A big thing staring me in the face

Today, I woke up, made a pot of coffee and sat down to write a post about enchiladas with refried beans, avocado apple-mash and goat cheese. And about other small things that I like to write about, like the Tepoztlán-life that joins our household through the open windows, the summer squash-ricotta pancakes I made for breakfast and the butterfly that flew by. But, I wrote, there was a big thing staring in the face that kept me from writing about those little things. The big thing, I said, was machismo. I went on to explain that what I look forward to the most if I were to leave the machismo world for the non machismo world is to walk the streets in peace. Then I pressed ‘save concept’ instead of ‘publish’, because the possibility of an association between me and feminism makes me uncomfortable; even though that is changing now that I live in Mexico.

After all that I took Costeña and my camera for a long walk. While we were walking, I felt the constant urge to burst out crying. I couldn’t make up my mind about whether the tears would be of joy or sadness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I contemplated my almost-tears, I thought about Barbara, the lady I buy most of my groceries from. When Costeña and I walk into town I tell the dog “Barbara” and she knows where to go and to sit down in from of Barbara’s shop and wait for me. And I thought that maybe those almost-tears where tears of happiness; because even my dog knows the people I buy groceries from.

Then, when we were almost home, I saw a friend sitting on a bench on the town square. Costeña saw her too, but she did not see us. Because she was contemplatingly staring at nothing in particular. My almost-tears seemed to recognize her condition. And I thought that maybe my tears where those of melancholia.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Coming home though, and while mixing up banana-almond bread with the overripe bananas that my neighbor was selling, I was not satisfied with happiness and melancholia. I thought that my almost-tears were also tears of change. It occurred to me, I was very sure of it, that big change is coming up and my life as I know it will no longer be my life as I know it. There will be a big thing, staring me in the face, but, I believe it will be a good thing, a much better thing than pinche machismo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enchiladas with refried beans, avocado-apple mash and goat cheese

-6 corn tortillas

-4 medium red tomatoes
-1 clove of garlic in its skin
-1/2 small onion
-1/4 serrano pepper

-200 grams cooked beans (or rinsed canned beans)
-2 teaspoons dried oregano
-2 teaspoons ground cumin
-1/2 onion, minced
-1 clove of garlic, minced

-1 avocado, peeled and pitted
-1 small sweet apple, skinned and de-seeded, in chunks

-salt and pepper to taste

-leaves of fresh herbs

-goat cheese

-olive oil for frying

For the salsa 
-In a frying pan, without using oil, roast the union (in its skin), the pepper and the garlic clove (also in its skin) for about 10 to 15 minutes. Transfer the pepper to a plastic bag and let it cool for about 5 minutes. Then peel the union and the garlic and remove the charred skin from the pepper.
-Coarsely chop the tomatoes and mix them with the union, garlic and pepper and some salt in a blender. When you are almost ready to serve the enchiladas, heat the sauce.

For the refried beans
-Heat olive oil in a frying pan and add onion and garlic; bake until the union is translucent. Add oregano and cumin and heat. Then add the beans and heat, add the vegetable stock and heat. Then mash the mixture and keep warm.

For the avocado-apple mash
-Using a pestle or a blender, mash the avocado and the apple with a bit of salt and pepper.

-Fill the tortillas with refried beans, avocado apple-mash, goat cheese and some fresh herbs, roll up the tortillas and cover with tomato sauce.

Serves two.

I really wanted to bake whole wheat bread

I really wanted to bake whole wheat bread, but we are in the midst of the rainy season here and a lot of rain was pouring down when my bread baking urge came up.  After it cleared up, hours later, I decided I could take Costeña for a walk and I could stop by the small shop down the road to get some whole wheat flour.

They didn’t have any.

It was a bit too cold for the yellow tank top, Adidas jogging pants and flip flops I was wearing; a fresh post-storm wind was blowing and the green, red and white flags that announce the upcoming Independence Day were dancing in the wind.  But I really wanted to bake whole wheat bread and I decided I could go to another small shop down another road. First I bought a bag of white flour just in case the other small shop didn’t have any flour at all.

As I walked into the small shop in front of the church, Costeña waited on the sidewalk in front of the entrance. The girl in the small shop greeted the dog, but did not greet me. I didn’t mind. I’m used to it. Sometimes they do greet me in the end, but they always greet the dog first. It is a dog loving town is my impression. I grabbed a bag of flour, paid and Costeña and I walk home with the wind blowing on our backs.

When we were almost home, I had a good look at the bag I had just bought and I realized that even though that small shop probably did have whole wheat flour, because it has a lot of things that people who like whole wheat flour also like, such as black rice and tofu, I had bought another bag of white flour. I looked up at the sky. There appeared to be another storm coming. I thought we might just make it to the mini supermarket downtown and back home before it would start pouring down again. I mean, I really wanted to bake whole wheat bread.

Along the way, I talked to man who had a traumatic experience recently. He told me he was now part of a group of people who have all had traumatic experiences and who gather around a bonfire and drink Mexican chocolate and talk and cry about their experiences. He also told me his doctor had prescribed him long walks to make his blood pressure go down. I told him Costeña would love to go on long walks with him. Costeña, who had curled up behind the man, looked up as if she wanted to confirm what I was saying was correct.

By the time we got to the mini supermarket downtown they were just closing. Through the window, I asked the lady if they had any whole wheat flour. The ladies name is Barbara and she is a very good cook, I have never eaten any of her food, but I just know she is a very good cook. She walked to the back of the shop and I could hear her cry “híjole!” She really hates to disappoint her costumers. She came back and apologized. She held a bag of white flour in her hands. Would that do to? I didn’t want to leave without buying from her. She is so nice.

Simple white bread

-500 grams (4 cups) white flour
-7 grams (1 ½ teaspoon) salt
-1 small bag (11 grams/2 teaspoons) dried yeast
-400 (a little less than 1 ¾ cups) milliliters warm water
-1 teaspoon of sugar

-In a small bowl, mix yeast, sugar and a couple of tablespoons of the warm water. Mix and let sit until the surface get bubbly.

-In a large bowl, mix flour and salt. Then add the yeast mixture, mix and add the water. Mix and let it sit for about 15 minutes.

-Transfer the dough to a floured surface and knead for at least 10 minutes. If the dough is sticky, add flour until it no longer sticks to your hands. After kneading, transfer the dough to a clean bowl, cover with a damp cloth and let is rise for at least two hours (or overnight as I did).

-Transfer the dough to a floured surface and punch down the dough with your fist. Knead for another couple of minutes and form a loaf, or transfer to an oiled and floured baking dish. Let rise for at least two more hours.

-Preheat oven at 225 degrees Celsius (450 Fahrenheit). Place a small bowl of water in the back of the oven to create a humid environment. Slash the top with a sharp knife or a razor. Bake the bread for about 35 to 40 minutes, until slightly browned and it sounds hollow when tapping on the bottom of the bread. Let cool for 2o minutes before eating.

A 20 million people city that was quiet

On Monday November 10th 2008 I wrote in my diary:

“This morning, as I woke up, the city was extraordinarily quiet. For I while I thought that something profound had happened; that the world had ceased to exist. That everything and everybody had ceased to exist except me. Or that at least the whole of Mexico City was evacuated for some reason, but that they had forgotten about me, for some reason. For a while I listened to how extraordinarily quiet it was, then I got up and worked.

Rereading it I had the impression that I wrote it to someone, not just to myself or to my diary, but to a third person. I was writing it in my diary to remember to write it to this person. I don’t know if I ever did.

Rereading it, I could imagine how I found it worth mentioning to that third person. I hardly ever have that feeling of abandonment and silence in Mexico City. But yesterday it happened again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had returned to our empty 6th floor apartment just in time to escape the rain. I made myself a lunch salad and sat at one corner of our large kitchen table. I looked out over the city and saw mountains and volcanoes that seemed to float in the air, not connected to the sky or the earth. Clouds that were white, a dozen shades of gray and a light black and that floated rapidly, more rapidly than they ever seem to do in Mexico City. I saw buildings, some tall, but most of them short. A lot of them. I saw a quietness that seemed awkward for Mexico City. The city was abandonment by traffic noise, by construction workers’ noise, by talking or yelling, by the street vendors’ noise. There was a 20 million people city that was quiet. For a little while.

In the silence I looked at this recipe for arugula and goat cheese pesto. I thought that would be very tasty. And then I thought about the papaloquelite pesto that I had made recently. Immediately, its taste came back to my mouth, to my brain, my stomach, I got drenched in the taste of papaloquelite pesto. It has a taste that stays with you for a long time and that is so strong that it comes back to you easily when it had left you for a while. In the same way that I immediately remembered that one other moment of quietness in Mexico City, almost four years ago and looked it up in my diary.

Papaloquelite pesto

Papaloquelite is a variety of quelite, which is an umbrella term for different herbs that are native to Mexico. Papalo (as it is more commonly called) has a very specific taste that is sweet and fresh. The freshness reminds me of what you would like a detergent to taste like (I have always envied people who get it just right when they try to describe what a food tastes like, but believe me, it is worth trying).

-2 gloves of garlic, peeled
-2 tablespoons of almonds
-250 grams of papaloquelite leaves
-3 tablespoons of freshly grated manchego cheese
-250 milliliters (1 cup) of olive oil
-a pinch of salt

-In a food processor, grind the almonds and the salt to fine flour. Then add the garlic and blend until mixed well.
-Add the papaloquelite leaves a little at a time and blend them in as quickly as you can (the longer you blend, the warmer the mixture gets and the warmer it gets the more the leaves lose their bright green color).
-Add the cheese and finally the oil, mixing until you the mixture has the desired consistency.
-Transfer to a clean glass jar.

Note: I used a basic, traditional pesto recipe that I found here and then replaced the ingredients. You can use any kind of herb or greens, cheese and nuts combination that you like.

Bon appétit!

Ladies home makers…

The other day, it really was a while back already but as far as I know “the other day” is a flexible expression, the other day, I picked up two old Bon Appétit magazines in a bookstore in Tepoztlán. The bookstore is also a café that serves sandwiches that are a nice change from the common Mexican tortas that usually have meat, more meat, cheese and more cheese. The café serves sandwiches with roasted vegetables and hummus. For example. The café is run by American women; I guess that is why. Also important about the café is that they have a garden that some go crazy about. Like the local kids, or really, the foreign kids, because it is mostly foreigners who find their way to the café and our dog Costeña. She also goes crazy about the garden. She runs and jumps, sniffs and steals avocados from the tree. She carefully studies the behavior of the little children playing, or she lies down with a happy expression on her face and looks out over the mountain. As Alex and I like to do.

The magazine, Bon Appétit, is an American food and lifestyle magazine. It exists up until this day, but as far as I know only in an online version. I got the paper deal, the real deal. The magazines are from the years 1984, 1989, 1990 and 1992. Therefore, they are full of advertisements for cigarettes. In those days, people who smoked where beautiful, attractive, rich and successful. In these days, they are absolute losers.

I have been browsing through the magazines. Some recipes in particular attracted my attention. There was an article about French Bistro desserts in which a certain chocolate cake was described as “the next best thing to being there”. Being in Paris that is. Very attractive. And there was a recipe for a chicken salad that stayed with me for a while. I hadn’t actually made anything however, until I read about corn risotto.

Mexicans call themselves los hombres del maiz; the maize-people. Maize is more than the basis of almost every meal eaten in Mexico. According to the Mayan bible, the creators made Man out of maize. They tried other materials first, but only man made out of maize was strong enough to become a real man. In Mexico, maize creates and maintains life.

So if I live in Mexico, and have an old Bon Appétit magazine on my desk that has a corn risotto recipe in it, how can I not make it?

Therefore, the next time when the camion de elotes -the corn truck- came by and the loudspeakers cried: ‘ladies home makers, we have come to sell you corn! At only 15 pesos for a dozen ears! Don’t forget that we are only driving past, come out and buy your corn! I -even though I am not a home maker- ran outside and started swinging both arms up and down rapidly in an effort to flag down the truck. I think I took their message -don’t forget that we are only driving past- a little bit too seriously. The truck descended down the hill that leads to our house more slowly than we walk down the hill and came to a slow stop in front of our house. You only need three cups of maize kernels in this recipe, so I also exaggerated a bit when I bought twelve ears, but o well… only man made out of maize are strong enough to be real man. And the same accounts for women.

According to my magazine, the corn risotto goes well with chicken or beef, but I had it with a flava beans salad. And that was nice too.

Corn risotto

4 servings

-3 cups of corn kernels, cooked
-1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter
-3 tablespoons chopped shallots
-1/2 cup risotto rice
-1/4 cup dry white wine
-3 cups (and a little extra) vegetable broth
-1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

-Puree 2 cups of corn kernels. Add some vegetable broth, a tablespoon at a time, when the kernels do not puree.
-Melt butter in a heavy medium saucepan over medium heat. Add chopped shallots and sauté until translucent, about 5 minutes. Mix in rice and cook 1 minute, stirring constantly.
-Add white wine and cook until all liquid is absorbed, about 4 minutes.
-Add 3 cups of vegetable broth and cook 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
-Increase heat and boil until rice is thick and creamy, stirring occasionally, about 10 minutes.
-Add corn puree, the remaining corn kernels and the Parmesan cheese. Cook the rice another 3 minutes. Add more vegetable broth if necessary. Season with salt and pepper.

Strong and special

Yesterday, while we were having lunch, someone told me a story.

The someone who told me the story is a woman. She is a special woman. She is strong. There is a lot more to be said about her, and I am tempted to do so, but if I would have to pick two words, I would say that she is strong and special.

The story this woman told me is also special. It is so special that it stayed with me all through the night and while I was running this morning. It is a story about cats and about starting a new life.

The woman, her husband and her daughter were forced to start a new life. From one day to the other, they had to pick up some things that fit into their bags and go to a place far away and start a new life. The reasons they were forced to do so has to do with the very bad things that happen in this country sometimes. Too often.

But that is not the story she told me. Like I said, it is a story about cats.

About her daughther’s cats. About the cats that they were forced to leave behind. About the cats that had become part of that old life that was all gone. About the cats that had to stay in their old garden, fed by their old gardener.

The woman’s daughter, she is a teenager, cried a lot for not having anything left that reminded her of her old life.  She also cried a lot because of the very bad situation that had caused them to have to move.

Then the woman decided to call her veterinarian, the veterinarian from their old life. She asked him to go to her old garden, to the cats and to put them in cages and then put them on an airplane to the new life, to the teenage daughter  who cried for having nothing left of the old life.

On the day the veterinarian put the cats on an airplane the woman told her daughter they had to go to the airport because visitors would be arriving at two thirty in the afternoon. The daughter, truly a daughter of an investigator, interrogated and interrogated the woman as to find out who would be arriving. The woman would not tell.

When the daughter was told she had to go to abnormal luggage she looked surprised, when she saw the cages with the cats in them she looked even more surprised. And she cried out their names. And the cats cried back.

The old life was not all gone and some of the old life was now part of the new life and that made living the new life a little easier.

This was a story about cats and about starting a new life. It was also a story about having a home and how important cats can be in a home.

Not as important as cats, but also very nice to have in your home: guayaba jam.

Guayaba jam 

Ingredients: 
-2 kilos (4.5 pounds) of guayabas
-250 grams of brown sugar
-about two tablespoons of fresh ginger, minced
-water

-Peel and deseed the guayabas. Cut the flesh in small pieces. If you use two kilos of unpeeled guayabas you should have about 1 kilo of flesh left to use for the jam after peeling and deseeding.
-Transfer the guayaba to a large pan and combine with brown sugar and ginger. Add a little water; enough to cover the bottom of the pan. Bring to a boil and let simmer for about 10 minutes.
-Transfer into clean glass jars*, close jars and put upside down for about 15 minutes to close properly. Keep in the fridge.

*To clean glass jars, you can place them, and their (non plastic) lids, in a 100 degrees Celsius (210 F) oven for 15 minutes or place them in boiling hot water for five minutes.