Kitchen Table Project: Nixtamal and Posole

Another project. Corn. I've been fascinated with corn ever since I read about the huge variety of types, in gorgeous colors and all sorts of shapes and sizes.




I say with some remorse, that one year after my friend of the Dissipated Fog sent me these gorgeous, multi-hued samples of Peruvian corn, I STILL haven't tested them.

Part of the problem was not knowing how to cook them, or deal with them properly.

So the other day when I wandered into a bodega while waiting for my burrito at a little place along San Bruno, I thought, you should just look for the slaked lime. Not lime like "little green limes," mind you, lime like "calcium hydroxide" lime.

It's a process that's been used by MesoAmericans for some 3000 to 4000 years. And as with many curious chemicals that we use to cook with, but DO NOT EAT, please note that it is highly caustic, can cause internal bleeding, possible perforation of esophagus, severe pain, vomiting, diarrhea, and collapse. Just sayin'.

So anyway, there it was, this poisonous caustic chemical innocently sitting there in a plastic packet for $0.89. I scooped up that and a bag of gigantic, pale, white cacahuatzintle kernels, which are usually meant for posole.

An experiment. A Kitchen Table Project.

It would be easier of course, if a cat were not sitting on my instructions, but what can you do? I'll go from memory...



So we split a handful of the kernels off into a small pot and boiled them only in water.
Nixtamal

1-1/2 lbs cacahuazintle
2 quarts of water
2-1/2 Tablespoons slaked lime (Cal)

In a large non-reactive pot, mix the water and lime until it is completely dissolved (the water will still look milky) and bring it to a boil over a high heat. Add the corn to the pot, skimming off any kernels that float on top. Bring the pot back to a boil and then lower the heat and simmer 20 minutes.

Fascinatingly, the corn went from white to yellow, a pretty bright yellow as it cooked. Note from the picture left that the corn we bought was con cabeza, that is, it still has the little pedicel or tab where the corn kernel used to be attached to the cob. You can also buy cacahuazintle that is already descabezado or pedicel removed.

After 20 minutes, turn off the heat and let the pot cool for 15 minutes.

Drain the corn in a colander and rinse under running water--you'll notice that the skins have turned into a sort of gelatinous slime that is easy to rub off with your fingers -- although I advise wearing rubber gloves because the chemicals did really dry out the skin on my hands a lot!

You can also use a sharp paring knife or your fingernail to pick off the pedicel or the rough tab at the end of each kernel. (This was the key step that we skipped, but don't. When you make posole, you want the kernels to bloom--kind of like soft popcorn, and it won't if you don't pick off the pedicel.)

By the way, if this skin-shucking process sounds tedious, it's evenmore so in real life. Jeez, my respect to all those Mexican grandmas who cook for the family of 20 every day.

Posole

1 1/2 pounds pork shoulder, trimmed of fat and cut into bite-sized pieces
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
2 cloves
5 peppercorns
1 teaspoon Mexican oregano
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon salt
2 quarts water

4 guajillo chiles
4 pasilla chiles
1 cup water

Condiments (which in my opinion are not optional.)
shredded cabbage
sliced radishes
dried oregano
chopped onion
chopped cilantro
avocado slices
limes wedges
corn tortillas, sliced into strips and fried in canola oil

Heat vegetable oil over medium-high heat in a large stockpot or Dutch oven. Brown the pork pieces until they have a nice dark crust. Reduce heat to medium and add chopped onion. Saute over medium heat until the onions soften.

Grind the cloves and peppercorns using a mortar and pestle or a coffee grinder. Add the garlic and spices and continue to cook, stirring constantly, for about one minute. Add 2 quarts water and simmer until pork is tender, about 2 hours.

Meanwhile, de-seeds ancarefully (i.e. with hands covered in rubber gloves, remove the seeds and veins from the dried chiles, and toast briefly on a dry skillet. Transfer to a saucepan with 1 cup of water, and cook until over low heat until tender, about 30 minutes. Once cooked, blend the chiles with enough water to make a smooth sauce.

When the pork is tender, add chile sauce and nixtamal (along with its rich cooking liquid) to the pot. Simmer for another hour.



Serve posole hot in soup bowls, with a selection of condiments for the guests to add as they wish.

If the posole had actually bloomed, it would have been better, but tasty...very tasty!

Kitchen Table Projects

In the face of a crowded kitchen table, I have.....














Begun another project. Yes, I'm trying to grow something besides weeds. Again.

Wish me luck.

This time I'm calling it a "science project" --note please, that I'm growing them in test tubes as part of a "Root Viewer" kit (appropriate for kids of all ages...that's me!).

Yep-pah, Nopa

A quick glimpse of Nopa (NOrth of the PAnhandle, get it?)...

I've been meaning to put up some photos of this popular neighborhood place since it opened a few years ago.

I went there with Ms. Croix de Candlestick and lo, these many years later, I had strong memories of the braised short ribs and the fries with harissa dip.


One of the other quirks of Nopa that I like a lot, is that they take local water (SF has some of the best) and carbonate it themselves. No expensive guilt-inducing carbon trail... Love it.

Yes, I ordered a salad!! A warm salad of chicories with a poached egg and yummy bits of housmade bacon. The egg had that great farm fresh color and I have to say, I even liked the bitterness of the chicory.



THIS is what I wanted though. The fries, with the harissa and feta.






Feeling slightly guilty, I ordered some grilled broccoli with lemon and anchovy-- cause, y'know, greens cancel out the fattening qualities of fries. Psst...here's a tip...the fries are better.

Feeling adventurous, I also ordered some little fish--smelts maybe?-- fried whole and serced with lemon and romesco sauce.

Pssst... here's a tip... the fries are better.



For my Omnivore, seared duck breast with spinach, celeriac puree and chanterelles. Yep. Yep... Yum.

Elephant seal adventures

Elephant Seals. Weird, very weird.

I mean, really, now--WHAT is with the schnozz?

We live in a fantastical world. Here in the Bay Area there are a couple of places where the elephant seals like to vacation, and one of them happens to be the beach at Ano Nuevo State Reserve. Actually it doesn't just "happen." These Northern Elephant Seals-- which range all the way north to Alaska's Aleutian Islands down to Morro Bay and Piedras Blancas by Hearst Castle, which is where we saw them a couple of years ago-- were attracted to the area, which was made into a reserve to help give the flagging population of elephant seals a place to recover their numbers.

You can make reservations for tours in the winter months when thousands of elephantine tourists descend on the beach (the seals, not the humans). The tours take place rain or shine, we were told, and involve hiking along uneven path. It was a little rainy as we set out, but after fortifying ourselves with some Chex mix and sandwiches, we were anxious to set out. In the windswept grey air, you could hear the full-bellied, distinctive croaking of a large mammal, and we wanted to get out to the beaches.

As we walked along, the weather just got better and better -- the Bay Area is really just spectacular some times.






The tour program is thorough and carefully guided-- I guess no one wants to see a tourist trampled by a 16 foot high, 6000 pound critter that can clock a landspeed of 25 mph. Rangers explain about the local ecology and the fauna as well as the seals themselves, so the whole trip, which takes about three hours total, is highly informative, not just unusual.

And it is extraordinarily unusual. It's a close-up view of one of the oddest mammals in the world, and a chance to see them, not in an aquarium or a cage, but hanging out on their favorite beach.

Many of them work those three ton bodies somehow up the dunes, along the paths and into the brush, so you have to be careful as you tromp around -- the next bush might just be hiding a cranky elephant seal-- or a really cute one...

And then there's the "slugging" around on the beach in a manner not unlike Jabba the Hutt.

"They're tired," said one of our guides helpfully, "they've just swum in from Alaska."

We look at them a little dubiously, but with a touch more respect. "I just swam in from Alaska, and, boy, is my nose tired...hahahahahahah...."

Yes. Well. Anyway.

That dark, slug-looking thing is a newly-born pup, believe it or not, getting some rest flopped next to his mother. He's exhausted too -- well you know what it's like when you travel from Alaska in coach class.

The Eyes of Santa Lucia

Saint Lucy. You may have seen her around. If you've looked carefully at an altarpiece and noted a young woman standing demurely with one hip swayed out, a palm in one hand and a plate with a pair of eyeballs on it in the other, then you've seen Saint Lucy.

You may well ask-- what's the deal with the eyes. I don't even want to get into the variations on the story, but I will direct you to the wiki page where you can read all about it.

So, on December 13 in some Northern European countries, there's a fancy feast for Lucia, which is odd, because she came from Syracuse in Sicily, but this is the Catholic church, so don't ask about things following logically. The eldest daughter dresses in white, wears a crown of candles on her head and serves everyone Lussekatter, or special buns formed to look, well, like eyes.

This year Ms. Food Snoot--back in the Bay Area at last-- put together a Santa Lucia party--born out of her own memories of a candlelit head and white dress. This year though, we could take advantage of her actually having an eldest daughter in the family.

To amuse the kids before dinner, I'd brought along the gingerbread house and gingerbread men for them to decorate.

Guess which ones were decorated by the youngest member of the crew.

I love bringing over cookies to decorate--maybe it's because it was something I never got to do as a kid. My Dad took me on many amusing activities, but he wasn't a baker.

Still I've done this trick so often now I'm a little worried that the kids see me like cartoon characters do-- the person fades away to be replaced by a cookie.

Oh and note to self, Wilton icing is worth the price-- skip the cheapo Betty Crocker/Safeway tubes-- utterly useless.

We did, however have fun at a candy-by the-pound place on Columbus Ave., where we picked up sour strips, red hots, gummies, butterscotches, candy canes, berry candies, Necco Wafers, licorices, and all those fab things I wasn't supposed to rot my teeth on as a kid.

Ms. Devushka, my Omnivore and the Pajama Queen consulting in the kitchen...eyeball snacks are afoot.





M.Tarte Tatin with a rope on his head. It's a Santa Lucia thing-- don't ask.





The Lucia crown-- safely battery powered.

The ever-popular Lussekatter, which were in fact quite delicious saffron buns. I must confess that they don't really look like eyeballs to me, but I downed my fair share.




My contribution to the eyeball theme: little plates made of gingerbread, with eyeballs on them. I thought they looked quite fetching really.



By far though, I think my favorite was the tomato soup sip with a mozzarella ball stuffed with olive and pimiento. This was another Martha Stewart item, though technically meant for a "spooky" Halloween. We meant for everyone to just have a bit, but the soup was so good that everyone went back for seconds ad thirds-- fortunately Ms. Food Snoot had formed additional eyeballs.

Bacon-wrapped figs-- because no party is ever complete without bacon-wrapped something.





And a fabulous crown roast. Everyone, oddly enough, converged on the Alton Brown recipe/technique for standing up a crown roast, i.e. in a Bundt pan. Don't forget that rub -- HIGHLY delicious.

Kitchen Table Project: Gingerbread House

Over the past few weeks, there have been many things on our kitchen table.

In case you don't already know this about me, I have a tendency to get a bee in my bonnet about a project. And then another bee. And another one. Pretty soon there's a hive of projects on our table.

Here's another one: The Gingerbread House.

My Omnivore had never made one before, and since I was making one to take to Ms. Food Snoot's Santa Lucia party for the kids, I figured I might as well make two and then we'd have one to decorate for ourselves.

Martha Stewart (of course) has directions and templates and videos that are quite helpful, plus the recipe makes three houses-- or two houses and a whole army of very tasty gingerbread men.
Yum.

My Omnivore had never heard of making windows out of butterscotches before, but he suggested that maybe crushed up jolly ranchers would make good "stained glass."




We tried both and actually, I have to say, the Jolly Ranchers were absolutely gorgeous.





If we'd made the windows a bit bigger, it would have been even better, but we were conservative about cutting them into Martha's templates because I was afraid it would affect the stability of the walls.


The royal icing seal job -- handled by my Omnivore-- went smoothly for the most part, although setting it up to dry is a little scary. Propping it with cans is helpful though, and setting it on a cardboard cake round from the start makes moving it less scary.





The final product, with a path of red hots and crushed butterscotch.

A diabetic's dream...

And yes, it stayed proudly displayed on our Kitchen Table for at least a month.