With the days a blur of pollen and rain showers and my 200th post coming up, I thought it would be a good time to take a break, update my site and catch-up on my reading. ABC New recently posted a list of recent cookbooks on Latin cuisine and I can’t decide if I want to start with Nirmala’s Edible Diary by Nirmala Narine, Jose Pizarro’s Seasonal Spanish Food – a finalist for this year’s Julia Child IACP award for a first book, or Daisy Martinez’s latest – Daisy: Morning, Noon and Night (click here for her interview with A Chica Bakes). I’ll probably go with The Brazilian Kitchen by Leticia Moreinos Schwartz because it’s because it’s been leading my wish list since I tried her recipe for coconut brigadeiros last month. There have also been some interesting one ingredient articles. Now that the weather is fit for wandering, I plan on seeking out new markets and sources to include here. Apart from last week’s look at cilantro, which always elicits strong opinions, John Willoughby’s Pimentón: It’s Spanish for ‘Better Than Paprika’ had me triple checking the denominations of my paprika, and I’m still not sure what the Indian spice asafetida does but can’t wait to find out. That’s my spring break plan – cooking, reading, and shopping. I’ll be back next week, still hungry and with a lot to talk about, unless I decide to ditch it all for sunbathing, flirting with Ivy Leaguers, and bebop. Stay tuned.
I don’t typically think of myself as a privileged. The word brings to mind a rarefied world that’s set apart, and I’m always bustling. But, even I knew that I was lucky to have known Graciela Perez-Grillo. A well-known Cuban singer then in her 80s, my sister and I were introduced to her through a mutual friend when we first arrived in New York. She became our family away from family, and you never knew what you’d find when you stopped by her Upper West Side apartment. If there was something on the stove, she set you to work and it was there I learned to wrap tamales, watch baseball, and yes love pudín de pan. Despite her age, her voice never faltered and she continued to perform and record into her nineties. Having spent her life surrounded by extraordinary musicians, Beny, Billie, Tito, Cachao, Sarah, Dizzy were just colleagues who’s music was always playing. Read more
I never thought of myself as spoiled but since starting this blog, I am constantly coming across ingredients and recipes that I disliked as a child for no good reason. Pudín de pan is another example. It’s only crime against me was not being natilla, panetela or another of my grandparent’s desserts that I loved. I’d come to their house for lunch, excited to see the flan tin brimming with the tell-tale amber glaze, only to be disappointed when a caramel drenched bread pudding filled with dried fruits and nuts would arrive at the table. The adults were thrilled but the kids were underwhelmed. Where was the flan? Did that pruny pudding thing eat it? Read more
I’ve never had a problem with cilantro but I’m always surprised by how many do. Harold McGee’s Cilantro Haters, It’s Not Your Fault, from this week’s New York Times Dining & Wine section, seems to have hit a Facebook nerve because I’ve seen it re-posted and commented on all week. Personally, I actually like the soapy taste that some complain about and enjoy it both on my plate and in my shampoo.
In the two years since it opened, the Brooklyn Flea has gone from a neighborhood novelty to something that I look forward to each year. I knew it would be crowded but made a plan to meet a friend there when it re-opened its outdoor location in Fort Greene’s Bishop Laughlin Memorial High School this weekend. Slowly working our way through the aisles, I always go with the same hope, that the stands will be full of new (to market) retro kitchen gadgets and that the Red Hook Vendors will be there selling pupusas, tamales, grilled corn sprinkled with chile, and agua fresca. Read more
I’ve had one recurring thought since I tasted my first chirimoya a few months ago – there are parts of this world where flan grows on trees. Flan on trees. I’ve been pining for chirimoyas, also known as custard apples, ever since. In response to my previous post where I used them to fill pavlovas, my aunt described an alternative recipe that’s popular in Peru. The chirimoyas are folded into manjarblanco that’s been lightened with whipped cream and chilled, like dulce de leche pots de crème. I went back for more to but it’s been weeks since I’ve seen them. Then suddenly, there they were, looking proud but out of place at the Park Slope Food Coop. I scooped up a pretty heart shaped one and let it ripen on my counter like an avocado. After the whirl of Easter weekend had passed, I finally got down to using them. It was as simple as it seemed and the fresh fruit provided the right balance to the manjarblanco. I don’t know when I’m going to find them again but I’ll always look. From the moment the last scoop was served, I started to miss them.