¡Ándele! ¡Ándele! ¡Jaiba! ¡Jaiba!

Spring used to come in like a lion 'round these parts, but mostly it just arrives in fits and starts these days, feinting and dodging, teasing and mocking.  Sure, you'll get some warm, toasty days every now and then, but there's sure to be a few bitterly cold days (and nights), too.  And like our friend at the dépanneur down the street says, "You can't be sure of anything until May 15."  And even then...

 fig. a:  printemps québécois

Anyway, signs of spring usually begin sometime in March in Montreal (like most places in the Northern Hemisphere), but, foodwise, it takes a while to see a whole lot of rebirth going on.  With the exception of maple syrup, most of our spring flavours tend to show up in May and June.

Which is why snow crab is of such importance to people like us.  Not only are we enormous fans of crabmeat, but snow crabs are one of the earliest spring arrivals, and snow crab season is really the only time of the year we can get fresh, live, and regional crab here in Montreal.  Officially, the season is said to last from April to November, but our experience has been that in actual fact it's a very short season, lasting no more than about 6-8 weeks.  But, oh, is it ever sweet.  Or, at least, it can be.  And it's going on now.

Just how excited about snow crab are we?

Well, Michelle and Seth have been preparing a lovely snow crab pasta dish as part of their Quebec Spring/Printemps québécois menu at the Foodlab.  It features handmade/housemade tagliatelle cooked to perfection and tossed with a medley of spring vegetables (string beans, peas, shallots, and the first of the cherry tomatoes from our friends at Birri Brothers), herbs (chives and parsley), a generous helping of snow crab meat, and a beautiful crab cream.

And here at home we've been going to town on our very favourite tacos in the entire world:  tacos stuffed with salpicón de jaiba.



 fig. b & c:  crab tacos!

We've featured this recipe before, but it's an absolutely essential one, and a great way to stretch your crabmeat a little further, because, god knows, those snow crabs are tasty, but they can also be quite costly.  Here it is again, revised and updated:

Salpicón de Jaiba 

1 tbsp vegetable oil
1/4 cup finely chopped white onion
1/3 cup finely chopped celery
2 serrano or jalapeño chiles, seeded and finely chopped
1 cup cooked, shredded crabmeat
1 tbsp finely chopped cilantro
1/8-1/4 tsp crushed chili pepper blend (some combination of ancho, pasilla, arbol, chipotle, and/or New Mexico grande chiles)
salt to taste

Heat the oil in a skillet and cook the onion gently until translucent.  

Add the celery and sauté for about one minute.  Add the fresh chiles and sauté for 30-60 seconds.   

Add the crabmeat and fry until it is warmed through and begins to brown ever so slightly.  The mixture should be rather dry--remember, you're going to be placing it in a taco. 

Lastly, take the mixture off the heat, add the cilantro, salt, and chili blend, and toss, allowing the flavours to mingle for a minute or two before serving.

Serve with hot tortillas and plenty of fixings, like pico de gallo, sour cream or crema, hot sauce, and limes.

Makes enough to fill at least 8-10 corn tortillas. 

[based on a recipe from Diana Kennedy's The Essential Cuisines of Mexico]

Might seem a little strange to make Mexican tacos with Quebec crab, but, trust me, a little cultural exchange can be a good thing.

 fig. d:  Juan Carlos, the Mexican crab

 fig. e:  Jean-Charles, the Quebec snow crab

Go, Crabs, go!

aj

Little Old Lady From Cozumel

fig. a: tortilla press: Hecho en Mexico

So it was just before Christmas and we were in the process of finalizing our holiday food shopping. Christmas Eve was accounted for, Christmas was accounted for--Boxing Day was the only remaining question mark before New Year's. Except that it wasn't that much of a question mark. We'd enjoyed our Boxing Day meal--a home version of the classic Puerco Asado a la Cubana--so religiously the year before that we knew we wanted to stick with some kind of Latin American-style, slow-roasted pork dish. But the question was, do we repeat last year's recipe, or do we try something brand-new? As much as we love testing out new recipes, there's also something to be said for the tried and true, for tradition, and we're definitely not the kind of people who feel the need to innovate at every turn. So we were leaning towards an encore performance of the Puerco Asado a la Cubana when, suddenly, things took an unexpected turn.

You see, we'd just picked up a lovely pork shoulder from Porc Meilleur at Jean-Talon Market, and I'd already made sure that we had plenty of sour orange juice (i.e. Seville orange juice) at home in the freezer. We didn't need all that much more in the way of ingredients in order to make that succulent Cuban-style pork--just some Mexican oregano and some banana leaves and we were good to go. But when we stopped in at Olives & Épices to pick up the Mexican oregano, our good friends Ethné and Philippe were there, and the next thing we knew we got wrapped up tighter than a pork shoulder in a banana-leaf envelope in a full-on roast pork referendum. It's not that Ethné and Philippe didn't like the sound of our menu--they did--it's just that their book having just come out recently, they had Latin American roast pork ideas of their own.

So they started telling us about Yucatecan Cochonita Pibil and it's safe to say we liked what we heard. Like Puerco Asado a la Cubana, Cochonita Pibil is slow-cooked in a pit (or pib as it's known in the Mayan tongue), and it, too, is traditionally made with a suckling pig, as the Spanish term cochonita implies. As in the Cuban version, the pit barbecue appears primitive--a rectangular pit, 2 feet deep, is lined with stones that are then heated with a wood fire, the meat is then wrapped in banana leaves, placed in a metal container, covered, and slow-cooked for hours--but it requires a great deal of expertise to get optimum results and each community has its ackowledged master/s. Digging a pit in Montreal in December poses a bit of a problem to those aspiring to make a truly authentic Cochonita Pibil for the holidays, but, as with Puerco Asado a la Cubana, it's possible to make a convincing and utterly delicious home version. The primary difference between the two dishes has to do with marinades: while the Puerco Asado a la Cubana's consists primarily of simple blend of garlic, sour orange juice, and herbs, the Cochonita Pibil's is even more exotic, with the gorgeous color and haunting flavor of achiote seeds (bixa orellana, the outer layer of the hard seed of a tropical tree native to the Yucatan that's also known as anatto or annatto in English, rocou in French) playing a prominent role.

The Cochonita Pibil seemed like a perfect compromise--some degree of familiarity, some degree of innovation--and we were already sold on the idea, when Philippe sealed the deal: he took us to his freezer and told us about the Little Old Lady From Cozumel. Now, I'm not sure what kind of car, if any, the Little Old Lady From Cozumel drives, and I have no idea if she's a hot-rodder, but I do know that she makes her Recado Rojo--achiote paste--according to a time-honored recipe, and that the De Viennes have a contact in neighboring Cancun who ships her Recado Rojo to Montreal fresh on a regular basis. Of course, you could make your own Recado Rojo (and you'll find directions to do so below), but chances are you've never had a traditional Yucatecan Cochonita Pibil before--we certainly hadn't. That being the case, why wouldn't you want the Little Old Lady From Cozumel on your team, helping things along?

fig. b: Cochonita Pibil with fresh tortillas and refried black beans

Cochinita Pibil, a.k.a. Yucatecan "Pit-Barbecued" Pig

4-lb pork shoulder
banana leaves, thawed and wiped clean
4 tbsp recado colorado or recado rojo (recipe follows)
6 cloves garlic
1/2 cup Seville orange juice or mild white vinegar
2 tsp salt

Pierce the pork shoulder all over and rub in 2 teaspoons of the salt and 2 tablespoons of the juice.

Crush the garlic cloves and mix them with the recado colorado and the remaing Seville orange juice. Smear this mixture all over the pork shoulder making sure to cover it thoroughly.

Wrap the pork in the banana leaves and allow to season in the refrigerator for a minimum of 6 hours and preferably overnight.

Preheat the oven to 300º.

Place a rack at the bottom of a Dutch oven and set the wrapped meat on it. Add the water and cover the dish with a tightly fitting lid. Cook for 2 1/2 hours. Remove the Dutch oven from the oven. Turn the meat and baste it well with the juices at the bottom of the dish. Place the Dutch oven back in the oven and cook for another 2 1/2 hours, or until the meat quite literally falls off the bone and shreds with ease.

After you return the pork to the oven to finishing cooking, prepare the sauce.

sauce:
1/2 cup finely chopped red onion
3 habañero chiles, minced
1/2 tsp salt
2/3 cup seville orange juice or mild white vinegar

Mix all the ingredients together. Set aside to mellow for 2 hours.

To serve the pork, shred the meat roughly. Pour the fat and juices from the pan over it. Serve hot with tortillas and condiments and the sauce in a separate dish so that each person can make his or her own tacos.

[recipe based on Diana Kennedy's Cochonita Pibil from The Essential Cuisines of Mexico and on Ethné and Philippe de Vienne's Cochonita Pibil from La Cuisine et le Goût des Épices]

If you don't happen to live in Montreal, and therefore don't have access to the Little Old Lady From Cozumel's magic via Olive et Épice's freezer, or if you absolutely insist on making your own Yucatecan recado, here are two different versions:

Recado Colorado

1/4 cup achiote seeds
1 tsp allspice
1/2 tsp clove
1/2 tsp cumin
2 tsp dried mexican oregano, Yucatecan if possible
1 tsp salt
1/8 tsp powdered chile seco Yucateco or hot paprika
Seville orange juice or mild white vinegar

In an electric spice grinder, grind the achiote seeds, cumin, oregano, peppercorns, and allspice together in a fine powder.

Add just enough Seville orange juice or vinegar to make a firm paste.

[recipe from Ethné and Philippe de Vienne's La Cuisine et le Goût des Épices]

Simple Recado Rojo

4 rounded tbsp achiote seed
1 tsp crushed dried Mexican oregano, preferably Yucatecan
1 tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp mild black peppercorns
12 whole allspice
3 tbsp water, approximately

Mix the spices and grind one third of the quantity at a time--or as much as your spice grinder can safely accomodate at a time. Make sure to grind them as finely as possible. Sift the ground spices through a fine strainer and grind the residue once again. Stir the water in gradually and mix well to a stiff paste.

If you are not going to use the paste immediately, form it into a round thick cake and divide into four pieces. Wrap well and store in the freezer compartment of the refrigerator. This method makes it easier to use later.

To dilute for use, crush this amount with about 20 small garlic cloves and sea salt to taste, and dilute to a thin cream with bitter orange juice or its substitute, a mild vinegar.

[recipe from Diana Kennedy's The Essential Cuisines of Mexico]

Our default salsa is a blackened tomato salsa that I devised a number of years ago after a trip to California, but this meal was begging for a Yucatecan version, so that's exactly what we made. Two words of advice: 1) don't fear the habañeros and 2) use the best tomatoes you can get your hands on. If you don't yet have a salsa that you call your own, this Salsa Xi Ni Pek is pretty much a perfect fresh salsa and it's dead-simple to make. Win-win.

fig. c: Salsa Xi Ni Pek

Salsa Xi Ni Pek, a.k.a. Yucatecan fresh salsa

1/2 cup tomatoes, finely chopped
1/2 cup red onion, finely chopped
2 habañeros, finely chopped
1/4 cup Seville orange juice or mild white vinegar
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp finely chopped cilantro

Mix all the ingredients and let stand 30 minutes to allow the flavors to mingle.

[recipe from Ethné and Philippe de Vienne's La Cuisine et le Goût des Épices]

We hadn't made corn tortillas in quite some time--Tortilleria Maya, nearby, has made us lazy--but Philippe insisted that if we were going to the lengths of making Cochonita Pibil that we absolutely had to make our own tortillas (hence the photo up-top). Who were we to argue?

Corn Tortillas

1 1/4 pounds tortilla masa
water if needed
2 1-litre plastic bags for pressing tortillas

If the tortilla masa has been freshly made [we wish!], it will probably be the right consistency for working immediately--a soft, smooth dough. If the masa has been sitting around and drying out a little, then add a very little water and knead until it's smooth and pliable, and not the slightest bit crumbly.

Divide the dough into 15 equal parts--each should weigh just over 1 ounce (30 g)--and roll them into smooth balls about 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Place all but one of the balls under plastic wrap so they do not dry out.

Heat an ungreased comal or griddle or cast-iron pan over medium heat. Open up the tortilla press and place a small plastic bag on the bottom plate. Place a ball of the dough on the bottom plastic bag, a little off center toward the hinge rather than the pressing lever, and press it out with your fingers to flatten it a little. Cover with the second platic bag and press down firmly but not too violently. Open the press, remove the top bag, lift the bottom bag up in one hand, place the dough onto the fingers of your other hand, and very carefully peel the bag off the flattened dough. Do not try to peel the dough off the bag.

Keeping your hand as horizontal as possible, lay the tortilla flat onto the comal/griddle/cast-iron pan. There should be a slight sizzle as the dough touches the surface of the comal. Leave for about 15 seconds; the underside will have opaque patches and be slightly speckled with brown. Flip the tortilla over onto the second side and cook for another 30 seconds; the underside should now be opaque and speckled. Flip back onto the first side again and cook for 15 seconds more.

If you have done everything correctly and the comal is the right heat, the tortilla should puff up, showing that the extra moisture has dried out of the dough.

As the tortillas are made, they should be placed one on top of the other in a basket lined with a cloth to preserve the heat and keep them moist and supple.

Tortillas can be made ahead and reheated and they can also be frozen.

[recipe from Diana Kennedy's The Essential Cuisines of Mexico]

Was the Cochonita Pibil good? Do you even have to ask? It was phenomenal. I mean, just look at that photo above. Now, I'm not sure that that picture is worth a thousand words, but it is worth a least a few and all of them are making me hungry.

Oh, and if you're worried about taking the plunge with achiote paste, worried that you're not ready to commit to making Yucatecan Barbecued Pork more than once over the next several months, or if you're just not that into pork in the first place, fret not. Achiote paste makes for an outstanding and substantially less involved Yucatecan "Barbecued" Chicken too, as we found out just a few days later.

Pollo Pibil, a.k.a. Yucatecan "Barbecued" Chicken

1 chicken, cut into pieces
4 tbsp achiote paste
4 tbsp water
salt to taste
1 large banana leaf, torn into two pieces and cleaned with a wet paper towel
2 tbsp lard or vegetable oil
1 white onion, sliced thinly
2 tomatoes, sliced
1 tsp achiote paste

Prick the chicken pieces all over with a fork. Dilute the achiote paste with water and set 1 tsp aside. Thoroughly rub the remainder, along with the salt, into the chicken.

Wrap the banana leaf around the chicken to make an envelope. Set it aside to season, refrigerated, for several hours or overnight.

Preheat the oven to 375º F.

Heat the oil or lard in a skillet and fry the onion until translucent. Add the tomatoes and the extra teaspoon achiote paste and fry the slices gently on both sides.

Unwrap the chicken. Put half the onion and tomato under the chicken and the other half on top. Wrap it up again to make a tight envelope.

Place the envelope into a Dutch oven and cover it tightly. Cook for 20 minutes. Turn it over, baste with the juices, and cook for another 20 minutes, or until just tender and cooked through. Do not overcook.

Turn the oven up to 450º F, remove the cover, open up the leaf, and let the chicken brown on top.

Serve, still wrapped in the banana leaf, with fresh tortillas and condiments of your choosing.

[recipe adapted from Diana Kennedy's The Essential Cuisines of Mexico

This chicken was another huge coup. One particularly enthusiastic guest declared that it was the best Mexican-style chicken he'd ever had, anywhere: California, Mexico, whatever.

How's that for a flurry of recipes?

aj

Mexicali Madness I

By the time of my birthday, in the first week of April, all signs of spring had vanished and the temperature had plummeted to a high of 1º C. We decided to soldier on regardless, turning South of the Border for strength (actually, south of a couple of borders), to Mexico. Our menu and our approach to Mexican this time around was going to have some California flavor to it, though, so when we came up with the name for our night, we called it "Mexicali Madness." We got so inspired it really didn't take long to draw up our menu/shopping list



and then we designed our invitations, with a little help from J.G. Posada.



I knew I wanted a roast pork dish that'd be falling off the bone and just begging to get scooped up in a fresh, hot tortilla as the centerpiece. I also knew I wanted fish tacos. More than anything, though, I wanted the table to be a tribute to those extraordinary condiments trays you find in Baja when you go to a fish taco joint and place your order, the ones with a dizzying array of toppings, from freshly prepared guacamole and salsa, to pickled onions, carrots, and jalapeños, to crema and those ubiquitous bottles of Tapatío, each of these assortments unique to that particular establishment. The idea here was to have a celebration of bounty, one not unlike this vision of cornucopia, but spicier, hotter, more savory (if you can believe that).



The menu that we settled on included queso fundido, asado de puerco a la Veracruzana, tacos de pescado a la A.J., guacamole, salsa ranchero a la A.J., frijoles negros, and a whole whack of fixin's, and mostly we turned to our friends Diana Kennedy, Philippe de Vienne and John Thorne for assistance.

Queso fundido

Mexican queso, Monterey Jack, or medium cheddar

Preheat your oven to 325º F. Grate the cheese and place it in an ovenproof dish. Add sliced mushrooms, chorizo sausage slices, or strips of grilled peppers, if you like. Bake in the oven for 5 minutes, or until the cheese has fully melted. Serve hot accompanied with hot corn tortillas.

[from Philippe de Vienne]

Simple, elemental, gooey, delicious.

Asado de Puerco a la Veracruzana

5 lb pork roast on the bone, preferably pork butt
6 garlic cloves
1 tbsp salt
5 tbsp fresh lime juice
6 ancho chiles, seeds and veins removed
4 morita chiles, or 1 chipotle or mora
1/2 cup water, approximately
4 whole allspice, crushed
frozen banana leaves sufficient to wrap the roast in a double layer, thawed and wiped clean

Pierce the meat all over with the point of a sharp knife. Mash the garlic with the salt and moisten with the lime juice. Rub this mixture thoroughly into the roast and set aside to season while you prepare the chile mixture.

Lightly toast the ancho chiles on a hot griddle. Cover them with hot water, add the whole, untoasted morita chiles, and simmer for 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and let the chiles soak another 5 minutes.

Transfer the chiles to a blender with the water. Add the allspice and blend until smooth. Add a little more water only if the paste remains too thick and doesn't blend properly.

Coat the pork liberally with the chile paste. Hold the banana leaf over a hot heat until it softens and wrap it around the meat. Let the meat season overnight in the refrigerator.

The next day, preheat the oven to 325º F.

Place the banana-leaf-wrapped meat in a Dutch oven or casserole with a tightly fitting lid (or seal it tightly in a large roasting pan with aluminum foil, like we did) and bake for 2 hours, by the end of which time there should be plenty of juices at the bottom of the casserole. Remove the lid, discard the banana leaves, and continue cooking the meat uncovered, basting it from time to time, for about 2 hours longer, or until the meat is soft and falls away from the bone with ease.

Serve hot, with fresh corn tortillas.

[from The Essential Cuisines of Mexico by Diana Kennedy]

As soon as I saw this recipe I knew it was The One for this occasion. As soon as I saw that marinade, that chile paste, and those banana leaves I could visualize the end result. I'd love to do a slow-cooked version of this sometime, but this time around we followed Kennedy's specifications to a tee, and, believe me, it didn't disappoint. Kennedy mentions that this dish is much better the day of than it is the day after, but we threw all caution into the wind and did a double recipe anyway, because we knew we were going to have a hungry crowd. We were pretty pleased when it turned out we had some leftover pork at the end of the evening, and we managed to revive those leftovers just fine the next day when we recreated our pork taco feast all over again.

Tacos de pescado a la A.J.

In Baja, the chunks of fish that you get with our fish tacos are always batter-fried--they're batter-fried with finesse, but they're still batter-fried. Sometimes I prefer to just sauté my fish for my home version. I get a couple generous hunks of a fish that's got some body to it, but that won't break the bank, something like Opah (or Moonfish). Then I cut them up into 1-1 1/2 inch cubes and I marinate them in a combination of lime juice and tequila in the refrigerator for about 30 minutes. When they're ready to go, I heat a few tablespoons of flavorless oil (like Canola or grapeseed) in a skillet or wok until it's smoking. I take the fish out of the marinade with a slotted spoon, place them in the hot pan, and stir-fry them until they're just done, no more than 3 minutes or so. Serve with hot corn tortillas.

Guacamole

1 serrano pepper, minced
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 onion, minced
1 medium-size ripe tomato, diced
2 avocados, just ripe
minced cilantro to taste
juice of 1/2 lime (optional)

Whether you add lime juice or not is going to have a lot to do with how good and ripe your avocados are. I'm kind of partial to lime juice, but that's mainly because I can't get the kind of avocados up here that I became accustomed to in Orange County, CA one summer. Frankly, I feel the same way about the tomato. If you can't find a really nice, ripe one, it might pay to just leave it out. Nothing ruins a guacamole faster than a mealy, previously frozen supermarket tomato.

[This recipe's mostly Kennedy's classic version with a little de Vienne thrown in for good measure.]

Fast Frijoles Negros

1 onion, chopped
1 head of garlic, broken into cloves, peeled, and minced
1/4 cup olive oil
4 19-oz cans black beans, drained
1 tablespoon chipotle purée
juice of 1 lime
salt and pepper to taste
minced cilantro (optional)

In a medium-size pot, heat the oil and sauté the onion and garlic until the onion is soft. Add the beans, stir, fill up one of the empty cans of beans with water and add that, too. Bring to a boil, then simmer on low for 20-30 minutes, making sure to stir from time to time to make sure the beans aren't getting scorched, and adding additional water if necessary. Add the chipotle purée, the lime juice, and adjust the seasonings. Garnish with cilantro if you like.

[Adapted from a Cuban black beans recipe in John Thorne's Serious Pig]

What's getting left out in all of this is Michelle's fantastic dessert. She asked me what I wanted and I was honest: cookies and ice cream. Not some big cake (as much as I love big cakes), something simple and somewhat lighter, something befitting a Mexican fiesta. So she made Mexican vanilla ice cream with dark caramel brittle and Mexican chocolate cookies to go with it.

Documenting the evening's festivities with his impressionistic photographic eye was none other than Mr. S., but somehow he managed to miss the piñata, the Mexican hat dance, and the all-human, cruelty-free bullfight that we organized as entertainment. He did manage to capture the following photographs, though. L-R: Michelle, LPs, Julie, Alina, Seth, A.J., Nick, Mexican chocolate cookies, Susan.



Thanks to T., A., A., C., V., H., M., S., J., N., J., C., S. and M.

By popular demand (top L-R: Seth, Camilla, Susan, Nick; middle L-R: Seth, Juliet, A.J., Tim; bottom L-R: Hermine, Python, Adam, Nick):



aj