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. To remove the husks from the corn, cut through the corncob at the stem end where the kernels start.  Carefully remove the husks. Set aside the largest for wrapping and blanch in boiling water for a couple of minutes to make them more pliable. Remove from the water and set on paper towels to drain. 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 (you need four cups) and 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. Transfer to a bowl. The mixture should be thick, not runny. Add more cornmeal, as needed,  if the batter is runny.

Beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Carefully fold the whites into 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 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, great for breakfast, 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.

Too rushed to bring out the mandolin, I used my peeler guy vegetable peeler instead to get uniform slices.  Plantains were never part of his pitch but it worked perfectly.  Paper thin, they crisped up right away without absorbing too much oil.  Taking them out when they were still a pale yellow, they went gold in a few seconds.  I added more, trying a few (and then a few more) as I worked just to make sure they were right, with each new batch a little less restless.

Mariquitas de Platános con Mojo Vinegreta/Plantain Chips with Garlic Dip
Adapted from Memories of a Cuban Kitchen: More Than 200 Classic Recipes by Mary Urrutia Randelman and Joan Schwartz.  While most recipes suggest vegetable or peanut oil which both work well, I prefer grapeseed oil for frying plantains.

For plantains:
2 large green plantains (no yellow spots), peeled
Grapeseed, vegetable or peanut oil for frying

For mojo vinegreta:
4-6 garlic cloves, peeled
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup of orange juice
1/4 cup of lime juice
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 cup extra virgin olive oil

Cut the plantains in half crosswise.  Using a vegetable peeler, pare each plantain half lengthwise in ribbon-like shavings.  If not immediately frying, the shavings can be placed in a bowl and covered with cold water to soak for 30 minutes.  Drain and pat dry with paper towels before frying.

In a heavy skillet or deep fryer, heat 2 inches of oil over medium-high heat to 375º or until plantains slice sizzles when it touches the oil.  Add the plantain slices to the oil 5-6 at a time, turning them with a slotted spoon until they are crisp, about 1-2 minutes.  Be careful not to overcrowd the skillet or the oil temperature will fall and the plantains will absorb too much oil and become soggy.  Remove plantains from oil and drain on paper towels.  Sprinkle with salt and serve with vinaigrette.

To make the vinaigrette:
Mash the garlic with one teaspoon of salt to form a smooth paste.  Using a food processor, combine the garlic paste, orange juice, and lime juice.  With the motor running, slowly add the olive oil in a steady stream until smooth.  The ingredients can also be mashed together in a mortar and pestle.

A little neater than the grilled version, I thought it was an interesting alternative for something that can be easily done ahead, freeing up room on the grill.  I also liked that guests can add their own toppings (a little more lime, a little less crema, a lot more chili).

Since I started blogging, I feel like I’ve gotten to know my family and friends in unexpected ways.  For instance, I didn’t know that Raul was the person to go to when you want to talk corn and chiles for an hour, Tio Jorge for pig roasting, Tia Cristina for frijoles, Tia Alicia for everything else.  As much as I love shopping, cooking, eating, and writing food, talking food is pretty great too.

Elote con Crema/Steamed Corn with Crema, Chili, and Cheese
I also tried this recipe with roasted corn.  Though it brought out the corn’s sweetness, I missed the plumpness of steamed corn.  I also realized that I could have added cilantro but then I’ll put cilantro on anything.

3 cups corn kernels, fresh or frozen, defrosted
1 cup Mexican crema or sour cream
1 cup Cotija, Queso Fresco, or Parmesean cheese, crumbled
4 limes, cut in wedges
Salt and pepper
Chili powder

Bring 1/4 cup of water to a simmer over medium heat.  Add corn and cover until just tender and warmed through, 3-5 minutes.  Remove from heat and drain.

Serve in individual bowls.  Sprinkle with lime and season with salt and pepper to taste.  Top with crema, cheese, and chili powder.

Serves 4-6.

I’ve wanted to make vaca frita for awhile.  Literally translated as “Fried Cow”, I hesitate to order it at Cuban restaurants.  While I love the combination of crispy beef and caramelized onions sprinkled with lime, too often it’s more fry than cow.

When I came across Lourdes Castro’s suggestion to spread the marinated beef in even layers, working in small batches,  it was the solution I was looking for.  I served it over fluffy white rice cooked with garlic infuse oil, but it also makes a great appetizer to top tostones.  I reserved the broth to make soup with the leftovers with cilantro or cheese and with garlicky bread.  Another advantage to making it home.

Vaca Frita/Crispy Beef
Barely adapted from Lourdes Castro for Food & Wine, May 2009.

1 1/2 pounds flank steak, cut into 4 pieces
1 green bell pepper, cored and quartered
2 large onions—1 halved, 1 thinly sliced
1 bay leaf
3 garlic cloves, peeled
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon peppercorns
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Freshly ground pepper

In a large saucepan, combine the flank steak with the bell pepper, halved onion, bay leaf, 1 whole garlic clove, salt, and peppercorns. Add enough water to cover and bring to a boil. Simmer over moderate heat for 20 minutes. Transfer the flank steak to a work surface and let the steak cool. Strain the broth and reserve for another use.*  Shred the meat and transfer it to a bowl.**

Using the side of a large knife or mortar and pestle, mash the garlic to a paste with 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Stir the paste into the meat, along with the lime juice, olive oil and sliced onion. Let stand at room temperature for at 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

Heat a large, heavy skillet until very hot. Remove shredded beef from marinade with slotted spatula or spoon.  Working in batches, spread the shredded beef on the skillet in a thin layer and season with salt and pepper. Cook over high heat, turning once or twice, until sizzling and crispy in spots, about 6 minutes per batch. Transfer to a platter and serve with fluffy white rice and lime wedges.

Notes:
*The broth can be poured into ice cube trays until solid then stored in freezer bags to use as needed.

**The shredded beef can be refrigerated overnight at this point.

Arroz Blanco/White Rice

2 cups of white rice, long grain, rinsed and drained
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 garlic cloves, peeled
3 cups of hot water

Heat oil in a saucepan over medium heat.  Add garlic cloves and cook until golden brown on each side, 30-90 seconds.  Carefully remove garlic with tongs and discard.

Remove pan from heat and add hot water (see note).  Return to medium-hight heat and bring to a rapid boil and add rice.  Return to a boil then immediately lower heat to lowest possible setting.  Do not stir.  Cover and cook until tender, about 30 minutes.

Note:  The pan should be completely off heat before adding water so that the hot oil does not pop and steam.  I usually pass the water through a mesh cover to avoid splattering.

Welcomed with a traditional caipirinha followed by spiced batida de maracuja, I was content to stick with the cocktails where the fiery cachaça could be balanced with sugar and lime or passion fruit and habanero chiles.  The prospect of downing cachaça straight was a daunting, but that’s what the demure row of sample glass was there for and we soon moved on to the tasting.

Looking over a list of terms and point systems – clean, complex, bouquet, finish, charcoal, clarity, smoke, swish, sediment, taste, finish – was a little overwhelming.  Starting with the soft Beleza Pura and sweet Ypioca, we ended with a Leblon that was pure light. Still it was the aged Fazenda Soledade where it all made sense.  Warm and spicy, it was everything it should be then it was gone.  I wish I’d taken better notes, but all I remember thinking is that this is why they’re called spirits.

Moving from one cachaça to another, the qualities of each could be more easily appreciated, and it occurred to me that that had been the primary purpose of the festival itself.  Celebrating the diversity of Latin American gastronomy with seminars highlighting the foods, cocktails, wines and coffees, the richness and vibrancy of each country’s cuisine – Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Mexico, Peru among others – pulled the region into better focus.  Coming at the end of a long weekend of seminars and special events at the Gourmet Latino Festival, they were running a little late but a 10 minutes delay did not seem terrible for an event that was a long time coming.  If you missed it, there’s still a chance to take advantage of the special menu participating chef have created for the festival’s Authentic Dining Week which kicks off today and runs through June 12th.



I was at an event last week when a full tray of sliders slid right past me.  While the waiter eluded me, it reminded me of a recipe I’ve wanted to try for awhile – carne fria.  A combination of ground sirloin, pork, and sometimes fois-gras, it’s baked or poached then served cold with sweet preserves or sharp mustard.  A favorite at family luncheons, it would sit next to the pastelitos, cangrejitos, and bocaditos, proud but ugly, the only adult at the buffet table.   I’d wanted to make it last summer for a party but only had a vague idea of how to go about it.  It was one of the those second nature recipes that everyone makes but no one writes down.  With picnic season starting, I decided to try again and finally found it in Memories of a Cuban Kitchen: More Than 200 Classic Recipes by Mary Urrutia Randelman and Joan Schwartz.  There in black and white, wasn’t getting away this time.

Carne Fria
Adapted from Memories of a Cuban Kitchen: More Than 200 Classic Recipes by Mary Urrutia Randelman and Joan Schwartz.  The cooking time is cut in half by baking, but traditionally, the meat rolls are wrapped in a cheese cloth then sewn together and poached in a light broth for two hours.  With four rolls to cook, I decided to try both.  Though I preferred the poached version with the added flavor of the seasoned poaching liquid, the baked ones were very close and I’ve included notes on how to make them in case you’re short on time.

For the beef mixture:
1 pound ground sirloin or chuck
1 pound ground pork
1/2 pound ground ham
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon dijon mustard
1 small onion, grated
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon dried oregano
1/8 teaspoon ground cumin
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup cracker meal or fine bread crumbs*

Cheesecloth

For the broth:
1 small onion, quartered
2 garlic cloves
1 bay leaf
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon peppercorns
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon cumin

For toppings:
Strawberry preserves
Dijon mustard
Mayonesa Rosada (recipe below)

*Cracker meal is commonly sold in Latin American grocery stores but can be easily made by placing Cuban crackers or saltines in a food processor until finely ground.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the ground sirloin, pork and ham until thoroughly combined.  Mix in the rest of the ingredients except for the eggs and cracker meal.  Add the eggs and continue mixing, then add the cracker meal a little at a time, until well combined.

Divide the mixture into quarters and shape into individual rolls.  (See note here if baking.) Tightly double or triple wrap each roll separately in cheesecloth like a sausage.  Securely knot both ends so that none of the mixture will leak out (no sewing required).

Add the ingredients for the broth to a large saute pan or heavy pot with two cups of water and bring to a boil.  Add the wrapped rolls and lower heat to a low-simmer.  Simmer for two hours until cooked through, checking frequently.  Add hot water to pan if necessary so that the rolls are surrounded by about 1 1/2 inches of water as they cook.  Remove from the broth.  While still warm, remove the cloth.  Allow to cool to room temperature then refrigerate until cold.  Slice and serve with desired toppings and crackers or slices of toasted baguette.

Makes 4 rolls or 28-32 individual slices.

Notes:  If baking, wrap each loaf separately in aluminum foil and place them in a large roasting pan.  Pour 1/2 inch of water around them and bake in a preheated oven 350 degrees for one hour.  Allow to cool to room temperature then refrigerate until cold.

Mayonesa Rosada/Pimiento Mayonnaise
Barely adapted from Memories of a Cuban Kitchen: More Than 200 Classic Recipes by Mary Urrutia Randelman and Joan Schwartz.

1/4 cup pimientos, drained
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon fresh lime juice
Salt to taste
A few dashes of Tabasco sauce to taste (optional)

In a blender of a food processor, puree the pimientos and tomato paste.  Add the rest of the ingredients and process until well blended.  Adjust seasoning to taste, cover and refrigerate until ready to use.

I was talking with someone about cooking the other day, and we both agreed that we did not like having people in the kitchen with us when we cooked.  I realized as I was nodding sympathetically that I had made a plan with my friend Valerie to do exactly that the very next day.  Rather than grab a coffee somewhere, I thought it would be fun if we got together and made something that I could write about here.  I hadn’t included any Panamanian recipes until now so Val was supposed to consult her aunts for suggestions, and I was going to get everything ready so that when she got here we could whip something up quickly.  We decided to make carimañolas, mashed yuca formed into a roll then stuffed with picadillo and deep fried, a popular breakfast and afternoon snack in Panama similar to the croquetas de yuca that I have when I’m home.  An easy afternoon of catching-up, photographing my food, and turning Panamanian street food into an appetizers-for-lunch meal.

I’d only been to Panama once when I was about 6 years old and had a vague recollection of the trip or the food.  I do remember being fascinated by the mosaic in the hotel pool and being bought a new dress for a party.  We went to a friend’s house where the slightly older girls of the family were fascinated to have a live doll to play with for a few hours.  I remember the fun of getting ready for the party – a cloud of baby powder and perfume – and then nothing else.  Exhausted from the swimming and the makeover, I slept through the entire thing.  When I woke up and realized I’d missed it, I cried my heart out.  It was my first party dress and my first party disaster.

My ladies-who-make-lunch party didn’t didn’t go any smoother.  I had planned to to have everything under way but was running late, so when she got there (also late), I had only just started boiling the yuca.  I thought it would take a few minutes to mash the yuca, but we’d let the it cool too much (probably talking) so that it hardened and took much longer to push through the food mill.  The picadillo was quick by we bickered over how to form the fritters – Val thought I was being too stingy with the filling (which I was) and I thought she was being too messy (which she was).  In between squabbles, requests for Val to scold my dogs in Mandarin which she speaks fluently, and endless cranks of the food mill, the sun was sinking and late lunch was becoming early dinner.

I realized that part of the reason I resist help (or witnesses) in the kitchen is that it interferes with the Barefoot Contessa episode I have playing in my head.  From the moment I invite anyone over, I can see myself pulling together perfectly prepped ingredients to make a fabulous meal without getting so much as a spot on my crisply ironed, french blue button-down while my good friend Miguel creates a gorgeous table setting in the next room of my spacious, well lit East Hamptons home.  Unfortunately, my kitchen is no where near the Hamptons and is only considered “big for New York”, I should wear a hazmat suit in the kitchen, and the only Miguel I know is my cousin who lives in London, works in finance, and has no interest in flower arranging (that I’m aware of).  Typically, my imperfectly planned Panamanian afternoon ended with us splattered, tired, and tearing into our hard won carimañolas like wolverines in aprons.  I don’t know that I actually set the table, much less arrange it in any special way.  It wasn’t an elegant afternoon but it was fun and we made a plan for plantain empanadas in the next couple of weeks.  I’ll never give up my quest for perfect because I just can’t, but I have to admit that making a mess with your friends has its own charms.

Carimañolas/Meat filled Yuca Fritters
Usually, when I’m making picadillo, I try to balance the sweet and savory.  For this version, I was happy to leave out the raisins and throw in the chili peppers.  While Panamanian cuisine isn’t nearly as hot as Mexican, they seem to add a little more heat than the rest of the Caribbean. Perhaps because they weren’t technically the Cuban croquetas de yuca I was used to, I tried a few things with this recipe I usually stayed away from like tomato paste and hot sauce.  Nothing too scandalous, just a way to concentrate the flavors of the picadillo.  In an earlier version, I added eggs and a flour to the yuca to form a dough similar to gnocchi or buñuelos.  It formed a smooth but bland dough that overwhelmed the picadillo.  The next time around, I added only a small amount of oil and salt which worked much better.  Once fried, the yuca formed a crisp outer crust around a creamier inner layer that enveloped the spicy picadillo without overwhelming it.  It was a great combination.

3 pounds of yuca, peeled and cut into chunks (fresh or frozen)
1 tablespoon canola oil
1 tablespoon kosher salt

Picadillo filling:
2 tablespoons canola oil
1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 jalapeño pepper, cored, seeded, and chopped
2 garlic cloves, peeled and minced
1 pound extra-lean ground beef
2 tablespoons tomato paste
2 tablespoons dry white wine
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon oregano
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 teaspoon jalapeño, habanero or chipotle hot sauce
1 tablespoon capers, drained
1 tablespoon parsley, finely chopped

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

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.  While still hot, remove yuca with a slotted spoon or tongs and run through a food mill or place in a bowl and mash with a potato masher.*  The yuca will become more difficult to process as it cools so reserve a small amount of the cooking water to add to the yuca by the spoonful as needed.  Blend in one tablespoons of oil and one tablespoon of salt.  Form into a smooth but stiff mass and set aside.

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat.  Add the onions and  pepper and sauté about 3 minutes until translucent.  Add the garlic and sauté an additional 2 minutes.

Add the beef and break it up so there are no lumps.  Add the tomato paste, wine, Worcestershire sauce, oregano, cumin, sugar, salt and pepper and simmer covered over medium heat for 15-20 minutes, stirring occasionally until mostly dry.  Blend in one teaspoon of hot sauce or more if desired.  Add capers and parsley and adjust the seasoning.

Divide yuca dough into 20-25 individual pieces rolled into 1 1/2-2″ balls.  Create a well in the center of each ball and fill with one tablespoon of picadillo.  To form the carimañolas, gently push the filling into the center as you close dough around it forming a diamond shaped fritter.  Repeat with the remaining dough balls.

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

Carefully add  to oil 2-3  carimañolas at a time and fry until golden, turning occasionally, about 3-4 minutes total.

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

Makes filling for 24 carimanolas

*If you are using a potato masher, remove the stringy fibers from the core of the yuca before mashing.

Note – If you would like to save them for later, lightly sprinkle the freshly formed carimañolas with flour and place in a baking sheet in the freezer for about 30 minutes.  Remove from the freezer and store in a ziploc bag until ready to fry.

A few months ago a friend recommended Frida’s Fiestas: Recipes and Reminiscences of Life with Frida Kahlo.  Written by her step-daughter Guadalupe Rivera and Marie-Pierre Colle, it’s part cookbook and part food memoir.  Organized by month, each chapter centers on the holidays and seasons as they were celebrated in the Blue House in Coyoacán.  Describing a trip with Frida to the pyramids of San Juan Teotihuacán, the author writes:

After offering us the traditional refreshment of agua de chía, doña Rosa invited us to eat.  She had prepared a number of Lenten dishes typically served throughout the central Mexican plain, where the gods that Frida invoked in her paintings had once upon a time resided.  As it turned out, doña Rosa and don Tomas extended their hospitality to us for three more days, days in which reality was inseparable from magic.

It’s one of my favorite cookbooks to flip through so I decided to make something from it yesterday.  Enjoying the early thaw, my first instinct was to jump ahead to April until that description inspired me to give March a chance.  Though I usually see it as the month to be gotten through, there’s also something great about a long cross-fade – it’s all anticipation.  Running through the park this weekend, I was surrounded by the same bare trees but for the first time I could see what was coming.  Deciding to be honest to the time, I chose something from the March menu and was rewarded with plenty of green.

Papas en Salsa Verde/Potatoes in Green Sauce
Adapted from Frida’s Fiestas: Recipes and Reminiscences of Life with Frida Kahlo by Guadalupe Rivera and Marie-Pierre Colle.  As the book suggested, I served the potatoes with refried beans topped cotija cheese and totopos ( fried small tortilla triangles). 

2 pounds of small potatoes
2 pounds of tomatillos, husked and rinsed
4 serrano chiles, roasted, peeled and seeded
Sea salt to taste
3/4 cup coarsely chopped cilantro
2 tablespoons lard
1 large onion, finely chopped and divided

In a heavy pot, bring potatoes to a boil in salted water.  Simmer covered until just tender about 15 minutes.  Drain the potatoes.  Peel when cool enough to handle and set aside.

Add the tomatillos, garlic and half of the chopped onion to a heavy pot with enough salted water to cover.  Bring to a simmer over medium heat and cook until tender, about 10 minutes.  Drain the tomatillos reserving one cup of the cooking water.  Let cool slightly.

In a food processor or blender, combine the tomatillo mixture, chiles, and cilantro.  Puree until smooth adding water to reach desired consistency.  Do not over blend.

Melt lard in a heavy skillet over medium heat.  Add the remaining chopped onions and saute until translucent, about 5 minutes.  Add the tomatillo puree and cook until for 10 minutes.  Stir in the potatoes and continue to cook until completely tender and warmed through, about 15 minutes.

Serves 8.

Frijoles Refritos/Refried Beans
To make the refried beans, I used the frijoles negros I had frozen but pinto beans are also popular.  Using the beans and their cooking liquid creates a deeper flavor but canned beans can also be substituted.

3 tablespoons lard or canola oil
1 onion, finely chopped
3-4 cups of cooked beans with their cooking liquid
Sea salt
Grated añejo cheese
Totopos (fried small tortilla triangles)

Melt lard in a heavy skillet over medium heat.  When it starts to smoke, add the chopped onions and saute until golden, about 5-8 minutes.  Add the cooked beans one cup at a time.  Mash the beans to form a puree as you stir them in with a potato masher or the back of a large spoon.  Season with salt to taste.  Raise the heat to medium-high and continue to stir until the puree pulls from the bottom and sides of the pan.  Adjust seasonings.  Serve on a platter and top with cheese and totopos.

I bought the malanga by mistake.  I’d considered adding it to my garbanzos last week but left it out at the last minute.  Not wanting to let it go to waste, I decided to try making fritters instead.  I’d stopped by a friends house unexpectedly when he was finishing a batch for salt cod fritters, and it looked so easy and simple that I wanted to try this variation.  They’re the kind of last minute side dish that could be whipped up in a few minutes.  I looked through a few different recipes that were very similar – malanga, eggs, a little garlic, maybe parsley.  Reading A Taste of Old Cuba, I was reminded that frying 0f any kind was always left for last so that the fritters, plantains or croquetas could be served hot and crisp, never greasy .  I hadn’t thought about it before but realized that I do associate the crackle and sizzle of frying with a great meal about to be had – a little music drawing everyone to the table.

Frituras de Malanga/Malanga Fritters
When I finished processing the malangas, I thought I’d made a mistake.  An oatmeal like mush, I regretted using the food processor instead of grating the malanga and mixing it by hand.  I decided to go ahead anyway, absentmindedly dropping the mixture in to the oil while I considered running out for more or just scratching it altogether.  When I looked down, the batter had turned into little golden drums.  Crispy on the outside and creamy on the inside, they reminded me of arancini balls.  I decided to make a fast garlic and lime ailoli to accompany them.  Having underestimated them, I felt like I owed them something.

1 pound raw malanga, peeled and cut into chunks*
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 garlic clove, chopped
1 teaspoon vinegar
1 tablespoon parsley, roughly chopped
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

1 1/2 to 2 cups vegetable oil

In a food processor, combine all of the ingredients except for the oil.  Pulse for a few seconds until a loose, textured paste forms, do not over mix.  Allow to rest for 15 minutes.

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 batter to oil in large tablespoons.  Gently turn until brown on all sides, about 4 minutes.  Remove and drain on paper towels or re-purposed grocery paper bags.

Notes:

Malanga is also known as Yautia in some Latin American markets.

They are best served immediately but can be frozen and reheated for 10-15 minutes at 350 degrees.

Until recently, I rarely fried anything at home.  I hated the smell, the splatter, the guilt.  When I started writing about Latin American food, I knew I couldn’t avoid it much longer and finally bought a deep fryer.  While it produces perfect batches of churros, empanadas and buñuelos, it’s the SUV of fryers requiring such a massive amount of oil that I keep it parked most of the time.  It wasn’t practical for smaller, any-night batches of plantains.  Maduros I can handle.  Overly ripe, they caramelize and brown in a second while using grapeseed oil keeps them light.  My tostones or chatinos, the green plantains fried twice till they’re crispy gold, however, were disasters.  I’d buy bright green plantains but put off making them till they were just about to ripen, somewhere between a maduro and tostone.  Overly cautious when I added the plantain chunks, I’d stand too far back, giving it a nervous last-minute flick, that sent oil everywhere.  Taking too long to cook because I hadn’t let the oil get hot enough, they’d soak up every extra drop.  Finally, I’d put them in a tostonera to smash down but they’d go to the side instead.  They did not look like flowery golden discs, they looked run over.  By the time I got to the second frying, both the tostones and I were exhausted and covered in oil.

That was my story until this Christmas Eve.  Papo, a friend of my Uncle’s had come over to help set everything up for dinner.  A one-man catering company, he’d been working since the day before preparing the pig for the roast, peeling yuca, and chopping plantains.  He’d just started frying the plantains but got called away to the kitchen when the oven wasn’t equipped to handle the massive amounts of rice required for a Cuban family of  fifty.  The resulting domino effect meant that in fifteen minutes we were suddenly two hours behind.  Wanting to help out, my mother, from whom I’d inherited my fear of frying, and I volunteered to take over the tostones.  I’d been pestering Papo with questions all day and was dying to do something.  He took one look at us gingerly mashing the too hot plantains between to worn pieces of aluminum foil and the defeat in his eyes was heart wrending.  He went back to the kitchen and came back with two cans of beans for even mashing.  We went to work, improving a little with each batch.  Making a dozen or so every few months hadn’t helped, but making over 200 in an hour, I learned fast.  With no time for jitters, I got used to the bubbling oil, the draining, and mashing by being careful not skittish.  In the end, the rice cooked, the pig roasted, the plantains fried, and the family ate.  Once the momentary panic was over, it was hard to remember why we’d gotten so worked up in the first place.

Tostones  (or Chatinos)
I think the reason I had so much trouble with them is that I was relying too much on the directions rather than what I had in front of me.  It is easier to wait for a digital timer to tell you it’s 365 degrees than to watch the plantains to make sure they’re cooking as quickly as they should.  Similarly, if they don’t mash evenly, they just need to be fried a couple of more minutes so test one before removing the entire batch from the oil.  If you’re making them in advance, they can be frozen after the initial frying and mashing, then fried the second and final time just before serving.

3 large green plantains
1 cup corn oil
Sea salt

Cut the ends off the plantains and slice down the middle.  Remove the peel and cut into 1″ chunks.  Heat one cup of corn oil in a deep frying pan until hot.  Add plantains in batches and fry until golden all around, about 3-5 minutes.

Test for doneness by using a can or flat bottomed bottle to smash to desired thickness.  The plantain should spread out evenly but hold together from the center.  If so, remove from oil and drain on paper towels of brown paper.*

Refry a second time till evenly crisp.  Drain once again and add sea salt to taste.  Though they’re best eaten immediately, they can be warmed in the oven a few minutes before serving if made in advance.

*At this point, they can also be soaked in warm salted water a few minutes.  This works well for thicker plantains making them more tender.  Drain well before frying the second time.