Jan 19
I’ve always been a little afraid of cactus plants. Though inclined to like any vegetation that looks like an alien life form, the very idea of a cactus sends tiny invisible splinters to my fingers. In reality, it’s the cactus that should fear me, since I managed to kill one in college with the reasoning that if it could just survive in the dessert, it would flourish with regular watering. It did not. Read more
Jan 13
I was excited but not surprised when I heard that Dawn and Dave of One Girl Cookies would be publishing their their first cookbook. Walking into their Cobble Hill cafe and bakery is something like walking into a story so it was only a matter of time before it was bound between two covers.
Nov 1
I only really became aware of el Dia de los Muertos a couple of years ago but then it was love at first sight – the papel picado, the calacas that would be frightening if they weren’t so eerily famliar, the food welcoming spirits home as though no time has passed. There’s an easy tension to the way it’s celebrated – a balance between the pre-Columbian and post-Discovery, the corporeal and the spiritual, the seen and unseen – that’s lovely to live in for a couple of days. In the past, I’ve made pan de muerto but this year wanted to try empanaditas de calabaza. Families may start their vigil with the ofrenda, but they see the spirits back to the cemetery. Whatever I made, I wanted it to be filled with fall spices, comforting, and most importantly, portable. Read more
Aug 6
The thing about vacation is that eventually you have to come home. Always wanting to make it last a little longer, I hold on by bringing back ingredients, recreating recipes, or incorporating holiday habits to my everyday. In the past year, I’ve visited Paris and Mexico City, which is why I have tins of fois gras and impressionist teas on my shelves, half empty jars of caramel beurre au salé and cajeta in the cupboard, and stacks of corn tortillas in the freezer. This is also why I flounce around Brooklyn markets on the weekend with an enormous Provence basket and can’t stop making batches of salsa verde. Read more
May 7
I hope I’m never too old to play in my mother’s room. Stocked like a beauty counter at Saks and filled with back issues of ¡Hola! (similar to the UK’s Hello! magazine but with fewer Windsors and more Grimaldis), my sister and I treat it like a duty free shop where everything is actually free. Searching through her neat drawers and tables, we call dibs on new masks and eye creams, bracelets and rings we’re sure our grandmother would’ve wanted us to have, charms and trinkets that we casually discarded like the wicked stepsisters when we were younger but now want to reclaim for sentiment, or irony, or both. Overcome with the mami-can-I-haves from the moment we land, we can be pretty tough to take, though in our defense, she gets pretty spoiled when she comes to visit us. Read more
Mar 22
I was working on a post on the Latin pantry for Devour the Blog when I decided to take a look at my own. I’m constantly straightening and organizing my shelves in the on-going game of kitchen Jenga that my limited New York storage space forces me to play. I can’t complain though because a few years ago my cupboards would have been bare. It took me awhile to figure out what I like, how I should store it, and how often I would use it. I hate waste and there were a few forgotten items staring at me resentfully from behind the much loved olive oil and sea salt, but I think I got it down to the essentials. I don’t know if it’s pure projection or all those chiles and peppers, but Latin American products seem to vibrate just a little bit more than others. I feel like if I winked at the woman on the P.A.N. Harina bag she just might wink back and I’m also absolutely terrified of the Abuelita on Nestlé’s Mexican chocolate discs though I’m sure she means well. Read more
Jan 20
If my posts have been Miami-centric lately it’s because two weeks at home leaves a lot to unpack. I had one more Miami-inspired recipe I wanted to try and I finally got around to it over the long weekend. Since I’ve started this blog, I’ve slowly become less dependent on my trips home for Cuban food. Though I miss the fresh tropical produce and stock up on cans of cascos de guayaba, Brazilian condensed milk and Café Llave when I visit, there is very little (and increasingly less) that I can’t find locally. The restaurants that I loved are long gone or not quite how I remember them though I keep going back — nostalgia adding its own flavor. I promise myself I’ll seek out new spots but fall short and mostly play catch-up from the moment I land. Read more
Dec 3
I love the holidays but so much joy can be exhausting. The things I normally love doing – seeing friends, decking the halls, shopping, traveling – become stressful when done for 31+ consecutive days. I miss my kitchen and get in a panic about getting home too early to sleep and too late to cook. Faced with the prospect of nighttime pop tarts (organic maybe but still) and cold bowls of cereal, I opted for tortilla de papas instead. Read more
Nov 14
Its taken me a few days to emerge from my runner’s fog, but I finally found my way to the kitchen and decided to start with torrijas al vino. Served for breakfast, dessert or as a snack, the bread is soaked in milk or wine, dipped in eggs, then fried and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar or soaked in spiced syrup. I’ve wanted to make torrijas since I was in Spain where they’re popular during Easter and at Christmas almost everywhere else. Commonly known as torrejas throughout Latin America, I was only familiar with the Cuban version which is typically much sweeter, incorporating only a small amount of vino seco. Though similar to the French pain perdu, the Spanish version may have preceded it, with the first mentions of it dating back to the 15th century. Read more
Oct 1
I’ve written a lot about comfort food this past summer. It must be natural when so many things I make are from my childhood and it is a childish season after all. This week I got a take on comfort food I hadn’t considered before. I was talking to one of my oldest friends who’s going through a difficult time. Wanting to make some small gesture of support, I offered to make her something, anything. If she could think of a great dish she had growing up, I’d work out the ingredients and write it up for her. She suggested changua, a milk-onion-egg soup from the central Andes of Colombia. Loved the name, but it didn’t sound very appetizing, especially for breakfast when it’s typically served in Bogotá with a piece of calado or almojábana bread to soak it up. I had images of cracking open coconuts and frying fish but she wanted changua. Milk soup, really? Read more
Finalist for the 2015 James Beard Foundation Award in the International Cookbook Category for The Cuban Table
hungry sofia 
