
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 garlic clove, minced
1 small yellow onion, chopped
5-6 ounces of queso fresco (feta or ricotta)
Salt to taste

Place yuca in a large heavy pot with enough cold water to cover by two inches. Add about 2 tablespoons of salt and bring to a boil over medium-high heat.  Adjust heat to maintain a gentle simmer and cook the yuca until it’s tender but not too soft, about 15-20 minutes, and drain well.  When cool enough to handle, cut into 3-inch pieces and set aside.

Add the oil to a large heavy skillet, about 2-3″ deep. Heat over medium-high heat to 365 degrees. Working in batches, carefully add yuca to oil. Gently turn until brown on all sides, about 3-4 minutes. Remove and drain on paper towels or re-purposed grocery paper bags. Sprinkle with sea salt.

Using a food processor or blender, puree the milk and peppers until smooth.  Heat olive oil over medium heat and sauté onions until transluscent, about 3 minutes. Add garlic and continue to cook and additional minute. Add the onions and cheese to the blender and puree until smooth. Add additional olive oil until creamy.

Serve fries hot and dip away.

With an extra pound of fresh crab meat from a soup set back, I knew I wanted to finally try one of the incredible Brazilian seafood recipes I’m always skirting around.  I decided on Leticia Moreinos Schwartz’s Casquinhas de Siri from The Brazilian Kitchen.  I met Leticia at the Gourmet Latino Festival this summer and have loved her book (click here for the brigadeiros I tried).  Bringing together recipes from her upbringing in Rio with her training at the French Culinary Institute and experience in New York restaurants, she deftly moves between traditional and contemporary recipes, making both accessible.

For once, I had almost all the ingredients I needed so there was no need for last minute run to Manhattan’s Little Brazil (though I do love going there).  A combination of sauteed green and yellow peppers sauteed with onions and simmered with garlic, tomatoes, coconut, and crab that’s sprinkled with manioc flour, it’s every good thing packed into a seashell.  Set over Maldon salt as Leticia suggests, they give the impression of being just below the water’s surface but well within reach.

Casquinha de Siri/Stuffed Crab Shells
Recipe from The Brazilian Kitchen by Leticia Moreinos Schwartz, printed with permission. I’ve always been drawn to recipes that transform shells into serveware – pumkins, pineapples and now sea creatures.  Leticia used scallop shells but crab and clam shells also work  The guys at Fish Tales, in my neighborhood, were nice enough to set aside extra-large clam shells which worked perfectly.  If you prefer, porcelain ramekins can also be substituted.

1 cup diced white bread (about 2 slices)
1 cup (250 ml) coconut milk
1 pound jumbo lump crab meat
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1/3 cup chopped onions, about half an onion
½ cup diced yellow peppers, about half a pepper
½ cup diced green peppers, about half a pepper
1 tablespoon minced garlic, about 3 cloves
½ cup diced tomatoes (about 2 tomatoes)
¼ cup dry white wine
¼ cup unsweetened grated coconut
1 teaspoon mustard
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons fresh chopped cilantro
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
¼ tsp Old Bay seasoning

For the crust:
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
½ cup manioc flour
¼ cup grated Parmesan (optional)
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

Maldon Sea Salt or kosher salt for presentation

Prepare the Crab Filling:
Trim the crust from the bread and discard.  Dice the bread handling it lightly, so the pieces remain fluffy.  Place the diced bread in a bowl, pour the coconut milk over, and let it soak for 10 to 20 minutes while you prepare the other ingredients.

Pick over the crab meat to remove any excess shell and set it aside.

In a medium saucepan, warm the olive oil over low heat.  Add the onion and the yellow and green peppers and cook, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon, until they are soft and tender.

Add the garlic and cook for another minute, until it is tender.  Add the tomatoes and cook for another minute, until they get hot.  Add the wine and let half of it evaporate, about 1 to 2 minutes.

Add the bread and coconut milk together.  Add the grated coconut.  Cook, stirring, until everything starts blending together, about 3 minutes.

Turn off the heat and add the crab, mustard, and lemon juice.  Fold everything together using a wooden spoon.  Some pieces of crab will naturally shred, but try to keep some big lumps as well.  Add the butter and cilantro.

Season the crab mixture with salt, pepper, and Old Bay.  At this point the crab mixture should look colorful, soft, well mixed and feel very moist.  If your mixture looks dry, don’t hesitate to add one or two tablespoons of liquid like coconut milk, or wine.

Transfer everything to a bowl and let it cool completely.  This can be done up to two days ahead and kept in a container with a tight-fitting cover in the refrigerator.

Prepare the crust:
In a medium saucepan, melt the butter over medium-low heat.

Add the manioc flour and stir constantly with a wooden spoon, toasting the flour until it reaches a light golden color. This is a step during which you cannot take your eyes off the pan, otherwise the manioc flour might burn.

Transfer the mixture to a bowl, season with salt and pepper. Let it cool for 5 minutes at room temperature.  Add the Parmesan (if using) and mix it in evenly.

Assemble and bake the crab shells.

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Using an ice-cream scoop to measure out equal portions, scoop the crab mixture into the shells and press it down so it fits into the shape of the shell. Repeat until all the filling is used.  Spread a thin coat of crust onto the filling.

Place the stuffed shells onto a sheet pan and bake in the oven until the filling is hot and the crust is a light golden brown, about 12 to 14 minutes.

Place a small pile of Maldon Sea Salt on the bottom of a soup plate and place the shell on top.

Makes 6 to 8 stuffed shells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Makes 16-20 croquetas.

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

Colombian chef Rafael Palomino was inspired by a trip to Mexico to make this party appetizer that’s cured with tequila and ripe pears then quickly sliced up for guests.  I’d never seen tequila-cured salmon before so I knew that if I wanted to try it, I had to do it myself.  The original recipe called for well over a pound of salmon, so I cut it down to make just enough for individual tartines.  As usual, I went to Fish Tales on Court Street.  Taking their advice on the amount of salt, weight, and time I’d need for a smaller cut, I got the assurance to go it alone.  I was nervous when I removed the brine that I’d taken it out too soon (just under 24 hours), but it sliced cleanly and was butter smooth.  Topped with the mango relish over a loaf of pumpernickel smeared with crème fraîche, it was a great light lunch.  Completely worth a trip to the “gravlax section” of the salmon stream.

Tequila-Cured Salmon Gravlax
Adapted from Viva la Vida: Festive Recipes for Entertaining Latin Style by Rafael Palomino, Arlen Gargagliano, and Susie Cushner.

1 8-ounce salmon fillet, pin bones removed
2 tablespoons kosher salt
2 tablespoons mint leaves, finely shredded
1 ripe pear, cored and cut into 1/4″ thick slices
1 tablespoon gold tequila
Mango and lime relish (see below)
4 slices pumpernickel, rye or multi-grain bread
4 tablespoons crème fraîche (optional)
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Place each fillet on a piece of plastic wrap, skin side down.  Cover fillet with salt and blanket with mint, followed by pear slices.  Sprinkle with tequila and wrap tightly in plastic wrap.  Weight the salmon using a few canned items and refrigerate for 24 to 36 hours.

Just before serving, unwrap the salmon and remove pears, mint and salt.  Rinse and dry.  To serve, slice on the bias.  Spread each slice of bread with a tablespoon of crème fraîche and top with a few slices of salmon and relish.  Season with salt and pepper.

Makes 4 servings.

Mango and Lime Relish

1 mango peeled, cut from pit, and cut into 1/4-inch dice
1 small cucumber, seeded and cut into 1/4-inch dice
2 tablespoons gold tequila
Juice of 1 orange
Juice of 2 limes
6 fresh mint leaves, stacked, rolled, and cut into fine shreds
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon Pommery of Dijon mustard
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Combine mango and cucumber in a medium bowl and set aside.  Combine the remaining ingredients in a small bowl and blend well.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.  Pour over mango and cucumber and toss to coat.  Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve, up to three days.

Makes 2-3 cups.

With so many possibilities, I decided to get specific, choosing a version of Ecuadorian humitas from Maria Baez Kijac’s The South American Table, my new favorite. Lighter than the pork and chicken filled tamales I’d had before, these were made of fresh corn pureed with scallions then blended with egg yolks, milk, cheese, and a little brandy.  The filling is wrapped in corn husks and steamed then topped with ají criollo, a hot pepper sauce.  Most recipes tell you that the water content of North American corn is too high in water and too low in starch.  Kijac solves this problem by adding cornmeal to get the right consistency.

I was tempted to make them with whatever corn I found but waited for fresh, whole corn to reach the markets instead.  Once you scrape the kernels, the cobs can be used to line the bottom of the pot to create a shelf that’s lined with loose corn husks for added flavor (and Swiss Family Robinson efficiency).  I set  the wrapped humitas over the improvised steamer, covered them with the remaining husks, and brought the water to boil.  Of course, I could have used my metal steamer or added a tamalera to my precariously packed shelves.  I didn’t have to use the cobs, and won’t always, but at least this time, I wanted to.

Humitas Ecuatorianas
Adapted from The South American Table from Maria Baez Kijac.  Filling the corn husks can be tricky and the size will vary depending on the size of the husks and your stuffing skills.  I started out messy but got better as I went along.  Click here for Saveur’s guide on handling humitas.  

6 to 8 ears corn (4 cups of kernels)
1/4 cup chopped scallions, white part only
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
3 large eggs, separated
1/2 cup cornmeal, or more if needed
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
6 ounces Chihuahua, mozzarella, or Muenster cheese, shredded
1 tablespoon brandy
Kitchen twine, cut into 15-inch lengths
2 cups water
Ají Criollo (see recipe below)

Bring a large part of water to a boil.  Cut through the corncob at the stem end where the kernels start and carefully remove the husks.  Set aside the largest for wrapping and blanch them in boiling water for a couple of minutes to make them more pliable.  Remove from the water and drain on paper towels.  Cut the rest of the husks into strips for tying or to cover the humitas before steaming.

Remove the silk from the corn and rinse.  Cut the kernels from the cobs, adding the milk scraped from the cobs. Reserve the cobs for later use. Place the corn and scallions in food processor or blender and pulse until finely ground. Add the butter, egg yolks, cornmeal, baking powder, salt, sugar, cheese, and brandy.  Pulse until well incorporated and smooth and transfer to a bowl.  The mixture should be thick but not runny. Add more cornmeal, as needed.

In a seperate bowl or using a stand mixer, whip the egg whites to form soft peaks. Carefully fold the whites into the corn mixture.

To assemble the humitas, place two husks on the worktable, slightly overlapped. Place a few spoonfuls of corn batter in the center of the husks. Fold bottom edge over the mixture, fold down the top half, then fold in the sides to form a packet.  Tie with string or corn husk strips.  Repeat with remaining batter.

Place the cobs in the bottom of a large saucepan. Add the water until cobs are almost covered. Cover the cobs with the remaining husks. Place humitas open side up over steamer. Cover with remaining husks. Cover the pot and bring to a boil. Steam until the humitas feel firm to the touch, about 30 minutes for small and 45 minutes for large. Add more boiling water if needed.  Remove from heat and serve with ají criollo.  Leftovers are great for breakfast and can be reheated or pan fried.

Makes 12-16 humitas.

Ají Criollo

4 hot red or green finger peppers, 3 to 4 inches long, seeded and chopped
6 tablespoons water
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup minced scallions
2 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro or parsley leaves

Place peppers, 2 tablespoons of the water, and the salt in a blender and process until smooth.  Transfer to a small bowl and add the scallions, cilantro and remaining water and mix well.