Mexican Through and Through

For all you infrequent readers out there (and you know who you are), visits with Pops O'Food revolve around twin suns: food, obviously, and golf. Pops has a regular group of local and snow bird cronies who accompany him on the course several times a week. I am permitted to join them whenever I'm in town. The only reason I took up the game in the first place was to have something to do with my father besides stuffing my face. It has turned out to be a minor passion, especially when my swing is going well. Between bouts of Mexican peasant food were some very good rounds of golf this year. One course in particular took my breath away, Emerald Canyon Golf Course on the Colorado River just outside Parker, AZ. This La Paz County course is an oasis. Impeccably tended fairways and velvety smooth greens, built into the ravines and washes that feed into the river. I have never played a finer course in the country. Even on those idyllic links however, my thoughts frequently turned to what our next meal would be.

Not that it was ever really a worry at Casa de Pops. He had a treasure trove of recipes to offer up.

Pork & Hominy Stew - A recipe by Pops O'Food

1 large can (29 oz) Mexican-style hominy 2 lbs pork loin chops, boned and diced 1 tsp garlic powder 1 tsp onion powder ½ cup olive oil 1 large yellow onion, diced 6 cloves garlic, crushed 3½ cups chicken stock 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes 1½ cups homemade salsa*

Drain hominy, and put to a simmer in a small saucepan. Meanwhile, brown pork, including bones, on all sides with dried spices in olive oil over medium-high heat in a large heavy-bottomed stock pot. Brown in batches if need be. Remove pork from pot and sweat onions and garlic over medium heat until just soft, but not brown. Return the meat and bones to the pan, add the chicken stock, tomatoes, salsa and hominy. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 90 minutes.

Holy crap, that guy POF knows a thing or two about food! Browning the bones and including them in the stew red-lined the flavor meter. Just remember to separate them from the dish before serving. The slow, long simmer softened all the tough connective tissue in the meat. It practically fell apart on the fork. Pops served Mexican rice and refried beans, and piping hot flour tortillas for sopping up the juices.

We all have dishes that remind us of childhood or other memorable occasions. I was transported that night. This is a meal I'll cook again when I'm homesick or just plain nostalgic. I hope this post prompts you to dust off delicious recipes of your own. Relive old memories or make new ones tonight.

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food

*Salsa

3 lbs Ortega and yellow chilies, roasted, skinned and chopped 10 cloves garlic, finely minced 2 large white onions, diced ½ cup cilantro, chopped 1 cup, green onions, diced

Toss all ingredients together in a large mixing bowl. Store in clean mason jars. Flavor will intensify over time. Will keep for about two weeks.

Feliz Navidad

My father, Pops O'Food, is a prodigious cook. Usually, and without heed to any pleas for moderation, the output from his kitchen will resemble something akin to Ford's Detroit production line. Every year, I invariably gain five pounds and have a reputation around town as being - shall we say - an ambitious eater. But it's only because he keeps putting food in front of me! So before traveling to Arizona to spend part of the Holidays with Pops this year, I emailed him with firm instructions not to cook a thing until I got there. All was for naught. He came back with the notion of Mexican food for the week. I know a lost cause when I see one, and acceded to his plans with alacrity.

Mexican food unfailingly reminds me of when my stepmother Anita was alive. God, she could cook. Like me, she absorbed her skills at the feet of her parents. Growing up, I was dependably at her elbow whenever she was in the kitchen. One memory immediately leaps to mind reflecting on those times, her Mexican rice "secret". After toasting her rice and adding the liquid to the saucepan, she would deftly dip an index finger into the broth, claiming it added sweetness. My naive eight-year old mind accepted that like some kind of golden nugget. It brings a smile to my face just thinking about it. Anita also had a real fondness for albondigas soup, so when Pops suggested a Mexican holiday menu, I insisted on us taking a stab at one of her favorite dishes.

Pops perused the Internet for recipes and we used a couple of those as a launching point for our own effort. I think Anita would have been pleased with the result. There were certainly no complaints from my father and me between slurps.

Albondigas Soup - A recipe inspired by Anita Roberts

½ lb ground beef ½ lb ground pork 1 large egg ½ cup cooked brown rice 1 cup chopped yellow onion ½ tsp dried thyme ½ tsp ground cumin ¼ cup peanut oil 4 cups chicken stock 1 tomato, seeded and chopped 2 Tbsp chili powder 4 cloves garlic, roasted 2 carrots, peeled and diced 2 celery stalks, diced 1 cup peas, fresh or frozen Salt & pepper to taste

In a large mixing bowl, combine ground meat, egg, brown rice, spices, and half the onions, form into ping pong-sized balls. Heat peanut oil in a large, heavy-bottomed stock pot and brown meatballs in batches on all sides, about 10 minutes. Add chicken stock, tomato, chili powder, roasted garlic and remaining onions, and simmer for 45 minutes. Add vegetables and simmer for an additional 30 minutes. Serve hot with crispy fried corn tortilla strips. Makes 6 servings.

Remember last year's visit to Lake Havasu? Pops allowed me in the kitchen for a couple of dinners and spent the rest of the time bragging to all his golfing buddies about what a good cook I was. I don't know how he managed it, but this year I was bucked back down to KP duty. What I really suspect is that my father gets as much joy out of cooking for others as I do. In any event, he's always looking for ways to wait on me, as I am by nature a most independent fellow.

What a time we had. Anita's name came up several times, usually at the table. I treasure every loving repast shared with my father. I'm already aching for the next one.

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food

'Cause Baby, It's Cold Outside

It's not officially winter yet, nor really, really cold, but the temps have dropped appreciably (or unappreciated-ly) over the last week. It's dark when I wake up in the morning and dark when I walk home from work in the afternoon, and Blog O. Food's nesting instincts are kicking in. That means fewer trips into Manhattan, wooly socks and sweat pants for lounging around the apartment at night, and comfort food. Belly-warmin', spectacle-steamin', hot-off-off-the-stove comfort food.

This dish is a take-off on a springtime recipe when peas are in season and you can get 'em fresh off the vine. I could have made split pea soup, but I like the puréed texture of the whole peas better. Plus, buried deep somewhere, are repressed memories of split pea soup from my elementary school days. We'll let those sleeping dogs lie, eh?

Pea Soup

2 Tbsp unsalted butter 1 medium onion, thinly sliced 2 cups chicken or vegetable stock 2 cups peas 1½ cups sourdough bread, crust removed and cubed 1½ Tbsp dried herbs: thyme, basil, tarragon, etc 2 Tbsp olive oil Salt & pepper to taste

Start by tossing cubed sourdough bread with olive oil and dried herbs. Season with salt and pepper and spread out on a baking sheet. Toast croutons in a 375° pre-heated oven until just browned, about 12 minutes. Keep an eye on them as they will turn from golden to burnt toast with alarming speed. Remove from oven and allow to cool.

Meanwhile, melt butter in a heavy-bottomed sauce pan. Add onions, salt & pepper and sweat over medium heat, stirring often. When soft, but not browned, add stock and bring to a boil. Add peas and reduce heat to a simmer. Cook, stirring periodically, until the peas are tender, about 5-6 minutes. Purée the soup in batches in a blender or food processor. Taste to adjust the seasonings. Pour back into the pot and heat just to warm through. Serve in rustic ceramic bowls - bartered from a local Duchess County pilgrim - garnished with croutons.

Even with frozen peas, there was a brightness to this simple soup, and just a hint of saltiness. Missing was that gummy consistency and bitterness you can get from split pea soup. Feeling fat deprived? Plop a generous dollop of sour cream into the soup before adding the croutons!

Sometimes, I'll brown off some cubed pancetta, drain really well on paper towels then add to the purée. If you do that, do not salt the soup until you've added the pork and heated it back up, then adjust your seasonings.

That ought to keep you warm 'til bedtime!

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food