So, I mentioned in my last post I'd bought some of raw honey from the mountain village Minca near Santa Marta. I've used it in a few divine combinations so far, including with cinnamon and apples, and with mustard, ginger, and carrots.
Tonight we made...Kettle Corn.
In case you don't know, I am...more than slightly obsessed with Kettle Corn. The proverbial fat kid at the state fair when it's around. At the Madison Farmer's Market, two corners of the square hold booths that offer kettle corn, which meant that I could, and routinely did, buy one bag of kettle corn for immediate consumption and then refill without even a backtrack.
After a fun day of cooking other things with Jessica (blackbeans with bell pepper, carrot and zucchini salad, apples and oatmeal), and then digesting, Tyler and I decided to make popcorn. "Let's make kettle corn," he said. Amateurs that we were, for our first batch we cooked up the popcorn and added a halfcup of sugar. Let me tell you, that does approximately nothing.
Barely tasting the sugar, we devoured batch number one accompanied by the jalapeno sauce Tyler brought back from his medically-necessitated trip to Panama (read: intracountry food run!)
But there had to be a way to make it actually taste delicious, right? So, not a quarter way through our first giant bowl, I googled Kettle Corn recipes. Soooo easy. Add sugar to the oil and THEN pop the corn, sprinkle on salt immediately thereafter. Of course we decided to make batch number TWO.
Except, the family sugar supply was running dangerously low. Don't you know, it takes at least a cup of sugar to make a pitcher of fresh juice...
So in came the Minca Honey. Same deal, different sweetener. Tons of shaking required, because it makes the kernels sticky...but that just justifies eating that second batch, right...??
Anyway, yeah. At-Home, Colombia-enabled, KETTLE CORN. It's a good night.
Recipe:
1/4 cup oil
1/2 cup honey
6 tablespoons maiz pira (popcorn kernels)
sprinkle of salt
Heat honey til warm and homogenous. Add oil and a few kernels, listen for pop. Add the rest of the popcorn and do the shake 3 sec, wait 3 sec (on the burner) until the kernels stop popping. Sprinkle with salt, let cool slightly, enjoy TREMENDOUSLY
:D
Showing posts with label Cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cooking. Show all posts
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Good as butternut squash...
Friday was a day just about as good as butternut squash, which is the best vegetable in the world. I love vegetables. So you see, this day was a wonderful day. Particularly because it actually included some delicious butternut squash(!) BUTTERNUT SQUASH. Yeah that's right, I'm going to shout that out there.
I have become accustomed to lowering my expectations for general things. This is a survival technique. This makes things like a hours-long walks in the boiling sun without finding the place I'm looking for, or prepping plans for a week-long intensive English seminar that gets turned, five minutes prior, into 2 days of 2 hour lessons, bearable.
It also makes unexpected discoveries, and actual successes AWESOME.
It goes without saying that successes/awesome things of a major sort do not often number more than 0-1 per day. Trifectas are even more rare...and I feel like sharing some good things. So, here you have it, a perhaps inordinately long post about my successful past Friday...this grew even longer since, as you'll perhaps see, successes are not won easily in these parts...but after everything they are incredibly sweet.
As a spoiler alert, I am including butternut squash as a "major success" and/or an "awesome thing." Moving on.
We're currently in our school "pause," which means we have three weeks without students at the school, aka three weeks of official reasons to not have class. Since my school took Friday to input grades, and I am not a grader, I took the day to do some exploration of personal projects.
1) The "Changing Lives" Foundation
With Jessica along, I trekked out to an organization I've been meaning to check out for months.
The organization is called "Fundacion Cambiando Vidas." Long ago, I'd read an article in the paper that mentioned an organization that offered horse therapy here in the area. Horse therapy, or equinoterapia is a type of (human) therapy that uses horses to help treat/work with cognitively and/or physically disabled people, from children to adults. I had my first experience with this at the incredible organization Three Gaits, Inc, in Madison, Wisconsin. Since that was the most wonderful volunteer experience I've ever had, I thought I'd see what this Barranquillan program was all about.
The place, by all accounts, was located about thirty minutes outside of Barranquilla, on the autopista (major highway). Jessica and I, working off of somewhat vague directions, got to the nearest landmark, and then had to resort to asking folks along the way.
"Horses?" asked the fancy school security guard. "Oh yes. Go that way. Enter the iron gate."
"But the gate says se vende," we said. (for sale)
"It's hidden," he told us. "You have to walk inside."
Jessica and I walked to the gate. It was a huge, rusty iron thing, but when pushed, swung open to reveal a patchy field surrounded by wilderness.
"This is a turning point," said Jessica. "Not sure what of, but it is..."
"Nothing to lose," I said, setting off on the slight worn path through grass. The sun pressed down and the thick air buzzed with cicadas ( the real-feel temperature a cool 110 degrees.) Far ahead, we saw a rundown house, two stories tall with a curving outdoor staircase, surrounded by mango trees.
As we approached, it seemed the house was deserted.
"Not looking good," said Jessica.
I was about to reply, probably to say something inanely positive, when two dogs, one black and one tan, raced towards us, barking explosively.
Jessica, not a dog lover, jumped behind me.
"Oh hello!" I said (in English), noting the wagging tails. "How are you, pretty puppies!"
They forgave me my language difficulties and bounded around, circling as we stepped closer to the house.
Scrape, scrape.
A man in a worn white tshirt sat on a crate in the middle of the empty concrete bottom floor, sharpening some tool. When we stepped onto the patio he rose and limped outside, carrying a long, now-finely sharpened machete.
"Buenas," we said. "Es de, estamos buscando los caballos. Para terapia. Sabe donde quedan?" We're looking for horses, for therapy. Do you know where they're at?
We figured it didn't hurt to ask.
"Horses?" he asked, eyes milky with cataracts, face sunken. "That way. Beware of the dogs." He pointed straight-armed across the field with his machete.
Off we went, trekking down another sandy patch. When we entered the new compound, it was immediately clear that 1) there were horses, 2) this was not the place we sought. However, in typical friendly coastal fashion, the family of horse care-takers sent their son to guide us to the place...which unlike everyone else we'd spoken to, they seemed to actually know about.
And so, finally, we arrived at the foundation.
Upon our knock, a friendly woman escorted us in, and it was like entering another world. Turns out, this foundation not only does horse therapy, but has a complete, holistic program for disabled people. Children and adults can come either for one "jornada," (half the day), or for the full day.On site, there are therapists who talk with the patients and establish specialized therapy plans. Then, others run the activities. There is a music therapy room, with all sorts of instruments, a physical therapy room with machines and mats, a covered pool for water therapy, and then, about six stalls with therapy horses, and a small arena where patients were being given riding lessons, two people at a time. (and for icing on the cake, there was a 15 day old foal, Katy, with her mother Canela! (Cinnamon))
It is not a large place. Perhaps a football field and a half. However, it is organized in wonderful ways, so that rather than seeming crowded, it's like a cozy separate world. Everyone we talked to was knowledgeable and enthusiastic, but even more impressive was the clear trust and confidence shown in all the interactions between the workers and patients.
I have a meeting with the boss at 8:30 Monday morning to see if I can take some time on a weekly basis to volunteer there. All I can say is that, it would be amazing, lovely, wonderful, to get to dedicate time to this organization. Here's hoping it works out.
2) Airplane Ticket accomplishment
For the last few weeks, I've been trying to make a change in my flights for my actual vacation coming up. You know how, in the States, you just make a few clicks on the internet, and there you go? Well, not so much, here. Here, a flight change requires a trek to one of the actual airline offices. This saga started a few weeks ago, when I went to the closest office to get a flight shortened from Medillin-Bogota-Barranquilla to just Bogota-Barranquilla. This office happens to be located in the mall by my school, sort of a kiosk.
"You'll have to pay 80 mil pesos," says the woman. (about 50 american dollars/ an eighth of our monthly "salary.") "Penalties and taxes and all that."
"But, the flight is shorter!" I said. I figured I'd have to pay...but, you know, never hurts to ask.
After minutes of clicking, we come to what I was pretty sure was an agreement that I DON'T have to pay. Woohoo! thought I. Success! However, the kiosk didn't have the machine to print off the ticket. I'd have to go to a different office--a freestanding one.
These offices are, like far too many things around here (clinics, customer service of any sort, etc), similar to a DMV. You take a number and you sit on connected, generally blue chairs, while the folks at the desk do god-knows-what on a computer, and everyone waits in progressive stages of cranky. I'd reached, "more-than-slightly-irritable" by the time my number came up. After explaining my situation, I was once again told I'd have to pay. We then once again somehow worked out I didn't have to...except, to complete the transaction they needed a printer, and the printer there was broken. "We'll call you," they said, "to tell you when it's fixed. There's also this other office you can go to- but they'll be closed for the next few days."
Well, I didn't get a phone call. But, on the bus back from the foundation, I noticed that we were passing said other office. "I'm off!" I said to Jessica, jumping from the bus. Twenty minutes of waiting later, my turn came up. Only to hear: "La luz se fue." The counter lady clucked at her computer, shaking her head. (This phrase literally means, the light went away. It generally refers to an electricity outage...but I soon gathered that in this situation it meant their system was down."
"Oh no," I said. "It's that, I have to get this ticket for my flight next week..." and related my saga.
Once again, we went through the dog and pony show...but this time, 45 minutes later, not only did I walk out with my changed ticket having paid no penalties, I also got a voucher for a one-way ticket from Bogota to Barranquilla for whenever I next go, to make up for the "difference" in the flight costs!!! Yes, yes, yes, win!!
3) BUTTERNUT SQUASH
I needed to run a few errands, so I trekked the few blocks to a northern, free-standing Exito--one of the three major department/grocery stores around here (the name of this one, exito, happens to mean success). This particular Exito is near to nothing I generally go to, so it was my first time shopping there. Northern department stores tend to be much better stocked in general, and this one had a particularly good produce section. I wandered, searching for vegetables since Tyler and I were planning on cooking.
And then, I saw it.
At first, I couldn't be sure. It's been so long. But it was yellow-ish tan, flecked with green, with a round bell that narrowed slightly into a longer tube...yeah. It had to be.
Butternut Squash.
Just as a sidenote, butternut squash may have come up a few times (read: once a week?) in the past 8 months as something we (read: the obsessed veggie cookers aka Jessica and me) have missed in life. We may be overly obsessed. But still. It's probably the most delicious vegetable ever.
Of course, when I went to buy it, it practically broke the register--as in, they had no idea what it was, and I held up the line for a good 15 minutes while they figured out what to charge. Which means this is probably not a regularly stocked item. However, turns out it's a strand of the more common, local ayuhama, which is a big round squash that looks like a pumpkin, although its outside is a much duller orange and the inside flesh is harder. (Have you ever cut up butternut squash by hand? Yeah. Ahuyama is even less fun)
But, prices established (it was cheap!), I purchased it and other goodies (veggies and BARLEY!), and I left excited to go cook my winnings.
4) Free taxi ride.
There was a nearby bus that would take me the almost-hour-long ride to Tyler's house. But while looking for it, an overly friendly taxi driver tried to give me directions. He took a shine to me, and by a series of events, which included me riding out to a few different barrios with some paying customers and almost crashing since the taxi driver preferred flirting to watching the road, I managed to get a free taxi ride to Tyler's, avoiding not only paying bus/taxi fares, but ridiculously sweaty busrides!!
5) Dinner and hammock
Tyler's house has a hammock. This I consider a daily success. So, it was pretty much heaven to swing in it while we waited for our tomato-onion-broccoli-butternutsquash-barley meal to cook. And then even better to eat said deliciousness swinging in said hammock.
I headed home in the late, breezy evening, full of complete happiness
If I could have just one day like this a month, I know that I'll make it. :)
I have become accustomed to lowering my expectations for general things. This is a survival technique. This makes things like a hours-long walks in the boiling sun without finding the place I'm looking for, or prepping plans for a week-long intensive English seminar that gets turned, five minutes prior, into 2 days of 2 hour lessons, bearable.
It also makes unexpected discoveries, and actual successes AWESOME.
It goes without saying that successes/awesome things of a major sort do not often number more than 0-1 per day. Trifectas are even more rare...and I feel like sharing some good things. So, here you have it, a perhaps inordinately long post about my successful past Friday...this grew even longer since, as you'll perhaps see, successes are not won easily in these parts...but after everything they are incredibly sweet.
As a spoiler alert, I am including butternut squash as a "major success" and/or an "awesome thing." Moving on.
We're currently in our school "pause," which means we have three weeks without students at the school, aka three weeks of official reasons to not have class. Since my school took Friday to input grades, and I am not a grader, I took the day to do some exploration of personal projects.
1) The "Changing Lives" Foundation
With Jessica along, I trekked out to an organization I've been meaning to check out for months.
The organization is called "Fundacion Cambiando Vidas." Long ago, I'd read an article in the paper that mentioned an organization that offered horse therapy here in the area. Horse therapy, or equinoterapia is a type of (human) therapy that uses horses to help treat/work with cognitively and/or physically disabled people, from children to adults. I had my first experience with this at the incredible organization Three Gaits, Inc, in Madison, Wisconsin. Since that was the most wonderful volunteer experience I've ever had, I thought I'd see what this Barranquillan program was all about.
The place, by all accounts, was located about thirty minutes outside of Barranquilla, on the autopista (major highway). Jessica and I, working off of somewhat vague directions, got to the nearest landmark, and then had to resort to asking folks along the way.
"Horses?" asked the fancy school security guard. "Oh yes. Go that way. Enter the iron gate."
"But the gate says se vende," we said. (for sale)
"It's hidden," he told us. "You have to walk inside."
Jessica and I walked to the gate. It was a huge, rusty iron thing, but when pushed, swung open to reveal a patchy field surrounded by wilderness.
"This is a turning point," said Jessica. "Not sure what of, but it is..."
"Nothing to lose," I said, setting off on the slight worn path through grass. The sun pressed down and the thick air buzzed with cicadas ( the real-feel temperature a cool 110 degrees.) Far ahead, we saw a rundown house, two stories tall with a curving outdoor staircase, surrounded by mango trees.
As we approached, it seemed the house was deserted.
"Not looking good," said Jessica.
I was about to reply, probably to say something inanely positive, when two dogs, one black and one tan, raced towards us, barking explosively.
Jessica, not a dog lover, jumped behind me.
"Oh hello!" I said (in English), noting the wagging tails. "How are you, pretty puppies!"
They forgave me my language difficulties and bounded around, circling as we stepped closer to the house.
Scrape, scrape.
A man in a worn white tshirt sat on a crate in the middle of the empty concrete bottom floor, sharpening some tool. When we stepped onto the patio he rose and limped outside, carrying a long, now-finely sharpened machete.
"Buenas," we said. "Es de, estamos buscando los caballos. Para terapia. Sabe donde quedan?" We're looking for horses, for therapy. Do you know where they're at?
We figured it didn't hurt to ask.
"Horses?" he asked, eyes milky with cataracts, face sunken. "That way. Beware of the dogs." He pointed straight-armed across the field with his machete.
Off we went, trekking down another sandy patch. When we entered the new compound, it was immediately clear that 1) there were horses, 2) this was not the place we sought. However, in typical friendly coastal fashion, the family of horse care-takers sent their son to guide us to the place...which unlike everyone else we'd spoken to, they seemed to actually know about.
And so, finally, we arrived at the foundation.
Upon our knock, a friendly woman escorted us in, and it was like entering another world. Turns out, this foundation not only does horse therapy, but has a complete, holistic program for disabled people. Children and adults can come either for one "jornada," (half the day), or for the full day.On site, there are therapists who talk with the patients and establish specialized therapy plans. Then, others run the activities. There is a music therapy room, with all sorts of instruments, a physical therapy room with machines and mats, a covered pool for water therapy, and then, about six stalls with therapy horses, and a small arena where patients were being given riding lessons, two people at a time. (and for icing on the cake, there was a 15 day old foal, Katy, with her mother Canela! (Cinnamon))
It is not a large place. Perhaps a football field and a half. However, it is organized in wonderful ways, so that rather than seeming crowded, it's like a cozy separate world. Everyone we talked to was knowledgeable and enthusiastic, but even more impressive was the clear trust and confidence shown in all the interactions between the workers and patients.
I have a meeting with the boss at 8:30 Monday morning to see if I can take some time on a weekly basis to volunteer there. All I can say is that, it would be amazing, lovely, wonderful, to get to dedicate time to this organization. Here's hoping it works out.
2) Airplane Ticket accomplishment
For the last few weeks, I've been trying to make a change in my flights for my actual vacation coming up. You know how, in the States, you just make a few clicks on the internet, and there you go? Well, not so much, here. Here, a flight change requires a trek to one of the actual airline offices. This saga started a few weeks ago, when I went to the closest office to get a flight shortened from Medillin-Bogota-Barranquilla to just Bogota-Barranquilla. This office happens to be located in the mall by my school, sort of a kiosk.
"You'll have to pay 80 mil pesos," says the woman. (about 50 american dollars/ an eighth of our monthly "salary.") "Penalties and taxes and all that."
"But, the flight is shorter!" I said. I figured I'd have to pay...but, you know, never hurts to ask.
After minutes of clicking, we come to what I was pretty sure was an agreement that I DON'T have to pay. Woohoo! thought I. Success! However, the kiosk didn't have the machine to print off the ticket. I'd have to go to a different office--a freestanding one.
These offices are, like far too many things around here (clinics, customer service of any sort, etc), similar to a DMV. You take a number and you sit on connected, generally blue chairs, while the folks at the desk do god-knows-what on a computer, and everyone waits in progressive stages of cranky. I'd reached, "more-than-slightly-irritable" by the time my number came up. After explaining my situation, I was once again told I'd have to pay. We then once again somehow worked out I didn't have to...except, to complete the transaction they needed a printer, and the printer there was broken. "We'll call you," they said, "to tell you when it's fixed. There's also this other office you can go to- but they'll be closed for the next few days."
Well, I didn't get a phone call. But, on the bus back from the foundation, I noticed that we were passing said other office. "I'm off!" I said to Jessica, jumping from the bus. Twenty minutes of waiting later, my turn came up. Only to hear: "La luz se fue." The counter lady clucked at her computer, shaking her head. (This phrase literally means, the light went away. It generally refers to an electricity outage...but I soon gathered that in this situation it meant their system was down."
"Oh no," I said. "It's that, I have to get this ticket for my flight next week..." and related my saga.
Once again, we went through the dog and pony show...but this time, 45 minutes later, not only did I walk out with my changed ticket having paid no penalties, I also got a voucher for a one-way ticket from Bogota to Barranquilla for whenever I next go, to make up for the "difference" in the flight costs!!! Yes, yes, yes, win!!
3) BUTTERNUT SQUASH
I needed to run a few errands, so I trekked the few blocks to a northern, free-standing Exito--one of the three major department/grocery stores around here (the name of this one, exito, happens to mean success). This particular Exito is near to nothing I generally go to, so it was my first time shopping there. Northern department stores tend to be much better stocked in general, and this one had a particularly good produce section. I wandered, searching for vegetables since Tyler and I were planning on cooking.
And then, I saw it.
At first, I couldn't be sure. It's been so long. But it was yellow-ish tan, flecked with green, with a round bell that narrowed slightly into a longer tube...yeah. It had to be.
Butternut Squash.
Just as a sidenote, butternut squash may have come up a few times (read: once a week?) in the past 8 months as something we (read: the obsessed veggie cookers aka Jessica and me) have missed in life. We may be overly obsessed. But still. It's probably the most delicious vegetable ever.
Of course, when I went to buy it, it practically broke the register--as in, they had no idea what it was, and I held up the line for a good 15 minutes while they figured out what to charge. Which means this is probably not a regularly stocked item. However, turns out it's a strand of the more common, local ayuhama, which is a big round squash that looks like a pumpkin, although its outside is a much duller orange and the inside flesh is harder. (Have you ever cut up butternut squash by hand? Yeah. Ahuyama is even less fun)
But, prices established (it was cheap!), I purchased it and other goodies (veggies and BARLEY!), and I left excited to go cook my winnings.
4) Free taxi ride.
There was a nearby bus that would take me the almost-hour-long ride to Tyler's house. But while looking for it, an overly friendly taxi driver tried to give me directions. He took a shine to me, and by a series of events, which included me riding out to a few different barrios with some paying customers and almost crashing since the taxi driver preferred flirting to watching the road, I managed to get a free taxi ride to Tyler's, avoiding not only paying bus/taxi fares, but ridiculously sweaty busrides!!
5) Dinner and hammock
Tyler's house has a hammock. This I consider a daily success. So, it was pretty much heaven to swing in it while we waited for our tomato-onion-broccoli-butternutsquash-barley meal to cook. And then even better to eat said deliciousness swinging in said hammock.
I headed home in the late, breezy evening, full of complete happiness
If I could have just one day like this a month, I know that I'll make it. :)
Friday, June 15, 2012
Where there's no such thing as a dessert failure
Tonight, I decided to scratch my cooking itch. I haven't cooked dinner for myself in months. So I persuaded friend Tyler to join me in said venture.
Dinner, I have to say, was amazing. A pasta sauce with carrots and peppers and onions and tomatoes, garlic and rosemary, pureed with my birthday-present-immersion-blender (!) (parents, I love you so much). With al dente pasta. This was surely about a hundred steps up from the usual ketchup-and-half-a-tomato sauce-served-over-pasta-mush which passes for spaghetti here. Don't get me started on local spaghetti...Moving on.
The issue came when, after torturing ourselves with thoughts of delicious food and cold weather in the United States, Tyler and I decided that it was perfectly feasible to make a cookie cake boiled-style.
We are not, and have never claimed to be, scientists.
Charged up and ready for the adventure, we made our third trip of the night to the neighborhood bodega (named, appropriately, La Bodega), and picked up all we needed to accomplish Best Recipe's cookies, in a pan, cookie-cake style.
Undeterred by the slight tastelessness of the cookie dough (ingredients just don't have the same...kick, around here), we piled it into aluminum pans and set them to boiling.
Half an hour later, then an hour, and then an hour and a half later, we realized concurrently that we had made a terrible mistake.
The butter and wheat and separated and covered the top with a glutinous mass which, as Tyler so aptly put it, tasted like cream of wheat. To make it even more appetizing, it looked exactly like boogers.
We spent a better part of the cooking time skimming the accumulating cookie boogers off the top of the pans. Sliding down the slippery slope of defeat, we decided to fry some of them. Chocolate cookie arepa! Not able to stomach this ourselves, we passed it out to the gathered family, warning them of not-so-delicious-ness. Instead, we got positive reviews!
Which made us realize that, here, there's no such thing as a dessert failure.
Enthusiastic about having an outlet so as not to have completely wasted our efforts, we ladled out the cookie "pudding" to the family. As it cooled, it condensed into something like flour-y carmel..and it was proclaimed delicious.
"Of course you can't boil something with butter in it," said my host aunt, after polishing off her pudding. "That will never make a cake."
...Science wins again.
That being said, there's a pretty awesome ball of not-cookie sitting in our fridge. It's super fun to play with. And it's getting pretty solid. Cookieball? Cookie flubber? Cookie rock? The final outcome remains to be seen...
but I can pretty much say with 100% certainty that it will be eaten by someone in this house...and most likely enjoyed!
Dinner, I have to say, was amazing. A pasta sauce with carrots and peppers and onions and tomatoes, garlic and rosemary, pureed with my birthday-present-immersion-blender (!) (parents, I love you so much). With al dente pasta. This was surely about a hundred steps up from the usual ketchup-and-half-a-tomato sauce-served-over-pasta-mush which passes for spaghetti here. Don't get me started on local spaghetti...Moving on.
The issue came when, after torturing ourselves with thoughts of delicious food and cold weather in the United States, Tyler and I decided that it was perfectly feasible to make a cookie cake boiled-style.
We are not, and have never claimed to be, scientists.
Charged up and ready for the adventure, we made our third trip of the night to the neighborhood bodega (named, appropriately, La Bodega), and picked up all we needed to accomplish Best Recipe's cookies, in a pan, cookie-cake style.
Undeterred by the slight tastelessness of the cookie dough (ingredients just don't have the same...kick, around here), we piled it into aluminum pans and set them to boiling.
Half an hour later, then an hour, and then an hour and a half later, we realized concurrently that we had made a terrible mistake.
The butter and wheat and separated and covered the top with a glutinous mass which, as Tyler so aptly put it, tasted like cream of wheat. To make it even more appetizing, it looked exactly like boogers.
We spent a better part of the cooking time skimming the accumulating cookie boogers off the top of the pans. Sliding down the slippery slope of defeat, we decided to fry some of them. Chocolate cookie arepa! Not able to stomach this ourselves, we passed it out to the gathered family, warning them of not-so-delicious-ness. Instead, we got positive reviews!
Which made us realize that, here, there's no such thing as a dessert failure.
Enthusiastic about having an outlet so as not to have completely wasted our efforts, we ladled out the cookie "pudding" to the family. As it cooled, it condensed into something like flour-y carmel..and it was proclaimed delicious.
"Of course you can't boil something with butter in it," said my host aunt, after polishing off her pudding. "That will never make a cake."
...Science wins again.
That being said, there's a pretty awesome ball of not-cookie sitting in our fridge. It's super fun to play with. And it's getting pretty solid. Cookieball? Cookie flubber? Cookie rock? The final outcome remains to be seen...
but I can pretty much say with 100% certainty that it will be eaten by someone in this house...and most likely enjoyed!
Monday, December 12, 2011
Tuna Rice: A Recipe
On Sunday I stayed in the house for lunch (the largest meal of the day), something I often try and avoid because being fed three meals a day in the house means engaging in obligatory consumption of large helpings of food spaced quite widely throughout the day, something with which I still struggle since I love snacking!
After eating a sweet corn arepa, scrambled eggs, papaya and corozo juice (which tastes something like a grape-cherry cocktail, like an Ocean-Spray-esque flavor but better) at 8:00 am, at 2:00 pm I gave in and made myself some popcorn (Popcorn here is always old-fashioned style, in a pot with hot oil on the stove, woot). At the sound of all the popping, my abuela walked into the kitchen and accepted a little popcorn…and then told me it was now time for lunch! Figures.
Lunch turned out to be tuna rice with boiled plantains, which I helped cook. Soooo, here for any of those interested, here is the recipe for Barranquillan-style Tuna Rice:
Ingredients:
· Two cans of dark tuna, stored in oil
· Half a small tomato, not too ripe
· A very small onion
· Two scallion stalks
· One cup of scrambled eggs (if you have them, leftover from breakfast, etc)
· A third cup of oil
· Half a cup of ketchup
· Five cups of cooked rice
Directions:
Chop onion, tomato, and scallions and sauté in the oil, and if you happen to have butter left over in the arepa pan from breakfast, that can be used as well! Drain oil from tuna cans into the pan, and mix that in, too. When vegetables start to soften, add the tuna and ketchup. Combine and cook over medium heat for a few minutes, until tuna is broken into small pieces and everything has started to sizzle. Add scrambled eggs and rice. Mix well.
At this point, sit in the rocking chair, make some phone calls, and have a little chit chat while tuna rice finishes warming. Then serve with a hunk of boiled ripe plantain*
*This is one of my new favorite ways to eat savory rice dishes. Whether or not I ate large amounts savory rice dishes prior to arrival is a different story, but anyway. When eating something like rice with chicken, or rice with tuna, the custom here is often to take a very ripe plantain, cut it into halves the hotdog or hamburger way, boil it, and serve it with the rice. It’s a little sweet and is a delicious counterpart to the salty, oily, savory rice. The closest I can come to an American equivalent is peanut butter on crackers with chicken soup, always a childhood favorite. Mmm.
Tuna rice and plantains:
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Cooking Time!
This past weekend I got to have my very first in-Colombia cooking experience. This involved making a sort of jam—or “Mermelade” with my two of my co-volunteers, Heidi and Katie, and Heidi’s host mom. We made two different kinds—raspberry as well as “tomato de arbol.”
What is a tomato de arbol? Well, here’s a picture of Heidi with one:
And yes, it does translate directly to Tree Tomato. They actually are reminiscent of tomatoes in taste, and it’s many peoples’ favorite type of fruit from which to make juice. As I am a fan of the salty sort of tomato juice, preferably flavored with worcestershire sauce, pepper, lime juice…and potentially some vodka as well…this sugary watered down version of tomato juice is perhaps my least favorite fruit juice here. That being said, it does make some tasty jam!
Anyway, back to jam making. Turns out, making jam is super simple. All you do is blend the fruit with a little water, strain out the seeds, add an ungodly amount of sugar (what else is new, here), and simmer it until it starts to thicken. When it’s done cooking, you pour it into any container on hand and let cool, then refrigerate without a top (Not sure about the why on this part, but since my abuela puts covers on NOTHING I didn’t think to ask about that direction at the time).
In other news, I had my first areppa! My abuela made it for me last weekend and watched to ensure I devoured it all. Made of cornmeal with cheese, fried in butter, and then topped with over an inch of MORE grated cheese, it was the size of my plate and incredibly delicious…as well as probably enough food for the day. However, as my days of enforced meals continue, it has become clear that my abuela has every intention to follow through on her thoroughly stated intention to “grow my stomach” so that I’m substantially bigger by the time I leave her house in three months. I’ve told her I can’t afford to buy a new wardrobe but alas, this provides only another source of humor for her…and so, onward.
Pictures of jam making:
were still attached!)
indispensable here/are in every kitchen, used daily for making juice!
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