250 g (about 1 cup or 9 ounces) quinoa, well rinsed in several changes of water until it runs clear
4 cups chicken broth
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium white onion, diced (about 1 cup)
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 ounces smoked bacon, cubed
5 ounces (about 2 cups) sliced mushrooms (shitake, crimini, or a combination)
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup parmesean cheese, grated
1 pinch grated nutmeg
Sea salt and ground white pepper

In a large heavy pot, bring chicken broth to a boil over medium high heat. Add the quinoa and return to a fast simmer until tender, about 12 minutes. Set aside to cool.*

While the quinoa cooks, melt the butter over medium heat, in large heavy skilled. Add the bacon, onions, and garlic. Stirring frequently, sauté until the onions begin to soften but do not brown, about 5 minutes. Add the mushrooms and sauté until they are tender and most of the liquid has evaporated. Add the heavy cream, wine, saffron and bring to a simmer.

Set the heavy pot with drained quinoa over medium heat. Add the mushroom mixture to the quinoa and stir until well blended. Stir over medium heat until the quinotto thickens or reaches the desired consistency. Remove from heat and stir in the parmesean and parsley. Serve immediately.

Yields 4 large or 6 side dish servings.

*The original recipe recommends draining the quinoa. I prefer a looser risotto so I let the quinoa cool in the broth and combined it with

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.

The weeks between Mardi Gras and Easter are defined by what you can’t do (or can’t do just yet) – light jackets but schizophrenic weather, longer days but dark morning commutes – a period of austerity before it’s all bunnies, baskets and tulips. While I’m far from orthodox, I do try to follow the no-meat on Friday rule during lent (though full confession I only seem to remember halfway through a turkey sandwich or mid-Korean barbecue).  With friends coming over, the timing was right for seafood.

In this week’s Devour the Blog, I talked about arriving in Mexico City and making camarones al chipotle with my Tia Cely. Having stopped off there first, I wanted to make my connection and continue to my original destination, picking up here where that post left off and trying a variation she’d suggested – roasted poblano peppers filled with chipotle shrimp and set over black bean puree.

Catching up from being away, my prep was a little off. The shrimp were straighforward but the I forgot to soak the beans overnight and had to use my pressure cooker (which thankfully did not explode). I also forgot my first batch of poblanos in the broiler and had to run out for more, so I was roasting and sweating the peppers until the last minute. Nevertheless, I loved the way it all came together. Far from bleak, the almost-spring colors from the deep purple beans and emerald green peppers to the peach-pink shrimp with the added heat from the chipotles pointed to the relief that was soon to come. 

Chiles Rellenos con Camarones al Chipotle/Poblano Peppers stuffed with Chipotle Shrimp

6 poblano peppers, roasted and peeled (see note)

Camarones al chipotle, prepared

For the black bean puree :
3 cups black beans, soaked overnight and rinsed well
1 large white onion, chopped and divided
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1-2 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and pepper, herbs (oregano, cumin, fresh espazote) sherry vinegar or olive oil to taste

In a 4-6 quart pressure cooker, combine black beans, 6 cups of water, 1/2 of the chopped onion, a tablespoon of olive oil, and salt. Seal per manufacturer’s instructions. Set over medium heat and cook for 30 minutes. Remove pressure cooker from heat but do not remove lid. Allow the pressure to come down completely before opening.

While the beans are cooking, heat 1-2 tablespoons of olive oil in a heavy skillet over medium heat. Add the remaining onion and garlic and sauté for about 5 minutes until soft.

When ready to open, add the sofrito to the pot with black beans. Add herbs, vinegar, or a few more drops of olive oil to taste. Bring to a boil then lower to a simmer until completely tender, about 10-20 minutes. Adjust salt and pepper to taste. Using a food processor or blender, puree beans until smooth, adding broth from the beans as needed to reach desired consistency.  Set aside.

Make a slit in each pepper and pull out the seeds and veins. Fill with prepared shrimp. Pour half of the black been puree into serving dish and set stuffed peppers on the puree.  Serve remaining bean puree on the side.

Note: To roast the peppers, place them directly under the broiler in a baking dish, checking on them every couple of minutes and turning them until charred and puckered on every side.  Watch carefully to make sure that they do not burn through.  Once blackened evenly, they should be removed and sealed in a plastic bag for a few minutes to “sweat”.  When cool enough to handle, remove and peel off skin.

I decided to call my fishing cousins.  Visiting their house with my grandparents, it seemed they were always either out on the boat, back from the boat, or getting ready to take the boat out again.  Their house was itself a kind of aquarium filled with birdcages and plants too green to be believed, so that you couldn’t tell if you were outside or in.  Eventually, the boat won and my aunt and uncle retired to Key West (of course).  All those years of fishing couldn’t have gone to waste and so I asked my aunt for some suggestions.
I asked her about pescado en salsa verde but after reading off the directions, she mentioned a different recipe that had been in my family over a hundred years, since their time in Yaguajay.  The snapper is seasoned then marinated in tomato sauce, olive oil, vino seco and cider and covered in onions and bay leaves, potatoes are added just before cooking.  Originally, the recipe called for the fish to be placed over hot coals but it had been introduced to the oven in the last sixty or so years without a problem.  The only difficulty I had was finding out too late that the fillets should be skinned.  Easy enough to request when I bought the fish, I realized I had a terrible knife and worse skills.  Now pressed for time, my aunt talked me through it, but I don’t know who suffered more, me or the fish.

My ordeal over. I threw in a variety of purple and red potatoes I’d found for color with whatever olive mix looked prettiest.  While it was baking, I made a quick batch of white rice with garlic oil to accompany it and toasted some bread.  I admit that I made a few more calls to my aunt to make sure I had everything right, borrowing a little of the cooking confidence I don’t always feel.

Pargo con Tomate, Cebolla y Papas/Snapper with Tomato, Onions and Potatoes
The fish can be marinated in the morning in the tomato mixture and baked at night.  An simple addition to my usual rotation.  I chose small peanut fingerling potatoes because they could be parboiled quickly before adding to the pan.  Next time I will use Kalamata olives but chose a variety of mixed olives marinated in rosemary just to try (and again for color).  For a thicker sauce, the fish can be removed after cooking and the sauce can be heated until slightly reduced, but I preferred to keep it thin and soak it up with the bread.

1 ½ pounds red snapper fillets, skinned
3 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
1 teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper

1 cup of tomato puree
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup vino seco/dry white wine
¼ cup apple cider vinegar
4-6 bay leaves, whole
1 large white onion, thinly sliced

1 cup fingerling or new potatoes
1/3 cup mixed marinated olives, pitted and crushed (optional)

Using the side of a large knife or mortar and pestle, mash the garlic to a paste with salt and pepper.  Rub the garlic paste over the fillet on both sides and arrange them in a large glass or ceramic baking pan.

Combine the tomato puree, olive oil, vino seco and vinegar and mix until well blended.  Cover the fillets with the tomato mixture, turning them once to cover both sides.  Spread the bay leaves and onions over the fillets and cover the pan with plastic wrap.  Refrigerate until ready to use, at least two hours.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Place potatoes in a medium saucepan with enough cold water to cover and 1 tablespoon of salt.  Bring to a simmer and cook until almost tender, about 5 minutes.  Drain potatoes well.  Add potatoes and crushed olives to the pan.  Place in the preheated oven and bake until cooked through, about 35-40 minutes.  The fish should flake easily when tested with a fork in the thickest part.

Remove from oven and serve with rice and crusty bread.

Serves 4.

For the squash:
Cut off and discard the stem end of the squash, then cut off the neck (reserve bulb for another use).  Peel deep enough to reach the bright orange flesh of the squash.  Cut it lengthwise into 1/2-inch-thick slices then cut the slices into 1/2-inch dice. (You need about 3 cups diced squash.) If you have less than 3 cups, peel the bulb of the squash, cut it in half, and scrape out the seeds.  Trim and cut as much of the bulb as you need into 1/2-inch dice. Reserve the remaining squash for another use.

Line a baking sheet with paper towels.

Heat a thin film of canola oil over medium heat in a skillet large enough to hold the squash in a single layer (or cook the squash in two batches). When the oil is hot, add the butter and brown it lightly. Add the squash, salt and pepper to taste, and the sage leaves. Cook, stirring the pieces to brown them on all sides until tender, about 4 to 6 minutes.  Drain the squash on one end of the paper towel–lined baking sheet and set aside the sage leaves for the garnish. Wipe out the skillet with a paper towel and set aside.

For the mushrooms:
Trim away the tough stems and cut the caps into 1/4-inch-thick slices.

Heat a thin film of canola oil in the same skillet over high heat. When the oil begins to smoke, add the mushrooms and salt and sauté for about a minute. The mushrooms will absorb the oil and should not weep any liquid. Add the butter, shallots, thyme, and pepper, then toss and sauté until the mushrooms are thoroughly cooked, 3 to 4 minutes total. Drain the mushrooms on the paper towel–lined baking sheet.

The gnocchi should be cooked in two skillets: Wipe out the mushroom skillet with paper towels and add a light coating of olive oil to it and to a second large skillet.  Heat the oil over medium-high heat until hot. Add 1 tablespoon of the butter to each skillet. When the butter has browned, divide the gnocchi between the two skillets and season to taste with salt and pepper. Once the gnocchi have begun to brown, shake and rotate the skillets, tossing the gnocchi so that they brown and crisp on all sides, about 2-3 minutes.

Add the squash, mushrooms, and chives and heat just through. Spoon the gnocchi and vegetables onto serving plates and return one skillet to high heat. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons butter and cook until it is a rich brown, then quickly add the parsley to crackle for a few seconds. Standing back—the butter will spatter—add a squeeze of lemon half. Spoon the brown butter and herbs over the gnocchi and around the plates. Garnish with the reserved sage leaves.

I saw a reference describing end of summer/start of fall cooking as “valedictory meals”.  I prefer to think of this time as a cross-fade.  As one season quiets down, another one starts to roar, but for at least a moment they make the same sound.  To take advantage of the markets in transition, I made an Argentinian Carbonada Criolla, a heavy beef stew lightened with peaches, pears and corn served in a pumpkin last September.  This year I decided to try Mexico’s chiles en nogada.  Pork or beef picadillo stuffed into poblano chiles, it’s covered in a chilled, creamy walnut sauce and garnished with pomegranate seeds. 

Traditionally, it’s served to celebrate Mexico’s Independence Day on the 16th of September.  The night before, the current president leads the people gathered in plazas across the country in el grito de la independencia, with celebrations continuing into the following day.  For this year’s bicentennial, the ceremony will take place in Dolores Hidalgo, recreating the original battle cry led by Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla there in 1810.  According to historians, the chiles en nogada were created by Clarisan nuns (or Agustinas, there’s some debate) for a banquet in honor of Don Agustin de Iturbide, who had just signed the Treaty of Cordoba at the conclusion of the war with Spain.  The green peppers, white walnut sauce and red pomegranate seeds were meant to celebrate the colors of the Mexican flag.  Hot and cold, sweet and savory, late peaches and early apples – it’s a dish that knows how to be everything at once.

Throughout this bicentennial year, Zarela Martinez, New York restaurateur and cookbook writer, has hosted a series of cooking classes, culinary tours and lectures in conjunction with the Mexican Cultural Institute of New York.  I decided to make the chiles en nogada posted on Zarela’s site.  Click here for the recipe.

If you’re looking for other ways to celebrate, take advantage of New York’s Authentic Mexican Restaurant Week running from September 16 through 30.  Participating restaurants will feature a three-course menu built around Mexican ingredients with pairings by Tequila Cazadores.  Click here for a list of participants.

Nothing takes the fear out of making a soufflé like making three in a row.  I found a recipe for one combined with amaranth that I couldn’t wait to try.  My training for this year’s New York City marathon is nearing the 20-mile mark so I’ve been cooking up batches of  amaranth to have on hand for cereal topped with honey and fruit.  While adding eggs and cheese may not be the best way to enjoy my vitamin high grain, it sounded wonderful and I’d been so good.

I used the last of the Roncal for the base and whipped up the egg whites to beak-of the-bird perfection.  I set it in the oven and congratulated myself on having an early night before a long run.  Then I realized that my whites may have been perfect but I’d forgotten to fold them before putting it the mold into the oven.  The egg yolks and cheese base just sat there, unsure of what to do next.  It was too late for my soufflé but I had some cooked amaranth left and just enough Gruyere to make another one.  My early night gone, I rushed.  Folding in my next batch of less than perfect egg whites, it still puffed up as hoped and I finally had my (now late) dinner.  Loving the way the tiny grains disappeared into the eggs like polenta, I was excited to try it again with quinoa.

Originally cultivated in the Andes approximately 5,000 years ago, quinoa is actually a seed in grains’ clothing.  A staple crop for the Incas, their rulers ceremoniously planted the first row with golden implements at the start of each growing season.  Packed with protein, fiber and amino acids, it’s a nearly complete food.  Quinoa can be buff or black but I thought red, sometimes sold as “Inca Red”, would be a nice contrast.  With all the time in the world and some unexpected practice, I wasn’t as apprehensive.  I’m not sure if noise really brings down a soufflé but I can attest that this one survived a double-Yorkie barking attack.  While not creamy like the amaranth, it retained just enough snap from the quinoa to keep it interesting.  Third time is the charm.

Soufflé de Quinoa/Quinoa Soufflé
Barely adapted from Maria Baez Kijac’s The South American Table.  Quinoa should be thoroughly rinsed in cold water, 2-3 times, to remove any trace of bitterness caused by saponin, a naturally occurring insecticide coating the grain.  The original recipe called for one cup of cooked amaranth which can be easily substituted for the quinoa.  Click here for a great article on beating egg whites and fearless souffle making.

2 tablespoons bread crumbs
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons unbleached, all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon white pepper
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
1 cup hot milk
4 large eggs, separated
4 ounces Gouda, Gruyere, or Roncal cheese, finely shredded
2 cups cooked quinoa, red, buff, or black

Preheat the oven to 400°F.  Generously butter a 6-8 cup ceramic mold with butter and sprinkle it with bread crumbs.  Make sure that the bottom and sides are completely covered and shake out the excess.

To make the roux, melt the butter over medium heat in a small saucepan.  Beat in the flour with a wooden spoon and cook until foamy but not browned, about 2 minutes.  Off heat, add the hot milk, whisking constantly to incorporate.  Return to a boil over medium heat and cook until just thickened, about one minute and remove from heat.  Immediately add the seasonings.  Beat in the egg yolks one at a time.  Stir in the cheese until melted and add the cooked quinoa.  Empty into a large mixing bowl and set aside.

In a separate bowl or using a stand mixer, whip the egg whites to until foamy.  Add a pinch of salt and 1/8 teaspoon of cream of tartar.  Gradually increase speed to form stiff peaks.

Stir 1/4 of the beaten egg whites into the quinoa mixture to lighten it.  Gently fold in the rest of the egg whites.  Pour the mixture into the prepared mold.  Place in the oven and immediately lower temperature of 375°F.  Bake until puffed and golden, about 30-35 minutes.  Leave in the oven an additional 5 minutes.  Serve immediately.

I wasn’t searching for a pizza recipe when I started flipping through David Leite’s The New Portuguese Table.  I’d had it for awhile but hadn’t made anything from it until yesterday.  A cookbook addict, the desire to make my Amazon wish list come true takes over and I end up with more books than I know what to do with.  I couldn’t wait to get it then waited entirely too long before putting it to use.  I fantastic source for traditional and contemporary Portuguese food, I wanted to make everything at once when I found this recipe pizza à Portuguesa.

I was hoping to start with a more traditional recipe.  I’ve written so often about Spain but was neglecting Portugal which has had an enormous impact on Latin American cuisine.  Still, with Labor Day around the corner, I thought it would be fun to try one more easy, summer pizza recipe just as summer eases its way out.  Despite all the nearby pizza options,  none offer the Brazilian linguiça I’d noticed at the butcher shop and been waiting to try as a topping, so I’d have to break out the peel and stone to make it myself.  I couldn’t find the Serpa he suggests but opted for a Roncal over the Manchego for some variety.  Of course, I had a ball of dough waiting to be used but made the dough from scratch per the recipe.  It’s the easiest pizza dough recipe I’ve found and rose  on time, just under an hour as promised.  Besides, I still have a couple of weeks to make my store-bought dough and a few new toppings to try with it.

Pizza à Portuguesa/Portuguese Pizza
Barely adapted from David Leite’s The New Portuguese Table: Exciting Flavors from Europe’s Western Coast.  I knew that pizza was popular in Portugal and among Portuguese Americans but wasn’t sure how different it would be.  The linguiça adds a little sweetness as well as heat.  I loved the combination of Roncal and Mozzarella but am now on the search for Serpa.

1 package active dry yeast
1 teaspoon sugar
1  1/3 warm water (110º)
1 tablespoon olive oil, plus more for drizzling
Coarse cornmeal, for dusting

For toppings:
1 pound fresh mozzarella cheese, cut into 1/8″ inch slices
5 ounces linguiça, or dry-cured Spanish chorizo, cut into 1/8″ inch slices
1 1/3 cups of tomatada or store bought tomato sauce (see below)
6 ounces semi-firm sheep’s milk cheese, finely shredded (I used Roncal but the original also suggests Serpa or Manchego)
Chopped fresh oregano leaves

Dissolve the yeast and sugar in the warm water and let stand until the liquid is foamy, about 10 minutes.

Combine flour, oil and salt into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the dough hook.  Pour in the yeast mixture and stir on low until ingredients are just blended.  Increase the speed to medium and knead until the dough is supple and soft, 5 to 7 minutes.  Add more flour a bit at a time if needed.

Transfer the dough to a lightly greased bowl and cover with plastic wrap.  Let rise in a warm, draft free spot (like an unlit oven) until doubled in size, about an hour.

Punch the dough down and remove from the bowl.  Divide the dough into 4 pieces.  Take each piece and fold the edges underneath several times to form a disc (like a mushroom cap or flying saucer).  Repeat with the remaining pieces of dough.  At this point you can proceed with the recipe or cover the dough with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready to use.*

Position a rack in the middle of the oven, slide in a baking stone or an upside-down baking sheet.  Preheat the oven to 500ºF.  Dust a pizza peel or a rimless cookie sheet with cornmeal and set aside.

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 edge 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.  Dot with 8 or 9 slices of linguiça, spoon 1/3 cup of tomato sauce on top, leaving a border, and sprinkle with shredded cheese.  Drizzle the edge with olive oil.

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.  Repeat with remaining dough and toppings.

*Chilled dough can be easier to work with so once it’s formed, I usually put it back in the fridge while I preheat the oven and prepare the sauce and toppings.

Tomatada/Tomato Sauce

3 tablespoons olive oil
2 medium yellow onions, cut in half lengthwise and sliced into think half-moons
2 sprigs flat-leaf parsely
1 bay leaf
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 pounds ripe tomatoes, seeded and chopped or one 28-ounce can whole, peeled tomatoes, preferably San Marzano, chopped juices reserved
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 Serrano chile pepper, stemmed, seeded and chopped (optional)
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat until shimmering.  Add the onions, parsley, and bay leaf and cook until golden, about 15 minutes.  Add the minced garlic and cook for 1 minute more.

Turn the heat to medium-low, stir in the tomatoes and their juices, tomato paste, and chile pepper, and bring to a simmer.  Cook, partially covered, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes break down, about 30 minutes.

Discard the parsley and bay leaf, and season to taste.  Use immediately or puree until smooth.  The sauce can be refrigerated for a week or frozen for up to 2 months.

Makes about 2 cups.

When I was little, the center of the universe seemed to exist at Casablanca.  A bustling Cuban café on 8th street in the then sleepy little town of Miami.  When my grandfather took me for lunch, I loved sitting at the counter where the vinyl covered, revolving stools gave me a 360 degree view of the action.  When my parents took me at night, the same café was usually empty which gave my sister and I the odd run of the place.  We’d feed quarters into the jukebox and play Donna Summer songs as my father talked about what life would have been like/could be like for us in Cuba.  I don’t know exactly why I chose Donna Summer.  I wasn’t crazy about disco (I didn’t want to dress like a that when I grew up) but there was something about her voice that kept me coming back.  It was lonely and defiant.  It spoke of another world I couldn’t possibly understand at that age.  The boldness of it drew me in and it was endless.  Very much like the breaded steak on my plate that I always ordered for dinner.

Bistec Empanizado, a thin, pounded steak marinated in orange juice and garlic then breaded with a light layer of cracker meal, has always been my go to dish at a Cuban restaurant.  It’s served with a couple of wedges of lime and a seemingly impossible challenge: figure out where to cut into this blanket of steak that’s bigger than the plate.  I’d work my way through it by cutting into bite-size triangles as the spill from the florescent café lights would illuminate the quiet Little Havana main street like a Hopper painting.  The entire world consisted of my parents, my sister and I and Donna Summer, who sang of a life with fabulous possibilities that had to be enjoyed in its entirety because it was the last dance.  This illusion, however,  would be wiped out by the time the sun rose the next morning and we belonged to the world at large again.

It wasn’t until my early twenties that I heard the term ‘comfort food’ used.  It was always in reference to mac & cheese, mashed potatoes or french fries.  As with most things strictly American, I thought it didn’t apply to me.  That it was a catch phrase people used as an excuse to eat something they know they shouldn’t.  Every time Ana Sofia asked me what I wanted her to try for this blog, I would request Bistec Empanizado.  It’s impossible to get a good one in New York and having it once a year when I go back to Miami for Christmas hardly seems right.  But as soon as I took my first bite, I realized why I always asked for it.

I lead a pretty great and complicated life that somehow manages to work out smoothly.  I savor living in a city where every block offers you a chance for that ‘last dance’ and delivers  in the most phenomenal of ways.  But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss that sleepy Miami town, a city that no longer exists.  I miss sitting in that fluorescent lit café with Papi, Mami and Ana Sofia, feeding quarters into that jukebox, and hearing about the possibilities of the life we’ll have when we go back to Cuba, along with the echos of the sweet heartache of the life I was yet to discover here in New York.  This is the recipe lets me wrap myself in that comfortable blanket of nostalgia where I can nestle until sunrise.

Carmen Pelaez is a playwright and actor whose works include Rum & Coke, Mariposas and the Loteria Plays.

Bistec Empanizado

1 pound sirloin steak, cut into 4 pieces and pounded to a 1/4″ thick
2 garlic cloves
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup freshly squeezed orange juice
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice

1 1/2 cups cracker meal made from Cuban crackers
2 eggs, well beaten

Canola oil

Parsley, finely chopped

*Cuban or tropical crackers are available in Latin American markets and most grocery stores.  Saltines can be substituted.

Using the side of a large knife or mortar and pestle, mash the garlic to a paste with salt and pepper.  Blend in the citrus juices.  In a large glass bowl, pour marinade over steaks and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

Drain steaks well and pat dry, discarding the marinade.  Dip the steaks in the cracker meal, then the beaten eggs, then the cracker meal again, pressing the steak into meal until well coated.

In a heavy skillet, heat 2 inches of oil over medium-high heat to 375º.  Add the steaks, turning them once until they are browned, about 2 minutes on each side.

Remove from oil and drain on a rack lined with paper towels.  Serve with lime wedges and white rice.

Makes 4 servings.

I missed last month’s ñoquis del 29 post due to technical difficulties.  I was in the middle of trying this recipe for bread and spinach gnocchi for the first time when a friend called after months of phone tag.  Thirty minutes later, we’d finally caught up but I had a too soft mass of spinach flecked dough looking despondent in a mixing bowl.  Having mis-measured, I made some adjustments so that they could be shaped but wasn’t hopeful that they’d stand up to boiling water.

They did and while they weren’t perfect, they weren’t bad – doughy dumplings filled with spinach and cheese that would have been light except for the extra flour I had to throw in for a last minute fix.  If they were this good when they’d gone wrong, I had to make another attempt at getting it right.

Free of distractions, I tried again.  I tore the bread into tiny pieces to form a smoother dough and was careful to remove any excess water from the cooked spinach.  This time they came together without a problem.  The directions were there in black and white, I only needed to pay attention. Gnocchi are supposed to bring you luck at the end of the month but making your own luck still takes a little effort.

Gnocchi di Pane e Spinaci/Bread and Spinach Gnocchi

Adapted from Phaidon’s The Silver Spoon.  I wanted to find a summer gnocchi recipe that was an alternative to roasting potatoes in a heat wave.  Surrounded by Italians bakeries, this was the perfect choice.  Instead of roasting or boiling, I only had to tear the bread and let it soak up the milk.  Though rustic and not as smooth as other doughs, the spinach flavor really came through.

12 ounces day-old Italian bread, cubed or torn into small pieces
Scant 1 cup of milk
1 1/2 pounds of spinach, thoroughly rinsed
1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup Parmesaen cheese, freshly grated plus more for topping
1 egg, lightly beaten
Scant 1 cup all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting

1/4 cup unsalted butter
1 garlic clove, diced
1 shallot, finely diced

Salt and freshly ground pepper

Place the bread in a large bowl and add the milk.  Set aside until completely absorbed.  In a large skillet, cook the spinach in just the water clinging to the leaves from washing until tender, about five minutes.  Drain and squeeze to remove as much water as possible then chop.  Melt 1 1/2 tablespoons of butter in the skillet over medium heat.  Add the spinach and 1/2 cup of cheese and cook, stirring frequently, about 5 minutes.  Remove from heat and stir into the bread mixture.  Stir in the eggs and then the flour, a 1/4 cup at a time, until a soft dough forms (a small piece should hold its shape).

Dust top lightly with some flour.  Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until very cold, at least one hour.

Divide dough into 6-8 portions.  Form 1 piece of dough into a 1/2-inch-thick rope on a lightly floured surface. Cut rope into 1/2-inch pieces.  Repeat with remaining dough (see note).

Melt 1/4 cup of butter in a heavy skillet over medium-low heat.  Add shallots and sauté until soft and translucent, about 3 minutes.  Add garlic and continue to cook about 2 more minutes.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.  Add the gnocchi and boil until they rise to the surface, 1 to 2 minutes.  Use a slotted spoon to transfer them to the skillet with the shallots and gently mix until evenly coated.  Warm over low heat if needed.  Transfer to serving dish sprinkle with remaining 1/2 cup of cheese, mix gently and serve.

Note: At this point, the uncooked gnocchi can be frozen for later use, first in 1 layer on a baking sheet, then transferred to a sealable bag up to 1 month.  Do not thaw before cooking.  Butter sauce can be halved; make full recipe of gnocchi and freeze half of it.

Makes 6-8 servings.