I once read that Montezuma would pour melted chocolate over bowls of snow brought to him from the mountain tops.  The image made me swoon though it has to be boiling outside for me to give up my scorching espresso or spiced hot chocolate.  This weekend we actually did reach the boiling point so I decided to try it the Emperor’s way.  

Chocolate Frio/Iced Chocolate

Curious to find other references to iced chocolate, I came across the etymology for the word chocolate in Harold McGee’s On Food and Cooking.  Taken from the Aztec (Nahuatl) word cacahuatl or cocoa-water, the Spanish may have substituted the Mayan word chocol or “hot” to show their preference for the hot Mayan version to the cold Aztec preparation – the debate between hot and cold running much longer than I could have imagine.  For this version, I doubled the amount of chocolate and simmered the milk with vanilla bean and canela, adding a few drops of orange blossom water and a pinch of cayenne pepper for just the right amount of heat.

Popular brands of Mexican chocolate include Ibarra, Nestle’s Abuelita, and Taza.  Though available in specialty stores and online here, it’s increasingly available in large chain grocery store and worth seeking out.  Sold in tablets that are infused with cinnamon and rolled in sugar, it’s worth seeking out.

4 ounces Mexican chocolate
2 cups whole milk
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise and seeds scraped out
1-2 sticks of Mexican cinnamon, sold as canela in grocery stores
Pinch of cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon orange blossom water (optional)

2 cups crushed ice

Heat the milk with the vanilla bean, seeds, and cinnamon stick in a heavy pot over medium heat and bring to a low boil.  Lower heat and simmer, stirring constantly, about 10 minutes.  Remove from heat and discard vanilla bean and cinnamon.  Add cayenne pepper and orange blossom water if using.  Bring to room temperature and refrigerate until ready to use.

Add cooled chocolate to blender and pulse until frothy.  Add crushed ice and pulse to combine.  Pour into chilled glasses and top with whipped cream and sprinkle with cinnamon.

Makes 2-4 servings.

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.



Today I took my first steps in what I hope will end with the triumphant crossing New York City marathon finish line and not sleeping through the Staten Island start, crying on the 59th Street bridge, or passing out in Central Park’s closing stretch.  Looking ahead the long Saturday training runs I have planned between now and November, I decided to play around with fresh fruit batidos (also known licuados or preparados depending on the accent).

Well before Jamba Juice took over the planet, Miami was dotted with fruit stands selling mango, mamey, papaya, guanabana, and coconut shakes and juices – sometimes from a brightly painted wooden stand, sometimes from a re-purposed grocery cart, sometimes from a well-rigged bicycle.  A cross between a fruit smoothie and icy shake, typical Cuban add-ins include whole milk, ice cream, condensed milk, sugar and even cream cheese.  The last time I visited my favorite batido stand, I ventured to ask the woman working the counter how much sugar they used.  She gave me a look that asked plainly, “what would you like to hear?”  To make sure that the fruit in my smoothie isn’t overpowered by sweeteners, I swapped the ice cream for kefir, a milk drink similar to yogurt that’s also recommended for post-run recovery.  Having recently dreamt that my favorite bodega was shut down (obsessive I know but a pretty common anxiety in gentrified Brooklyn), I ran over to grab my favorite tropical fruit purees and pulp.  Normally, I try to use fresh fruit, but in this case the colder the better.  I also doubled up on the fruit to balance out the tartness of the kefir and substituted honey or agave for the sugar.  There are still a million variations to try but the summer’s only just started and I have a lot of miles to go.

Batido de Mango
Finding good tropical fruit can be a challenge in New York.  I’ve been pretty lucky with mangoes so far this season so I use fresh ones to make this shake whenever possible.

2 cups mango chunks, fresh or frozen
1 cup plain kefir (or plain yogurt)
1 cup crushed ice
Honey or agave to taste

Add ice to blender, and pulse a few seconds at a time until well chopped.  Add the mango and kefir and blend until smooth.  Add honey or agave to taste.

Makes 2 servings.

Batido de Papaya
I’ve been looking for a way to add papaya to my diet and this worked well.

Substitute 2 cups of papaya for the mango in the above recipe.

Makes 2 servings.

Batido de Mora
I wanted to include a recipe for blackberries which are starting to appear at the farmer’s markets.  I love the combination of blackberries and orange juice but threw in the banana at the last minute for a creamier texture.  The blackberry juice can be strained to pull out the seeds but I like to leave them in.

1 cup fresh blackberries
1/4 cup orange juice
1/2 cup plain kefir (or plain yogurt)
1/2 banana (optional)
Honey or agave to taste

Using a blender, combine the blackberries and orange juice and process until smooth.  Strain seeds if needed and return to blender.  Add the kefir and banana if using and blend until smooth.  Add honey or agave to taste.

Makes 2 servings.

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

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

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

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

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

From the onset of the holiday season, scrooges and Christmas fans have one complaint in common, if it’s so wonderful why isn’t it like this year round? Then January 2 happens and there’s a collective gasp – what have I done?!  Nothing fits!  I’m so hungover!  I have to get rid of this tree! Churches empty and gyms fill, and it’s only been a month.  While I support the idea of everyday peace, love and understanding, I don’t think we’re up to daily Christmas just yet.

Resolutions can restore some balance, and I have  personally resolved to stick to a new Tuesday-Thursday-Sunday posting schedule which I thought I’d mention to keep me honest.  My kitchen is only starting to come together after a quick renovation went long, so I was excited to get back in there yesterday.  I couldn’t think of a better way to start a new year of on-schedule posts than with really strong coffee.  Having been home for the holidays, I’d gotten used to stopping at ventanitas, the coffee stands set up at most Cuban restaurants in Miami.  The small stations usually contain a warmer full of pastries, a giant juicer packed with oranges, cigars and cigarettes, a large igloo water dispenser, and an enormous espresso machine working non-stop.  Typically manned by one or two women, they calmly take multiple orders, give change, give advice, settle arguments, and serve countless pastries while producing a steady stream of pitch perfect coladas, cafe con leches and cortaditos.

If I only found great espresso at the ventanitas, I would leave it the professionals and Hindu goddesses with the skill and twenty arms it takes to work those stations.  But visits to friends and family begin with the offer of un cafecito which they also seem to get right – hot, strong and sweet.  I’ve never been very good at making Cuban coffee at home, so I resolved that this year I would put away my Krups machine and finally learn to use my stove top espresso maker.  The more it’s used, the better the result and it was the only way I knew to get the espumita, that even layer of caramel colored foam that settles across the espresso once it’s poured. Though good coffee is typical, great coffee is rare so I consulted my aunt in charge of cafe and espuma at all of our gatherings for measurements, techniques and tricks.  Five days into the new year, I’m only three batches into my new maker but already hooked.  It’s the one resolution I’ll have no problem keeping.  I had planned on making a cake for Three Kings Day but I’ll have to leave Balthazar, Gaspar, and Melchior cafecitos instead.  I’m sure they’ll appreciate the gesture for the long road ahead.

Café Cubano
The following measurements are based on a 6-cup stove top espresso maker.

1 1/3 cup of cold water*
4-5 tablespoons espresso, finely ground coffee
4 teaspoons of sugar

Fill the lower chamber with cold water.  Insert the funnel and fill with coffee.  Pat smooth with back of spoon to level off but do not press down.  Replace upper chamber with handle and lid and screw tightly.  Place pot over low heat.

When the coffee just starts to percolate, take the first few drops and add it to the measuring cup with a few teaspoons of sugar then beat it to form a creamy paste while the rest of the coffee percolates.  Off heat, pour in in the rest of the espresso in a steady stream and mix until well blended with the sugar emulsion.  Pour into the individual demitasse cups for a quick shot or add to steamed milk.

*Many espresso makers have a line indicating the proper water level.  The water should always come below the safety valve and should not come up through the funnel when it’s replaced on the base

He turned round, and leaning upon his elbow, began to sip his chocolate.  The mellow November sun came streaming into the room.  The sky was bright, and there was a genial warmth in the air.  It was almost like a morning in May.

- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

There are always a few weeks in early Fall where it is colder in my apartment then it is outside.  I leave the house ready to face a brisk New York, early frost and find a mild northern California day instead.  While the season makes up it’s mind, I’ll just live in a bowl of hot chocolate.  Nueva Bogotá Hot Chocolate
This recipe is adapted from James Turback’s Hot Chocolate, a small collection of hot chocolate quotes, recipes, and stories from chocolatiers around the world.  I ordered this book as a last minute add-on to complete an order.  I don’t remember what I ordered it with but this tiny book has become of my favorites.  This recipe comes from Venezuelan chocolatier Michael Antonorsi from Chuao Chocolatier in California, inspired from his time in Colombia.  I’ve always loved the Colombian tradition of mixing cheese and chocolate, especially since there’s a greater variety of farmer’s cheeses available now.  I loved the heat of the chipotle chiles but the cayenne pepper made it burn a little too hotly for me so I made it optional.  If you like the extra heat, definitely include it.

2 cups 2% or whole milk
4 ounces high quality bittersweet chocolate (58.5% cacao), chopped
2 tablespoons grated papelon, panela, pilonzillo, panocha, or firmly packed brown sugar
Pinch of ground cardamon
Pinch of ground chipotle chile
1/2 pinch salt
1/2 pinch ground cayenne pepper (optional)

2 ounces white farmer’s cheese  (queso blanco, queso panella or any farmer’s cheese used for grilling or frying) cut into 1/4″ cubes

In  a small saucepan, combine the chocolate, panela, and spices and set aside.  In a seperate saucepan, bring the milk to a simmer but do not boil.  Add half the milk to the chocolate mixture and beat with a wire whisk until the chocolate is melted.  Add the rest of the milk and heat over medium until hot but not boiling.  Pour into cups and drop in the cheese cubes.  Serve immediately.

Serves 2 to 4.

He gestures us to some plastic chairs, pulls out a bottle of pisco and ruminates on pisco quality and history. He shakes the bottle back and forth rapidly, like a metronome set to the Sex Pistols, then stops it sharply with a flick of his wrist, creating a twister of bubbles inside the bottle.

“See the rose at the top?” he says. “And the stem? High quality — no hangover here!” He reaches for the cups. “If you see the stem but no rose, there are impurities.” He metes out a round of silky-smooth shots, then another. “With good pisco you can drink half a liter of pisco sour and have no headache the next day.”

Anyone who has ever chased an ice cream truck, begged for an Italian ice on the way home, or broken their new Snoopy snow cone machine on Christmas morning (still bothers me), will understand how excited I was  when my friend sent me this article by pastry cook Gaby Camacho, A Chef Perfects the Paleta of Childhood, from the San Francisco Chronicle.  Raised in Tijuana, she sets off in search of the paletas and raspados of her childhood.  Remembering flavors like cucumber and lime, rose petals, and tequila, I could understand why she would be nostalgic.  As an adult, I’ve stayed away from raspberry blue popsicles and radioactive snow cones, but I love the idea of making them with fresh ingredients from home.  Trying the raspado de tamarindo first, I used all natural tamaring pulp from a nearby bodega to make the syrup.  I’ll try it again when I find fresh tamarinds and some of the other combinations she suggests as longs as the heat lasts.  It can’t be harder than chasing ice cream trucks.

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

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

Orfeo Perro

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Farofa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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