¡No Te Pintes Las Uñas, Mañana Hacemos Pasteles!

I tried to experiment. I put extra masa and extra meat, thinking I would be able to make an even better pastel. Quickly, however, my idea was shot down. “That’s too big!” my grandfather scolded in Spanish. “How do you expect to fold that into a pastel?” Humbled, I scooped some of the masa off the wax paper and put it back into the pot. “Sorry, abuelo.” I replied.

If there’s one thing I learned during the eight hours I spent making pasteles with my grandfather, it’s that this is a serious business. Every single pastel you make must be carefully made, because in it, are the pride and flavors of our land, Puerto Rico. Also, because we were making the batch for this holiday season, we had to make them perfect, or else deal with the consequences of eating poorly made pasteles for several months. This time was only the second time I made pasteles, and this time I was more involved, I was actually in charge of forming the pastel, not just tying it at the end. I kind of like to see it as a promotion, now I was able to take a lead in how they’re made.

Our day started early, and began by peeling mountains of root vegetables, green bananas and green platanos. From the beginning, it was all a lesson. I learned that there’s a right way and a wrong way to peel a green banana. Do it the right way, and the peel comes off rather easily; do it the wrong way and you’ll be stuck with a broken banana with half the fruit stuck on the peel. I remember when I grabbed the first green banana and began to peel it like a normal yellow banana; I was quickly met with laughter. “Girl, you’re going to be there forever!” my mom laughed. It wasn’t until I pulled down on the nub that I realized what she meant. The nub came off, but nothing else did; I was still stuck with the rest of the banana. “Ok,” I conceded, “how do you do it?” What proceeded was a professional demonstration from my grandfather, who took his mini-machete looking knife and made a slit down the back of the peel, then with his fingertips opened up the banana peel, separating the fruit from its home.

After peeling what seemed like endless green bananas I was left with sticky, blackened hands. I itched to wash them, but soon realized that would be pointless. What’s next was to cut nearly 40 pounds of pork meat into ¼ inch cubes. The chopping seemed endless, but luckily, with the help of a friend we finished in only two hours. As we chopped, my grandfather ran the root vegetables through his most prized-possession, his food processor/grinder made especially for making pasteles. According to him, that machine can make masa for 300 pasteles in 20 minutes. For that reason, he totes it around wherever he goes, constantly asking for a towel to shine and clean it. Were it mine, I’d prize it, too. It’s either that machine or we get graters out and grate the vegetables to a pulp! My mom can tell numerous horror stories about doing it the “old-fashioned” way, and remembers it being time consuming and dangerous.

After the meat stewed in flavorful seasonings (the usual: Sazon Goya, Recaito, Adobo, olives, etc.), the assembly line began. Proud of my new seat at the head of the line, I took my job seriously –well, at least most of the time—and tried to make pasteles that resembled and tasted like those we had to rush order from NYC. First goes a little achoite oil on the wax paper, spread it around, then the masa, spread it around, then grab a spoonful of meat and plop it right in the middle and pass to your left. The next person in line folds it into its “pastel” shape, and then finally the string. My friend, mother, grandfather and I did this for hours. After the sun went down we realized how long we had been working. Occasionally, I’d ask how many we’d made already. “41” my mother would shout from down the line. Then, “86,” she yelled. We made it up to 138. Not bad for a rookie. My grandfather said he’s made over 300 in one day. I’m not there yet, maybe one day, but only if I have that coveted machine.

La Otra Quesadilla

Not what you were expecting was it? I know what you’re asking yourself already. Why does that quesadilla look like a cake? Isn’t a quesadilla a tortilla filled with warm, melty cheese? Well, yes, that too is a quesadilla, but it’s a Mexican one. This quesadilla is Salvadorean, and there’s a big, big difference. About the only similarity is that both contain cheese, otherwise this dish is a world apart from what you’re used to calling a quesadilla. But, that’s not to say it isn’t just as delicious; it has its own unique flavor and texture, and I can almost guarantee you’ll not stop eating at just one piece.

It’s easy to get confused if you don’t understand the differences between Latin American cultures. Many folks believe that just because we share the same language, that everything else is the same. Want to test my knowledge? In Mexico, “pastel” means “cake.” Now, walk into a Puerto Rican establishment and ask for a pastel and what they’ll hand you is something that looks more like a tamale. Now, this would be just as welcome at a birthday party (if not more!), but it’s not what you asked for.

Differences being settled, now I can talk about the absolutely wonderful quesadilla Salvadorena. This dessert, made of humble ingredients, but packing incredible flavor, takes me back to the time I started dating my husband. My husband, Erik, is of Salvdorean descent and before I met him I had no idea about Salvadorean food or culture was like. Our first couple months dating were filled with excursions to the local pupuseria and then to the park to devour our meals. I absolutely loved pupusas and was open to whatever he recommended. One day we were feeling extra hungry and decided to get dessert along with our lunch of chicken, cheese and pork pupusas. I ignorantly questioned why he called it a quesadilla, it was the first time I’d ever seen anything called a quesadilla that a) wasn’t sold by a Mexican and b) didn’t have a tortilla. “Just try it,” he said. Everything else I had eaten was delicious, so I wasn’t worried. Then I took a bite. Lo and behold I was hooked. I begged my mother-in-law for the recipe, and when she came back to me with only a handful of ingredients and directions, I knew I’d be in trouble. It’s simply, too easy to make! As if you needed another reason to bake it!

Sonia’s Quesadilla Salvadorena Recipe

Ingredients:
2 cups of Bisquick baking mix
2 cups of sugar
2 eggs
2 tablespoons of grated parmesan cheese
1 stick of butter (4 ounces)
16 oz of crema Mexicana (can be found at most Latino food markets in the refrigerated section)
1/3 cup of sesame seeds

Directions:
Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. In one bowl mix the dry ingredients and in another mix the wet. For the dry ingredients first mix the Bisquick and sugar, then mix in the parmesan cheese. For the wet ingredients first mix the cream and butter, then add the eggs. When both wet and dry ingredients are ready, mix both together and beat until smooth. Pour the mixture into a greased 13x9 inch pan and sprinkle the top with the sesame seeds, adding more or less as desired. Bake for about 30 minutes and check every five minutes or so until a knife or toothpick comes out clean.

See, I told you it was easy!

The Ying and Yang of the Caribbean: Guayaba y Queso Blanco

It’s quite possibly the world’s greatest combination of flavors: white cheese and guava. It’s like the ying and the yang of the Caribbean world, and it never fails to please. There are several ways you can enjoy this unique combination of flavors, it just depends on how much time and what ingredients you have. My mother vividly remembers eating the simple, yet satisfying hors d'oeuvre at Christmas parties that consists of a Ritz cracker, a slice of white cheese and a slice of guava. It’s a delicious pairing, both for the eyes and the palate. The deep red of the guava heightens the whiteness of the cheese, creating a picturesque image that brightens any spread! Although often associated with Christmas for many Puerto Ricans, these can be served anytime, anywhere and is perfect for a dinner party. There’s no fuss, no mess, and it’s completely delicious.

Now, if you find yourself with a little more time on your hands, or with a craving for sweets that just won’t quit, pastelillos with guava and cheese are a must! Pastelillos are essentially an empanada-like pastry that instead of meat is filled with guava paste and cream cheese. They are almost too easy to make, lending themselves to become addictive. I remember the first time I tried a guava and cheese pastelillo, it was in Kissimmee, Florida, at a local Latino market that sells a variety of traditional Puerto Rican items in their “fast food” corner. My husband Erik and I tried one out of curiosity, and it smelled so good we had to take a bite out of it as soon as we left the store. Needless to say, we completely devoured it before even turning on the car! I was determined to find or make a recipe to recreate the experience, and luckily with my mother’s fond memories of them, and our collective ingenuity, we came up with a simple recipe that won’t leave a Puerto Rican native questioning its authenticity!

Once you try this combination, you’ll understand why it’s so popular in the Caribbean, and why you really need will power to avoid eating too many pastelillos!

For the simple version:

Ingredients:
Ritz crackers
White cheese (A Hispanic brand like Cacique is good)
Guava paste (Usually sold at Latino markets and is called Ate de Guayaba)

Directions:
Cut equal sized slices of the guava paste and white cheese and place atop a cracker.

To make Pastelillos:

Ingredients:
8 sheets of puff pastry
Egg wash
Flour (To make the puff pastry easier to work with)
1 package of guava paste
1 bar of cream cheese

Optional: Powdered Sugar

Directions:
Set the oven at 375 degrees. On a flat surface, spread some flour so that the puff pastry does not stick. If needed, make the puff pastry thinner with a rolling pin (you’ll need some room for the guava paste and cheese to fit). Be careful, however, not to make the pastry too thin. Cut 1/8” inch slices of the guava paste and cream cheese and put a slice of each in the middle of the pastry square. Brush the inside edges of the pastry with the egg wash and either fold triangularly or by bringing each edge to the center. If you choose to fold it triangularly (the shape should resemble an empanada), brush the outer edges of the puff pastry and with a fork press the edges together. This will keep the pastry together and give it that “empanada” look. Once you’ve done this for all 8 pastries, brush the outside with the remaining egg wash and place on a baking sheet. Bake the pastries for about 10-15 minutes, until the outside is golden brown and flaky.

Sprinkle with powdered sugar if desired. Let cool for several minutes.

These are best out of the oven, but be careful, the heavenly melted mixture inside could be very hot! Enjoy!

Sofrito: The Reason We Cook

It looked like she had just vanished. On the kitchen table was an open checkbook, a calculator, a pen and her purse. Even her cell phone was still on the table. But she was gone. She never leaves the house without her purse. Extremely curious, I asked my father what happened.

“She’s running down the street, in search of the mailman,” he said.

“The mailman?” I questioned.

“Yes, remember the Sofrito ingredients were supposed to come in today,” he said.

Apparently, in our family effort to look out for the mailman who would bring our treasured ingredients, no one managed to hear the knocking on the door, so he took off, box in tow. Just one more day in that box and the ingredients would have spoiled, making my Titi Awilda’s efforts to bring us fresh Sofrito in vain.

Nervously, I awaited my mother's arrival. My stomach began to turn; we had just used the last of our Sofrito a week ago. Our supply was completely gone.

Twenty minutes later my mother entered the door, prized box in hand.

“Oh, I am so glad I found him!” She said, with her extraordinary efforts written all over her face. “I would have died if this didn’t come in!”

My dad laughed, but only because he didn’t understand. In California you can’t find the ingredients to make fresh Sofrito, you have to get them shipped from sympathetic relatives on the east coast. Had my mother not rescued this Floridian package from the unclaimed section, we would have gone without Sofrito for months! She had to run after the mailman.

I understand though, and would have done the same. With Sofrito there is no compromise. There is no substitute. If you want your food to be flavorful, colorful and be truly Puerto Rican, you need Sofrito. I grew up on Sofrito, and my mom insisted on putting it in every dish, be it Puerto Rican or not. “A esto le falta algo,” she would say, and in went the Sofrito. It went in meatloaf, beef stew, and of course traditional dishes such as Arroz con Pollo and Pollo Guisado. It can become addictive, so much so that my husband, a Salvadorian, also caught the Sofrito bug, and recently suggested we put it on homemade pizza! One day I’ll give that a shot, and if it comes out good I’ll post our recipe!

As I mentioned, Sofrito isn’t just a staple in Puerto Rican cooking, it is absolutely necessary. In our home we make enough Sofrito to last us several months, we freeze whatever isn’t used that day and the rest can last for up to six months in the freezer. Living in California, however, has posed a serious problem for my family. Seeing that the state is dominated by a Mexican population, finding the ingredients to make fresh Sofrito is impossible. My mother and I have searched and searched with no avail. There are no ajicitos dulces or culantro, ingredients for which there are no substitute. So to escape this dilemma we’ve had to contract the help of family in New York and Florida, who send overnight packages full of the aromatic ingredients.

Sofrito is made up of a variety of ingredients. It is essentially a cooking base that adds that traditional Puerto Rican flavor to our dishes. Sofrito is available in a can, but nothing compares to homemade Sofrito. Even just making it fills the kitchen with a fresh, enticing scent that comes from the mixture of culantro, cilantro, sweet peppers, garlic and more. If you’re lucky enough to live in an area that carries the essential ingredients, I suggest you try out our recipe. And if you’re not, contact your friends and family on the east coast and tell them to ship you ingredients!

Remember, Sofrito doesn’t have to go into just Puerto Rican dishes, but anything! Like I said, we’ve put Sofrito in American dishes, and are even going to try it on pizza! Be creative! You can’t go wrong with this, I promise!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Godmother Maria Medina's Sofrito Recipe

2 Envelopes of Goya Sazon Seasoning with Achoite and Culantro
½ cup of cooking oil
2 tablespoons of Goya Adobo Seasoning
2 Large white onions
2 Heads of garlic
1 bunch of cilantro
4 oz of culantro (Sawtooth Herb)
1 Green bell pepper
1 red bell pepper
1 yellow bell pepper
8 oz (approximately 38) Ajices dulces (Chinese capsicum)

Once you have all the ingredients peeled and cleaned start to blend the ingredients in a food processor. Start by adding a little of each ingredient at a time so that way each batch made has the same ingredients in it. Store the Sofrito in plastic bags or in Tupperware. Sofrito will keep for six months when frozen.