Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes

Though I disliked the movie, which was absolutely nothing like the book (and not in a good way,) Under the Tuscan Sun is so beautifully written that you almost feel as though you’re walking through sunlit fields of sunflowers in the countryside surrounding Cortona. Normally, I don’t go for these types of memoirs, simply because the majority of them – and I’m looking at you, Eat, Pray, Love – are such self-absorbed, whinily written, so-called journeys of discovery by wealthy, pampered, spoiled women who don’t appreciate what they have. Frances Mayes’ gorgeous tale of her life in the stunning countryside of Tuscany, however, is truly a voyage of discovery.

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The author is a teacher who, with her husband, buys a rundown villa in the town of Cortona. They fix it up when they return each summer, and it becomes not just a second home, but a true oasis for them both. They become friends with the natives of Cortona, and eventually truly become citizens of this magical little town tucked into the hillsides of Tuscany.

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I’ve actually visited Cortona and found it as beautiful as any place in Italy. Pitched roofs, pigeons, a historic town square, the ubiquitous flowers and trees that scream Italy, cornerside bars and cafes, yellow-striped canopies that wave in the breeze………Cortona is the quintessential small Italian town that charms and seduces. Below is a photo I took in that wonderful town. It is a place that is filled with happy memories, not to mention it had one of the only hotels that still had on the heating during that chilly late spring.

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The house Frances buys in Cortona is called Bramasole. Isn’t that just gorgeous? It means “yearning for the sun.” I think that is all of us, no matter where we are. We are all yearning for the warmth and comfort of the sunshine, especially in the depths of winter. And of course, one of the things she does in her new house is cook. She cooks up a storm, utilizing the seasonal bounty that is Italy in the summer and winter, and her cooking echoes the ongoing work she and her husband do to the house. She learns to use the raw materials to enhance the beautiful life in Italy they have created together, just as they have created this gorgeous oasis of a home in a country not theirs by birth, but by love.

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I chose her recipe for sage pesto with basil, because I needed to use up some of my homegrown basil, and also because I just adore a good pesto and hadn’t had any in awhile. It is so nice to have around, to spread on toast or atop a piece of grilled meat, or  with roasted vegetables. And it is so simple, and yet so gratifying to make! Yum!

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INGREDIENTS
For the sage pesto:
1 cup basil leaves
1 cup sage leaves
1 cup walnuts
5 cloves garlic
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 cup Parmesan cheese

METHOD
Using a food processor or a small food chopper, finely chop the sage, basil, and garlic until very finely chopped.

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Add the walnuts and pulse again until everything is finely chopped into an almost paste-like texture.  Add the olive oil gradually, in a thin stream, pulsing all the while.

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Taste for seasoning, and add salt and pepper here if necessary. Add in the lemon juice and sprinkle in the Parmesan and pulse again until the sauce thickens. Taste again and season as needed. Set aside.

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I served it atop some nicely grilled pork chops and it was sublime!

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Even better as leftovers the next day, as you can see.

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The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

Thanks to ET for the photography.

Anymore, reading about the experiences of immigrants who come to this country seems to be the norm. It makes sense, after all. We are a country built almost entirely upon waves of immigrants from around the globe. My own family were immigrants from Spain and the Netherlands via Mexico over 500 years ago, and we are proud of both our heritage and our American history. It baffles me that, in this day and age, the amount of disdain and even hatred for people who come to this country to find a better life. Didn’t all of our ancestors do just that?

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Anyway, The Namesake describes the experience of Ashoke and Asima Ganguli and their “assimilation” into life as American citizens. Within their Indian culture, the concept of names is extremely important. The name is what gives the person his or her identity – symbolism and semiotics brought to life. Their firstborn, Gogol, is named for Russian philosopher who saved his father’s life, is the wreaker of havoc. His real name, Nikhil, is meant to represent the respectable, outward man and his pet name of Gogol within his family is his softer, shadow side. It is this duality of nature epitomized in his two names that affects the entire life of Gogol, and in a way, is the personification of the dual nature of immigrants, and of humanity itself.

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That desire to hold onto the culture, beliefs, food and history that created you and your country of origin doing battle with the desire to fit in, assimilate, become American so that you’re not teased, or even worse, tormented and tortured……..it’s the human struggle. We want to hold on to what makes us unique, different, ourselves in our deepest soul; yet we also want to be accepted and thought of as part of a large community and sadly, when we don’t conform and fit into what is expected, we can be treated horribly.

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Cardamom is, for me, the quintessential Indian spice, in addition to cilantro. It’s light and floral, but doesn’t add a strong note to food. It just gives a hint of perfume and spice on the tongue and in the nose. It’s a wonderful spice, coming in pods and you can either toss the pods into sauces or soups, or crush the pods with the flat of a knife blade and this releases their scent and flavor even more.

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There were actually two food references in this book that inspired today’s recipe: the first being when Gogol and Maxine are having dinner together on the first night that they will make love, and she is preparing coq au vin; and the second is the heartwrenching aftermath of his father’s death in which he and his mother prepare the funeral feast of fish, meats, potatoes spiced with coriander which were his father’s favorite, and other things.

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They prepare an elaborate meal, fish and meat bought one bitterly cold morning at Chinatown and Haymarket, cooked as his father liked them best, with extra potatoes and fresh coriander leaves. When they shut their eyes, it’s as if it is just another party, the house smelling of food.

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For me, chicken is one of those universal dishes that every country and nationality has a variation on, and being that I so closely associate cardamom with chicken, I found this recipe for buttermilk-cardamom marinated chicken at the Cooking on Weekends website, and my fellow food blogger The Dutch Baker posted a heavenly-sounding recipe for potatoes roasted with garlic and coriander. So these were the dishes I made today and the methods that worked for me, my own homage to Indian cuisine and in honor of this beautiful, heartbreaking and honest book.

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INGREDIENTS
For the chicken:
2 and 1/2 cups buttermilk
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
10 cardamom pods
7 cloves of garlic
1 tablespoon maple syrup
10 chicken thighs, boneless and skinless
1 tablespoon sea salt
Fresh ground black pepper

For the potatoes:
1 lb baby potatoes
3 garlic cloves, finely minced
Large bunch of fresh cilantro
Sea salt and pepper to taste
1 teaspoon fenugreek seeds
1-2 lemons

METHOD:
Put the chicken thighs into a large plastic freezer bag, and add in the buttermilk, oil, cinnamon, crushed cardamom pods, garlic and maple syrup. Squish everything around to ensure the marinade covers every piece of chicken. Refrigerate overnight if possible, and if not, at least 7 hours.

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When ready to bake, take the meat out of the fridge at least 3 hours, so the meat is room temperature. Preheat the oven to 400F. Take the chicken out of the bag and place on a foil-lined baking tray. Don’t shake off the excess marinade. Bake for 40 minutes, until the chicken is a nice bronze-gold.

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Allow to cool and sprinkle with salt and pepper while you prepare the potatoes. Heat the olive oil in a cast-iron skillet, then slice the potatoes and add them to the pan.

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Sprinkle over the salt, pepper and fenugreek seeds. Cook on medium low, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes dry out and the skins are golden-brown. This will take approximately 30 minutes, so keep your glass of wine handy.

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After about 15 minutes, add the slivered garlic, the chopped cilantro, and the sliced red onion to the frying potatoes. The smell is out of this world! Cook another 20 minutes, stirring to keep the potatoes from burning on the bottom. Taste for seasoning, then squeeze over the juice of one lemon. Add more salt and pepper if necessary.

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Serve the chicken together with the potatoes. The flavors are incredibly intense and so delicious!

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The Help by Kathryn Stockett

Thanks to JG for the photography.

I first heard about The Help when the movie, with Octavia Spencer and Cicely Tyson came out, and wanted to read the book first. The storyline, in a nutshell, is the story of two African-American maids – Aibileen and Minny in 1960s Mississippi – and how the lives they lead, complete with racism, inequality, and brutality, are told by Skeeter, a white girl who has just returned home after finishing college and wants to be a writer.

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She is compelled to write about the inequal treatment of black servants after her Junior League starts an initiative to install separate toilets in every house in Jackson, for the sole purpose of keeping their colored servants from using their bathrooms. Yes, this stuff happened, and far, far worse.

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As much as I loved the kindness and wisdom of Aibileen, my favorite of all the characters was Minny. She was hilarious, and had a mouth on her that could cut! I loved the fact that, even in the segregated, rural, racist South when whites had so much power over African-Americans that sometimes literally meant life and death, Minny still stood up for herself and told her hateful employers exactly what she thought of them. Hah! Of course, that meant she had been fired from all of those jobs, too. Her initial relationship with Celia Foote was very odd and funny, yet very transformational as well, as they develop an odd sort of friendship.

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It’s so odd to think that this entire class of wealthy white women, so focused on segregating their maids and yet trusting them to care for and bring up their children, cook their food, clean their houses, and wash their dirty laundry – literally and figuratively. There is such inequality in any type of employer/employee relationship as it is. Can you imagine the dynamics of that relationship compounded by racial inequality?

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I’ve read other opinions on this book, and the main issue seems to be two-fold: 1) that Stockett is promoting racial stereotypes in her portrayals of the maids, and 2) that for all her willingness to expose the ugly racial reality of that time, she still soft-pedals it. I don’t know that I agree with that, simply because she wrote what she experienced and remembered and tried to recreate it in the voices of these wonderful maids. Maybe it wasn’t the voices with which they would have told their stories, and perhaps others of the same background and experiences would have told it differently. That’s as it should be, but it shouldn’t devalue this book, either.

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Being a story of domestic goings-on as much as a treatise on racial inequality, the book abounds with mentions of so much delicious food that it was hard to choose one. Minny’s caramel cakes, fried chicken, and of course, the infamous chocolate pie. Oh poop! But early in the book, one scene sets the tone for the type of behavior these poor maids had to deal with, when Aibileen is serving a lunch of deviled eggs, ham sandwiches, and something called a congealed salad at Mrs. Leefolt’s house, and the gossip abounds about Celia Foote, who is considered “white trash” by these supposed pillars of the community.

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I spoon out the congealed salad and the ham sandwiches, can’t help but listen to them chatter. Only three things them ladies talk about: they kids, they clothes, and they friends. I hear the word Kennedy and I know they ain’t discussing no politic.

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A congealed salad is a Southern staple at lunch, dinner or picnics. It’s essentially a Jello salad, that can be made either savory or sweet. with marshmallows, nuts, fruit, celery (!), and cream cheese. I wanted to try and recreate it, so this is my take on that Southern classic, lime congealed salad. This is the method that worked for me, based on this lovely recipe at Never Enough Thyme. I did use walnuts instead of pecan, and I left out the celery, because yuck.

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INGREDIENTS
1 3-oz. packet of lime Jell-o
1 8-oz. bar of cream cheese, room temperature
2 cups boiling hot water
1 8-oz. can crushed pineapple, drained
1/2 cup walnuts
2 cups miniature marshmallows

METHOD
Mix together in your most awesome Kitchen Aid the cream cheese and the lime Jell-o. That’s a lurid green, isn’t it?2017-03-26 10.39.46_resized.jpg

Reduce the mixer speed and add a little bit of the hot water. The idea is to loosen up the mixture.

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Add in the rest of the hot water and mix well to make sure the cheese, Jell-o and water are completely combined.

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Pour into a pan and refrigerate for about 2 hours.

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Remove from the fridge, and stir in the marshmallows, pineapple and walnuts. Put back in the refrigerator for another couple of hours. You might check on it once and stir a few times, as the marshmallows tend to sink and you want them incorporated through the salad.2017-03-26 14.45.21_resized.jpg

Remove one last time, and serve garnished with lime slices and whipped cream. To go full-on Southern, serve the lime congealed salad with fried chicken and deviled eggs.

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How The Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss

Photography by me.

Merry Christmas! Happy Hannukah! Happy Kwanzaa! Blessed Ramadan! Happy Holidays! Seasons Greetings! Happy Festivus! I hope everyone has had a happy and blessed holiday with their families, friends, loved ones, pets, and anyone else beloved.

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So today’s post is probably not a surprise. But, it’s Christmas. I HAD to do honor to How The Grinch Stole Christmas, because it wouldn’t be the holiday without this story. I always loved the Grinch, and as I got older, could certainly relate to him much more, though I never particularly cared for Christmas Day as a child, either.

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It was always a day of stress, my mother yelling about something, a mad rush to be seated at the table no later than 2pm because that was the time my grandmother insisted we eat, someone getting a little too tipsy and starting a fight, and when I got older, the heartbreak of waiting for the man I was in love with to meet me at my family’s house one Christmas and him never showing up and finding myself in tears in my grandmother’s bedroom. Not happy associations with a holiday that is supposed to be about joy and peace.

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It was only when I decided that I was going to have Christmas at my own house, on my own terms, and invite only those who brought happiness and peace to my life that I began to enjoy Christmas. I got to see the people who truly cared about me, I got to cook the food that I liked, there was no  mad rush to be seated at a certain time. We ate and drank and relaxed and listened to music and enjoyed a very leisurely day and I realized that I actually did feel Christmas in my heart, just like our grumpy green friend The Grinch. So in opening my own heart and home to those who bring happiness to my life, I discovered the joys of the holiday season in my own way.

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The part where he takes the last can of Who-Hash has always been my favorite, along with poor Max being forced into being a reindeer with the large antler on his head. “Then he slunk to the icebox. He took the Whos’ feast! He took the Who-pudding! He took the roast beast! He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash. Why, that Grinch even took their last can of Who-hash!’

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I love the fact that hash is a mixup of whatever you have on hand. Meat, potatoes, vegetables, herbs and spices, cheese, and topped with the obligatory fried egg. It’s the perfect hangover meal, great at using up leftovers, delicious at any time of day, and takes so little time to cook. And it always tastes great. I had a couple of sweet potatoes, a yellow onion, and some sausages that needed cooking, so this was my version of Who-Hash. Enjoy!

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INGREDIENTS
1 large yellow onion

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1 tablespoon olive oil and 1 tablespoon butter
2 sausages, with the meat squeezed out of the casing
2 small sweet potatoes
3 cloves of garlic
Fresh thyme and fresh rosemary
3 eggs
Salt and pepper

METHOD:
Peel and slice the onion into little half-moons. Melt the butter with the olive oil in a cast-iron skillet, and put the onions in to cook down slightly, about 5 minutes. Add salt for flavor, and to keep the onion from burning.

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While the onions are cooking happily away, chop the sweet potatoes. I don’t ever bother peeling potatoes, sweet or otherwise, because you get so much flavor (not to mention vitamins and minerals) from the skin. Chop into rough 1-inch cubes. Put into a bowl with a bit of olive oil, salt, and pepper.

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Grate in the garlic cloves over the sweet potatoes. Then, finely chop the rosemary sprigs, and strip several thyme leaves off their stems. Add these fragrant herbs to the potatoes and garlic, and mix together well.

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Add the potatoes to the onions in the pan, and allow to cook low and slow for up to 20 minutes. The idea here is to somewhat dry out the potatoes, so that they get nice and crisp and slightly blackened at the edges, which just adds to the flavor.

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Heat your oven to 425F at this point.

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After the potatoes and onions have cooked, add in the sausage crumbles, and cook another 10 minutes. Check to make sure the sausage is cooked through. The smell of the onions and meat and herbs frying up will make you salivate, so be prepared to slobber a little bit.

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Make three wells in the potato-sausage hash mixture, and crack an egg into each well. Sprinkle the eggs with salt and pepper. Put the pan into the oven and bake for 10 minutes, or until the eggs are set and cooked through.

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Serve piping hot. If you’re like me and love that golden, ooziness of poached or fried or soft-boiled eggs, you’ll love breaking the yolk and watching that yummyness drip its yellow deliciousness all over the hash. Delicious and tasty, and could warm even the tiny, cold heart of The Grinch!

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A very merry Christmas and joyous New Year to all of my readers! Thank you for the support in 2016, and I look forward to reading and cooking for you even more in 2017!

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling

Thanks to TB for the photography.

For some reason, the Harry Potter books always evoke Christmas and the winter holidays, no matter what time of year I read them in or what time of year is represented in the books.

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I suppose it’s because these books, ostensibly for kids, are also a wonderful read for adults. They transport you into this magical world of wizards, wands, spells, Sorting Hats, magicians, and yet are still so based in the reality of a kid’s everyday life. The first book of the series, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, is as talented in describing magical spells, Quidditch, fantastic beasts and an otherwise enchanted world, as it is the realities we all went through on the first day of school, making new friends, learning new subjects, dealing with family difficulties. We can all relate, and it’s this sense of magic combined with the poignant sense of familiar that make J.K. Rowling’s books so successful. The movies don’t hurt, either.

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Sparky the Wonder Pug models his Christmas hat, which resembles the Sorting Hat from Hogwarts. At least, I think it does.

There is a huge amount of food in the Harry Potter books, and of a great variety. Chipolata sausages, roast chicken, trifles, butterbeer, candy with fantastical names such as Bertie Botts Every Flavor jellybeans, Acid Pops and Chocolate Frogs; black pudding, eggs and toast, roast beef, soups, fruits, nuts, desserts, ice cream, platters of vegetables………….it’s overwhelming in its excess, but I also think the variety of food discussed, in a way, is symbolic of the variety of characters in the book. Each has his or her own unique personalities and tastes, and as such, so the food represents them in a sense. Harry, who grew up in a deprived and dysfunctional family unit, savors such simple foods as roast chicken and potatoes, because he is finally allowed to eat as much as he wants.

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I do love the scene on the Hogwarts Express train when the trolley-lady offers them all sorts of goodies, including pumpkin pasties, and Harry trades one for one of Ron’s rather gross corned beef sandwiches. Pasties are like what we call an empanada here in New Mexico, and which I think are ubiquitous in every culture. Meat or vegetables or fruit or any other type of filling, enclosed in a pastry shell, making a little hand-held pie.

Ron stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat. “Hungry, are you?” “Starving,” said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.” “Swap you for one of these,” said Harry, holding up a pasty. “Go on……….”

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Having become more and more confident in my pastry-making ability this past year, I decided pumpkin pasties with homemade pastry would be my challenge this day. Not liking sweets much, I wondered how savory pumpkin pasties, with a hint of garlic, might taste.

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As well, I recently wrote a piece for the website New Mexico Nomad about the wonderful history of the Franzoy family in Southern New Mexico and their chile company, Young Guns Produce, and as part of the article, I was a lucky duck who got to taste their chile. I was dying to incorporate it into a recipe, and started thinking about pumpkin and red chile. So although no one in Harry Potter’s world likely ever had New Mexico red chile, I combined them in this recipe. Just think of it as my contribution to multiculturalism.

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As previously noted, pasties are very similar to empanadas, so I used my Nana Jean’s empanada dough recipe, which is 2 1/2 cups of flour, a pinch of salt, a stick of cold butter cut up into cubes, an egg, 1/3 cup ice-cold water, and a spoonful of white vinegar; then you incorporate the butter into the flour and salt until it looks like rubble, and slowly add in the liquid ingredients which have been mixed together.

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If you have a Kitchen Aid, use the pastry hook to mix and it will form the dough ball for you, then wrap in plastic and refrigerate for up to 2 hours before rolling out. Super easy. The filling recipe is all mine. This is the method that worked for me.

INGREDIENTS
2 sugar pumpkins, roasted and cubed

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1 container Young Guns Produce red chile sauce
5 cloves of garlic
1 cup herbed goat cheese
Pastry/empanada dough
1 egg, beaten with a bit of salt

METHOD
Heat the oven to 375F.

Puree the roasted pumpkin cubes by putting into a food processor and pulsing until a thick puree forms.

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Heat the red chile sauce. Grate in the garlic cloves and add salt. Taste for seasoning. Chile sauce is so much a matter of individual taste that I highly recommend you taste as you go. Some people add onions, some people put in garlic, some folks like to add beef or chicken or pork drippings to boost the flavor. Really, it’s up to you.

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Roll out the dough on a floured cutting board and cut into large circles using a coffee cup or circle-shaped cookie cutter.

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Mix the pureed pumpkin with the goat cheese, and taste. Season with salt and pepper as needed.

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Pour over the garlic-scented red chile sauce a little at a time, and mix well to incorporate.

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Put about a tablespoon of the pumpkin mixture into each dough circle.

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Dampen the edge of dough, and fold over so that you have a half-moon shape. Traditionally, you would crimp the edges to seal the pasty. However, I cannot for the life of me master the damn crimp action, so I went the easy way and used a fork.

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Brush each pumpkin pasty with some egg, and pop those bad boys into the oven.

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Bake for 15-20 minutes, keeping an eye on them. When they are golden-brown on top, and the heavenly scent of pumpkin and goat cheese and the sunny smell of red chile waft through the kitchen, take the pasties out of the oven and allow to cool.

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I have to say, these are probably my proudest creation. They tie in with my own New Mexico culture, they are a nod to my grandmother’s baking techniques, yet they incorporate a more modern flavor combination, and best of all, they tie in with the magical world of Harry Potter and Christmas. Plus, they are damn delicious!

 

The Farolitos of Christmas by Rudolfo Anaya

Thanks to TB for the photography.

Welcome to December, and a month of holiday-themed books and food!

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Those who know me know my great and abiding love for the books of Rudolfo Anaya. He’s called the Godfather of Chicano literature for a reason, and it’s his novel Bless Me, Ultima, that catapulted him and our beloved home state of New Mexico, to global fame. He brought the life and times of New Mexicans to a worldwide stage, and showed that, no matter our background, heritage, race, gender, religion or beliefs, we all share the same hopes, fears, desires and hurts. Rudy is also a personal friend, an amazing humanitarian and human being, and as I always say jokingly, had I met him 40 years ago and were we closer in age, I would have married him.

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He writes in a mild, gentle manner that hides a voice of power and strength. He promotes love, standing up for yourself and those weaker than you, spirituality, passion, sensuality, and self-awareness. He is a poet, an educator, a shaman of words, and I adore the man, what can I say?

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Me and my idol.

One of his books I love reading around the holidays is The Farolitos of Christmas. The story is simple, a little girl named Luz, which means “light” in Spanish, is getting ready for Christmas in her small town of San Juan in Northern New Mexico, during WWII. She lives with her mother and her grandfather, with whom she is very close. Her grandfather, every year since before Luz was born, made the traditional farolitos, little woodpiles lit to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, and also to light the way of the children acting in the annual Nativity play called “Las Posadas.” Luz’s grandfather is recovering from the flu and is not strong enough to cut all the wood needed for the farolitos, so one day, while buying sugar for her mother’s biscochito cookies, Luz comes up with the ingenious method of pouring sand into paper bags, putting a candle inside each bag, and lighting it. That way, the wind cannot put out the light, the way is lit for the Christ Child, and Christmas can be celebrated at last.

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Side note: if you ever want to see two New Mexicans argue, ask them which word is correct: luminaria or farolito. Then sit back and enjoy the drama.

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Aside from being such a wonderful children’s book, this story is close to my heart because it portrays things that I have grown up around and been part of since childhood. The concept of farolitos, or luminarias, has been part of my heritage and culture always. It would not be Christmas in our family, in our state of New Mexico, and indeed in our Hispanic New Mexican culture, if we didn’t have the traditional holiday dishes of posole, tamales and biscochitos. And then, of course the theme of Luz’s closeness to her grandfather resonated powerfully, as I was raised by my Nana and was closer to her than perhaps any other person on earth. I miss her so very much.

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My beautiful Nana Jean

My Nana made the best biscochitos, though I’d guess every New Mexican says that about their grandmother. Being so close to my own, making her traditional Christmas cookie made me feel close to her. She was always the one who made Christmas special, decorating, making her holiday candy and cookies, putting up her lavish Nativity scene, decorating the tree with all the wonderful homemade ornaments she’d made over the years.

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With her gone, the heart has somewhat gone out of Christmas for me, though I try every year to rekindle that holiday spirit. I am particularly down this year, for a variety of reasons both personal and political, but what keeps me going is the reminder that, despite and because of everything, life does indeed go on. And so I reconnect with my own life force by doing the thing that always brings me joy – cooking for others. Though I do admit to shedding some tears as I read her recipe and got started. But that is life, is it not? Joy and pain, sometimes at the same time.

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This is the method that I used. It’s my Nana’s recipe, unaltered with the exception of the addition of 1/3 cup of amaretto, and only because I love the almond taste. But other than that, it’s our traditional family recipe. Because how can you improve on perfection?

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INGREDIENTS
2 cups Crisco
1 cup lard
3 large eggs, room temperature

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2 cups sugar
3 teaspoons anise flavoring
1 teaspoon vanilla
10 cups all-purpose flour
4 teaspoons baking powder

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1 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup whiskey
1/3 cup Amaretto
Sugar and cinnamon mixed together

METHOD
Cream the lard and shortening together.

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Add the eggs and sugar. Cream again.

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Add in the anise and vanilla. Mix together again.

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Mix the flour, baking powder and salt together in a separate bowl. Gradually incorporate it to the lard/egg mixture, slowly mixing together.

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Slowly pour in the whiskey and the Amaretto to the forming-dough, continuing to mix slowly until you have a nice, round ball of dough.

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Wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate at least an hour. When ready to bake, take out the dough, and heat the oven to 400F. Dust a counter or other surface with flour and start rolling out the dough.

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Cut out shapes with cookie cutters or with a coffee cup.

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Dip each cookie shape into the sugar-cinnamon mixture.

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Lay out on cookie sheets, and bake for 10 minutes, or until the cookies are golden-brown.

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Allow to cool, and enjoy. Or you could do what my Nana always did, and share generously with family and friends. ‘Tis the season, after all! These are delicious as snacks, served to guests with some tea, eaten with early-morning coffee, or eaten Italian-style dipped in red wine. Really, they are good at anytime of the day. But it’s not a New Mexico Christmas without homemade biscochitos.

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Here’s to my Nana Jean. Merry Christmas!

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Talking To The Dead by Helen Dunmore

Nina, a London photographer, comes to stay with her sister, Isabel, who has just given birth to her first child. Nina’s brother-in-law Richard soon starts playing a major role in her life as she cooks for her sister and begins remembering the mysterious death of her and Isabel’s infant brother. The descriptions of a long, hot, drought-ridden summer in England resonate with burning sunshine, apple trees dropping their fruit-laden branches, scalding rivers, and lush descriptions of food. Chicken risotto, rustic bread smeared with unsalted butter and homemade apricot preserves, cream-filled doughnuts, and an ultimately doomed celebratory feast featuring figs, couscous with goat cheese and roasted vegetables, and……..the soup. Keep reading. It gets better.

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This novel is one of those rare birds that feature wonderful writing, sensually lavish descriptions of food, and characters that are both unlikable and yet addicting in their dysfunction. Toward the end, a celebration dinner is planned and each character must cook a dish. Edward comes up with what sounded like garlicky, stinky heaven…….a shrimp and garlic soup, with coriander (cilantro to us desert flowers.) Nom nom nom! Garlic! Shrimp! Cilantro! A culinary holy trinity, as far as I’m concerned, and a smelling-to-high-heaven broth of deliciousness that you could feed to an angel. But don’t. Keep it for yourself and spoon it down with glee.

I’ll make a fish soup,” Edward says. “If we’re going into Brighton, I know a good fishmonger there. ‘Shrimp and garlic soup with coriander. It’s the fish soup that takes the time.”

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What a crock…….of soup!  This soup took no time at all, and the freshness of the ingredients, mixed with the strong saline flavor of shrimp, the heat of the garlic, and the pungent coriander, made this a true pleasure both to cook and to greedily eat.

This is the cooking method that worked for me.

INGREDIENTS:
6 ounces of butter, preferably unsalted
6 ounces of flour
12-15 cloves of garlic, peeled
2 teaspoons of cayenne pepper

cayenne
6 cups of chicken stock or or seafood stock if you can find it.
1 cup good white wine, such as Sauvignon Blanc
1 chicken bouillon cube
1 tomato bouillon cube
2 bags raw shrimp, tails on
2 tablespoons of lemon juice
Bunch of cilantro

METHOD

Melt the butter slowly over low heat using a heavy-bottomed metal or cast-iron pot.

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Gradually incorporate the flour one spoonful at a time, whisking like crazy. You don’t want to add all the flour at once, because it will turn into one big, floury-tasting lump. And who wants to eat a ball of flour? Not I. I found the best method for amalgamating the flour into the butter was to whisk when each spoonful of flour went in, then stir with a wooden spoon. Add the cayenne pepper, and the two cubes of bouillon cubes, and stir to mix, so their flavors can mix and add to the roux.

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Slice the garlic into thin shards, saute them in a separate skillet to brown and bring out their flavors. Then add them to the roux.

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Increase heat to medium and slowly add the stock, continuing to whisk so that it mixes with the roux. Again, do this gradually and stir and whisk as you incorporate the liquid. Your soup will thank you.

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Simmer on low for about an hour so the flavors can mingle and mix, and you can enjoy the heady perfume of garlic, butter and roux. Add the white wine after about 30 minutes, so that it too, can flavor the broth. After the hour of cooking time, add the chopped cilantro and the lemon juice, and which will add even more scent to the broth. Allow to simmer another 10 minutes, then add the shrimp. These will not need long to cook, just until they turn pink.

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Garnish with a bit more fresh cilantro and eat with joy in your heart. This soup is soooooooo good, and perfect served with good, crusty bread and a glass of deep red wine. Enjoy!