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The Puerto Rican Thanksgiving Turkey

Yes, it’s that time of year again. My favorite holiday: Thanksgiving. Leave it to the American consciousness to create a holiday devoted to feasting and gluttony. I love it. We Puerto Ricans have our own version of the cooked bird. It’s more highly seasoned than its North American counterpart and, in my humble opinion, more flavorful. You see, back in the days of yore, in Puerto Rico, the main staple for the holidays was pernil, or roasted pork shoulder. For health and other reasons, turkey has supplanted the pernil. But, guess what—we spice up the turkey to taste like pork, or a la criolla (creole style). So, here it is, the Puerto Rican Thanksgiving turkey which we normally serve with yellow rice and pigeon peas (gandules). The recipe is from my first cookbook, Puerto Rican Cuisine in America (The Perseus Books Group).

PAVO RELLENO A LA CRIOLLA

(Stuffed Roast Turkey)

1 81/2 pound pound dressed-weight turkey

5 cloves garlic, peeled

6 whole black peppercorns

1 tablespoon dried oregano

4 teaspoon salt

1 cup olive oil

4 tablespoons paprika

1/4 cup vinegar

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 1/2 pound lean ground beef

1 packet sazon accent (Goya makes a good one with coriander and annato)

1/2 cup stuffed pimento stuffed Spanish olives

4 tablespoons capers, drained

1/2 cup tomato sauce

1. Rinse and wash turkey, inside and out, and wipe dry. Do the same with the heart, liver and gizzard, and then chop innards coarsely. This will be combined with the ground beef when preparing the stuffing.

2. Pound together the garlic, peppercorns, oregano and 3 teaspoons of salt in a mortar. Add 1/2 cup olive oil, 2 tablespoons paprika, vinegar, and combine. Rub the turkey with the seasoning inside and out—what my mother calls “abodar el pavo” (seasoning the beast). This is done a day ahead (the turkey should be left overnight, in a covered pot, in the refrigerator). This will allow it to absorb the flavors.

3. Heat vegetable oil in a frying pan or kettle. Add the ground beef and cook over high heat, stirring frequently, until the meat loses its color. Reduce heat to medium low and stir in the sazon, olives, capers, tomato sauce and remaining teaspoon salt. Cook for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, to complete the stuffing.

4. Remove from heat and let cool. Stuff the turkey loosely about three quarters full. Truss the turkey (sew or skewer together the neck and bind the legs).

5. Place turkey in a roasting pan breast side down. To insure a golden brown exterior combine the remaining 2 tablespoons paprika with the remaining olive oil in a small bowl. Brush the entire turkey with this mixture and roast in a slow to moderate over (325 degrees F.) for 3 1/2 hours. To brown bird, raise temperature to 350 degrees during the last 25 minutes of cooking. This is an excellent way of cooking if in doubt as to tenderness of turkey. Some people prefer covering the turkey with aluminum foil while roasting, and removing this during last 20-30 minutes of cooking time to brown the skin. I find that frequent basting during cooking gets the same result.

Baking theories abound. There is the old traditionalist view that allows 1 1/2 hours for the first pound and then 25 minutes per pound up to 7 pounds and 20 minutes per pound after that. Thus, a 5 pound bird would take 3 hours and 20 minutes, a 7 pounder would take 4 hours and 10 minutes, and a 10 pounder 5 hours and 10 minutes. But in my view, there’s no set rule. Some birds take more time to roast, some less. In the Rivera family we go by general common sense: figure a 7 to 8 pounder takes 3 1/2 to 4 hours to cook; a 10 pounder maybe 4 1/2 hrs., and a 12 pound turkey maybe 5-5 1/2 hours. Rule of thumb: turkey is done when drumstick and thigh move easily.

6. For gravy: remove turkey from roasting pan and keep warm. Drain drippings from roasting pan into a sauce pan. Skim off the fat but retain 1/4 cup of the drippings. Add 2 cups water or 1/2 cup dry white wine and 1 1/2 cups water to pan drippings. Bring to a boil over high heat while stirring in the 1/4 cup fat. Lower heat and thicken slightly with a little cornstarch and water combined. If you want to reduce the grease content, mix 3 teaspoons of cornstarch with 3 tablespoons water. Add this to the strained pan drippings and heat, thereby omitting the reaming fat content.

Yield: 6 to 8 servings.

Mulsum – The Great Aperitif of Olden Times

November 16, 2009 / Oswald Rivera / 0 Comments

As noted in an earlier blog, I have always been fascinated by ancient Roman cooking. My second cookbook, The Pharaoh’s Feast (Thunder’s Mouth Press) has a whole chapter on this. Roman meals, especially at the time of the Empire, were sumptuous productions for the upper classes. They were ostentatious and sometimes downright weird. Imagine eating dormice, sow’s womb, and peacock’s brain in a sauce. Admittedly, not something for everyone

Yet, in a Roman banquet (and some of the dishes were quite sophisticated), each meal began with a sweet aperitif, mulsum, a mix of wine and honey. Then the successive courses were served and here, early in the dinner, the guests ate without drinking. Then they drank without eating. Wisely, the Romans, like the ancient Greeks before them, normally drank their wine mixed with water.

An ancient gourmand, Apicius, who lived in the time of Emperor Nero, wrote a tome, On Cookery, or De Re Coquinaria. In it he has a recipe for spiced honey wine that calls for peppercorns, mastic (a sort of resin), bay leaf, saffron, and dates. Trying to emulate this recipe would be a daunting undertaking. I prefer to make the mulsum by simply combining the honey and the wine. The recipe follows below; and note that it is best to use pure, unprocessed raw honey, the type sold in health food stores.

MULSUM

1/2 cup honey

1 bottle medium-dry red wine

1. Heat the honey in a small saucepan. Do not boil. Remove from the honey and let it cool.

2. Mix the wine and honey in a ceramic jar or pitcher and serve at cool room temperature. the wine and honey can also be mixed in a bowl and served in a decanter.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings.

The Alimighty Egg Cream

November 12, 2009 / Oswald Rivera / 0 Comments

I recall the first time I was down south, and it was when I was in the military, fresh out of boot camp. I stopped by a local soda fountain store in some God-forsaken burg somewhere and asked for an egg cream. The old cracker behind the counter gave me a weird look and said, “Pard’on?” I repeated my request. He stared at me myopically through thick lens glasses and said, “Yuh wan’ an a-i-ggh in yore cream?” I knew then I was in foreign territory, at least where egg creams are concerned.

Egg creams, in the north, and by that I mean the New York metropolitan area, are a rite of passage, a legendary elixir that defies imagination. I’ve had a love affair when egg creams since my early youth. Even in the Spanish Harlem of old, we revered egg creams. It transcended race, creed, nationality. It was, and still is to some of us, the ultimate good time drink—especially in you like chocolate.

Egg cream’s genesis is said to have begun in Brooklyn, N.Y. Yes, the same borough that gave the world Barbra Streisand, Neil Simon, Neil Young and William Bendix, gave us the egg cream, that immutable mix of cold milk (whole, not skim or partially skimmed), chocolate syrup and seltzer. Historians claims that is began in the Jewish community in the 18880s and 1900s. Yet, it does not have an egg. Some authorities state that initially, before World War II, it did contain an egg that was mixed in with whipped cream and chocolate syrup. I cannot say if this is true or not. The consensus behind this theory is that the egg was dropped from the drink because of wartime rationing.

What I do know is that in my part of the world there has been an ongoing discussion, some would say an argument, about what type of chocolate syrup to use. When I was a kid, it was divided into two camps: those who favored the traditional Fox’s U-bet Chocolate Syrup, and those who preferred Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup. In my neighborhood, there were some partisans who used Bosco as the syrup base. I have never tried it with that.

Sadly, egg creams are becoming a nostalgic entity. Back in my youth, there were neighborhood soda fountains all over, and each served egg creams. Today, they are harder to find. My favorite New York egg cream these days comes from Eisenberg’s Sandwich Shop, a diner that has been on 5th Avenue and 22nd street since 1929.

At home, I still make my own egg creams. And I still use the traditional small Coca-Cola glass for it. There are many variations to making a genuine New York egg cream, as you will see below. But in all cases it is imperative that you use a long spoon to mix the chocolate and the milk in order to get a foamy white head.

Here’s a traditional recipe. Oh, yes, very important, the classic egg cream should be drunk straight from the glass. I find that I lose something if I drink it through a straw; I just don’t get the taste of the foamy cream.

TRADITIONAL EGG CREAM

1/2 cup cold milk
1 cup bottled seltzer or club soda
2 tablespoons chocolate syrup (or more to taste)

Pour the milk in the bottom of a soda glass. Then drop the chocolate down the side of the glass and gently mix it with the milk, using a long-handled spoon. Now pour the seltzer down the center of the glass and stir with the spoon to generate a thick white foamy head. Some variations argue that you should stir the mixture only after everything has been added, being careful not to disturb the foam. And some say, first add some milk, then the syrup, then more milk and the seltzer. And still others claim that it tastes better using whipped cream instead of milk. You are free to experiment to see which one suits your palate.

Tembleque – Coconut Supreme

October 24, 2009 / Oswald Rivera / 0 Comments

Those of us from a Caribbean heritage have a thing about coconuts. We drink the coconut milk, snack on coconut meat, mix it in our rum drinks, and use it in our cooking, mainly in our desserts. And the prime dessert dish of all is tembleque, or coconut custard. It’s rich, it’s creamy, it’s a delight. And a hell of a bother to cook. It’s the only recipe (apart from pasteles) in my tome, Puerto Rican Cuisine in America (Perseus Book Group), that takes time to prepare. But, believe it, my friends, it’s worth it.

First of all, to do the thing right, you need fresh, ripe coconuts. These can be acquired in any Caribbean, Asian or Indian market. You need to drain them, grate the coconut meat, cook it and strain it. Agreed. It’s time consuming. But it’s a hell of a lot better than the pre-packaged tembleque mix in stores, and much healthier. It doesn’t have all the preservatives or chemicals in it.

If you still don’t want to invest the time, you can shortcut by using canned coconut milk, which is readily available in most supermarkets. Omit the coconut part and use with the rest of the ingredients noted in the recipe given below. But, for the genuine taste of pure, luscious tembleque, nothing beats the original.

TEMBLEQUE (COCONUT CUSTARD)

2 large ripe coconuts
1/2 cup cornstarch
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Ground nutmeg
Ground cinnamon

1. Pierce coconut (a big nail is best) and drain liquid into a small bowl. Reserve.
2. Split coconuts and remove white meat from shell. Separate the brown skin from coconut meat.
3. Break the coconut meat into pieces, rinse under cold water and grate finely.
4. Place grated coconut in a bowl. Add enough water to reserve coconut liquid so that it measures 3 1/2 cups. Bring liquid to a boil and add grated coconut.
5. Drain coconut in a colander or strainer, pressing with the hands to extract coconut milk into a bowl.
6. Heat one cup water. Add same coconut shreds as before and strain again into the same bowl that holds the coconut milk. Discard shreds.
7. In a large pot or saucepan, combine cornstarch, sugar, salt and vanilla. Stir in coconut milk, a little bit at a time and blend well.
8. Cook on moderate heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until mixture thickens.
9. Reduce heat to low and stir until mixture boils.
10. Remove from heat and pour into 8 slightly wet, individual molds or a large round pan or mold.
11. Let cool and invert into molds, serving dish or platter. Sprinkle with nutmeg and cinnamon and serve.
Yield: 8 servings.

Gourmet Magazine – R.I. P.

October 9, 2009 / Oswald Rivera / 0 Comments

After 68 years in publication, Gourmet magazine is calling it quits. The food journal that defined a generation is no more, a victim of the economy and technology. Why leaf through a magazine for recipes when you can get whatever recipe you want with just one key stroke or the click of a mouse? These days you can google everything from preparing a fruit salad to the finer points of whale blubber steak. Thus, Gourmet, as an entity, is no more.

Truth be told, I was never a partisan of Gourmet Magazine. My subscription lapsed years ago and I never renewed it. After a time I found the magazine rather snooty and condescending in its manner. It was food for those who were considered “my betters,” I thought. I found its recipes, for the most part, arcane, tine consuming and complicated. Who wants to spend a weekend cooking up a Black Forrest cake? There were much more venues out there for simplicity and economy.

Still, I’m sure Gourmet Magazine will be missed. Just one more fount on culinary information that is now gone. It seems like a generation is passing. Julia Childs is gone, James Beard is gone and, now, Gourmet. I shall mourn its passing.

Plantains – Part I

September 29, 2009 / Oswald Rivera / 0 Comments

Plantains are an integral part of my culture. We boil them, we fry them, we add them in casserole dishes; we eat them as appetizers or with the main meal. They are ubiquitous in the Caribbean. Almost every island has a claim to them. To those if us who are not familiar with plantains (platanos), think of them as bananas on steroids. And in Puerto Rican cuisine there are two categories that we enjoy.

The first category are green, unripe plantains. These we serve as tostones, or fried green plantains. And that is what we will discuss today.

Green plantains, these days, can be found almost anywhere. My wife and I summer in Vermont. And even in Vermont we can find plantains. In the regular world, any Caribbean or Asian market will carry them. In the northeast, they are found in almost any supermarket.

I prefer tostones to their close cousin, the amarillos, the ripe plantains. Some folks prefer the ripe ones. It’s all a matter of taste. They are both equally delicious.

In the recipe included below the plantains are fried twice. In other parts of the Caribbean, notably Jamaica, the plantains are deep-fried just once. They are not pounded and re-fried. For those who follow our method, the unbroken skin of the plantain is used for flattening the tostones. Otherwise, you can acquire what is called a tostonera in any Latin market. This consists of two pieces of wood or plastic that hinge over to enclose the plantains slices. Here, again, I defer to tradition. Nothing beats the plantain peels and the flat of the hand for pressing the tostones.

The recipe is from my first cookbook, Puerto Rican Cuisine in America (Perseus Book Group).

TOSTONES (FRIED GREEN PLANTAINS)

3 green plantains

4 cups water

2 tablespoons salt

Vegetable oil for frying

1. To remove the skin from the plantain, cut tips at both ends, cut a slit along the length of the plantain and peel off. To facilitate easier handling, some cooks dip plantains in hot water for 5 minutes and then remove the skin. Once plantains are peeled, cut into diagonal slices about 1-inch thick. Reserve peels.

2. Combine water and salt in a bowl and soak plantain slices for 30 minutes. Drain well.

3. Fill a cast-iron or heavy bottomed skillet halfway with vegetable oil. Heat oil until very hot (about 375 degrees). Deep fry plantains for 5 to 7 minutes.

4. Remove with slotted spoon and drain on paper towels.

5. Place a plantain slice between two plantain peels, envelope fashion, and pound flat with the palm of the hand. Repeat until all slices are pressed. Return plantains to the skillet and cook until golden grown (about 5 minutes longer). Drain on absorbent paper towels and sprinkle lightly with salt.

Yield: 12 to 18 tostones.

Fish and Mustard—A Great Combo!

September 19, 2009 / Oswald Rivera / 0 Comments

A couple of blogs ago I did something on Quick Meat Patties in a Mustard Sauce. That started me to thinking, Why can’t I do the same thing with fish? This all came about when I decided to roast a whole fish I had acquired in Chinatown. I had been looking forward to this meal. I hadn’t cooked a whole fish in quite a while. But, necessity being the mother of invention, I checked my fridge and noticed I had some mustard and cream. So, why not combine the two and make what the French would call a moutard sauce?

It was a simple process: score the fish with a few cut marks, season, pour the mustard-cream sauce over it, and bake. Easy, quick, and nutritious. For an accompaniment we had baked scallion potatoes. Also an easy process: cut the potatoes in 1-inch chunks, drizzle with butter and bake along with the fish. At the finish, sprinkle with chopped scallions or parsley.

When baking the fish, I suggest any white firm-fleshed fish. Blue Fish may be too oily, and a whole salmon may be too cost prohibitive. The recipe also works well with fish fillets and fish steaks; although cooking time may vary depending upon thickness of fillets or steaks.

WHOLE FISH IN MUSTARD-CREAM SAUCE

1 whole fish (about 2-2 1/2 pounds), gutted, scaled, clean, with with head

and tail intact.

Salt and ground black pepper to taste

1/2 cup mustard ( Any good mustard will do—from Grey Poupon to

Gulden’s)

4 tablespoons heavy whipping cream (preferably organic)

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

2. Wash fish under cold running water and clean with paper towels. Then score fish on each side with three to four knife cuts across the body.

3. Season with salt and pepper.

4. In a small bowl, combine the mustard and heavy cream.

5. Place fish in a greased baking dish; and spread the mustard- cream

sauce over it.

6. Bake for 45 minutes or until skin flakes easily with a knife or fork.

Yield: 4 servings.

Tarru-Bird Stew – The Oldest Recipe in the World

September 10, 2009 / Oswald Rivera / 0 Comments

When I was researching my second cookbook, The Pharaoh’s Feast (Avalon Books), part of the deal was that I had to research ancient recipes. The Pharaoh’s Feast deals with the history of cooking throughout the ages, from day one to the present. I came across some really great gems, inclusive of the recipe noted below. It comes from three Akhadian clay table from the Yale Babylonian Collection. The tablets are a collection of recipes from the old Babylonian Empire, circa 1700 B.C.E. They are not a cookbook. They are more of a culinary record written for administrative purposes so that the recipes could be codified for the benefit of those who would enjoy them—the big whigs in the hierarchy. They show that ancient Mesopotamia had a vibrant and sophisticated cuisine for its time.

Tarru can translated to mean fowl. Thus this recipe could have been made with wild pigeons, quail or partridge—any small bird. For modern usage I recommend Cornish game hens or poussin (young chickens). The recipe is arcane, but using common sense, one can come up with something worthwhile. It’s your basic stew; and it goes well with boiled potatoes or steamed rice.

Some words inscribed in the tablets have yet to be translated, such as samidu. The recipe contains onions, garlic, leek, milk and samidu (whatever the hell that is). It also calls for a broth made of mutton. I figure you could use any rich meat or beef broth. Also, one of the ingredients given is”hulled cake of malt.” I’ve substituted malted milk powder—and it works.

So, make believe you’re in Ancient Babylon, you just got home from a hard day in the fields, or from haggling in the marketplace over some horse or camel, and the Tarru-Bird Stew is just waiting for you.

TARRU-BIRD STEW

2 Cornish game hens or poussin

1 small onion, peeled and finely chopped

1 whole leek, rinsed and finely chopped (green part only)

2 cloves garlic

4 tablespoons milk

4 cups beef broth or bouillon

1 tablespoon shortening or 2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Salt to taste

2 teaspoons malted milk powder

1. Rinse the Cornish hens under cold running water and pat dry with paper towels. Split hens in half.

2. Put the onion, leek, and garlic into a mortar and pound until everything is crushed together. If you don’t have a mortar and pestle, you can place the ingredients in a heavy bowl or saucepan and crush with a potato masher or the back of a spatula or large spoon. Add the milk, and mix. Do not cheat by emulsifying in a food processor—it will come out too watery.

3. Place the Cornish hens in a large pot, casserole, or Dutch oven. Add the beef broth, shortening, salt, and malted milk powder. bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Lower the heat and simmer, covered, for ten minutes.

4. Add the onion mixture. Cover and continue simmering until the hens are tender (10 to 15 minutes).

5. Place the hens on a serving platter as is. Or you can carve them into small pieces, if desired, with the broth served over them.

Yield: 4 servings

Quick Meat Patties in Mustard Sauce

August 28, 2009 / Oswald Rivera / 0 Comments

Sometimes, the best meals come out of necessity. You know, those times when you have to whip up something with a particular item, and use what’s available in the fridge. Recently, me and my beloved mate acquired some bison patties. Yup, bison patties—as in buffalo meat. We’ve become partisans of bison because of its nutritious element and minuscule cholesterol content. But this recipe I conjured up can be done with beef , turkey, chicken or lamb patties. Or you can Take some hamburger meat and cook it the same way.

QUICK MEAT PATTIES IN MUSTARD SAUCE

4 patties, beef or other (see above)

Salt and black ground pepper to taste

3 tablespoons olive oil

3/4 cup sour cream

4 tablespoons mustard (if you have Dijon, great. If not, any good mustard will do)

1. Season patties with salt and pepper on both sides.

2. Heat oil in a medium skillet. Add patties and cook over medium heat about 1-2 minutes on each side. The cooking time will vary depending on type of meat used. Bison patties take less time to cook than regular burger patties. Just trust your judgement.

3. Stir in sour cream and mustard. Cover and cook until sauce is heated (about 1minute longer).

4. Serve over rice, boiled potatoes, kasha, or couscous.

Yield: 2 servings for big eaters; or 4 servings for regular eaters.

Mushrooms Make You Feel…Good

August 19, 2009 / Oswald Rivera / 0 Comments

I am a mushroom lover. Have been since I was a kid. There’s something about their earthy flavor that just grabs me. Mushrooms have been around since antiquity. Depending on your source, there are anywhere from 10,000 to 38,000 types of mushrooms. Only about 3,000 are edible.

The ancient Chinese, Greeks and Romans loved mushrooms. Sometimes with fatal consequences. As was the case with the Roman Emperor Claudius. In Ancient Rome, when an emperor died they would automatically declare him a god and put him in their pantheon of deities. Well, old Claudius, at a banquet was fed some poisonous mushrooms. The minute he tasted them he knew something was up. So he rose and addressed the assembled audience, declaring, “I think I am becoming a god”—and keeled over.
As you can tell, some varieties can be deadly: such as the famous “toadstools of the amanita genus, commonly known as amanita phalloides or “death cap.” Other varieties can be used for medicinal purposes, inclusive of the reishi, which is highly prized in Chinese medicine. And some can give you a trip, literally, such as the psilocybin mushrooms, which are hallucinogenic. Of course, these are illegal.

But we know mushrooms mainly for their dining pleasure. Today, apart from the white button mushrooms of my youth, there are numerous gourmet types such as enoki, crimini, porcini (often used in soups and sauces), oyster mushrooms (known to reduce cholesterol), chantarelle, shitaki, portobello, and , of course, the ultimate fungi, truffles—which can cost you anywhere from $130 to $390 per pound for black truffles, and $1350 to $2700 per pound for the white variety.

The best way to cook mushrooms, I’ve discovered, is the old Roman method: sliced and sauteed in olive oil with slivers of garlic. But for you adventurous types, below is a perfect dish for summer: portobello mushroom sandwiches.

And, no, you don’t need truffles for this. But be aware that you’ll need large portobello mushroom caps. Done right, they taste like a steak.

BASIC PORTOBELLO MUSHROOM SANDWICH

2 large portobello mushrooms, washed, cleaned and stemmed
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 slices (about 1 ounce each) mozzarella or Swiss cheese
2 bagels or sesame seed buns, toasted
Oregano to taste

1. In a medium skillet heat the olive oil.
2. Add portobellos, stem face down, and cook for approximately two minutes. Note that the cooking time will vary depending on size or thickness of mushrooms.
3. Turn mushrooms over, add slices of cheese on top, and cook 2 minutes more or until cheese melts.
4. Sprinkle with oregano and serve on toasted bagel or bun.
Yield: 2 servings.

Oswald Rivera

Author, Warrior, and Teacher