The meal was Latin-inspired, and all of the recipes except one came from the cookbook Laura got me a few years ago. It seemed simple enough:
Appetizer: Cocktails and Twice-cooked plantains with Cilantro dipping sauce (from various Central American countries)
Main: Black beans and rice (from Cuba) -- also known as moros y cristianos or moors and christians for the black on white aspect.
Side: Sauteed collard greens (from Brazil)
Dessert: Tres Leches Cake -- three milks cake (the national dessert of Nicaragua, and also served in parts of southern Mexico)
My plan was to make as much as possible ahead of time so I could enjoy my guests once they arrived. I ran into a few snags along the way. (But would it be my life if I didn't?) The black bean dish called for cachuca
peppers which I'd never heard of. But then it said you could substitute with rocotillo peppers which I'd never heard of. I went to two grocery stores--one being my local market which carries a lot of specialty items for the Hispanic community, and there were no cachucas or rocotillos to be found. On a whim I grabbed a packet of dried chipotle peppers and figured I would improvize.Back on the homefront I made a list of all the prep work to be done (including cleaning the bathroom and sweeping the floors), and spent the whole afternoon chopping and dicing. The cake was done and in the fridge by noon, but the plantains, which were supposed to be so easy, were the biggest pain of all! The recipe I used called for green plantains, and I'd only ever used the
black ones. Peeling a green plantain is no easy feat! There's probably some technique to it, but it was like peeling bark off a tree with your bare hands. I'm surprised I didn't come away with a splinter! I did end up with my fingers stained black from the juice inside the peel and a band-aide wrapped around each thumb this morning. Digging in with my fingernails was not the best idea.Once I had them all peeled and sliced, the recipe said to boil them for 15 minutes or until "very tender." Then you were supposed to have at them with a rolling pin or meat mallet to squash them to 1/4 inch thick. As I have neither, I went to work with the back of a frying pan, but the suckers would NOT be smashed! It was like they were holding out on principle. I decided to put the half I hadn't gotten to yet back in boiling water to soften them up some more while I baked the ones I had crumbled into a million pieces. I must have boiled that second batch for AN HOUR and they never got "very tender."
The beans went according to plan, but before they started to simmer I soaked a few of the dried chipotle peppers, sliced them open to get the seeds out and threw the whole skins in the pot to add flavor. It turned out to be the best decision I may have ever made. In my life. The beans were DELICIOUS (if I may be so bold).I was still running around like a crazy woman--a GIANT bowl of cooked rice in the oven keeping warm, a huge stockpot of beans simmering on the stove, a plateful of crumbly plantains on the table, another bowl of (somewhat) tender slices ready to be flattened, and a mountain of shredded greens with pre-chopped onion and garlic waiting in the wings to be flash cooked the moment the guests sat down at the table, when... the doorbell rang. It was 6:10. I hadn't swept the floor, hadn't put the
leaves in the table, hadn't changed my shirt or even combed my hair!It was Peter, the one American that I invited to the soiree, and of course he was early! Thankfully he dove right in, smashing the plantains with the frying pan, and then blending all the ingredients I kept throwing at him for the cilantro dipping sauce we ended up serving with the dry and crumbly plantains. By that time my roommate, Emily, had gotten home and went about setting up the table and the dining room. Then it was 6:30, the magic hour, and I laughed as one by one (as I knew they would), my European friends called to say they were just leaving their houses and would be a little late. I had tried to warn Peter earlier in the day that if I say 6:30, it means my friends will arrive between 7 and 7:15, but I don't think he believed me.
But there was no rush. Everyone arrived, we poured the wine and got to relax in the living room over plantains with cilantro sauce. I was a little disappointed with the plantains, but it seemed like it was a first time for most everyone, so they were easy to please. At 8, stomachs started growling, and we moved to the dining room and had a feast of Moors and Christians (which were spiced to perfection, let me just reiterate) and crunchy greens. Wine and conversation flowed easily.
Finally it was time for dessert. I served each person a piece of the unassuming white cake. It wass completely unadorned except for the bowl of toasted coconut I put on the table, and actually looked kind of boring. But when we bit into it, our mouths were instantly flooded with the mixture of the three milks that the cake absorbed. The cake was a
light and fluffy mirengue (sp?) which you then poke holes in and pour a mixture of sweetened condensed, evaporated, and coconut milks over. As the cake cools in the fridge it soaks up the milk like a sponge.After the cake and coffee/tea the atmosphere was still going strong. People started talking about a digestif.
All I had was a bottle of rum that someone had given me as a gift after a trip to the Dominican Republic. So we got out the mismatched shot glasses, toasted our health and happiness, and downed the smoothest of rums--the perfect end to the Latin evening.What a great time on such a snowy day! Wish you all could have been here, but you probably would have had to stand and eat out of a coffee mug. Another time...
1 comment:
Yum!! You made all of our mouths water!! And we laughed as you knew we would. So glad it was a huge success!
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