The Greasy Spoon

The Mexican Day of the Dead

 

 

I think I first became aware of the Mexican Day of the Dead after reading Malcolm Lowry's novel, "Under the Volcano". There was also a film with Albert Finney and the She-Who-Can-Do-No-Wrong Jacqueline Bisset, in which Finney plays a drunken British diplomat.

 

Mexicans celebrate the Day of the Dead on November 2nd. It's an extraordinary festival: families pray for the souls of the departed, and death is celebrated with dancing, sugar skulls, flowers, colourful altars and carnival.

I love authentic Mexican food, and it's only recently that the proper thing has begun to arrive in London. Up until now, we've had to put up with Tex-Mex restaurants (as beloved by students and the disenfranchised); the sort of places where they make you wear silly hats and pour Margaritas down your throat; not the same deal at all. Incidentally, I once had a fantastic chivichangas (fried burritos) at a drive-in gas station in San Diego, a few miles from the Mexican border. You paid a dollar or so through a grill, and then a few minutes later a tanned hairy hand appeared through a hole in a wall with your hot food. Fast Food in the best sense.

 

 

We're going to cook something Mexican tonight. I like Elizabeth Lambert Ortiz's book "The New Complete Book of Mexican Cooking". "Fish in Almond and Coriander Sauce" (Pescado en Salsa de Almendra Verde) is on the menu. 

First, you simmer some non-oily white fish (cod?) in stock. Normally, I would place the fish in the cold water or fish stock, and then bring to the boil. Once it's simmering, I immediately turn off the heat and put on the lid, and then leave the fish to "cook" in the hot water for about five to ten minutes. You'll find this is an excellent way to cook fish, and will give you perfect results every time.

 

Remove the fish, and set aside. Pour the hot fish stock into a jug. In a small frying pan, heat up a few tablespoons of olive oil, and fry a clove of garlic with a slice of white bread, until the bread is golden on both sides. Remove the garlic and chop up the fried bread, coarsely. In your food processor, whizz up the chopped fried bread, 50g (2oz) finely ground almonds, two jalapeno chillies (de-seeded and chopped) and half a cup of fresh chopped coriander leaves; and then thin it out with the reserved stock. Heat, check the seasoning and pour over the fish. Serve with rice.

I've got no idea what this is going to be like, but it sounds interesting, and the cooking techniques are relatively simple.

New Year's Day Chili

 

 

I think there's nothing better than tucking into a satisfying and hearty bowl of cowboy chili on a raw New Year's Day. It just seems so right. After all that Christmas over-indulgence, you want something simple, yet, if you're greedy like me, a limp bit of lettuce ain't going to pass muster. You're also probably feeling a trifle frazzled after the New Year's Eve revels.

Regrettably, Chili con carne is often nothing more than stewed mince, kidney beans and a bit of chili powder. Here's my idea for a more sophisticated version:

Sauté some chopped onions, garlic and chopped red chilis in oil and butter.  Stir in some good chili powder, oregano, cumin, and paprika. Now add the beef (or pork); or a combination of the two. You can either chop the meat into chunks, or put it through a mincer (if you've got one). Cook for a bit until the meat is sealed and coloured.

Next, add some stock, beer (the Mexican beer, Corona, is excellent), and a splash of Tabasco. Let the chili simmer slowly at a low heat, until the meat is cooked. You want the sauce to be reasonably thick. When the meat is nearly done, add some tomato purée, or even better, sun-dried tomato paste, and grate in some bitter chocolate- the sort of quality chocolate (high in cocoa solids) you can buy in delis and specialist shops. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Finally, stir in some cooked beans (Kidney, Haricot, or Black Beans are fine, I'm not really that fussed). Serve with some grated cheese on top, sour cream, and saltine crackers.

To all the readers of The Greasy Spoon: A Very Happy New Year!

Caesar Salad

 

Caesar Salad is one of those classic dishes that has been over-tweaked, bastardised, and generally ruined by self-indulgent chefs over the years. The best Caesar Salad is the original Caesar Salad.

It was invented by Caesar Cardini in 1924. Cardini was a chef working at the Hotel Comerical in Tijuana- the Mexican town a few miles from the Californian border. During Prohibition, large parties of Americans used to cross the border in search of booze. The story goes that Cardini created the salad when a large party of hungry Americans turned up for the Fourth of July celebrations. He had run out of food, so made do with what he had left over.

Julia Child, the great food writer, apparently telephoned Cardini's daughter to get the authentic recipe- and came up with this. And who are we to argue with either of them?

First, you need two small heads of Romaine lettuce, preferably organic. Tear the lettuce into large shreds. Add two coddled eggs. Coddling is a technique where you only boil the eggs in their shell for one minute, so that you end up with a runny yolk. Add half a teaspoon of sea salt, and freshly ground black pepper; the juice of two lemons, ten drops of Lea & Perrins' Worcestershire Sauce, half a cup of fresh grated Parmesan cheese, and half a cup of garlic oil. Garlic oil is just a good quality Virgin or Extra Virgin olive oil, infused by some garlic cloves for a day or so.

Toss the salad, so that the ingredients combine with the runny egg yolk, and lettuce leaves are well coated. Finish off the dish with some freshly prepared croutons. This is just deep-fried bread- cut into cubes. For some reason, slightly stale bread makes better croutons. You've probably noticed that I haven't added anchovies to my Caesar Salad. I have a strong hunch that the original recipe didn't include them, and I've tried to keep it authentic.

 

Eggnog

Oh crikey, I'm not even sure if I like eggnog.  You see, in England, we hardly ever have it. To be entirely honest with you, until I started writing this post, I didn't really know what it was. Okay, I knew it had egg in it, perhaps a splash of cognac too, but that was about it. Even thought it might have had something to do with Advocaat, which in a sense, it has, as they're made from similar ingredients.

There's an interesting article on the history of eggnog on the net. It originated in England, apparently, and then became popular in the United States, especially at Christmas.

I found a recipe for a Mexican version of eggnog in Elisabeth Lambert Ortiz's excellent little book, The Festive Food of Mexico: Ponche de Leche y Emas y Cognac.  Her recipe will make 4.5 litres of the stuff.

Beat 15 egg yolks with 450g caster sugar in a large bowl until light and lemon coloured. Whisk in 2 litres of milk.  Pour the mixture into the top of a double boiler set over hot water and cook.  Stir at a very low heat until the mixture is thick enough to coat a spoon.  Remove from the heat and stir in a tablespoon of grated orange peel. Whisk in a bottle of cognac (or other brandy). Serve in tots or small punch cups topped with a little grated cinammon, and one or two wafer thin strips of orange peel for decoration. If you're in the mood, you can also put a cinnamon stick into each cup.

Convinced by all this? I'm not entirely sure...

Avocado

I don't think I've yet written about the ubiquitous avocado. It's hard to remember, but not that long ago, avocados were seen as exotic and sophisticated and usually known as avocado pears.

Nowadays, of course, they're all over the shop, and probably seen as a little bit passe; the staple fodder of dubious bistros and pretentious, second-rate restaurants. So, I've decided to have a closer look and see if there's more to them than initially meets the eye.

The avocado (Persea americana) (from Nahuatl Aguacatl: agua-kah-tl), is native to Mexico, Central and northern South America, and classified in the flowering plant family Lauraceae. Avocado trees were cultivated in pre-Incan settlements with archeological evidence dating to 750 B.C.

The avocado of choice is the Hass variety, which grows in California. That's the one with the dark green knobbly skin (pictured above). It has a lovely, creamy, nutty taste and is, in my opinion, superior to the smooth skinned varieties.

Avocados are full of fat, but the good news is that this fat is a monounsaturated fat, which is supposed to be good for you.

One of the best things you can do with avocados is to make guacamole. Originally an Aztec dish, it's easy to make, and goes brilliantly with things Mexican. Here's my own recipe for it. I prefer the texture to be a bit chunky, rather than completely smooth.

In a bowl, half-mash up some hass avocados and then gently fold in red tomatoes (chopped into small pieces), a minced red onion, lime juice, finely chopped red chili, sea salt, a dash of Tabasco sauce, paprika, black pepper and some chopped fresh coriander.

And finally, a useful tip: when preparing avocados, immediately sprinkle the exposed flesh with lemon juice. This will stop the avocado turning brown.

Margarita

 

 

I picked up a taste for the Margarita Cocktail when I was in California. I would argue that it is one of the three greatest cocktails of all time alongside the Dry Martini, and the Bloody Mary. There are various theories as to when and how the Margarita was first born. Carlos "Danny" Herrera is said to have first mixed a concoction of white tequila, lemon juice, and Triple Sec in 1938. He was the barman at the Rancho La Gloria in Tijuana, the Mexican border town where the Caesar Salad had been invented by Caesar Cardini.

Essentially, the Margarita is a mix of Tequila (Silver or Blanco tequilas are preferable to the gold), Triple Sec (ie Cointreau), and Lime Juice (or possibly Lemon Juice). The rim of the glass is moistened with lime juice, and then dipped into salt. Some Margarita afficinados claim that salt was only used to hide the taste of a low-budget tequila, but I have to put up my hand and say that I like the contrast between the salt and the sweetness of the tequila and the Triple Sec.

 

 

I trawled the net for authentic Margarita recipes and found this one from "Drink of the Month" in the December 1953 issue of Esquire Magazine: 1 ounce tequila Dash of Triple Sec Juice of 1/2 lime or lemon Pour over crushed ice, stir. Rub the rim of a stem glass with rind of lemon or lime, spin in salt—pour, and sip. Again, simplicity rules ok? Nothing frozen. No cocktail umbrellas. No extra ingredients. A Margarita is a Margarita. Got it?

Mexican Prawn Ceviche

 

 

The 1st and 2nd of November are celebrated in Mexico as the Festival of the Day of the Dead. It does, of course, co-incide with our Hallowe'en, but the emphasis is on joy and celebration, rather than the macabre. The Mexicans believe that death is not the end, but instead the beginning of a new stage of life, and celebrate the lives of former loved ones with colourful parades, papier-mache skeletons, bright pink sugar skulls and anarchic carnival. I haven't been yet, but one day I would love to fly over there and join in the fun.

Well, it had to be a Mexican recipe today, didn't it? As it's The Greasy Spoon, I've adapted a Mexican version of Prawn Cocktail, although I think it originally came from Peru. It's called Ceviche. The raw prawns are "cooked" in lime juice. It's delicious. For my American readers, we say "prawn", you say "shrimp". So let's call the whole thing off.

In a mixing bowl combine fresh prawns, lime juice, salt and pepper. Your prawns will need to be extremely fresh.  Mix it all together. Cover and stick in the 'fridge for twelve hours. The acid in the lime juice will "cook" the protein in the fish. You will know when the mixture is ready, when the prawns have turned pink. In case you were wondering, they start off a grey colour in their natural state. Now it's time to add the other ingredients.

 

In the meantime, you've cut up red peppers, red onions, plum tomatoes, and yellow peppers into julienne (which is a cheffy term for thin strips). Add these to the bowl. Next add a finely chopped jalapeno chili, a teaspoon of sugar, and a dash of wine vinegar.

Finish the whole thing off, by garnishing with a thinly sliced or diced avocado, and roughly chopped coriander. You could get away with serving this as a first course in a wine glass, though in the photograph above, it's presented on a serving plate. Very retro, and slightly different. I like it.

Venison Chili

 

 

When I'm in Manhatten, there's nothing better I like to doing then hailing a cab and heading straight for P. J. Clarke's at 55th and 3rd, where you can order a bowl of chili with saltine crackers. I've been hesitant to write about chili, because I know how seriously Americans take it, and that battle reigns between the Texas Red version (meat-rich and without beans), and other recipes from other States. Some have tomatoes, others don't. Some have black beans, some kidney beans, and the Texan cowboy version quite definitely doesn't.

In Britain, chili con carne is often nothing more than stewed mince with kidney beans and a bit of chili powder. Here's my idea for a richer more authentic venison chili.

Saute some chopped onions, garlic and chopped red chilis in some oil and butter. Stir in some good chili powder, oregano, cumin, and paprika. Now add the venison. You can either chop the meat into chunks, or put it through a mincer (if you've got one). Cook for a bit until the meat is sealed and coloured. Now add some stock, beer (the Mexican beer, Corona, is excellent), and a splash of Tabasco. Let the chili simmer slowly at a low heat, until the meat is cooked. You want the sauce to be reasonably thick. When the meat is nearly done, add some tomato puree, or even better, sun-dried tomato paste, and grate in some bitter dark chocolate- the sort of quality chocolate (high in cocoa solids) you can buy in delis and specialist shops. Season with salt and black pepper to taste.

Finally, stir in some cooked beans (Kidney, Haricot, or Black Beans are fine, it doesn't really matter). Serve with grated cheese on top, sour cream, and saltine crackers.