Picadillo was one of the first Cuban dishes I learned to make because it is a one-pan recipe that is difficult to mess up and easy to customize. Traditionally, picadillo is made with ground beef, green pepper, tomato, onion, garlic, potatoes, olives, raisins, and various seasonings. (There’s lots of variations, including this one, so this isn’t a strict recipe.) If you’re still feeling carnivorous, an easy way to make it healthier is to substitute ground beef for extra lean ground turkey. With Spiral Diner in mind, I decided to give the recipe a vegetarian twist by substituting the ground beef with Morning Star Grillers Recipe Crumbles. I also substituted regular potato for sweet potato for some of extra fiber and vitamin A.
I’m a little stubborn in some ways. If at first I don’t succeed, I’ll try and try again until it is physically and mentally impossible. There are recipes I try over and over again because I just can’t get them right. I’ve tried making dulce de leche cortada four times and each time, for unknown reasons, I failed. Dulce de leche cortada is like regular dulce de leche caramel but its texture is chunky, kind of like cottage cheese. It is a Cuban dish but other countries in the Caribbean eat it as well. (Plus Venezuela, which is close enough.) You “cut” the milk into curds by adding lemon juice or vinegar before caramelizing it. I had half a liter of milk I needed to get rid of so I decided to give it another good ole try.
I used a recipe from Three Guys from Miami but I changed a couple things and I cut the portions down to roughly half a liter of milk, but I got lazy with the real math and I made it too sweet. Other than that, it turned out right, finally. At least I think so. I may have caramelized it too much…I ate it after it cooled for about 20 minutes (do NOT by any means touch this when it’s hot) and it was soft and warm and easy to eat, but after refrigerating it, which is what most recipes called for, it became much more like caramel candy, which is not bad, but I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be this way. When my great aunt Tia Edesa made it for our family reunion last summer, I could easily spoon it to my mouth, so I’m not sure I got it completely right. She doesn’t use the eggs, she just uses milk, lemon or vinegar, and sugar. Hers also had a much lighter color than mine and the pictures I found online, so she didn’t caramelize it as much. Makes sense.
Nevertheless, it’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to getting it right. Although this dessert is by no stretch of the imagination healthy, I did make it with local and/or organic ingredients. It’s a long process, so I wouldn’t quite recommend it, but if you’re curious, go for it. I think I would rather have regular dulce de leche. (You can even make it from canned condensed milk.) You don’t really see this stuff very often; I had never heard of this or seen it in ANY cookbooks or anywhere until my mom and dad told me about it. I’ll have to make it for them sometime to get their opinions on how I can make it right, if I’m missing the mark. Knowing my stubbornness, I won’t rest until it’s right. Which reminds me that I need to try making habichuelas con dulce again.
Here’s a series of pics showing the transformation:
Mother Nature is going to make me fat if she keeps this kind of weather up. It’s a good thing I’ve been dragging myself to the gym on a semiregular basis. Anyway, today I actually had a hard time figuring out what I wanted for dinner. I was actually craving ramen, but then my roommates started talking about tapeworms so…yeah. I figured I better start cooking something or I’d starve. I ended up doing a spicy lentil, broccoli, and mushroom soup. Unfortunately I had no stock so it could have been so much better but it was warm, spicy, good and filling so it did the trick.
I fried some tostones (again). That’s pretty much no fail; and delicious. All you need are green plantains, canola oil, and salt. Warm up some oil in a frying pan medium-high heat (enough to reach halfway up the plantain slices). Cut green plantains in about one inch thick slices. (They have to be green.) Put them in the oil to fry, flipping them over to get them golden on both sides. Next you’ll want to take them out of the oil and find something to crush them down with. There are special tools for this but I just used the bottom of a bowl. Once you’ve squashed them, put them in the oil to fry again until nice and crispy. Place on paper towels to absorb some of the oil and sprinkle with salt. Dee-lish.
I’ve returned from my family reunion in North Carolina with great memories and a higher alcohol tolerance. I hadn’t seen most of my extended family for almost a decade, before I was even a teenager, so it was basically like meeting them all over again. Luckily, any bit of awkwardness disappeared very quickly, and it was like we had only seen each other yesterday. The “Reunion de Cabezones” was a big party. (“Cabezones” because the family is notoriously stubborn and hard-headed.) In typical Cuban fashion, we ate a lot, drank a lot, and talked REALLY LOUD. It was fun because us “kids” were now older. We had animated discussions about everything under the sun, made fun of my Floridian cousin’s Southern accent, played beer pong, and initiated another cousin’s non-Cuban friend into the family with the consumption of…wait for it…a pig eye.
Before you gasp, there really is no such initiation. It is indeed Cuban tradition to roast a pig for large gatherings and celebrations. A whole pig, so yes, it still has legs, tail, ears, skin, and head. When it was put on the table, most of us drooled over prospect of crunching into the delicious crispy skin (sorry vegetarians, but it’s soooo good), but some, like my cousin’s friend, were a little jarred by the appearance (it was her first pig roast.) Another one of my cousins, an evil genius, declared that it was Cuban tradition to eat one of the eyes at your first pig roast. The friend looked skeptical, but everybody nodded and agreed, “Oh yeah…we’ve all done it before…it’s tradition…”
My cousin got a plastic spoon and scooped out one of the eyes, which due to roasting was just a shriveled black chunk in the eye socket. (Afterwards, he told us that he was getting really grossed out while trying to get it out, but knew it’d be worth it.) He handed it to her on the spoon, gave her a can of beer, and to our surprise she tossed it in her mouth and washed it down like an Advil. We all burst out into a mixture of laughs and groans of disgust, and finally told her it was all a lie. She was dumbstruck for a moment and color raced to her cheeks until she finally found the words to remonstrate our cruelty. Luckily, she wasn’t terribly angr. She was impressed and amazed that we all knew to go along with it. Only the bonds of family could pull off such spontaneous trickery. We dared another one of my cousins to eat the other eye and she did it, because she will basically do anything if you dare her to. Her verdict? It just tasted like really chewy, bouncy pork.
“So there’s the pig eye. What’s this about a fire alarm?” you might ask.
Well, the downside of the reunion was that my grandfather had to be rushed to the hospital the second day. He had a really hard time breathing when he woke up; turns out he had a mild heart attack and his kidneys weren’t functioning properly. (He’s doing better now.) He still wanted us to go on with the reunion, but we visited him in the hospital periodically. While my grandmother was visiting, she came across one of those clear glass doors that you have to open with a button on the wall–you know the kind because you use them even though you’re not handicapped (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!) There was a man on the other side motioning to her to open the door, at least that’s what she thought. She looked at a red lever on the wall and pulled it. Then the fire alarm rang.
Yes, my grandmother pulled a fire alarm. In a hospital.
My mother saw her bouncing down the hallway with a cheeky little smile on her face, her hands folded neatly under chest, and instantly she knew that she had SOMETHING to do with it. Somehow she didn’t get caught. Mom said she saw the man behind the door explaining what happened to a group of security guards. So, as you can imagine, my family told her not to touch ANYTHING else in the hospital. A few moments later, she tried opening another door by pressing the rubber door stopper on the wall. Ay.
It was definitely a reunion to remember, and I certainly hope I don’t go another ten years without seeing everyone again.
UPDATE: My grandmother did indeed get caught. When she went back to visit my grandfather, a police officer took her to a room and showed her that they had her on camera pulling the fire alarm. (God, I would totally YouTube that shit if I could get a hold of it!) He explained to her that she committed a serious crime. She apologized in her broken English profusely, proclaiming repeatedly, “I no from here.” Thankfully they let her off with a warning and made her promise that she’d never do it again.