Oswald Rivera

Author, Warrior, and Teacher

Author: Oswald Rivera (page 66 of 83)

Margarita Pie

The margarita cocktail, which some believe was the precursor of the margarita pit (MexGrocer.com)

 (photo: courtesy of MexGrocer.com)

How about an adult pie? What? Something like a margarita pie. I’m sure we’ve all heard of the margarita cocktail. It’s become an American favorite: a concoction of tequila mixed with Cointreau or similar orange-flavored liqueur, lime or lemon juice, with the glass often rimmed with salt. Well, there’s an edible version very popular in the western U.S. and the plain states—and that’s the margarita pie.

The origins of this dessert are unknown. Enough to say that this is not a dessert for kids. But if you want to liven up your next bash, and there are no teetotalers around, this is a fabulous dessert.

MARGARITA PIE
 

1 ¼ cup finely crushed pretzels
¼ cup white sugar
½ cup melted butter
2 limes, zested and juiced
1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
4 tablespoons gold tequila
2 tablespoons triple sec or orange-flavored liqueur
1 cup whipped heavy cream
Orange rind twists, for garnish
Mint leaves, for garnish
1. In a medium bowl, combine the pretzels, sugar and butter. Mix well. Press mixture into a buttered 9-inch pie plate. Chill for 1 hour.
2. In a large bowl, combine lime juice, lime zest, condensed milk, tequila, and triple sec. Fold in whipped cream.
3. Pour into cold pie crust and freeze for 4 hours until firm or chill for 2 hours in the refrigerator until firm.
4. Garnish with orange twists and mint leaves, and serve. 
    Yield: 6 servings or more. 

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Churros for Cinco de Mayo

Cinco de Mayo is coming up. That is, the fifth of May holiday that is celebrated in Mexico, and now is popular in the United States. In the U.S. the holiday is a misnomer in a way. They regard it as Mexican Independence Day, something similar to our Fourth of July. In actuality, Cinco de Mayo celebrates the Battle of Puebla in Mexico wherein the French invaded Mexico (they saw an opportunity while the U.S. was busy fighting a Civil War), and 6,500 Frenchmen cam up against 4,000 Mexicans. A bloody battle ensued, and the Mexican army won. And what began as a local celebration in Puebla, is now celebrated in most other Mexican states as well.

In the fiesta of Cinco de Mayo, traditional foods such as guacamole, tamales, and tacos are enjoyed. But, how about something different for this coming Cinco de Mayo fest? Something delicious and sweet. I’m talking about churros. Basically, it’s a deep fried pastry dough also know as a Spanish doughnut. It was developed centuries ago by Spanish goat herders since it could be cooked quick and easy over an open fire. With the Spanish conquest of the Americas it wasn’t long before the dish made its way up to the Southwest, where it came be known as a Spanish cruller. I like churros; always have. It’s one of the best meals ever, either as a dessert or other.

CHURROS

1 cup water
½ cup butter or margarine
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup all-purpose flour
3 eggs
Vegetable oil
¼ cup brown sugar
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1. In a 3-quart saucepan, heat water, butter and salt over medium heat until it comes to a rolling boil. Add flour and stir over low heat until mixture forms into a ball, about 1 minute.
2. Remove from heat, add eggs and beat until smooth.
3. In a dip fryer or frying pan heat 1 ½ inches of oil to 360 degrees F.
4. Spoon pastry mixture into a decorator’s pastry tube fitted with a large star tip. Squeeze  4-inch strips of dough into the hot oil and fry, 3 or 4 strips at a time, until golden brown, turning once, about 2 minutes on each side. Drain on paper towels.
5. On a plate, mix cinnamon and sugar, and roll crullers in sugar mixture, and serve.
     Yield: about 2 dozen crullers.
caption: courtesy of POSTRES de la Cipota

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What is Cock-a-Leekie?

No, its not what you think. Cock-a-Leekie, believe it or not, is a soup of Scottish origin made with leeks and chicken. It is referred to as Scotland’s “national soup.” Think of asopao in Puerto Rican cooking, udon in Japanese cuisine, or good old chicken soup in America. According to the New York Times Food Encyclopedia, the dish most likely originated in France, where it was initially made with onions. By the 16th century it had reached Scotland, and the onions had been replaced with leeks. How the name “cock-a-leekie” came about? No one knows. But tell any Scotsman or woman about cock-a-leekie, and their eyes will sparkle.

Let me add that in some recipes, prunes are added to the soup. I’ve never added prunes. Also, I add onions to to my recipe, which I acquired years ago. I also add garlic since I’m a garlic freak. This soup goes great with a hearty ale (I prefer an IPA or India Pale Ale) and some good crusty bread.

COCK-A-LEEKIE

1 three-pound chicken with giblets
8 cups water or more to cover
Salt to taste
10 whole peppercorns, crushed
1 bay leaf
3 sprigs parsley
1 carrot, trimmed, scraped and quartered
4 cups finely shredded leaks (before shredding, cut the leeks into 3-inch lengths)
1 small onion, peeled and chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed

3 tablespoons rice

1. Truss the chicken if you prefer. Add it to large pot or kettle, and add the neck, if used, and giblets. Add the water, salt, pepper, bay leaf, parsley and carrot. Bring to a boil and simmer, skimming the surface often to remove scum and foam, for 20 minutes.
2. Add the leeks, onion, garlic and rice, and continue simmering 20 minutes longer. Remove and discard the parsley and bay leaf.
3. Remove the chicken and giblets. Now, you can either serve the soup, without the chicken, as a first course; and serve the chicken later, carved as a main course. Or you can serve the cut-up chicken in bowls with the soup.
    Yield: 4 to 6 servings.

Picture: courtesy of Farm Clipart Images

Easter Lamb

In the Rivera family, we always had lamb for Easter. And this was enshrine in a post I did back in April 2011, where I posted the recipe for my mother’s famous roasted leg of lamb (Pata de Cornero al Horno). I could reprise that recipe again for this coming Easter but then I thought, why not try something new with lamb? Delicious as it is, does it always have to be a whole leg of lamb? Also, if you haven’t noticed, a leg of lamb is an expensive proposition these days. Here, on the East Coast, it can run you up to $75-80. I know, it’s for a special occasion, but still? That doesn’t mean you still can’t have lamb for Easter. In fact, you can do very well with say, for instance, lamb shanks.

I love lamb shanks. That’s what I’m cooking for my beloved group of pagans and Christians this Easter Sunday. (For the record, I include myself in the former group). Back in the old days, one recipe we revered in our family was Caribbean style lamb shanks. Where Italian cuisine would tout its Osso Buco, or braised veal shanks, we celebrated our Muslo Cornero a la Caribe. It wasn’t veal, but the taste and flavor transported us to heaven.

The recipe given is from my first cookbook, Puerto Rican Cuisine in America (Perseus Books Group). Unlike the traditional method of cooking shanks, we do not dust them with flour and then brown them in oil. We differ in that we trim the shanks of fat, then brown them, and finally simmer in slow cooking until done.

MUSLO CORNERO A LA CARIBE
(Lamb Shanks Caribbean Style)

4 lamb Shanks (about 3 1/2 pounds)
Juice of 1 whole lemon
Salt and ground black pepper to taste
1/2 cup olive oil
1 28-ounce can plum tomatoes
1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon chopped cilantro
1 packet Sason Goya (with coriander and annatto—found in most stores or Caribbean markets)
2 bay leaves

1. Rinse lamb shanks and pat dry with paper towels.
2. Trim excess fat from shanks.
3. Sprinkle with lemon juice. Season with salt and pepper.
4. Heat olive oil in a heavy kettle or Dutch oven. Add  lamb shanks and brown evenly on low-moderate heat.
5. Add tomatoes with their liquid, onion, garlic, oregano, cilantro, sason, and bay leaves.
6. Bring to a boil. Cover and simmer on low heat for 1 1/2 hours or until tender. Serve with rice pilaf, or yellow rice and pigeon peas.
    Yield: 4 servings.

Photo: courtesy of etsy.com

 

   

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Deviled Eggs

One of my favorite appetizers is deviled eggs. I could eat a dozen at a time. Something about deviled eggs that is habit forming; like peanuts, you just can’t eat one. Deviled eggs are a simple convenience—hard boiled eggs cut in half, with the egg yolk mixed with mustard, mayonnaise and other ingredients. Nothing could be simpler. Question is: why are they called “deviled eggs?” According to the Oxford Companion to Food, the word “deviled” first appeared as a culinary term in the 18th century, and it meant “to cook something with fiery hot spices or condiments.” It stands to reason since heat and the devil have always had something in common (think of Hell). By the 19th century in America, “deviled” was applied to a variety of spicy dishes, inclusive of “deviled eggs.”

According to the TV show The Secret Life Of. . . . on the Food Network, deviled eggs originated in ancient Rome, where the use of spices or spicy sauces with eggs was very common. As one cane see, the dish has a noble and storied history. And in the 1950s and 60s it took off in America as a widely popular snack. In fact, they became so popular that a special tray was created to serve them.

The recipe given below is from Mrs. Alba Rosario Parsons, neighbor and dear friend in Vermont. The recipe has been in her family for ages. 

DEVILED EGGS

6 hard cooked eggs
1/4 cup mayonnaise
2 tablespoons Gulden’s mustard
1/8 teaspoon Tabasco sauce
Salt and ground black pepper to taste
Paprika for garnish
1/4 cup chopped stuffed Spanish olives

Peel the eggs. Cut them in half, and remove the yolk to a small bowl. Mash them with a fork, and add the mayonnaise, mustard, Tabasco, salt and pepper. Mix thoroughly. Using a spoon, fill up the empty egg halves with the mixture. Sprinkle lightly with paprika, and top with chopped olives.

Note: Instead of using a spoon, you can also make a hole at the end of a plastic ziplock baggy, put the mixture inside, and use the baggy as as sieve to fill the egg halves.

Caption: courtesy of photobucket.

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Irish Soda Bread

Saint Patrick’s day is just around the corner—which means green beer, corned beef and cabbage, and Irish soda bread. The green beer you can keep. I tried it once and got sick as a dog. Corned beef and cabbage I like. But it’s Irish soda bread I love. I can eat a whole loaf by itself just with butter. It’s particular consistency and taste is delightful. So imagine my chagrin when I found out the Irish didn’t invent Irish soda bread. Baking soda, which is used as leavening agent instead of yeast, has been around for centuries. In fact, if anyone can be credited with inventing “Irish” soda bread it is Native American Indians, who used soda ash or “pearl ash” to leaven their bread. The chemical compound, bicarbonate of soda, wasn’t used in Ireland before the 1840s. So how did the Irish come to claim this bread as their own? And this, like most things, comes down to economics. Hard wheat flour, the kind used today by almost everyone, requires yeast so that the bread can rise and then be baked. Back then, as in most poor countries, the Irish had access to only soft wheat flour, which doesn’t do well with yeast but is great for quick breads such as Irish soda bread. Another factor was that most Irish homes did not have ovens, they had open hearths, thus the breads were baked on griddles or big iron pots over open flames. This meant the Irish remained with soft wheat flour and soda bread, while Britain and the Americas stayed with hard wheat flour and yeast. 

Mush has changed since the bad old days. And today Irish soda bread is an international favorite not only in Ireland here but also here the U.S., and elsewhere. Another tidbit: why, in some parts of Ireland, do they still cut a cross on top of the bread with a knife? Ostensibly this is to ward off the devil and keep evil spirits away from the home. Whether you buy this or not is immaterial—the bread does warm the tummy.

Here is my own recipe for Irish soda bread. I got it years ago from someone, I can’t remember who (most probably during a bash in some pub on St. Paddy’s Day); but it’s a favorite with family and friends, Irish or otherwise.

IRISH SODA BREAD

4 cups flour (and more as needed)
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoons baking powder
3 tablespoons sugar
1/2 stick butter
2 cups buttermilk
1 cup raisins

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
2. In a large bowl, stir together the flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder, and sugar. Cut in the butter. Make a well in the center and add the buttermilk. Mix lightly and quickly to make a wet dough. Fold in the raisins.
3. Turn out on a floured board, and add a little more flour as needed. Knead ten times or more.
4. Shape into a 7 or 8-inch loaf pan which has been lightly greased (with Crisco shortening). With a knife, cut a cross on top of the bread. Place in oven and bake for 45 minutes or until golden. The bread is done when a knife stuck in the middle, comes out clean. Turn the loaf out onto a cooling rack and let it cool briefly before slicing.
    Yield: Makes one loaf (4 servings or more).

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Clam Dip Appetizer

Wherever you dine these days, whether it’s a dinner with friends, or meal at your favorite hangout or restaurant, you usually start with an appetizer. What the more highfalutin among us call hors d’oeuvre. Back on the block, since we didn’t know any better, we would pronounce the thing phonetically, and it would come out as “whores ovaries.” No one said we we gourmets.

When we think of appetizers, we think of  “finger foods” normally served before the meal. And they can be very simple or complex depending upon the occasion. Appetizers trace their lineage back to Ancient Rome where the upper class,  called “patricians,” dined on eggs, fruits and other tidbits before the main course. Americans did not get into appetizers on a big scale until the 1950s. In a way, this can be traced back to James Beard‘s first cookbook, Hors d’oeuvre and Canapes, published in 1940, and which started the whole trend. Before then canapes and their ilk were the province of high class gentlemen who would dine on such with a glass of sherry before going into the dining room.

In this country, appetizers came into their own with the advent of the cocktail party. If you ever watched the TV series, Mad Men, all you’ll see is guys in suits with skinny ties, and gals with bouffant hair does munching on appetizers and snacks while drinking scotch and martinis. And the appetizer that exemplifies this is none other than my favorite, the clam dip appetizer. Easy to make and easy to serve. This recipe, the one given below, first appeared on a broadcast for the Kraft Music Hall of Fame in the 1950s. It is said that within 24 hours after the broadcast, New York City stores had sold out all their canned clams.

CLAM DIP APPETIZER

1 (8-ounce) can minced clams
1 garlic clove, peeled and cut
1 (8-ounce) Philadelphia brand package cream cheese
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 1/2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon salt
Ground pepper to taste

1. Drain clams, reserving 1/4 cup of liquid.
2. Rub a mixing bowl with garlic.
3. In the bowl, combine clams, clam liquid, cream cheese, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, salt, and pepper. Mix well until blended.
4. Chill until ready to use. Serve with crackers or potato chips.
    Yield: 4 servings or more.

Photo: courtesy of tastykitchen.com   

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Carne Mechada – Puerto Rican Pot Roast

When I was growing up, carne mechada, our version of pot roast, was a Sunday dinner ritual. What’s good about pot roast, my mother’s or any other version, is that you can use the best cut of meat or the least expensive. It can be eye round, beef shoulder or boneless chuck. In our family, we used a bottom round cut. That’s the way it has been for  generations.

I’m told that the origin of pot roast in the USA is New England. In the old days they called it “Yankee Pot Roast.” And, as with our Caribbean version, the benefit of the dish was that it uses tougher cuts of meat, which become tender and flavorful after slow braising since slow cooking tenderizes the meat. Our version is more seasoned that the standard Yankee Pot Roast. Also, in most standard pot roast recipes, they add carrots.  In my mother’s recipe, she added green bell pepper (pimento) and potatoes; and we served it with steamed rice. The dish is delicious and simple to prepare. Added note: the recipe is from my cookbook, Puerto Rican Cuisine in America.

CARNE MECHADA (POT ROAST)

3 pounds bottom round beef, trimmed
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1 teaspoon dried oregano
6 whole black peppercorns
1 teaspoon salt
2 sprigs cilantro
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 pound lean cured ham, washed and diced
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 medium green bell pepper, seeded and sliced into rounds about 1/4-inch thick
1 medium onion, peeled and sliced into rings
1/2 cup water
1 8-ounce can tomato sauce
6 small russet potatoes, peeled, washed and quartered

1. Rinse meat under cold running water and pat dry with paper towels.
2. Put garlic cloves, oregano, peppercorns, salt and cilantro in a mortar, and pound until crushed. Add olive oil and mix.
3. With a  knife, make small slits in various parts of the meat. Rub seasoning into the meat and stud the slits with pieces of diced ham. Set aside and let stand 10 minutes.
4. In a Dutch oven or heavy kettle, heat the vegetable oil over moderate-high heat, add pot roast and brown lightly on all sides (about 5 minutes).
5. Add bell pepper, onion rings, water and tomato sauce. bring to a rapid boil. reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for 1 hour or until fork-tender.
6. Add potatoes. Check liquid, adding 1/4 cup water, if necessary. Cover and continue cooking for 20 minutes.
7. Remove roast from kettle. Slice meat and arrange on heated serving platter surrounded by potatoes. Spoon on some pan juices; pass remainder in a small bowl or gravy boat.
    Yield: 4-5 servings.

Photo: courtesy of El Cata Vinos

Food with Wine

One of the things that drive most people batty is this idea of pairing food with wine. And it can get ridiculous sometimes. There are tomes out there that try to inculcate us as to what “specific” wine goes with what food. What goes with duck a l’orange or a burger or, even pickles. When this topic comes up, I always recall one of my father’s saying: “drink whatever damn wine you want  for dinner.” I know, this is heresy with some of the more pretentious types. Yet, really, who is to say what proper wine goes with what you eat? I know, the usual canard is: white wine with fish; and red wine with meat. But, guess what, I like red wine with fish—and who is to say I’m wrong?

Of course, the concept can be taken to extremes on both accounts. My mother, bless her soul, loved to drink Manischewitz sherry with everything.That was her thing. During my youth, I had friends who, during the Jewish Seder, would drink Mogen David Heavy Malaga Red. Now, if you like Mogen David, and I do, that’s okay but, after a while, the sweetish stickiness of the wine gets to you. Luckily, like most Seders in those days, the wine was cut with seltzer water. Thank goodness today we have good, genuine Kosher table wines appropriate to the occasion. It’s a matter of common sense. Most people are not going to have a dessert wine with the entrée. That doesn’t mean you have to carry a wine bible with you everytime you go out to eat. Most of us, when we go out dining, we usually differ to the maitre d’ or, in fancier establishments, the sommelier (you know, the guy with the wine key who selects the wines). I have never gone wrong with differing to those in the know. That’ their job, That’s what they’re paid for. However, let’s say, someone invites you to dinner. You may know what the person is going to cook; but what wine to bring? To be safe, just in case, you may decide to bring a red and a white.

There are occasions when you may have to decide what wine will go with your meal and, lets be honest, most of us are not sommeliers, or had the luxury of taking a wine course. I’ve discovered, through trial and error, that there are wines which are appropriate with almost any category of food. For instance, light reds like a Barbera (dry, mellow, and full-bodied), a Gamay  (think of a light, vibrant Beaujolais) or Pinot Noir (a dry, pleasant Burgandy). They pair well with whatever is on your plate. They are not the heavy hitters like a Bordeaux, a Montepulciano, or a full-bodied Zinfandel. The ones I mentioned are mainly red quaffing wines that won’t overpower the meal or put anyone off. As for whites, you can never go wrong with a Chenin Blanc (medium-dry, soft and fruity), Sauvignon Blanc (medium-bodied, crisp and fresh; in California it is also known as Fume Blanc), or Soave (medium-dry, very refreshing). These go good with almost anything—seafood, pasta, even pork. If that doesn’t work, and you have a crowd that can’t make up it’s mind, go with the compromiser—rosé or better, still, champagne. But, whatever you do, go with your taste buds. If you like it, you got it made—no matter what anyone else says. This is America, not the Ritz.

caption: courtesy of Mail Online

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Asopao

In Puerto Rican and Nuyorican cuisine, one of our aces is asopao. I think it’s a conjured up word from our culture. Spanish meas “soup.” An asopao is A-soup+; that is, a hearty, stick to the ribs stew that, though hailing from the Caribbean, is prefect for the kind of weather we are now enduring on the East Coast, or any Nordic climate. Nothing beats this hefty dish traditionally served with tostones (fried green plantains).

When the day gets cold, or you’re recovering from the flu, asopao is our version of Jewish penicillin: chicken noodle soup. The favorite Rivera family asopao is made with pigeon peas with rice soup. Now, here we come to the classic argument: whether to use fresh pigeon peas or canned peas instead. The cooking time will be cut by more than half if you use canned pre-cooked peas. Problem is, as my elders claim, it will not be kosher. You lose the soul of the dish when using canned peas. Some people really believe that. If you’re looking for quickie convenience, honestly, this is not he recipe to try. But if you put in the time and love required, you’re taste buds will be transported and you’ll be amply rewarded. If you don’t have tostones, this recipe goes great with good, warm, crusty bread. Add a light red wine such as a Bardolino or Gamey, and you’re in heaven.

The recipe given is from my cookbook, Puerto Rican Cuisine in America (Avalon Books: Thunders Mouth Press).

ASOPAO DE GANDULES CON ARROZ

        (Pigeon Peas with Rice Soup)
1/2 pound fresh pigeon peas
2 quarts (8 cups) water
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup rice
1 cup water
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 ounce lean cured ham, washed and diced
1/2 ounce salt pork, washed and diced
1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 medium green bell pepper, cored, seeded and finely chopped
1 medium tomato, coarsely chopped
4 fresh cilantro leaves, washed and chopped
6 pimento stuffed Spanish olives
3 aji dulce (sweet chili pepper), seeded and chopped
4 tablespoons tomato sauce
1 packet sazón accent (a flavoring with cilantro and annatto found in most ethnic stores and even most      
   supermarkets these days. Goya brand is a good one)

1. Rinse pigeon peas under cold running water, drain. Place in a large saucepan or pot with water and salt. Boil on moderate-high heat, covered, for 1 hour. Drain, reserve cooking liquid and set peas aside.
2. While peas are cooking, place rice and 1 cup water in a bowl and let soak.
3. Heat oil in a large kettle or Dutch oven. Add ham and salt pork and stir-fry over moderate-high heat until brown.
4. Add onion, bell pepper, tomato, cilantro, olives, capers, aji dulce and tomato sauce. Sauté over moderate heat for 10 minutes.
5. Add sazón accent and pigeon peas. Mix well and cook for 5 minutes.
6. Drain rice and add to kettle. Pour in reserve liquid. Stir to combine while gradually adding 2 cups water. Bring to a boil and cook on high heat, uncovered, for 10 minutes.
7. Lower heat and simmer, uncovered, for 10 minutes. Serve immediately.
    Yield: 8 servings.

Note: photo courtesy of Puertoricanmarket.com

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