Search Results for: picadillo

Picadillo, Let me count the ways…

By in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , ,

by Lisa

Over labor day weekend, I flew to Los Angeles to visit my friend, Melissa Clark,  the novelist (not the food writer). You can read her book about a girl impregnated by a lazy sperm or catch up with her on her blog.  Melissa is one of those friends you thank the world for every day.  She has kept me sane over many years, and as her blog attests, she is apparently connected to everything in the best way.  Every time I see her, no matter in what city or state, she’s always finding fun things to do, great places to eat, and amazing people to hang out with.  She’s also the one who connected me to my husband.   And on this, long-awaited, much-needed  trip, she not only re-connected me to myself, but connected me to picadillo, a classic Cuban dish of highly spiced, savory-sweet ground beef, with which I fell immediately, irrevocably in love.

Now, this is a little strange, because Melissa is a vegetarian. But she lives on the beach, in Marina del Rey (please don’t stalk her) and we walked to Venice for breakfast at a Cuban inspired restaurant, where I had Huevos con Picadillo.  Aside from the fact that we had a lingering, adult breakfast (imagine…), in the sun, on the Saturday of a long weekend, the picadillo was like nothing I had ever tasted before. It doesn’t look like much on the plate, but the flavors are rich and complex.

When I came home, I scoured the internet for recipes, emailed my friend Richard Fleming who wrote an amazing book about walking across Cuba. If anyone had an authentic picadillo recipe, it would be him. But alas, he did not (which is not, I promise you, a reason not to read his book, you should.)

Rich did write to me that regarding Cuban black beans, in the “Oriente, in the Santiago region, they are made “more flavorful” by the addition of a tablespoon or so of sugar near the end of cooking…”  I used this bit of information to adapt one of the many recipes I  found to come up with one that approximated what I had eaten in Los Angeles.  Almost all recipes call for raisins, but my husband hates raisins, so to add some sweetness, I used ketchup.  This also seemed in line with Rich’s advice to add sugar, and answered the complaint aimed at several recipes that called for the apparently inauthentic tomato paste.

The first night I served the picadillo, the kids stared at it with a ho-hum sort of chagrin.  Then they tasted it. Now, picadillo is one of those dinners that commands universal adoration.  I love it because it has introduced new flavors to our table.  I love it because it is fast, fast, fast to make.  I’ve had trouble getting through the week without making it…

If you prechop the ingredients, you can get from stove to table in under 15 minutes. (Especially if you have your kids set that table for you. )  Also, because we treat the meat more like a delicious side dish/accompaniment and less like the center of the meal (even though it really is the reason to sit down at the table) we can get at least a meal and a half out of a pound of meat.  We eat it with tortillas, rice, black beans, or under fried eggs…

I don’t know how authentic my version is, nor what part of Cuba it might represent, but I can vouch that it will not disappoint.

Picadillo

Ingredients:

  • Olive oil
  • 1 lb ground beef
  • 1 medium onion
  • 6-8 garlic cloves
  • 1 small tomato
  • 1/2 cup pimento stuffed olives
  • 1 tablespoon capers, drained
  • 1/4 cup ketchup
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1/4 cup white wine
  • 1 teaspoon cumin
  • freshly ground pepper, to taste

In a mini-food processor, finely chop the onions and garlic. Set aside.  Then finely chop the olives, capers, and tomato.

P1120412

You can do this ahead of time and refrigerate until you’re ready to cook. While many recipes will leave the olives whole, the dish I first had was of uniform texture...

In a saucepan cook onion, garlic, and bay leaves over medium heat until the onion is soft and translucent.  Add the ground beef and stir, breaking up clumps with a fork.

P1120416

Okay, there are 3 bay leaves here….experiment

When the meat is cooked through, add the white wine and let simmer down, then add the olives, capers, ketchup, cumin and pepper and simmer until the picadillo thickens.

P1120423

Discard the bay leaves and serve warm.

I cannot seem to do justice to the food styling on this one…a pile of ground beef looks like, well…so you will just have to take my word. Just try it.  If you eat meat, you will count the ways, too.

How Do I Love Thee?

By in Uncategorized Tags: , , ,

By Lisa

A few weeks ago, Kory and flew to Los Angeles to attend the Annie Awards, for which he was a judge.  I wore shoes with feathers. Kory wore a really nice suit.

We had a fancy hotel room, cocktails, a terrific lunch date,  Korean food at the best Korean spa in town, picadillo at Mercedes Grill, drinks with my best friend from grad school at a new lounge, owned by someone we watch on TV.

It was our first weekend away from the kids in 6 years.  It was love and sunshine all around.

At home with my parents, the kids had a blast, too. We arrived home just in time to watch my childhood team win the Superbowl and eat big bowls of my mother’s chili, with cornbread cooked by Ella.

And that would have been the end of it, except yesterday, Ella typed up a poem about that chili. She claims the chili is better than mine, which, being meticulously prepared from Pierre Franey’s recipe, I freely admit that it was is. I have permission to quote you only a few lines:



from How do I Love Thee?

by Ella

How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways. I remember the last time I saw you.  The crumbles of cornbread resting upon your warm top.  The delicious steam rising up and the tasty chunks of meat swirling at your warm surface.  You look like heaven in a bowl.//

…

I remember the last time I smelled you.  The chili powder going up my nose. The beans in the broth and the fire on the stove….//

I remember the last time I tasted you.  Your freshly baked cornbread and the delicious sauce in my mouth.  I loved your black beans.  You taste like the best meal in the world.

I dream of the next time we will be together.  I love you, chili, for it is you who makes dinner the best meal of the day.

Cornbreads + flags by Ella

The full recipe is yours for the asking:

Chili a la Pierre Franey, from 60-Minute Gourment

  • 1 lb very lean coarsely ground pork
  • 1 lb very lean coarsely ground beef
  • 1 T olive oil
  • 2 cups  finely chopped onions
  • 1 cup finely chopped green pepper
  • 1 cup finely chopped celery
  • 1 T finely minced garlic
  • 1 T crumbled dried oregano
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 2 t ground cumin
  • 3 cups tomatoes with tomato paste
  • 1 cup beef broth
  • 1 cup water
  • salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
  • 1/2 t dried hot re d pepper flakes
  • 2 cups drained kidney beans
  • Sour cream as garnish, optional
  • Lime wedges as garnish, optional
  1. If possible, have the pork and beef ground together coarsely.
  2. Heat the oil in a large heavy kettle and add the meat.  Cook, chipping down and stirring with the side of a heavy metal kitchen spoon to break up the lumps.
  3. Add the onions, green pepper, celery, garlic, oregano, bay leaves and cumin. Stir to blend well.
  4. Add the tomatoes, broth, water, salt and pepper to taste, and add the red pepper flakes. Bring to the boil and cook, stirring often, about 20 minutes. Add the beans and cook 10 minutes longer. Serve in hot bowls with a doll0p of sour cream and lime wedges, if desired.

The clothes made the food

By in Uncategorized Tags:

By Lisa

Last night, we came home from Ella’s soccer practice at about 5:15 pm, and I set to preparing dinner.  Ella and I had about 45 minutes before Finn and his dad returned from their soccer practice. Plenty of time for me to get dinner done and Ella to finish her homework and shower and have a little pre-dinner snack.  Since Kory has been coaching Finn’s rec-league team, Mondays are the only weeknight we eat together. So I set the table, lit the spooky house candle, and we were all set up to go when Kory and Finn walked in the door at 6:02 pm.

And then, as dads are known to do, Kory hijacked the orderly schedule. He ducked into the office and pulled out a tall box that had been delivered while Ella and I were at her practice. “The HALLOWEEN COSTUMES!” Ella screamed. Then Finn began screaming. Then they both began jumping up and down. And screaming.

“After dinner,” Kory said.

Before the kids could bellow, “NO. FAIR.” (which they did) I gave him a look  and said, “No way.”  These costumes have been anticipated since August.  Family dinner–and my sanity–depended on immediate access.

So the box was slit open, and in less than three minutes, we had a sort of scary ninja and a super cute witch leaping around the living room. I cannot show you the pictures because that would ruin the fun. And the kids would kill me.  There was much talk of accessories. Knives and ravens and stuff.

The costumes came off for dinner, but the magic prevailed.  The food was nothing special, but it did include a bunch a family favorites; picadillo, warm tortillas, a big pile of padrones, a bowl of really fresh raw carrots, a can of cuban black beans. It was delicious. But what was even better was the family harmony. We talked and talked about halloween, and costume ideas for me and Kory (rejected by the kids:  Phineas and Isabella, anything Star Wars, Leonardo and Mona Lisa, Mr. & Mrs. Dursley, The Weasleys), chatted about Finn’s birthday, and soccer, and a whole lot of other things.  We ate and ate and talked and talked, and just were. And I was grateful for them all. And Halloween.

A really casual dinner

Fall Food

By in Uncategorized Tags:

By Lisa

And just like that, summer is over. We knew it was coming, but that definitive moment, when you look at a tomato and think, I’ve had enough had not yet come. But it always comes.  At the height of summer, I think I can never get enough tomatoes, and then one day, I have.  It has something to do with a turn in the weather, being saturated by a particular food, and the fact that all food has a peak time for eating.

On Sunday night, I served the kids gazpacho, the soup they could not get enough of all summer long, and they took one slurp, made that face, and rejected it. It didn’t taste right, they said. And they were right. Though still abundant, the tomatoes are no longer at their peak, and there’s something less satisfying about facing them on a cool fall night.   There is no longer harmony between the things of summer and our table.  Then, yesterday, there was the matter of the peaches, which were still in the market on Sunday, and I sampled them, but the ones I brought home, though ripe, were dry. I tried to bake them with amaretti cookies, brown sugar, and butter, but even then, the texture was mealy.

Yesterday, it rained, soccer was canceled, and while the kids built things, I roasted: tomatoes (to freeze) , squash, carrots, fennel, raddichio, a pork tenderloin.  Today it’s sunny; tomorrow it will rain again. Bracketed by this damp weather, I’m thinking about transition food.  It’s the food that takes us into the heart of winter. It’s warm and comforting, but is just shy of the roasts and stews and gravys that we eat when it’s really cold (okay, cold for me). I’m thinking warm and colorful; earthy but not too bright; satisfying but not too heavy.  In other words, not unlike my fall sweaters.

To wit, I have on hand apples and sausages, beef for the likely return of picadillo, a bin full of leafy greens to sautee and cream, carrots, fennel, chops, makings for quiche, roasted tomatoes, roasted peppers, winter squash, fixings for warm soups, and pastas.

Tonight I plan to pull out the rest of the pork tenderloin (which was marinated in mustard, red wine vinegar, honey, and fennel), chop it roughly and serve it in warm flatbread, maybe with some roasted peppers, kale crisps, and butternut squash on the side.

In other words, we’re getting ready. But since I generally find transitions unsettling, I’d love to know: What are your favorite fall dishes, and how do you welcome the cool weather to your table?


Al Fresco Dinner with Cuban Black Beans

By in Uncategorized Tags: , ,

by Lisa

We’re having a mini-love affair with all things Cuban in our home, which began with Picadillo and may have reached its peak when I read Pete Wells’ piece about scorching but not ruining a batch of black beans.

These beans take some time, but they are surprisingly easy  to make and they are completely, fantastically delicious.  Delicious as in you could eat them for your last meal delicious and never regret a thing. They’re great with rice, or a little picadillo, or fresh tortillas and a side of your favorite slaw.  In the spontaneous spirit of Wells’ piece, I’ve found they’re still terrific if you leave out the ham hock (but better with it in), and certainly you can adjust the heat of the jalapeno for your family.  Certainly, vegetarians can find a work-around for the meat.  They’re great for a family dinner, they’re great leftover, and they’re really great for company.  However you subtly adapt these for your kitchen, just try these. I promise you:  The husband loves them. The kids adore them.  They’re a revelation all around.

We ate them first on a warm spring night, for a really casual al fresco dinner on the lovely bench the husband built. Finn set the bench.

Ella personalized the place cards.

Here’s the recipe as it originally appeared in the New York Times:


Cuban Black Beans

  • 11/2 green peppers, stemmed and seeded
  • 10 garlic cloves
  • 1 pound dried black beans, rinsed and picked over to remove any stones
  • 1 smoked ham hock
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 5 teaspoons salt, or to taste
  • 1/4 cup olive oil
  • 4 slices thick bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
  • 1 Spanish onion, diced
  • 1 jalapeño, stemmed and finely chopped
  • 1 teaspoon dried oregano
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground
  • black pepper
  • 3 tablespoons distilled white vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon turbinado or other brown sugar.

1. Cut 1 green pepper into 1-inch squares. Smash and peel 4 of the garlic cloves. Put the green pepper and garlic into a large pot with the beans, ham hock, bay leaves and 1 tablespoon salt. Add 2 quarts water and bring to a boil. Cover the pot and simmer until the beans are tender, an hour or more.

2. Meanwhile, make a sofrito. Cut the remaining ½ green pepper into ¼-inch dice. Peel and finely chop the remaining garlic. Heat the olive oil in a very large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the bacon and cook, stirring occasionally, until it starts to brown, about 5 minutes. Add the green pepper and onion and cook, stirring, until slightly softened, about 3 minutes. Add the garlic, jalapeño (leave out the seeds if you don’t want it too spicy), oregano, cumin, black pepper and 2 teaspoons salt and stir for another minute. Pour in the vinegar and scrape any browned bits from bottom of pan with a wooden spoon. This is your sofrito.

3. When the beans are cooked, discard the bay leaf. Remove and set aside the ham hock and let it cool. Transfer 1 cup of beans to small bowl, mash them into a paste with the back of a fork and return to the pot. Add the sofrito, then the sugar. Pull the meat from the ham hock, leaving behind any white sinew or gristle. Chop the ham into ½-inch pieces and return it to the bean pot.

4. Stir the beans well and bring to a boil over medium heat, then lower to a simmer and cook, uncovered, for 20 minutes or so, skimming any foam from the top. Taste for salt and serve with white rice. Serves 8 to 10. Adapted from “Tastes Like Cuba,” by Eduardo Machado and Michael Domitrovich.