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.

Whenever I think of eating at home, my mind extends to the Cuban restaurants that dot Miami.  The tables were filled with people you knew, the waitresses treated you like a grandaughter, affectionate but critical, and the food was definitely home cooking.  Masitas de puerco were my order from the first time anyone thought to ask me what I’d like, possibly because I knew exactly what I was getting.  A few rounds of “guess what you just ate?” with my grandfather making me nervous about venturing to far from the safe and familiar (typical answers: pig’s brains and blood pudding).  It may have been a game but I didn’t always feel like playing.

Though there were always standbys – Versailles, La Casita, Habana Vieja, or the long gone Centro Vasco – new contenders were always thrown into the mix.  It wasn’t important where they sprang up.  If word spread that they were good, people would find them.  They’re success coming in waves of talk that brought everyone in from one day to the next.

Whenever friends visit Miami, they always ask me where they should eat.  I’ll give them a few suggestions but feel like I’m holding out on them.  Partly because I know that a goose chase to a non-descript lunch-counter – wedged between a beauty supply shop and travel agency in an otherwise abandoned strip mall facing a car dealership – isn’t really what they’re asking for and partly because I just don’t know.  Favorites are constantly changing and I’m never sure what’s running hot till I get there, just what I’ll be having when I do.

Masitas de Puerco/Fried Pork Chunks

1 pound pork shoulder or loin, cut into 1-2″ chunks
3 garlic cloves, peeled
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/2 teaspoon dry leaf oregano
1/4 cup naranja agria (50/50 fresh valencia orange juice combined with fresh lime juice)

Vegetable oil for frying

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

Drain pork chunks well and discard the marinade.  Pat chunks dry.  In a heavy skillet or deep fryer, heat 2 inches of oil over medium-high heat to 375º.  Add the pork chunks to the oil 5-6 at a time, turning them until they are browned on all sides and cooked through, about 5-6 minutes.  Be careful not to overcrowd the skillet or the oil temperature will fall.

Remove from oil and drain on a rack lined with paper towels.  If not immediately serving, place in an oven preheated to 200° to keep warm while you fry the rest in batches.

Serve with lime wedges with congrí or white rice and with tostones.

Makes 4 servings.

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

Chocolate Frio/Iced Chocolate

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

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

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

2 cups crushed ice

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

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

Makes 2-4 servings.

I considered using a store-bought puff pastry.  The never-ending heat wave makes baking a challenge and keeping the pastry firm enough to work with impossible, good reasons I ignored to make it from scratch.  I also picked up the last of the quinces from Union Market that I’d been eying them for weeks, deciding it was now or never to try Thomas Keller’s recipe for dulce de membrillo.

Despite the heat that had me rotating pans in and out of the refrigerator, the dough turned out well, flaky and not overly sweet or greasy, so I decided to go ahead and make the vanilla syrup called for in the original recipe.  The quince paste, infused with allspice, star anise, cinnamon and cloves, also worked.  I’d just miscalculated how long it would take and ended up using what was left of the Mitica membrillo as filling instead.

I didn’t realize until I was comparing recipes online that these were as popular in Argentina and Uruguay as our pastelitos de guayaba.  I found several references to the pastries made for el 25 de Mayo, the starting point of Argentina’s independence movement, observed every year and currently celebrating it’s bicentennial.  I’m a few months late in making these pastries, but I have all year to perfect them (and a couple of pounds of already-made ad hoc at home membrillo to fill them with), though a little envious of the prettiness that nature accomplishes with so little effort.

Pastelitos de Dulce de Membrillo
Adapted from Time-Life Foods of the World: Latin American Cooking written by Jonathan Norton Leonard.  The original recipe referred to them as Pastelitos de Mil Hojas or  Thousand-Leaf Pastries though I found more mentions of them as pastelitos de dulce de membrillo (the former name referring to more traditional mille-feuille cakes or traditional tart made with alfajores).  Unlike other pastry recipes, this one directed you to mix, roll and cut straight through.  My kitchen is a too warm for this right now so I let the dough chill after the initial kneading and in between the rolling and shaping to make it easier to work with.

Traditionally, the pastries are added to oil or melted lard that is only lukewarm (about 175º) for a few minutes then added to hot oil (375º) for an extra couple of minutes until golden brown.  I think this allows the pastry to open up but I couldn’t bear to see them in the warm oil soaking up grease and decided to add them directly to the hot oil.  Next time around, I’ll try the double-frying method to compare the results.

Though they’re typically glazed with warm syrup, I sprinkled a few with powdered sugar and cinnamon.  I’d made extra to give away and didn’t want them weighted down with syrup if they weren’t eaten right away.

For the pastry:
2 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
10 tablespoons butter, chilled and cut into small pieces
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 egg yolk
1/2 cup ice water
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1/4 cup unbleached, all-purpose flour

4-5 ounces of membrillo/quince paste, homemade or store bought

For the syrup (optional):
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons water
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

Optional garnish: powdered or granulated sugar and cinnamon

Sift together all dry ingredients and pulse in the food processor, 1-2 pulses to distribute evenly.  Add butter and pulse together until butter flakes into pea-size pieces.  Add egg yolk and lemon juice and pulse to blend.  Add ice water gradually until just combined.

Turn out dough and knead a few times to form a smooth mass, 3-4 minutes.  Cover the dough with plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator for 20-30 minutes.  Using a lightly floured rolling pin, roll the dough into a square about 16 x 16 inches.  Brush it evenly with melted butter and sprinkly with light dusting of flour.  Smooth the flour over the surface of the dough until the flour absorbs the butter.  Fold the dough in half to form a rectangle (8 x 16).  Butter and flour the dough again and bring the short ends of the dough together to create a square (8 x 8).  Repeat two more times to form a final square 4 x 4 inches.  Cover the dough with plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator for 20-30 minutes until ready to use.

Roll out the dough on a lightly floured board to a 15-inch square, using a small knife or pastry wheel to trim.  Measure and cut into 36 squares.  Place about 1 teaspoon of membrillo in the center of each of 18 squares.  Lightly moisten the dough around the filling with cold water.  Pair the filled squares with the remaining squares to form individual 8-point stars, pressing the dough around the filling to secure it.  Pinch the stars into the flowerlike shapes.

To make the syrup, combine the sugar and water in a small saucepan.  Stirring constantly, bring to a boil over high heat.  Continue to boil without stirring until the syrup reaches a temperature of 230° on candy thermometer or until a bit dropped into ice water immediately forms a thread.  Remove from pan and stir in vanilla.  Cover and keep warm until ready to use.

In a deep fryer or heavy pot (3 1/2-4 quarts wide), heat oil to 375 degrees.  Carefully add the pastelitos to the oil, 2-3 at a time and fry until golden  about 2-3 minutes, turning once.

Remove from oil and drain directly on cooling rack or on paper towels.  Dip them in the warm syrup or sprinkle with powdered sugar and serve.

Makes 18 pastelitos.

With so many possibilities, I decided to get specific, choosing a version of Ecuadorian humitas from Maria Baez Kijac’s The South American Table, my new favorite. Lighter than the pork and chicken filled tamales I’d had before, these were made of fresh corn pureed with scallions then blended with egg yolks, milk, cheese, and a little brandy.  The filling is wrapped in corn husks and steamed then topped with ají criollo, a hot pepper sauce.  Most recipes tell you that the water content of North American corn is too high in water and too low in starch.  Kijac solves this problem by adding cornmeal to get the right consistency.

I was tempted to make them with whatever corn I found but waited for fresh, whole corn to reach the markets instead.  Once you scrape the kernels, the cobs can be used to line the bottom of the pot to create a shelf that’s lined with loose corn husks for added flavor (and Swiss Family Robinson efficiency).  I set  the wrapped humitas over the improvised steamer, covered them with the remaining husks, and brought the water to boil.  Of course, I could have used my metal steamer or added a tamalera to my precariously packed shelves.  I didn’t have to use the cobs, and won’t always, but at least this time, I wanted to.

Humitas Ecuatorianas
Adapted from The South American Table from Maria Baez Kijac.  Filling the corn husks can be tricky and the size will vary depending on the size of the husks and your stuffing skills.  I started out messy but got better as I went along.  Click here for Saveur’s guide on handling humitas.

6 to 8 ears corn (4 cups of kernels)
1/4 cup chopped scallions, white part only
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
3 large eggs, separated
1/2 cup cornmeal, or more if needed
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
6 ounces Chihuahua, mozzarella, or Muenster cheese, shredded
1 tablespoon brandy
Kitchen twine, cut into 15-inch lengths
2 cups water
Ají Criollo (see recipe below)

Bring a large part of water to a boil. To remove the husks from the corn, cut through the corncob at the stem end where the kernels start.  Carefully remove the husks. Set aside the largest for wrapping and blanch in boiling water for a couple of minutes to make them more pliable. Remove from the water and set on paper towels to drain. Cut the rest of the husks into strips for tying or to cover the humitas before steaming.

Remove the silk from the corn and rinse. Cut the kernels from the cobs (you need four cups) and adding the milk scraped from the cobs. Reserve the cobs for later use. Place the corn and scallions in food processor or blender and pulse until finely ground. Add the butter, egg yolks, cornmeal, baking powder, salt, sugar, cheese, and brandy. Pulse until well incorporated and smooth. Transfer to a bowl. The mixture should be thick, not runny. Add more cornmeal, as needed,  if the batter is runny.

Beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Carefully fold the whites into corn mixture.

To assemble the humitas, place two husks on the worktable, slightly overlapped. Place a few spoonfuls of corn batter in the center of the husks. Fold bottom edge over the mixture, fold down the top half, then fold in the sides to form a packet.  Tie with string or corn husk strips.  Repeat with remaining batter.

Place the cobs in the bottom of a large saucepan. Add the water until cobs are almost covered. Cover the cobs with the husks. Place humitas open side up over steamer. Cover with remaining husks. Cover the pot and bring to a boil. Steam until the humitas feel firm to the touch, about 30 minutes for small and 45 minutes for large. Add more boiling water if needed.  Remove from heat and serve with ají criollo.  Leftovers, great for breakfast, can be reheated or pan fried.

Makes 12-16 humitas.

Ají Criollo

4 hot red or green finger peppers, 3 to 4 inches long, seeded and chopped
6 tablespoons water
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup minced scallions
2 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro or parsley leaves

Place peppers, 2 tablespoons of the water, and the salt in a blender and process until smooth.

Transfer to a small bowl and add the scallions, cilantro and remaining water and mix well.

I missed my kitchen.  While there’s been plenty to post, It’s mostly been food that was blended or frozen, steamed or fried, quickly.  In and out, I’ve avoided recipes that would force me to spend too much time in the warmest part of my hot apartment in my sweltering city.  Though I couldn’t stand the heat, I wasn’t staying out of the kitchen much longer.

Taking the long way home through the farmer’s market at Grand Army Plaza after my morning run, I saw an enormous pile of fresh okra.  Bright green, firm and unblemished, it had little to do with the frightened batch I’d scared up last winter when I wanted stew.  It had been awhile since I’d gone to the market list-less, looking for nothing in particular and everything at once.  Eating seasonally has become such an imperative (just the name locavore is intimidating) that it’s easy forget the immediate benefit of letting the greenmarket decide for you.

Needing a break from frying, I decided to try something new and make arroz con quimbombó instead.  Brought to Cuba in the seventeenth century by African slaves, okra is a staple of Creole cuisine that I’d largely taken for granted as a thickener for soups and stews.  Somewhere between an arroz con pollo and creamy risotto, the meat or pork added – fried chunks, bacon, prosciutto, chorizo – is incidental.  If I wasn’t go to have it on it’s own, I at least wanted to make it about the okra.

While the okra soaked in cold water, I prepped the onions, peppers and garlic for the sofrito, surprised at how much I missed the chopping and dicing.  Trying to do as much as possible beforehand so that the timing would be right when I added the rice.  Once it was all simmering, I stepped away for a few minutes while the ingredients sorted themselves out.  In a half hour, I had a bowl of bright gold rice, star shaped okra, and red rounds of chorizo that were well worth the heat.  Even after a needed vacation, it’s good to be home.

Arroz con Quimbombó/Rice with Okra
Barely adapted from A Taste of Old Cuba by Maria Josefa Lluria de O’Higgins.  It was Okra can get very sticky, very quickly when cut.  Soaking the pods whole in cold water and drying them well before chopping cuts down on the gumminess.  The cut pods can also be soaked in cold water and lime or lemon juice then drained before using.  

1/2 pound fresh okra
1/4 cup canola oil
1 white onion, peeled and chopped
1 large green bell pepper, cored, seeded and chopped
3 garlic cloves, peeled and minced
1 cup tomato sauce
1 tablespoon sherry vinegar
1/4 pound jamón de cocinar (raw ham)
1 small chorizo, skinned and cut into 1/2-inch rounds
2 1/2 cups chicken broth
1/4 teaspoon saffron
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
2 cups Valencia or short grain rice

Soak okra pods in a large bowl cold water to cover for 30 minutes.  Blot the pods with paper towels and over rack lined with more paper towels to dry completely.

Heat oil in a large heavy skillet or paellera over medium heat.  Sauté the onion and peppers until soft, about 3 minutes.  Add minced garlic cook an additional 2 minutes.  Add the chorizo and ham and continue to cook until lightly browned, 2 to 3 minutes more.  Add the tomato sauce and vinegar and bring to a simmer.  Slice the okra into 1/2-inch rounds, dropping them into the sofrito as you go, cook an additional 5 minutes.

In the meantime, heat the saffron in dry skillet for about 30 seconds.  Add wine and bring to a simmer.  Remove from heat.  Add the chicken broth, wine with saffron, salt, pepper and rice, stirring lightly.  Bring to a boil, lower the heat and continue to cook covered over low heat until liquid is absorbed and rice is tender, about 30 minutes.  Remove from heat and let stand 5 minutes before serving.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the heat broke last week, I thought we’d finally been granted a reprieve from the brutally hot New York summer.  Little did I know that it was only recharging.  From the number of friends posting screen shots of the weather forecast on Facebook, I know I’m not the only one mildly hysterical at the prospect of  a 102° week.  At least I had rocket pops on standby.

When I decided to make paletas for the fourth of July weekend, I was more excited to finally use my popsicle molds (an impulse busuffering top shelf neglect).  I’d loved Gaby Camacho’s raspado recipes last summer so I wanted to try her paletas de duraznos con miel (peach and honey ice pops).

By the time I got to chopping and pureeing peaches a few days later, the heat had set back in with a vengeance and I was ready to climb into the freezer with them, willing them to set faster.  Two hours later, I had the relief I was looking for – now to see how long it’ll last.

Paletas de Duraznos con Miel/Peach & Honey Ice Pops
Adapted from A Chef Perfect the Paleta of Childhood by Gaby Camacho for the SF Gate.

2 1/4 teaspoons unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup honey
5 cups peaches, diced
1/2 cup cubed peaches

Puree diced peaches in a blender of food processor until smooth then strain.  It should  about 3 cups of peach juice.

Combine the gelatin and honey in a large glass bowl.  Bring peach juice to a boil over medium heat.  Add to the gelatin mixture.  Add 1/3 cup of cold water and blend well.

Pour into the molds and sprinkle cubed peaches into each mold*.  The mixture will expand in the freezer so leave about a 1/4″ of room at the top if lidded.  Freeze for at least two hours before serving.  If you have any difficulty un-molding, run the mold briefly under warm water.

Makes 10 small or 6 large paletas.

*I used my rocket molds which held about a 1/4 cup of puree but standard molds will hold about 1/3 cup.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Serves 4-6.