And then.... the Cuban Family moved in.

Years ago, my big, fat, Cuban family moved to a sleepy peanut-butter-and-jelly neighborhood in Anaheim, California.  Our house was at the end of a cul-de-sac where the other families had been living forever.  They had their own neighborhood traditions, including a 4th of July Block Party.  Life was predictable and quiet and everyone liked it that way, thank-you very much.

And then…. The Cuban Family moved in.

Marta, Alina, & Miriam. 1973.
(Notice we're dressed in some kind of western theme. See? I come by it honestly. =D)

We had moved in at the beginning of summer and were still unpacking boxes when the invitation came.  We were invited to participate in the Annual 4th of July Block Party and Potluck.

“Potluck?” (actually it sounded more like “PAAT – LOK?” but that’s not important right now.) My mom didn’t understand. “Que es eso?”  (“What is that?”)

We tried to carefully explain that everyone in the neighborhood literally brought something to the table.  We would share the food. Everyone was expected to bring something. 

“De todo un poco.” My dad simplified.  (“A little bit of everything.”)

My mom took great pains deciding what she would make to share with our new neighbors.  And if it was something to be shared as part of celebrating this great country’s independence, well, it should be something Grand.  Possibly even Regal.

She took great care in her preparations.  Like our adopted country, The Dish was to be something Magnificent, (not to mention delicious), it had to be Cuban, and it was meant to impress.  She wanted to give our neighbors the very best The Cuban Family had to offer. It took a while to prepare (I have l shortened the recipe since then), but the outcome was well worth it. 

We made a wonderful impression.  As it turned out, The Cuban Family was generous and welcoming and so patriotic!  Who knew?  ;-)

What did she finally make for the potluck?  Well, my mom made Arroz Imperial.  And it was such a hit that she made it every single 4th of July for the next twenty years.  The neighbors came to look forward to her signature dish.  In fact, from then on, she would only make it for the Annual 4th of July Block Party and Potluck.

I offer it to you today in Remembrance and with the thought that this is what makes America great:

“De todo un poco.”

[cross-posted today at Babalú is this story and my family recipe for Arroz Imperial.]

I wrote about my memories from September 2001 last year on this date. So did Amy Kikita.
My feelings and thoughts from then have not changed.

I will NEVER forget.

Se dice..."Peet-sah"

Husband: "This is really good. What kind of pizza is it?”

I make homemade pizza all the time, so that part doesn't surprise him.  It's the distinctly Cuban flavor that gives him pause....

Me: “It’s a Cuban pizza, of course.”

Husband: “Who are you trying to kid?? There’s no such thing as a Cuban pizza.”

“No such thing??”  (them’s fighting words….)

So, I bring in the heavy artillery.

“Mami, prueba esto.”  I ask my mom (self-proclaimed expert on all things Cuban) to taste my creation.

It reminds her of a pizza she used to eat in Varadero in pre-revolutionary Cuba and she says so.  She closes her eyes and savors another bite. 

The Authority has spoken. This is exactly what a Cuban pizza should taste like…

I throw my arms up over my head and do the victory dance. =D

My recipe for The Very Best Cuban Pizza EVER will be posted up at Babalú today.

The Perfect Blend

I just got back from Miami and I’ve got to admit:

If there’s one thing Cubans know how to do well (besides dancing and cooking and arguing, but that’s not important right now =D), it’s how to make the Best Coffee on This Earth.

Seriously, every Cuban home I was lucky enough to have been a guest in, served the most delicious, practically perfect, just-sweet-enough-with-the-perfect-amount-of-“espumita” cup of Cuban coffee.  But more than that, what I absolutely loved was that every single person who made the coffee prided themselves in their creation.  And in every home there’s always the One Person who gets asked to make the coffee because they just “know” how to make it right.

So today, because I love you and I know what’s good for you, I am going to share with you the Perfect Blend of art and science, which will produce that just-sweet-enough-is-there-anything-better-than-this? -God-I-love-being-Cuban cup of Café Cubano.

And as much as I hate to admit it, in my house, I’m not The Coffee Maker. My daughter, Kikita is.  Which makes us The Perfect Blend: I cook the meal. She makes the coffee.

See what I mean? Perfect. ;-)

How to Make Cuban Coffee

You will need:

• Stovetop espresso maker

• Cuban-style coffee (Bustelo, Pilon, La Llave – get them here.)

• Glass or metal pitcher

• Demitasse cups

1) Fill the bottom of the espresso maker just to the valve.

2) Fill the strainer with Cuban-style coffee until it’s packed in well.
3) Screw the top on tightly.

4) Place on the stove, over medium flame, slightly to one side, so you don’t accidentally burn the plastic handle.

5) Place sugar by tablespoon in the glass (or metal) pitcher – the ratio is one Tablespoon of sugar per demitasse cup. Remember we like our cafecito SWEET.

6) When the coffee just begins to brew, remove from heat and pour a little bit into the pitcher with the sugar.

7) Place coffee pot back on the heat to finish brewing.

8) Meanwhile, stir the sugar/coffee mixture quickly until the bit of coffee melts down the sugar and you get it nice and frothy. (this is your espuma!)

9) Pour the rest of the coffee into the sugar mixture and stir. Very gingerly, scoop some of the froth and drop it in each cup.
10) Then very carefully pour the finished coffee into the cups making sure you don’t damage the espuma.
11) Sit back and enjoy. Not just the coffee, but if you’re The One, receive the compliments graciously. Smile, Look down. Blush if you can manage it. And say, “it was my pleasure.” And mean it. =D

(cross posted  at Babalú blog)

When in Rome...

It was a TOGA party we had last night for Adam's birthday.
(And yes, we did a sing along -  to Disney's Hercules)
I dressed in a toga.
I cooked dinner in my toga.
I became quite attached to my toga.
They're very comfortable and I think I look spectacular in RED.
Heck, this might turn out to be our Christmas card picture this year.... (that wouldn't surprise me).

Meanwhile the neighbors are thinking.... "Are the Darbys wearing TOGAS tonight???"
I swear. I'm serious about the Christmas card thing...

I took a moment from the frivolity to go post a recipe at Babalú for Pastel de Pollo.
But I quickly came back here. I wouldn't want to miss the fun!
TOGA!  TOGA!  TOGA!  =D

Extreme dessert names?

I publicly disclose a private fantasy today over at Babalú.

You're curious now, aren't you?
Don't get excited.
It's just another uber-geeky moment I've taken to the extreme.
I made this amazing caramely-coated-flaming-bananas-over-ice-cream-and-pound-cake dessert thing. (kind of like a Bananas Foster, but not....) but I need a better name than Marta's Bananas. (I know. yawn. but there was a good reason.)

Adam thought a fun name would be Flaming Bananas of Death.

I thought people might be put off by the "... of Death" part.

Go check out my recipe, then come back and let me know if you have any ideas for a new name - I'm open to suggestions....

Why it's hip to be Cuban in So Cal this month

If I am surrounded by Cuban people, food, and music, you can bet that I'm probably with my big, fat, Cuban family or that I'm back in Miami.  So imagine my absolute delight to find myself in this situation yesterday in Laguna Beach (practically in my own backyard, but that's not important right now) and (wait for it,Theater Geeks...) at a Cuban play!

Our local venue for this surge of Cubanism was The Laguna Playhouse. The play was Alexandros written by Melinda Lopez and this weekend was the world premiere.

Abuela, matriarch of a Cuban exile family is celebrating her 75th birthday. Apart from her age (our matriarch is 94), it could have been set at my house with my own family.  And it was laugh-out-loud funny all the way through, with just enough poignancy to make the characters accessible and familiar.

 

Loved. It.
Loved each and every one of the characters.
Loved the way they portrayed "us."
Loved the way the story unraveled.
Loved the familiarity of the Cubanisms.
Loved the Cuban food at the reception afterwards. (from Havana Mania and Porto's)
Loved the Cuban party.
Loved that the final words spoken on stage (by Chaz Mena) were: "Viva, Cuba Libre!"

Each of the five cast members is amazingly talented and I thought it was very cool that the young daughter was played by the lovely Katharine Luckinbill (granddaughter of Cuban royalty, Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, daughter of Lucie Arnaz).

My Amy Kikita was loving the music at the reception afterwards....

A totally fun Cuban play about a totally fun Cuban family.
They might as well have called it My Big, Fat, Cuban Family.... but, oh wait....

that name was already taken. =D

 

Cuban Menu Planning

This week I'll be teaching you how I create a quick and simple Cuban menu plan for the week. 
You'll have to go here to get it. 
Menu Planning + Papas Rellenas  = One Big, Fat, Happy Cuban Family!

And the number one reason why I could never live in Miami...

I admit it.
I have no willpower.
This place is open until all hours of the night.
And they serve Cuban food, people.
Fabulous Cuban food!
And pastries.
Amazing Cuban pastries!
And I have no willpower.
It's like the Cuban Mecca.
And I am a faithful pilgrim.
To go to Miami is to go to Versailles.
And seriously, if I lived in Miami, well....
you can imagine!
Cuban food!
At all hours!
I would certainly rise to that challenge.
Did I mention that I have no willpower?
I would find myself completely out of control.
So it's a very good thing that I don't live in Miami.
In fact, I was kind of relieved when we finally got to the airport last week to come home.
I could finally leave temptation behind me and breathe once again.

But when we arrived at the airport and to our departure gate, we found this:

Right next to our DEPARTURE GATE!
I took it as a sign from God.
(Thank you, God!)
That's Kikita and Adam making their "please, Mom, PLEASE!!" faces.
And it worked. Not much arm-twisting needed. ;-)

• Three Cuban sandwiches.
• Three bags of mariquitas.
• Three ice-cold Matervas.
• Ummm.. FOUR pastelitos de guayaba. (por si... =D)

I know my limits. Don't judge me.

First things first

Because I'm an avid scrapbooker, family historian and documenter of all things in my family's life, you can be sure that I have recorded all of my kids' firsts:

• first smile
• first tooth
• first Christmas
• first days of school
• first time on stage
• first dance
• first (fill in the blank)

I could go on and on (oh, you know that I could)......

And so it is with great pride that I was able to document this first in my son's life:

Adam's first GUARAPO!

Okay, I'll explain.
"Guarapo" is a drink made from pure, fresh sugar cane.
Yes, you read that correctly.......
Sugar Cane Juice.

The juice is obtained by crushing sugar cane in an electric mill that separates the peel from the pulpy insides:

It was a fascinating process to watch and such a proud moment for this Cuban mom.
 
Okay. So maybe he was whirling around like a Tasmanian Cuban-American Devil for the rest of the day, but that's not important right now.   =D

Because I (Kikita) am obedient.

After a long day of working at the Babalu Booth and making sure people were signing the petition to free the political prisoners in Cuba, I asked Mami where we were going to have "dinner." (is it really dinner if it's after 11:30pm?)

 “We’re going to Versailles Amy, are you ready?”

And because I’m just so obedient, “Ok, Mami, I’m ready to have my dinner at Versailles now!"

As we were getting ready to leave, someone said they expected to see pictures of us at Versailles, and I’m just so obedient that I made sure we took pictures.

Ok, I’ve been to Versailles enough times to know that I shouldn’t be surprised to find a line out the door late at night, but I still couldn’t believe it! There were huge groups of people showing up. Some of them I recognized from Cuba Nostalgia, but then there were little girls in Rumbera Costumes, and young couples dressed in evening wear, and older couples dressed in evening wear, and people eating alone and . . . and I was so tired and so silly that I couldn’t stop staring and I couldn’t stop laughing.

We ordered at pile of . . . I’m not really sure what we ordered, it was so loud that we couldn’t hear the waiter, so when it sounded like he was asking a question, we just nodded “Si.” Adam was daring enough to take the first bite of the fried something . . . “Oh, they’re just really thick French fries!”

Um, Adam . . . that’s not potato, that’s yuca. (My hermano is still kind of a “gringo”)

Despite Adam’s lack of Spanish, he was still able to order café and flan (I think it’s a Federal Mandate that if you’re visiting Versailles you have to order a cafecito y flan).

But he only ordered one flan . . . so the three of us had to share . . . and then there was only one big bite left . . . Adam and I went for it at the same time, so I was going to be nice and give it to him, and then we were going to fight over who should have the last bite. That’s when Mami swooped in, cut the bite in half, and (since she was still feeling nostalgic) literally spoon-fed me.

Being the obedient daughter that I am, I gave in to the choo-choo noises and really enjoyed that last, tasty bite of custardy perfection.  =D

Sometimes, it's good to be obedient.