Prickly hearts.

Blue and orange flame love. Searing love. Scorching love.
Hungry, gnawing, constantly craving love.
Chocolate, marshmallows, melting, luxuriously dripping.
Saccharine love.
Love that bites and chews and sucks and savors and gulps.
Satiating, quenching, filling.
Hot berry pie love, caramel cake love, velvety icing love.
Filled, layered, frosted, can’t wait to devour.
Ice cream and cherry-on-top love. Whipped cream.
Gluttonous, greedy, can’t get enough love.
Bonbons, macarons, Marie Antoinette confections and pink champagne, bubbly love.
Sticky amber honey, lavender, agua de azahares, fragrant love.
Paper-cut and lemon juice love.
Under the skin, cut-to-the-quick, stinging.
Hiccupping love. Heartburn love. Nauseous love.
Drunken, aching, choking.
Chamomile tea, tiny cube of sugar, soothing love.
Warm, still, pool of gold; gentle lullaby and dreamless sleep love.
Root cellar love, dark, dank, buried.
Forgotten icebox drawer, stale bread, molding cheese.
Blushing apple, falling, rotting, worming.
Burnt toast, fallen soufflé, curdled custard love.
Extinguished love, white ashen coals, wisp of smoke.
Bony, famished, gum-in-hair love.
End of the feast love. Scraps and bones and crumbs, flies and mangy dogs.

A Christmas evergreen, magical scents.

The shy glow of a tiny, twinkling light.

Shoppers rush home with piles of presents.

Ice skating, laughter, eyes bright.

Bubbly champagne and the festive POP! of a cork.

Shiny gift wrapping and buttery ribbon, tied just right.

Ovens wafting warm sugar and spice.

Fires crackling, chestnuts roasting, wine mulling, carols lulling, family and friends,
dreams of Christmas all white.

Children’s laughter, tinkling bells, elves, a letter and cookies for Saint Nick.

Sequined dresses, bright red lipstick, starry sight.

Mistletoe and garlands, pink tinsel and holly, all things jolly.

Flurries of snow, three kings in a row.

Snowmen and nutcrackers, sugar plum fairies alight.

Away in a manger, a baby is born, oh, holy night.

The holiday season brims with joy and delight, but in the whirlwind of busy days and harried shopping, we neglect to pause and reflect on how lucky we are to have so very, very much.

This year, take a breath and count your blessings. Next, take a look at those around you—should you notice a frown, a shiver, gaunt cheeks, a hollow heart, give a gift, a hug, a laugh, a donation.

It may sound like fabrication, but it’s true: ‘tis better to give than to receive.

Merry Christmas. Happy Holidays.

Happy Holidays from ENNIS Inc. from Ennis Inc on Vimeo.

I rarely indulge in indecorous displays of emotion, but I’m feeling unusually warm and full of fuzzy feelings. Might be all the wine I consumed last weekend and the sticky toffee pudding I’ve been tucking away since Monday afternoon… And so:

Many, many thanks to the Sacasa-Castillo family for hosting Thanksgiving this year!

The house was bursting at the seams with siblings, cousins, friends, a soon-to-be family member (welcome, Daniel!), and a troop of children—all small, but mighty enough to strike fear in the hearts of even the most stalwart of enemy ranks.

Eager volunteer cooks and dishwashers neatly arranged themselves in the kitchen and I must congratulate everyone—myself most especially—for not breaking down, stomping off, or spewing out briny language. In the span of a few hours we tackled a Bruce-sized bird that definitely needed a bigger boat, mashed potatoes, roasted butternut squash and Brussels sprouts, fried shallots, (twice, as I burned the first batch), gravy, apple galette, chocolate cake, and a stack of plates at least six feet tall.

Gold stars especially to the mini-chefs Alexandra Sofía, Mariana Lucía, Carolina Cecilia, and Leonte Andrés who really put their nimble little fingers to use in the making of desserts for dinner…doughnut muffins for breakfast…and popsicles in case you had any room left.

Oh, and Emmita, who just sat around and allowed her roly-poly self to be pinched and squeezed all weekend.

Corny.

Corn is ubiquitous in Latin American cuisine. It’s used in every conceivable fashion, from the instantly recognizable tortilla to more obscure fermented beverages.  Torta de elotes—corn torte or cake—is on the more popular side and is made in several countries. It’s rather similar to corn pudding: fresh corn is ground to a pulp, then combined with eggs, sugar, and other flavorings, such as sweetened condensed milk or cheese (I’ll be sure to make a sweetened condensed milk version soon).

I’ve tasted tortas of different nationalities, but the one I like most is the one my grandmother’s housekeeper, doña María used to make. My dad has nine siblings; when they were growing up they’d all sit around a massive round dining table three times a day. In addition to the ten kids, my grandparents played hosts to relatives and friends, so meals there were of massive proportions. Much of the serveware and cooking equipment used to prepare these huge meals remains in my grandmother’s kitchen—I think there’s a witch’s cauldron back there to make vats of soup—so even when there are only a handful of people around for meals, you can expect enough food to feed a cavalry unit, horses included.

Doña María used to make her torta de elotes in a large, deep, rectangular baking dish, which I suspect was actually a medium-sized roasting pan. It was thick and dense; an edible corn brick that tasted of earthy white corn and pungent cheese. She wasn’t one to jot down recipes, though, so my recipe is fashioned from memory. The first batch I made was much too sweet, not because of the sugar, but because of the golden, juicy corn that’s available at my local supermarket.The corn I’m accustomed to is much more pale, almost white, with kernels that are starchy and nearly dry. To give that particular corn flavor presence in this recipe, I used used canned hominy (dried corn kernels that have been treated with alakali to denude the kernels) and added fresh yellow corn for balance. That first bite brought me right back to doña María’s kitchen.

TORTA DE ELOTES (Nicaraguan Corn Torte)

Notes: This recipe can be halved. If doing so, bake  it in an 8- by 8-inch dish.
- Queso duro (literally, “hard cheese”) is a firm, crumbly, salty, cow’s milk cheese eaten in several Latin American countries. Variations exist from country to country, but the overall characteristics are the same. This cheese can be found in the specialty cheese section of most supermarkets. Should you not be able to find queso duro, substitute haloumi, a Cypriot cheese made with goat’s and/or sheep’s milk.
- I love the sweet and tangy flavor of Latin American crema, but crème fraîche or sour cream are acceptable substitutions.

Active time: 20 minutes
Total time: 2 hours, 20 minutes

Equipment: 13- by 9-inch baking dish, food processor, cooling rack

Baking spray
8 ears fresh corn, husks and silk removed
2 (29-ounce) cans hominy, drained
2/3 cup crema or sour cream (See Notes)
8 ounces queso duro or haloumi, finely grated (See Notes)
½ cup sugar
4 large eggs, beaten
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt

Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat oven to 350°F. Spray 13- by 9-inch baking dish with baking spray.

Cut each cob in half crosswise. Stand the cob upright, resting the cut end on a cutting board, pie plate, or large shallow mixing bowl. With a chef’s knife, cut the kernels off, rotating the cob as you go. Discard the cob. Repeat with remaining cobs.

Pulse corn in food processor until it turns to pulp—if you have a small food processor, do this in two batches—and transfer it to a large mixing bowl. Pulse hominy in food processor until it turns into a smooth paste and add it to the corn pulp.

Stir together corn and hominy, then add crema, cheese, sugar, eggs, butter, baking powder, and salt; stir until thoroughly combined.

Scrape batter into prepared baking dish. Bake until torta is set and the sides pull away slightly from the baking dish, 60 to 75 minutes. Cool torta in pan set on cooling rack, about 1 hour. Torta may be served warm or at room temperature.

My mother and both of my grandmothers are extraordinary cooks. They  all played a role in teaching me to cook, eat, and love all aspects of food. These recipes, from classic smoked salmon and dill cream cheese batons to a twist on retro ambrosia, are inspired by  memories I have of those wonderful women and the times we’ve shared in the kitchen. I hope you enjoy them with the special ones in your life.

Happy Mother’s Day!

SMOKED SALMON BATONS
Serves 6 to 8

1 baguette
8 ounces whipped cream cheese
½ cup dill, finely chopped
2 teaspoons juice and 1 teaspoon finely grated zest from 1 lemon
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
8 ounces smoked salmon
½ English cucumber, thinly sliced

- Cut baguette in half crosswise. Cut each half in half lengthwise, then in half again lengthwise to make 8 slim batons.

- In medium bowl, combine cream cheese, dill, lemon juice and zest, and salt and pepper to taste.

- Spread each baton with lemon-dill cream cheese, then top with salmon and cucumber. Serve.

BACON-LEEK TOURTE
Serves 6 to 8

Notes: I find that the easiest way to wash leeks is to slice them into half-moons as called for in the recipe, then placing them in a salad spinner filled with cold water. After a few minutes, the sediment will settle to the bottom. Lift the leeks out of the water with the spinner basket and repeat process 2 or 3 times until the leeks are free of sediment.

3 tablespoons unsalted butter
All-purpose flour for dusting the work surface
2 sheets (one 17.3-ounce package) Pepperidge Farm frozen puff pastry, thawed according to package instructions
6 slices thick-cut bacon, coarsely chopped
1 ½ pounds leeks, white and pale green parts thinly sliced into half-moons (See Notes)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
12 large eggs, well beaten
1 cup (4 ounces) shredded sharp white cheddar cheese

For egg wash:
2 tablespoons heavy cream
1 egg yolk
Pinch salt

- Butter a 9-inch pie plate with 1 tablespoon butter. Dust clean, dry work surface and rolling pin with flour. Roll 1 sheet puff pastry out to about 13- by 12-inches. Place pastry in pie plate, then gently press into bottom and sides. Trim excess with kitchen shears, leaving about 1-inch overhang. Prick pastry all over with tines of fork. Refrigerate.

- Dust work surface with additional flour, then, roll out second sheet puff pastry to about 13- by 12-inches Set pastry on a parchment paper-lined cutting board or baking sheet and refrigerate.

- Meanwhile, cook bacon in large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat until crisp, 6 to 8 minutes. With slotted spoon, transfer bacon to paper towel-lined plate. Discard all but 2 tablespoons fat.

- Add leeks to now-empty skillet and cook until tender, 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer to plate. Season with salt and pepper.

- Add remaining 2 tablespoons butter to empty skillet. Reduce heat to medium-low. Season eggs salt and pepper. Cook eggs, stirring very frequently with heat-proof rubber spatula, until set but still soft, 5 to 7 minutes.  Transfer to plate and cool completely, about 10 minutes.

- Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position and preheat oven to 375°F. Place one third of eggs in even layer in prepared pie plate. Top with half of bacon, half of leeks, and half of cheese. Top with additional one third of eggs, then remaining bacon, leeks, cheese, and eggs. Top with second puff pastry sheet and trim off excess to match bottom 1-inch overhang. Crimp edges and with sharp knife, cut 4 vent holes on top.  Brush with egg wash and bake until puffed and golden, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool to room temperature before serving.

AMBROSIA CUPCAKES
Makes 12 cupcakes

Notes: This recipe is easily doubled.
- Cream of coconut is sweet and thick and can usually be found in the liquor aisle—don’t mistake it for coconut milk. Also, be sure to stir the cream of coconut before using as it often separates in the can.
- Gelatin and cream cheese in the frosting stabilize the whipped cream.

1 cup plus 6 tablespoons cake flour
½ teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
¾ cup sugar
8 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons can cream of coconut (See Notes)
2 large eggs, separated
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
½ cup buttermilk
½ teaspoon unflavored gelatin
1 tablespoons water
4 ounces cream cheese, softened
¼ cup confectioners’ sugar
1 cups heavy cream, chilled
¼ cup sweetened flaked coconut
1 cup mini-marshmallows
½ cup canned pineapple chunks, drained and chopped
½ cup mandarin orange wedges, canned or fresh

- Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat oven to 350°F. Line a 12-cup muffin tin with liners.

- Whisk flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in medium bowl; set aside. With mixer fitted with paddle attachment, beat sugar and butter on medium-high speed until light, about 2 minutes. Add ½ cup cream of coconut and beat until fluffy, about 1 minute. Beat in egg yolks and ½ teaspoon vanilla extract.

- Reduce speed to low and add reserved flour mixture in 3 additions, alternating with buttermilk. Mix just until combined, scraping sides and bottom of bowl with rubber spatula as needed.

- Fit mixer with whisk attachment and place egg whites in clean, dry mixing bowl. Beat whites medium-high speed until stiff peaks form, 3 to 4 minutes. Fold whites into batter.

- Fill prepared tins and bake until cake tester inserted in center of cupcakes comes out clean, 15 to 20 minutes. Transfer to cooling racks and cool 10 minutes in tins. Set cupcakes directly onto racks and cool completely, about 1 hour.

- Meanwhile, combine gelatin and water in a small bowl. Microwave until the gelatin dissolves, about 20 seconds. Cool to room temperature, about 5 minutes. Place remaining cream of coconut (about ¼ cup), cream cheese, confectioners’ sugar, remaining ½ teaspoon vanilla, and dissolved gelatin in the chilled bowl and whisk on medium speed until whippy, about 2 minutes. Add the cream and whisk just until thickened, about 2 minutes. Fold in coconut, pineapple, marshmallows, and mandarin wedges. Frost cupcakes and serve.

Chili wasn’t my thing for a long time. I didn’t have it growing up and frankly, it usually looked like slop you’d get plopped onto a plate at a grade school cafeteria.  Later on in life, though, I started to appreciate chili, despite its homely looks.  Its easy to make, requires only one pot, and welcomes many toppings and garnishes.

This recipe is a turkey one, but you can use any meat of your choice. Unsweetened cocoa powder and chipotle chiles in adobo sauce add an earthy and smoky background and, the pièce de résistance: cheddar-cornmeal biscuits. Love.

TURKEY CHILI with CORNMEAL-CHEDDAR BISCUITS
Serves 6 to 8

For the Chili:
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 onion, chopped
1 red bell pepper, seeded and chopped
Salt and pepper
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon cocoa powder
2 tablespoons minced chipotle chiles in adobo sauce
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons dried oregano
1½ pounds ground dark-meat turkey
3 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
2 teaspoons yellow mustard
2 (14-ounce) cans pinto beans, drained and rinsed
1 (28-ounce) can plum tomatoes, chopped, liquid reserved

For the Cheddar-Cornmeal Biscuit Topping:
¾ cup yellow cornmeal
¾ cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut into small dice
1 cup (4 ounces) grated sharp cheddar cheese or Monterey Jack cheese
1 cup buttermilk, chilled

Optional Garnsishes:
Sour cream
Chopped cilantro leaves
Hot Sauce or pickled jalapeños
Cubed avocadoes
Lime juice

- Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat oven to 425˚F.

- Heat oil in a Dutch oven or large oven-safe pot over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the onion, bell pepper, and 2 teaspoons salt and cook until vegetables are tender, about 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic, cocoa powder, chipotle chiles, cumin, and oregano, and cook, stirring, until vegetables are well coated and mixture is fragrant, about 1 minute.

- Add the turkey, 2 tablespoons vinegar, Worcestershire, and mustard and cook, breaking up with a wooden spoon, until no longer pink, 8 to 10 minutes. Stir in the beans, tomatoes, and tomato liquid and simmer, mashing approximately half of the beans with the spoon (this will help thicken the chili), until the chili is thickened, 10 to 12 minutes.

- While the chili is simmering, prepare the biscuit topping. In a large bowl combine the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  Working quickly, rub the butter into the flour mixture with your fingertips until it resembles wet sand. Add the cheddar cheese and buttermilk and stir with a rubber spatula just until combined.

- Remove the chili from heat and, using a 1/3-cup measure or an ice cream scoop, top the chili with the biscuit dough.  Bake until biscuits are golden, about 15 minutes. Serve with optional garnishes.

Shameful secret: Every time I make beans I have to call my mom. There are some basic Nica recipes I assumed came embedded in my genetic material. Imagine my surprise when for years I couldn’t make tortillas. Or rice.

The tortillas and rice are under control, but I still hiccup and reach for the phone when I make beans. Last night, however, I finally wrote mom’s procedure down and the training wheels are coming off.

This is how I make beans, and though I normally research alternative methods for making recipes to make sure my bases are covered, this is what I know and trust. Plus, I love that my mom calls for seven cloves of garlic. Seven, no explanation.

FRIJOLES NICARAGÜENSES (EN BALA)

Goya sells “Central American Beans” which are the small, red kidney beans that are standard issue in Nicaragua. If you can’t find them, use small black beans.

Served straight freshly boiled, the beans are called “frijoles en bala”—beans bullet-style. Don’t ask.

Stay tuned for refried beans and gallopinto.

1 (16-ounce) bag dried small red or black beans
Salt
7 garlic cloves, peeled

- Spread beans out in a rimmed baking sheet. Pick out any debris and questionable looking beans.

- Transfer beans to a colander and rinse under cold running water. Place rinsed beans in a large bowl and cover with cold water. Let soak for 30 minutes.

- Transfer beans and water to a large pot; water should cover the beans about 3 inches—add more if necessary. Bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to medium and simmer beans for 30 minutes. Turn off heat, cover beans, and let rest 1 hour.

- Bring the beans back up to a boil over high heat. Add 2 teaspoons salt and garlic, reduce heat to medium, and simmer until beans are tender, 30 to 60 minutes.

- If storing the beans, cool completely, then transfer beans and some of the cooking liquid to quart-sized zipper-lock bags.  When ready to use, thaw out in the refrigerator and heat on the stovetop in a saucepan or in the microwave.

I love this picture. So soothing and festive. Do you want the recipe for this beautiful meringue? Well, too bad. Maybe some other time because this, my friend, an unapologetic rant. A non-soothing, utterly un-festive, Grinchy, grouchy, rage-filled rant.

I was looking for a portable electric burner today. In the past, when I’ve uttered the phrase “portable electric burner” at hardware or all-purpose stores like Home Depot, Target, Lowes, Sears, etc. I am met with strange facial contortions, puzzled silence, and the inevitable, “What do you want that for?” (P.S. Why do you care?)

Even though I’ve had trouble obtaining said portable burners in the past, I figured it was because I’d been shopping in New York City where the constrained real estate proportions of stores doesn’t allow for as much merchandise, as, say, Framingham, MA.

I was wrong. This is what I suffered through today.

***All conversations start with me sweetly saying, “Excuse me, sir, do you carry portable electric burners?”

Guy #1, Target: I approach him while passing the hair product aisle. He turns on his heel, takes a few steps, and turns down the first aid aisle. I’m thinking he’s looking for a colleague who might know where the burners are. Alas, he is looking for the burner in the first aid section. (OOHHHH! I just got it! I said “burner” and he thought, “Burner…Fire… Wounds… First Aid!”)
He says, “Hmm, I don’t think we have those.”
I reply, “Hmm, I think this is more of a small appliance or camping gear kind of thing.”

It is approximately 11:45am. My stomach is starting to rumble and I feel my blood sugar levels falling dangerously low. This means I only have 20 or so minutes before I begin to see spots and become speech-impaired. I zip over to Lowes.

Guy #2, Lowes: “Can I help you, ma’am?”
Me: “Probably not, but what the heck. Do you have portable burners? You know… small, they have an electrical coil like the one on your stovetop, you plug it in, and you can cook on it?”
Guy #2: 15 seconds of silence.

Guy #3, Lowes: “Yeah! We have those! Just walk to that aisle over there and you’ll see a few different options.”

Me: Giddy! Finally, someone who knows what I’m talking about! WRONG. I’m staring at a wall of replacement coils for an electric stovetop. I guess they’re portable because they’re not connected to a stove???  Semantics.

Guy #4, Lowes: “Uhh, those are a fire hazard…What do you want them for anyway?”
Me: Glare.

I need Botox. My dermatologist thought I was bonkers when I inquired into the procedure that would render me smooth as silk, but, given the fact that I am called “ma’am” by shopkeepers, young and old, and the Save the Children gang that patrols my stretch of Mass. Ave., I’d say I am ready for it.

I read an article in The New Yorker recently about a man who prescribes laughing for well-being. There are clubs of laughers scattered across the globe. Members gather together and laugh, at first with effort until it infects and overwhelms them. I don’t remember the exact physical rewards said exercise bestows, but the notion that a daily fit of laughter reinvigorates and rejuvenates has fixed itself in my mind.  I think I have a pretty good sense of humor. But maybe it’s a dark humor? Maybe laughs induced by less than good-natured thoughts are actually robbing me of my youth? Did a Grimm write about this? Aesop?

Aside from my theory that smirks and inside jokes between me and myself are causing premature wrinkles is the knowledge that I do furrow my brow much too much. Surprised, the horizontal rows appear, like rows of freshly plowed spring soil. Confused, the left brow swoops down, a ladle dipping into the delicate skin that’s formed on a creamy soup. Concentrated, two deep canals form above the bridge of my nose. Once relaxed, they turn into the cracked bottom of a dried out creek bed.

Even now as I’m typing and thinking that I shouldn’t work my forehead, the brows draw together like two magnets.

The one good thing about such depth of expression is that someone about to be attacked has at least a fraction of second to know that he’s about to get it. Take for instance the dude at Whole Foods who decapitated the bunch of carrots photographed above. After two days of tireless shopping for carrots with their feathery green tops still intact, I find them. By this point in my journey, I am tired. The muscles of my face are exhausted after spending many hours squinting at produce for perfect specimens. These carrots are a prize. I’m about to start bagging when the cashier distracts me. I don’t know the answer to his question. I rummage around my head for an answer, at the same time rummaging around my bag for my wallet. And then, a snap so sharp it crackles and cuts across the air like a bolt of furious lightning. I turn, unable to speak, but from the bagger’s petrified stance, I know he knows he’s made a big mistake. The necks of the carrots have been snapped, mercilessly murdered. I think I hear a whimper.

Some people resemble their dogs or their partners. Maybe I’m meant to resemble food…Raisins? Peach pits? Earthquake cookies?

That’s me, when I was a chickie, gathering eggs at my grandpa’s farm in Granada.