On May 15th, the International Culinary Center is starting a new session of Food Blogging with Steven Shaw, founder of e-Gullet.  I’ve written about it before but I just can’t say enough about this class.  If you read Amanda Hesser’s advice to food writers, followed the ensuing hashtag storm, and wondered if food blogs were really over but still want to start your own, then this might be the right class at the right time.  Click here for more information about the next session of classes starting up next week!

I think I’ve put off writing my catching-up post because well…I’m no where near caught up.  Several ongoing projects came to a boil all l at once and I’m still waiting for things to settle down again.  Now that I realize it might never happen, I decided to take a break and go fishing (through my links)…

The controversy over the Miami-Tampa Cuban sandwich controversy popped up all over my new feed and even in my mailbox since my favorite sandwich obsessed uncle took the time to sent me the print clippings.  It all started when Tampa decided to claim the “historic Tampa Cubano” as their own signature sandwich.  From there, it escalated to a press-off between Miami and Tampa – from a tour of the best Cubano spots to an NPR vote.  Like any good family fight, I think it’s best to stay out of it.  Less controversial bu more heart felt, I loved Liz Balmaseda’s food tour of Miami.  It was very much the Miami I recognize and always seek out.

Of course the last few weeks have been all about Cinco de Mayo.  I always have mixed feelings about this holiday but a 36-hour tour of Puebla with the New York Times seems like a pretty good way to celebrate.  If you’re looking for more recommendations, there’s this round-up of Latin American street food.  Our to bring it all home, just consult this guide to around the globe kitchen gadgets from Gourmet Live.

I also want to thank every one who voted for my site as Best Regional Cuisine on Saveur.  The results came in and, while I didn’t win, I had to say once more how honored I am to be included in such a great group (now that the competition is safely over and you actually believe me).  If you don’t already follow them, I hope you’ll jump to She Simmers, Farmette, Jun-Blog, Taste of Beirut, and Muy Bueno Cookbook.

The James Beard awards were given out and I was thrilled to see Food 52 win the Publication of the Year award.  I was also excited to see Cuban-born Maricel Presilla win for Cucharamama.  Spanish chef José Andrés, also made Time Magazine’s 100 list while Elena Arzak was named S. Pellegrino’s Best Female Chef for Arzak.

Spring is very much about what’s ahead and the markets I look forward to all year have been popping up.  There will be more to love at the High Line (and possibly of me when summer’s over) and The Brooklyn Fleas in Ft. Green in Smorgasburg (which I swear I will make the trip to this year) had their opening days.  I’m very excited to announce that La Filosofia will be at the Hester Street Fair starting May 19.  We also put out our first commercial featuring my sister/partner Cami and our friends Carl as the narrator, Amyjoy as the delivery boy, and a sky-high dream coconut cake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sprinkle with lime and serve.

15-ounces purple corn*
Peels from 4 large cooking apples (about 2 pounds)
Peel from 1 large pineapple
Juice of 1 lemon
3 whole cinnamon sticks
4 whole cloves

1/2-3/4 cups sugar
4 key limes, juiced

Optional garnishes:
Cubed apple
Cubed pineapple

In a large heavy saucepan, combine corn, apple and pineapple peels, lemon juice, cinnamon, and cloves with 3 litres of water. Bring to a steady simmer and boil for 1 hour.

Allow to cool and strain. Discard solids. Refrigerate until well chilled.  Just before serving, blend in sugar and lime juice to taste. Serve with cubed apple or pineapple.

I hadn’t planned on a traditional Good Friday.  I was supposed to meet my friend Carolina, who was visiting, at the Met but was falling behind.  I’d spent the day making a tarta Pascualina or Easter pie to write about this weekend when the day got away from me when another friend who was moving to Chicago stopped by in the afternoon to say goodbye.  For the past few weeks, Aaron and I had done a lot of before-you-go things in the neighborhood but helping me finish the pie was the absolute last.  The pascualina done, I changed to plan to a low-key night at home with Carol and my sister Cami – the better to catch-up on the bear of a week we’d all had.  We were about to sit down when we heard the procession outside the window.

Since 1882, Sacred Hearts & St. Stephen Church, the oldest Italian church in Brooklyn, holds a Good Friday procession that rounds the corner of my apartment.  I know it’s a block away when I hear the distant strains of music over police sirens.  The neighborhood has changed so much that I wondered if it could really be the same as I headed down the stairs.  There were still a good number of young families at the start, the neon read cross was still the same, and the church officials in ceremonial dress were still trying to keep everyone moving.  Like every year, the rear of the procession was held by two rows of women, all in black.  Carrying candles, they escort a life-size statue of Our Lady of Sorrows and repeat the rosary in Italian.  While the earlier phase is lead by slow beating drums, these women are always accompanied by an aria.  It brings tears to my eyes every year.  It only last a few minutes, then they disappear down the street.  It was a relief to see how little had changed, but I couldn’t help but notice that fewer people had stepped out of their brownstones to watch them pass.

Though I hadn’t made the connection earlier, it was the perfect setting to serve my own very Italian Easter pie by way of Argentina and Uruguay.  Brought to South America by Genoese immigrants, the eggs in the tart symbolize rebirth and according to Francis Mallmann should have 33 layers of pastry in honor of the 33 years Jesus lived.  Already missing the music, I found Italian opera to play in the background while we ate and caught up.  It was lovely but not the same without the rosary chorus.  Felices Pascuas!

Tarta Pascualina
Adapted from Seven Fires: Grilling the Argentine Way by Francis Mallmann.  This is one of my favorite cookbooks, but I gravitate towards the recipes that don’t involve building a pit of fire – out of necessity only.  In his version of the pascualina, he substituted empanada dough for the 33-layers of pastry but I used puff pastry instead.  I also wanted the pie to have a little more depth, so I baked it inside an oven-proof cast iron skillet.  A tart ring or springform pan should work as well.  I’d recently found an Argentinian Parm which is creamier than the Italian and less expensive that worked well but other recipes called for spinach and a combination of cheeses like ricotta and mozzarella.

For the decoration, I used the trimmings from the pastry to make leaping rabbits and flowers.  As Aaron helped me decorate, I had to admit to owning not one but two bunny cookie cutters.  Though it’s traditional at Easter, this is a great make ahead brunch tart.

2 large bunches of swiss chard
2 garlic cloves, peeled and diced
4 medium onions, halved and sliced thinly
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
8 large eggs, divided
2 1/2 cups Parmesan, grated

Coarse salt, ground pepper, and nutmeg to taste
Pinch of red pepper flakes or merkén (optional)

2 sheets puff pastry, thawed
Olive oil
1 egg, lightly beaten

8-inch cast iron skillet or springform pan

In a large skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of butter and olive oil over medium-low heat.  Add the onions and garlic and sauté until golden, 15-20 minutes.  Set aside.

Trim the ends of the swiss chard and rinse thoroughly.  Separate the leaves from the stems reserving both.  Roughly chop the stems.  Prepare a large bowl of ice water and set aside.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a steady boil.  Blanch the chopped stems in the boiling water until tender, 2-3 minutes.  Remove the stems with a skimmer or slotted spoon and chill in the ice water.  Drain in a colander and set aside.  Return pot of water to a boil and blanch the leaves until just wilted, about 1 minute.  Remove and chill in the ice water.  Combine the stems and leaves and drain both well.  Remove excess water with paper towels as needed.  Roughly chop and set aside.

Combine the chopped swiss chard and onions in a large mixing bowl.  Stir in 4 eggs, one a time until well blended.  Stir in 1 cup of the shredded Parmesan.  Season with salt, pepper, nutmeg and red pepper flakes to taste.  Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Grease a cast iron skillet (or 8-inch springform pan) with remaining tablespoon of butter and set aside.

Prepare the pastry.  Roll out one sheet of puff pastry to a 12-inch circle about 1/8 inch thick on a lightly floured surface.  Fit the pastry into the prepared pan, letting the excess drape over the pan.  Brush the pastry with olive oil.  Spoon the filling into the pan and smooth the top.  Create four round wells in the filling.  Carefully drop one egg in each well.  Cover with remaining 1 1/2 cups of cheese.

Roll out remaining sheet of pastry and place on top of the pie.  Trim edges and pleat to design.  Using a sharp knife, cut tiny vents in the top of the pie.  The trimmings can be cut out or shaped for decorations.  Lightly brush with beaten egg.

Bake in the oven until it is puffed and golden brown, 35-40 minutes.  Allow to cool inside the pan.  Let cool to room temperature before serving.

I think the early spring thaw has gone straight to my head. For weeks now I’ve had Astrud Gilberto’s Tristeza (Goodbye Sadness) playing on a loop.  Suddenly, everything seems so easy – seeing friends, making plans, getting around the city.  Even though winter has snapped back just a little, no one can take away the feeling that only light layer, ballet flat days are ahead of us.  But before I can get to the chicks and bunnies, I need to catch up on March.  If you missed it, there was a lot of coverage of who was nominated for James Beard awards.  I was very excited to see so many Latin American chefs singled out.  Speaking of singular chefs, Ferran Adrià revealed some exciting plans at the Cancun-Riviera Maya Wine & Food Festival.  Most exciting (since I know I’ll get to visit) is the launch of his  LaBullipedia, a culinary Wikipedia with free access to all content.  Given the complexity of Mexican food, it also made a certain kind of sense that the Adria brothers announced plan to open a Mexican restaurant in Barcelona. In more Spanish chef news, Jose Andres is getting ready to open Bazaar Miami in May and playing with his new favorite “toy” – a food truck named Pepe in the meantime.  Closer to home, Eater held its first Bodega week (not sure if that’s really a thing).  Responses from food writers and chefs on their favorites were pretty bleak, as was this Curbed  piece on the possible demise of the bodega as we know it.  I still love the bodega on my subway stop.  One of the few hold outs from the formerly Latino stretch on Smith Street, I find items there I couldn’t get  in a million Whole Foods put together.  This entry on the best bodega taquerias as at least shows what hidden gems you can find if you know where to look.

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.

I always love coming across a copy of Edible Manhattan so I was thrilled when they asked me to contribute two pieces to their first ever dairy issue (March/April 2012). Tasked with finding the city’s best tres leches, all signs pointed to Daisy Lebron at  Bizcocho de Colores in Upper Manhattan. On what seemed like the only cold day this past winter, I made the treck to the opposite side of the island and was rewarded with an amazing tres leches (or two).  It was a treasure in a plastic clam shell. Click here to read Uptown, a Dominican Confection Makes Life Three Times Sweeter which includes an extended photo gallery by Elizabeth Leitzell. I also spent a few days navigating the fresh cheese cases for No Passport Needed: In the Supermarket Case, Queso. Also included in this issue, a great profile on everyone’s fantasy cheese shop Murray’s Cheese, the suprisingly local Greek yogurt, and  the end of Milk Thistle which I didn’t quite believe until I went by the farmer’s market this Sunday and passed the empty spot where they should have been.

I’ve tried to poach my own, but the results have been eh to awful. Online recipes were vague, incomplete, and called for an amount and variety of guavas I couldn’t hope to find on the random Chinatown fruit cart that occassionally sells them. A few weeks ago, I was food tripping through Jackson Heights when I came across an enormous bin of round, yellow, Mexican guavas. I don’t see fresh guavas very often but  I stock up when I do.  Determined to get the poaching right, I tried a few different ways – peel on and off, seeds removed before and after, and random blends of spices. I made it through 3 lbs and had only a small jar of sugary jam (at least that’s what I called it) to show for it.

With no plans to return to Queens anytime soon, I thought that was it until I found a small basket’s worth of small green apple guavas around the corner from my appartment. Union Market likes to throw in a random to their well-stocked produce section – ugli tangelos, dragon fruits, carambolas…Like foreign exchange students, they end up forlorn on a shelf after the initial novelty passes. I picked up a few and let them ripen over the course of the week. After a couple of days, my apartment was under a guava cloud and I was ready to try again. Taking a little from each of my previous attempts, I peeled them but didn’t strees if I couldn’t get all of the seeds out knowing it would be easier when they were poached, I eased up on the spices, and used vanilla bean instead of extract.  I also made extra syrup since I wasn’t sure of the cooking time and figured too much was then letting them dry out.

I would have loved to find pink guavas but adding food coloring would have defeated the purpose.  Besides, these were pretty in their own way. After all the effort and misfires, I was happy to have a jar of freshly poached, lightly golden, vanilla bean speckled guava shells.  Tucking the empty  pod and cinnamon stick into the jar, the flavors only deepend over the next few days while it chilled in the refrigerator. Having finally figured out how to go about it, I was sure I’d be able to repeat it whenever I came across fresh guavas – be it by the handful or cartful.

 Cascos de Guayaba/Poached Guava Shells

1 1/2 pounds guavas, well rinsed and peeled
3 cups water
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cinnamon stick
1 teaspoon allspice, whole
2 cloves, whole
1/2 vanilla bean

Combine water and sugar in a large, wide bottomed saucepan. Wrap the allspice and cloves in small square of cheese cloth tightly gathered and tied together with kitchen twine, alternately use a sachet or tea strainer. Slice open the vanilla bean, scape out the seeds, and add both the seeds and the pod to the pot. Add the cinnamon stick. Bring to a high simmer over medium heat.

Cut the guavas in half and scrape out the pulp and seeds with a serrated spoon.* Discard the the pulp or save for another purpose. Add the guava shells to the simmering syrup, cut side up. Lower heat and simmer gently, turning once during cooking, until cooked through and tender, 15-20 minutes.

Remove guava shells from the syrup and allow to cool.  Remove remaining seed and pour shells into a serving bowl or jar with lid if using later.  Continue to simmer syrup until its reduce by half.  Remove from heat and strain.  Discard sachet.  Add one tablespoon of lime juice to the syrup and pour over guava shells.

Chill until ready to serve with cream cheese or goat cheese and crackers.

*Any seeds left behind can be easily removed after poaching.

We’d been expecting her for a long time but were still a little surprised when she finally showed up at our door – a little black peacock named La Filosofia. Months before, my sister Carmen and I were looking for a project we could develop together. I wanted it to be kitchen related since I live in there, and my sister thought of an apron with a laminated pattern just at the splash spot, where the torso meets the counter.  Practical yes, but when we found a collection of canvas in woodland prints, we knew they could be lovely to look at too.

We decided to name our new online venture La Filosofia after our great grandfather’s department store in Havana. Established in 1870 on the corner of Neptune & San Nicolás, the original La Filosofia was known for its textiles, international clientele, and warm staff that stocked something for every woman who came through its doors. We want everyone who clicks through to have that same feeling. Looking for a logo, my sister drew up a peacock and we immediately knew who we were waiting for.

Of course, we wouldn’t have gotten much further without the help of our mom Ali (the not always silent partner) and friends who were beyond generous with their time - Dave who did the lawyering, Cara who helped us build a prototype, and Kat and Aaron who each gave up a beautiful early Spring day to help us taks photograph for the site.  The ever supportive Darren of Donna Belle’s Bakeshop put us in touch with a The Work Room, a Brooklyn based production company. There, Chase and Lisa saw us through every aspect of the process, fulfilled every seemingly impossible request, and answered nervous emails with unwavering patience and enthusiasm. Once the materials were sourced and a stateside manufacturer found, we just had to wait for our bird to arrive, bringing lots and lots of aprons with her.

Used to working on my own, for the first time I had a partner (sometime guest blogger and all-time sister) with whom to choose patterns, test out eco-twills, sort out copy, and design the website .  Fortunately, in addition to our quick tempers and fierce stubborness, my sister and I have a shared sensibility.  Even when we couldn’t agree on how to get somewhere, we never doubted where we were going. We very much hope you’ll want to come with us. Here’s La Filosofia - we hope there’s something for everyone.