The Double-Double deserves a standing ovation.

You know I love to cook.
And you know I love my Cuban food.

But you have to realize that I'm also just a Suburban Mom most days.

And sometimes I do get supremely tired of schlepping (in Spanish, I think "arrastrando" would be the comparable word) my kids to classes and practices and friend-outings and all that.

For someone who homeschools, lately it feels like I've been spending a lot of time in the minivan.

So what do we do in the Darby household when we're running late and Mami doesn't feel like cooking?
Fast food? McD's?  (A shudder just went through my entire body.)

Ah, but we here in the southwest have a not-so-secret-alternative to regular fast food:

The Legendary In-N-Out Burger.  (Insert angelic choir here.)

Available only in California, Arizona, Nevada and Utah -  sorry, Rest of the Country!

Their fries are made with real potatoes. They use only the freshest produce. There is nothing (nothing!) like a freshly made In-N-Out Burger.  (Can I get an "Amen?")

If you're traveling anywhere in the Southwest, please do yourself a favor and just eat there. I mean it. Put it on your Bucket List as something to do at least once in your lifetime. At this point in my post I'm wishing I was somehow getting paid for this glowing endorsement, but that's not important right now.

And if you Know Stuff because, like me, you've been eating at In-N-Out these past 30 years, you will know what to order from their Not-So-Secret Menu.

You're wondering what this has to do with anything involving my big, fat, Cuban family, aren't you? Well, we always stop at the In-N-Out in Barstow whenever we drive to Vegas, it has seriously become part of our driving-to-Vegas tradition. (Barstow is at about the halfway point between Mission Viejo and Las Vegas, but that's not important right now, either.)

It turns out that In-N-Out is celebrating their 60th anniversary and no, they haven't lowered their prices - it turns out that that was just a rumor - but because we celebrate everything else, we're going to In-N-Out for dinner tonight to celebrate their 60 Years of Awesomeness.

Which means that not only is Mami not cooking... 

It further means that Eric can have his "Double-Double, Animal Style, with Extra Grilled Onions and Crispy Fries."
And we will actually clap, and possibly jump to our feet, when they bring out our food.

You know us... any chance to celebrate.  =D

Going south.

About 30 years ago (or... in another life) I was vacationing in Mexico and stumbled onto a lovely resort near Monterey, Mexico.  The food was your high-end resort fare and with one exception, mostly forgettable.

The exception? Avocado Cocktail.
Like shrimp in cocktail sauce, but instead it was made with fresh Haas avocados.

Genius!

It remains, to this day, one of the highlights of my trip.

Incredibly easy to throw together. Surprising and delightful to the taste buds.

Eric and I are leaving for Mexico tomorrow and in honor of that, I made these beauties last night:

So... would this be considered a Cumexican-American food?  ;-)

The recipe is posted over at Babalú blog 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)

It smells like a Cuban home

When I was growing up, I remember that each day I woke to a most distinctive blend of aromas.
I knew my dad was up and getting ready for work when the mingled scents of Vitalis, Bustelo, and H.Upmann Finos insinuated themselves into my dreams and yanked me out of my sound sleep.

To this day, the distinctive aroma of Cuban coffee gives me a sense of security. Seared into my subconscious, along with the smell of coladitos is the knowledge that my Dad was working and all was right with the world.

Odd, isn't it? I mean I know I'm talking about cheap after-shave, cigarettes and coffee. But it was Eu de Papi to me. My dad was not present much. He worked very hard to support our family and for that I'm grateful. But when he was present, so were the Bustelo and the H.Upmanns. Such was my life.

It occurred to me that my kids are growing up with a completely different view of what Dad and Security means to them.

And that it looks something like this:

 

Their idea of dad going to work is the whirr of the laptop firing up. Which is why I make sure there's always some Bustelo brewing. There's a certain continuity there, don't you think?
I'd hate for them to miss out on the smell of freshly brewed espresso in the morning. Or maybe I'd hate for Eric to miss out... Or maybe it's just my own stuff.... It's all a blur now...

All I know is that the aroma of espresso in the morning means that Dad is working and all is right with the world. ;-)

Belgian Waffles Recipe - Easy Like Sunday Morning

Ask any of them: "What's dad's favorite meal?"

No hesitation: "Breakfast."

"What would he order?"

No hesitation: "Belgian waffle."

Wherever we go on vacation, or out to breakfast, he always orders the Belgian Waffle. Usually with strawberries if they're in season.  So, Father's Day breakfast was a no-brainer: Belgian Waffles with strawberries, powdered sugar and whipped cream. The kids prefer them with a little bit of maple syrup.

I just went ahead and made the scrambled eggs and bacon. Just to take the meal to the next brunch-like celebratory level. My husband is so easy to please. In fact, I just took the Belgian Waffle Recipe from the Bisquick people and tweaked it to make it a tiny bit better.

Him: "Wow, Honey! This is the BEST Belgian Waffle I've ever had!" (he says this every time I make them, but that's not important right now.)

Me: "You're so easy."
Him: "Yes, but I'm not cheap."

Belgian Waffles Recipe a la Darby
(you'll need a Belgian Waffle Iron for these)

2 cups Bisquick
1 1/3 cup milk
4 Tbsp. melted butter
1 egg

1) Stir together all the ingredients.
2) Pour batter into center of hot waffle iron.
3) Cook for just about 2 minutes or until golden brown & steaming stops.
4) Carefully remove waffle and serve hot.

Top with any of the following:

• Fresh strawberries, powdered sugar and whipped cream.

• Powdered sugar and maple syrup.

• Mango slices and maple syrup. (Ummm... that would be for Belgian Cuban Waffles. =D)

Happy Father's Day!

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.

The decadence of capitalism

I'm so jaded.
I forget that we live such a privileged lifestyle.
I take so much for granted.
Until I have an out of town visitor who, every time I show him something declares he's never seen anything like it before.
Like Sprinkles.
There was a "cola." A line snaking out of the front door and wrapping around the shops.
The people seemed absolutely content to stand in the line. They waited patiently. Quietly. Courteously.
To buy cupcakes. CUPCAKES, people!
"No lo creo."  ("I don't believe it.")
Welcome to Newport Beach, California. Home of the three dollar and twenty-five cent cupcake. And the endless line of patient consumers waiting for their cupcake fix.

It seems wrong somehow to spend that much for a cupcake, I know.
A little decadent.
I agree.
But we stood patiently in line and waited our turn. (Which you have to admit was a lovely demonstration of the civility of a democratic society, but that's not important right now.)
And happily forked over the $3.25 for the cupcake.

Did I feel guilty?
Maybe for just a moment, until I took that very first bite.
Guilt? What? Where?

Perfection, Red Velvet is thy name. =D

The sweet part

My brother, Rudy, and his beautiful wife, Carmen flew in from Texas yesterday - for the funeral. 

"I'm going to make arroz con pollo," Amy declared authoritatively. (She made enough arroz con pollo to feed the small army that is my big, fat, Cuban family, but that's not important right now.) 

First, Eric and I arrive with the kids. Rudy and I hug for a long time. Not saying what we're both obviously thinking. That we're so glad to see each other even under these difficult conditions. 

Then my niece shows up and three of my sisters arrive. We hold Ofelia, the widow, and let her cry in our familiar arms for a while. Her loss is our collective loss.

But there's all this great food on the table which gives us something to do other than stare at each other's red-rimmed eyes.

We start talking about the shock of Rafael's death, and eventually the conversation takes the inevitable turn to the wonderful stories we all have about him and soon we're laughing loud and hard.

None of us venture to even get up from the table. We don't want to miss a moment of this, because this is the sweet part.  The part where we're all siblings once again. Where we reminisce together about growing up with each other and we can laugh knowingly at my mom and dad's antics.  We remember and remind each other to tell our favorite stories.  We all know the punchline - we wait for it anyway and laugh in all the same places. Adam asks my brother about the midnight pancakes and is delighted to hear the story told once again. 

My kids listen spellbound. They miss half of the conversation as we flow easily from English to Spanish and then back. It is a fascinating familial/bilingual dance we're doing. They seem to naturally understand that this is where we all need to be right now.  That this is where we all find comfort.

Too soon we'll have the business of the funeral to attend to and we'll do this again on a much larger scale after the memorial service with all those who will come to pay respects.  But this familiar after-dinner scene we call sobremesa in Spanish is where the heart of my family is found. It is the Cuban custom of after-dinner conversation. No one jumps up to do dishes. Instead we linger, pulling the warmth around us like a blanket. We're reluctant for the magic to end, so we stay as long as possible. So many memories to share that were made in moments just like this.

On my way home I realized that I would never forget this night and that we had inadvertently done it again - we had made another sweet, sweet memory which we will one day recount at another sobremesa on another day.

Life goes on.

Celebration of Chocolate

Chocolate chips, butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla.
Five simple ingredients.
But. . .
mix them together in the proper proportions and they become. . .

Chocolatón!- an impossibly rich chocolate mousse. It's important that you pronounce it using a Spanish accent with an especially heavy emphasis on that last syllable. (Don't ask why. Just go with it. =D)

Eric calls it Death by Chocolate.
At least that's what I think he said. It was hard to understand him with his mouth so full of mousse. ;-)

(The recipe is posted over at Babalú today along with the story of why Valentine's Day is a bittersweet holiday for me.)

A dinner to DIE for. . .

Meet my vampirish children:
Dwayne Denartery and Anita Lotta Tai-Pei.  ;-)

(aka: Jonathan and Lucy as their murder mystery characters)

Jonathan turned twelve a few days ago.  And poor guy, he always gets the short end of the celebration stick around here, since his birthday is five days after Christmas.  It's not that we don't celebrate, (you KNOW we do) but it's never a big party. 

It always takes me by surprise.  Always.  (how embarrassing is this?)  December 25th - Christmas comes. Then the day after (the 26th) , I am sitting basking in the wow-I-pulled-it-off-again glow of the day after Christmas and then usually on the 27th I jolt awake from a sound sleep and yell "Good God! It's Jon's birthday in three days!"  Okay, I confess.  I know.  Bad Mother.  There I said it.  = ( 

But, lucky for me, this kid has never complained or cared.  He feels loved and secure (he always says) and I don't need to do anything big to prove to him that I love him.  Shut. up.  (how amazing is that?)

Ah, but having been raised a Catholic Cuban Woman (which always wins the Trifecta of the Guilt Olympics) I cannot let it lie.  I might be a Bad Mother, but I'm an Awesome Party Planner. ;-)

So, this was the year.  We had a big murder mystery dinner with Jonathan and his friends.  I remembered to invite them two weeks before Christmas.  (ooh, there must be a prize for this somewhere. =D)

It was a dinner party for eight called "Barbecue with the Vampire" (as opposed to interview) and each guest had a character to play and was to come in costume.  What a great group of suspects we had!  Their parents were present also and we had a great big Pulled Pork Barbecue dinner (looked a little like shredded flesh, but that's not important right now) and a fabulous Death by Chocolate Cake!

My favorite part of this whole affair was the decorating and getting it all together and making all the preparations and of course, we all helped detect who among us was a killer.  (I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. =D)  (notice the garlic scattered about the table. . .)

In fact, all the free surfaces in the house were covered with garlic.
This is what you would've seen if you had come to our front door that night:
That's right, I added garlic and bats to my lovely Christmas wreath.  It totally works, doesn't it?  ;-)

So, the party is over. And now

I have pounds and pounds of garlic. . .

My son is deliriously happy. He got his party. And I have tons and tons of garlic.
What to do?

MOJO CRIOLLO! (of course!!)

7 cloves garlic
1 teaspoon salt
1  medium-size onion, very thinly sliced
1/2 cup sour (Seville) orange juice
  OR
1/4 cup sweet orange juice, MIXED WITH
1/8 cup each fresh lime and lemon juice

1) Using a mortar and pestle or a food processor, crush the garlic with the salt to form a thick paste. 2) In a mixing bowl, combine the garlic paste, onion, and juice, and let the mixture sit at room temperature for 30 minutes or longer.

3) Minutes before you are ready to serve the mojo, heat the oil over medium-high heat in a medium-size pan until it is very hot, add the garlic mixture (do this quickly because it will splatter), stir, and serve immediately.
4) To reheat, simmer over low heat until heated through, 6 to 8 minutes. The sauce keeps several weeks refrigerated.

We're already marinating a beautiful skirt steak in that killer mojo and singing old school Cuban songs and we've decided to call that meal,  Barbecue with A Cuban Choir.  And I'll tell you right now that it's going to be our BREATH that is the KILLER.  ;-)

I like it. =D