It mazes me how many folks have trouble making a basic white sauce. To some it’s the easiest thing in the world. To others it is not. And I concede to the latter viewpoint. What is seemingly the easiest thing to make can turn into a holy mess. Too much flour and it’s lumpy. Too much milk or cream and it’s runny. Where is the happy medium? The French term for a basic white sauce is béchamel. Leave it to the French to fancy up something so simple. However, there are some things worth noting about this preparation. Almost all experts in the know agree on one basic point: when adding milk to the flour, the milk must be hot. This guarantees a perfectly smooth sauce. So take the time to heat up the milk in an extra pot if you have to. That means warming the milk over low heat until it forms little bubbles.
A basic white sauce, despite its humble origins, can enliven almost any dish. It can turn leftovers into marvelous entrées. Add it to scrambled eggs and you have a whole different meal. It can enhance everything from mac n’ cheese, to potato salad, to lasagna.
This is the Rivera family’s basic white sauce recipe. An old stand-by that’s been with us for generations, most likely through trial and error; and hopefully, will continue to grace our kitchen for generations to come.
BASIC WHITE SAUCE
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
Dash of paprika
1. In a cup or small bowl, make a paste of the flour with 2 tablespoons of the milk.
2. Combine with remaining ingredients in a saucepan.
3. Cook over low heat, stirring continuously, until thickened.
Yield: 1 cup
Variations: If desired, you can add 1-2 tablespoons butter to the ingredients in the saucepan for a richer sauce. If you want to make it a cheese sauce, add 1/2 cup of your favorite grated cheese during cooking.
Sofrito is ubiquitous in Caribbean cooking. One could safely say that Puerto Rican cuisine would be wanting without it. It is an aromatic mix of herbs and spices that is a base for cooking countless criollo dishes. This concept can be found in other cultures as well. One example is the Indian mix called garam masala which is also used as a base flavoring. Or kimchi, the fermented cabbage condiment, so popular in Korean cooking. The word sofrito is a generic term that has no correct English translation. “Frito” in Spanish means fried. Sofrito could be taken to mean stir-fried. Although this would not be entirely accurate. As the recipe shows, sofrito can be whipped up in a few moments’ time in a blender or food processor. And it can be stored in a closed tight jar the refrigerator for three to four days or, in the freezer compartment, indefinitely.
The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language describes cassava as a tropical American plant with a starchy root from which tapioca is derived. To us Latinos from the Caribbean, it’s yuka (yoo-ka). Yuka is most commonly served peeled and boiled with a bit of olive oil sprinkled on top. But it also yields a bitter or sweet starch known as manioc which is used in the making of farina and, of course, tapioca. For those interested in arcane terminology, manioc is a word of Tupian origin, attributed to the Tupis, a group of American Indian tribes living along the coast of Brazil and the Amazon River valley. To explorers from the Old World, this new food was a wonder.
Coquito is what my folks called Puerto Rican moonshine. And they were not too far off the mark. Coquito is a made at home in the traditional way, mainly for special gatherings. Some people liken coquito to potent homemade eggnog. And it can be very strong, or very mild, depending on how much rum you put into it.
Mofongo, I love the word. It’s pronounced just like it’s spelled. A popular Caribbean dish but undoubtedly of African origin. Basic mofongo is simply a mixture of crushed plantains with fried pork crackling served with a sauce. In the Puerto Rican version, we prepare it as individually shaped mofongo balls, similar to meatballs. Cuban mofongo differs in that the mixture is shaped into one large ball which is served in a bowl. More modern variations have this type of mofongo stuffed with beef or seafood. Whatever method you prefer, it is a delicious appetizer, side dish, or meal on its own.
I do not know what salmorejo means. Neither does anyone else in my family. My Uncle Carlos surmised that it was a word native to Puerto Rico that can be roughly translated as a “salad.” Perhaps. There are many crab salmorejo recipes. In some instances, sweet chili and capers are added. Our version is simple and no nonsense. The only liberty I’ve taken is in adding a little white wine. May not be exactly criollo*, but it supplies a bit of dash.
This dish came along, like many others through experimentation and the process of experimentation doesn’t have to stop here. Fresh parsley can be substituted for the cilantro, if you want a less defined taste. Some folks prefer fresh lemon juice in place of the vinegar. Again, let your palate be your guide. Traditionally, we serve fish steaks with root plants (bianda) or boiled green bananas (guineos).
Pasteles are a singular creation made from common ingredients: root plants stuffed with meat. The meat is usually pork, but it can also be chicken or turkey. At home it’s prepared only on the most special occasions. When I returned home from Vietnam this was the first dish my mother made on honor of my arrival. If you’re traditional you have to use plantain leaves to wrap the thing. If they can’t be found, then wax paper will do. Plantain leaves are abundant in Caribbean and Asian markets. These days they come frozen wrapped in bundles of 12 or more. Believe me, there is a difference between pasteles made with plantain leaves and those wrapped in wax paper.