Posts Tagged ‘Dominican Republic’
Magnificent Mangú03.09.11
Mangú with cebollita, huevito and jamoncito
For me, weekends are for sleeping in, seeing friends, catching up on life and most importantly, indulging in the luxury of time. Creating elaborate breakfast dishes is such a treat that I sometimes enjoy the process more than the actual tasting (ahem, NOT). Mangú con huevo, the quintessential breakfast dish from the Dominican Republic is the perfect case in point. Mangú, or mashed green plantains, is made by boiling green plantains and crushing them with olive oil and butter until they’re soft and creamy. In the D.R., mangú is typically served with fried cheese, fried salami (a local sausage), sunny side eggs and avocado. The end result is a feast of textures: the smoothness of the egg yolk balances the density of the plantain, the cheese and salami add a salty crisp and the avocado a cool refuge for your taste buds.
As I prepared this beloved breakfast dish on a recent Saturday, I was reminded of a drive I took with the family through the Dominican countryside, as we made our way to the mountains of Jarabacoa. The morning was rainy and fresh, and we stopped at the breezy roadside restaurant Típico Bonao which lures locals from all over the country to start the day with this dish and an aromatic cup of Dominican coffee. Mangú con huevo brings back this Dominican love, and nourishes the spirit as well as the belly.
Mangú con Huevo Serves 2
2 green plantains
olive oil
butter
salt
red onion
white vinegar
4 eggs
breakfast ham
“queso de hoja” cheese (optional)
avocado (optional)
Chop the ends off each plantain. Make slits throughout the plantain, running the tip of your knife through the length of the fruit. Chop the plantains into 1″ chunks. Fill a pot with water and boil the plantain chunks for about 45 minutes.
While the plantains cook, thinly slice the onion and place the slivers in a bowl with 1 tablespoons of white vinegar, olive oil and salt. Stir these around until the onion gets covered and let it rest.
Check if the plantains are ready by piercing them with a fork. They should be tender when cooked. They will also be easy to peel. Remove their skin and place the chunks in a deep bowl. Pour a 1/4 cup of cooking liquid, a drizzle of olive oil, 1 tablespoon of butter and salt and start to mash with a masher or fork. Work through the pieces, alternating with the liquid, olive oil and butter, until you achieve your desired consistency.
Working quickly, pan fry the onions in a drizzle of olive oil and pour over the mangú. Cover with aluminum foil to keep warm. Next toss the ham, and fry the eggs sunny side up, on a non-stick pan. You can also deep fry the queso de hoja for an authentic latin kick and slice up some avocados on the side. Serve the mangú with the onions, eggs and ham. Eat immediately!
Capizzi Pizzeria brings la Nonna’s Sicily to Hell’s Kitchen10.22.10
Pizza at Capizzi with San Marzano tomatoes
When I was a little girl, my parents would take us out to eat pizza, usually after school functions, to celebrate birthdays or early Sunday nights. We would go to Pizzarelli, the quintessential Dominican pizzeria, or Pala Pizza, another chain run by Italian family friends. All the pies were wonderful, sweet and tangy, perked up with enough extra local oregano and albahaca needed to satisfy the Dominican palate. The taste and smell of these Dominican pizzas has been forever embedded in my senses, yet it was the way they were created that gave me the most pleasure. I would watch the pizza maker pull and stretch the dough until it was pliable enough to toss in the air, and wouldn’t take my eyes off the flying disk. For a 7-year-old, the process was hypnotic and as cool as the most dazzling magic trick.
I give you this background because walking home today, my memories of pizza pie were stirred up like the particles inside a snow globe. I discovered a new pizza joint in my neighborhood. Even though there is tough competition–a few blocks away pizza is sold by the slice for 99 cents–this place is unique. Capizzi Pizzeria is warm and inviting, with wooden tables, a vintage fridge, and assorted knickknacks on the walls. The restaurant specializes in Sicilian-style pies and features four kinds on the menu plus a list of toppings that includes caramelized onions, sausage, roasted peppers and garlic. Joe, the owner, is a friendly guy, and according to one of the servers, opened the restaurant in honor of his Grandmother. I wanted to stay, but in my haste to finally make it home after a long, strange week, I waited for my pie at one of the tables while I sipped some water. I looked at the chef preparing my pie, happily flinging the dough high into the air and dressing it with the San Marzano tomatoes and parmeggiano before sticking it into the brick oven. Even though I couldn’t hear him, I could swear that he was whistling.
I raced home, hugging the pizza box, in order to keep the pie warm on this nippy night. I bolted through the door and laid the box on the kitchen table. After settling in, I picked up a slice and carried it with me to the couch. With the first bite vibrant red tomatoes popped on my tongue. The cheese was sparse, yet full of flavor. The dough was light and fluffy. As I polished 1, 2, 3, 4 slices, the flavors reminded me of a bowl of spaguetti. It tasted like something Grandma would have made–it was sweet, bright and made with love.
Alexia’s Pastelón11.29.09
This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.
Throughout the past 5 days, I’ve gotten many requests for this recipe. Although we are now in the December holiday territory, I urge you to make this sweet potato casserole, or pastelón in Dominican. I got the recipe from my cousin Alexia whom I love with all my heart.(gracias alexia!) Now, it is in your hands my friends. All I can say is that once you make this, prepare to be loved, your holidays will never be quite the same again.
Alexia’s Thanksgiving Pastelón
3 cups mashed sweet potatoes
1 cup sugar
½ cup butter
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla*
½ can of evaporated milk
Ground cinnamon*
Pancake syrup*
Peal the sweet potatoes, cut in quarters and boil in salted water for approx 30 minutes or until soft. Drain and mash slowly with a fork. Add the butter, sugar, evaporated milk, vanilla, cinnamon, maple syrup and the egg yolks.
Beat the egg whites and fold in the mixture. Place in baking dish.
Cover with the topping below.
Topping:
½ cup brown sugar
¼ cup all purpose flour
2 1/2 teaspoons butter (hard)
½ cup chopped walnuts
Ground cinnamon
Bake at 350F for approx. 30 minutes.
* Means: “al ojo” or approximate measurements
Marshmallow woman
When you think of Thanksgiving, what is the first thing that comes to mind? For me it’s a can of jellied cranberry, which I thought was the best cranberry sauce in the world. It is when I moved to the northeastern U.S. that I suddenly started thinking twice about it, and eventually got more snobby with my cranberry sauce, choosing more natural interpretations that could be traced back to the actual fruit. What I finally realized was that what I had been serving with turkey all those years, was a far cry from the deep burgundy sauce prepared in kitchens all over the country with sugar, water, spices and of course cranberries.
In the Dominican Republic, unless you’re somehow linked to the U.S.(have family here, have studied here, have an American spouse, etc), Thanksgiving is not a popular holiday. In my home though, the celebration was welcome every year. Mom instituted the tradition after celebrating it herself with her own family. Although the stories were always nebulous, I gathered that her father, my grandfather, had lived in Puerto Rico and had himself adopted the tradition.
Decades later, my kitchen in Santo Domingo buzzed whenever Turkey day would come along. My aunt Tiita took over one of the counters, mixing her secret “Russian” potato salad adding a little of this and a little of that until it was just perfect. Mom pulled out the glistening golden turkey for one last baste. Plantain pasteles filled with shredded chicken boiled in a huge pot. Piping hot rice with kidney beans (moro) was scooped into a huge bowl, sweet potato casserole with marshmallows toasted in the oven.
The table was set. The feast was underway. I had the task of slicing the cranberry “sauce”. I loved the feel of my knife going through the shiny jelly shaped like its can. I loved how each ring was equal to the next and I took pride in lining them up, each one resting on the next. Then families and friends who had gathered on the terrace enjoying the (hopefully) cooler breezes of November and laughing and drinking would gather round the table. My Mom would give thanks, her spirit as bright as her blond bob. We would dig into the spread of American and Dominican dishes, and forget that these moments existed only for that day.
In our minds, they would always come again, they would last forever.
Food For Thought