Ending my record breaking game of kitchen Jenga, I finally reorganized my cabinets and closets to free up some storage, found a permanent home for my favorite serving dishes, cleared up shelf space for newer cookbooks, and chose a color for the doors and window trimmings (black beauty with a pearl finish).  My spice jars are labeled and newly potted plants are thriving (for now).  These changes might seem minor to anyone but me, but the kitchen is breathing easier.

One of the benefits of my spring cleaning fit is that I can actually see everything.  Instead of going off with a list and debit card every time I find a new recipe, I’ve been using what I have.  For me this starts with Truly Mexican by Ricardo Santibañez and JJ Goode.  I love the way the book’s galleries and guides break down the ingredients so I start from there and see where it will take me.  His suggestion to chop cilantro the Mexican way, using stems and leaves to make up the called for amount, is game changing.  I also like that he gives equivalent amounts for kosher and fine salt – a distinction I didn’t realize was tripping me up.  Looking at chiles I had stored and the bag of fideos – thin nests of Spanish noodles – I’d bought a few weeks earlier , I decided to try his fideos secos (also known as sopa seca).

I’m always a little in awe of Mexican recipes and this one seemed to go long – first you prepare a tomato based chile sauce, then you quickly fry the noodles, then you bring it to a boil with large amounts of chicken stock until most of the liquid evaporates.  Something like playing with fire, it called for four different kind of chiles (árbol, ancho, guajillo, and pasilla) prepped in three different ways – toasted, soaked and fried.  Each step added a new element of smoke or heat not to mention spices like cumin, oregano and oregano and fresh herbs like cilantro, parsley, and mint.  I enjoyed them so much that after a stressful week, I decided to make it a second time.  With my kitchen decks cleared, I could just enjoy the process.  Of course I still have a new dish drainer to install and window blinds for the kitchen to get but there’s time.

Fideos Secos/Mexican-Style Noodles
Barely adapted from Truly Mexican: Essential Recipes and Techniques for Authentic Mexican Cooking by Ricardo Santibañez.  This really is a wonderful guide through some pretty intimidating recipes so I followed it closely.  I love the selection of garnishes he suggests but replaced the pork chicharrón with cured Spanish chorizo that I lightly browned before the final simmer.  I made slight adjustments to the time probably due to my broiler which is set up too close to the heat source.  Because I usually find fideos in smaller bags, I also adjusted the amount of chicken stock I added to the end but kept the sauce proportions for the sauce.  This dish can be reheated with a little chicken broth and keeps well, wrapped and refrigerated over several days.

For the sauce:
1/2 pound tomatoes (about 2 small)
1/4 pound tomatillos, wiped clean and stemmed
2 árbol chiles, wiped clean, stemmed
4 guajillo chiles, wiped clean, stemmed, slit open, seeded and deveined
2 ancho chiles, wiped clean, stemmed, slit open, seeded and deveined
1/2 cup white onion, finely chopped
5 garlic cloves, peeled
1 (1-inch) piece canela (Mexican cinnamon)
1 1/2 teaspoons cumin seeds
1 teaspoon dried oregano, Mexican if possible
2 teaspoons kosher salt (or 1 teaspoon fine salt)
1/2 teaspoon sugar
4 to 5 cups chicken stock

For the noodles:
1 12-ounce bag fideo noodles (or thin spaghetti, such as capellini or spaghettini)
1/2 cup sunflower oil
2 pasilla chiles, wiped clean and stemmed
8 ounces cured chorizo, casings removed and sliced
10 large sprigs cilantro
6 large sprigs flat-leaf parsley
6 large springs spearmint (also known as yerba buena)
1 (3-inch) piece canela (Mexican cinnamon)

For garnishes:
4 ounces queso fresco, crumbled
1/2 cup chopped cilantro (stems and leaves)
1/2 cup salsa verde or fresh tomatillo salsa
1/4 cup Mexican crema or crème fraíche
1 avocado, pitted, peeled and thinly sliced

Prepare the sauce: Line a small roasting pan or rack with foil.  Preheat the oven broiler (alternately preheat the oven to 500º) and position the rack 8 inches from the heat source.

Core the tomato and cut a small “X” on the opposite end.  Put the tomato, cored side up, árbol chiles, and tomatillos on the baking pan and roast.  Remove chiles quickly after they’ve browned and blackened in spots, about 3-5 minutes.  Continue to roast the tomatoes until cooked through and blackened and the tomatillos have turned a khaki-green color, turning halfway through, 20 to 30 minutes.  Slip the skin from the tomatoes.

Meanwhile, soak the guajillo and ancho chiles with the toasted árbol chiles in cold water to cover until softened, about 30 minutes.  Drain and discard soaking water.

In a blender jar, combine the chiles, tomato, tomatillos, onion, garlic, canela, cumin, oregano, salt, and sugar with 1 1/2 cups of chicken stock.  Process until smooth, about 3 minutes.  Strain through a medium mesh-sieve into a bowl, discarding any solids.  Set the sauce aside.

Prepare the noodles: Break the noodles into 2- to 3-inch pieces (wrap in a cloth or break inside the bag so the pieces don’t scatter).

Heat the oil in a wide 6- to 7-quart heavy pot set over medium high heat until it shimmers.  Fry the whole pasilla chiles in the oil, turning once or twice until puffed and crisp, about 1 minute total.  Transfer to paper towels to drain.  When cool, slice the chiles crosswise and reserve for garnish.

Working in batches, fry the noodles in the oil, stirring constantly with tongs until they are a reddish-golden brown, about 2 minutes.  Drain on paper towels and repeat with remaining noodles.

Remove all but 2 tablespoons of the oil from the pot.  Add the chorizo if using and cook until lightly browned, 2 to 3 minutes.  Remove from pot and set aside.  Off heat, carefully pour the sauce into the pot (it may steam and sputter).  Return to medium heat and stir until it thickens slightly, about 5 minutes.  Stir in 3 cups of the chicken stock, then add the fried noodles, stirring briefly to coat them with sauce, and bring to a boil.

Tie the cilantro, parsley, spearmint, and canela into a bouquet with kitchen string and drop into the pot.  Reduce the heat to medium-low, cover the pot, and simmer the noodles until they are tender and have absorbed the sauce.  Discard the bouquet of herbs and canela.  Serve in soup bowls with crumbled queso fresco, crema, salsa verde, cilantro, avocado and fried pasilla.

Makes 6-8 servings.

Despite a lifetime of research, I’m always discovering something new in Cuban food.  While it reminds me not to take anything for granted, less pleasant is knowing that my nearest and dearest have been holding out on me.  That’s how I felt when I discovered that harina – cornmeal simmered to a creamy state and topped with peppery sofritos and poached or fried eggs, ham or chorizo, shimp or crab – was a Cuban comfort food staple that everyone was having but no one was talking about.  I’d enjoyed Italian polenta prepared this way, but I  hadn’t realized there was a take on it that was much closer to home – just not my home.

Of course, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise – after all I’d seen the tamales and vaguely remembered a sweet version of harina with dried fruits and nuts.  Home in January, I’d spent time with Humberto and Carmen Calzada who were helping me with a new project by providing me with Cuban food history and Cuban food stops in restaurants and bakeries all over Miami. Humberto was describing some of his favorites growing up when he hit on harina  which I’d never had. A few days later our family was invited over and Carmen was stirring an enormous pot of cornmeal and frying eggs in what was basically the perfectly organized kitchen I want to be in when I grow up.

An economical meal, it most likely came out of necessity but became the kind of homey favorite that when you mention elicits sighs and ”oh my mother used to make…”  Since I’m half way through an almost perfect lenten season run of fish only fridays, I decided to make the crab version when I got back to Brooklyn. Unfortunately, most of the recipes I found started with clubbing live ones.  While I hate to back down from a challenge, I was not up to wacking crustaceans in my tiny ktichen in the middle of winter.  Leaving that task for the warmer days ahead and beach front vacations, I let the killing happen off-stage and brought home fresh lump crab meat from the fish store instead.

As simple to make as sauteeing peppers then letting them simmer with vino seco and fire roasted tomatoes, the only challenge was the cornmeal.  After whisking it in quickly so there were no lumps, I had to watch out for furiously hot splatters of cornmeal that would bubble out of the pot.  After I lowered the heat and gave it a few regular stirs, it more or less behaved till the rest of the meal was ready.  I toasted some bread but decided to make plantain chips with vinaigrette as well. Having made an enormous batch of harina, I sent some to my downstairs neighbors but still had enough for the next few days.  One way to make up for lost time.

Harina con Cangrejo/Cornmeal Stew with Crab

1/2 pound fresh lump crabmeat, picked through for shells and well drained
3 cups coarse yellow cornmeal
2 tablespoons canola oil
1 cup green bell pepper, diced
1 cup red bell pepper, diced
1 cup white onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 14.5 ounce can fire-roasted tomatoes, diced
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
1 large bay leaf
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/2 teaspoon pimentón
1/4 teaspoon ground celery seed

Tabasco or hot pepper sauce
Lime juice

In a large heavy pot, bring 6 cups of water to a boil. Add cornmeal in a steady stream, whisking constantly until well blended so that no lumps form. Lower heat to medium-low, stirring frequently until the cornmeal begins to pull away from the sides but is still creamy and smooth, about 15-20 minutes.

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat.  Add peppers and onions and sautée until soft, about 3 minutes.  Add garlic and cook an additional 2 minutes.  Add tomatoes, white wine vinegar, bay leaf, salt, ground pepper, pimentón and celery seed. Bring to a simmer and cook until the tomatoes begin to break down, about 10 minutes.  Add the crab and warm until just heated through, 2-3 minutes.  Adjust seasoning to taste.

Divide cooked cornmeal into individual plates and top with crab mixture or blend together in a  large pot and serve. Add tabasco or hot pepper sauce or sprinkle with lime juice to taste.

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.