South American – Page 2

Arroz de Carreteiro – Coachmen’s Rice

My friend Ken Bonfield posted about making humble black beans and rice on a Monday – This Monday – and that prompted this re-do of a big time fave of mine –

Ever since humans have been a thing, we’ve taken steps to make our sustenance portable. Being natural omnivore, it’s a safe bet that we’ve always been grabbing a handful of berries here, a hunk of grain there, maybe a little hunk of meat, and stuffing it all into a leaf so that we could take it with us.

Some of the most iconic snacks and meals that remain to this very day are perfect examples of this – Pemmican comes to mind – a high calorie mix of meat, fat and fruit designed to be portable and supply a serious dose of power on the road. Go farther back and you get the Mongols, who depended on meat and dairy from their animals to power their travels – And from there came yoghurt, and meat for soups and stews.

Virtually anywhere you look, our ancestors were drying, (or salting), and then combining the stuff they liked to eat so that it would be easier to take it out on the road – Doing so significantly reduced the consequences of not being lucky on a forage or hunt far from home, a situation that could be quite dire, indeed. From that legacy comes a world of one pot meals designed to efficiently use what’s available, and make it good. From jambalaya and gumbo, to paella and bouillabaisse, the manifestations are as broad as our appetites.

In the southwestern United States of the 19th Century, that history manifested in chili, a one pot meal of dried meat and chiles reconstituted with water and heated through. It packed calories, spiritual heat, and kept many a cowboy content during cold nights on the range.

Farther south, all the way down to southern Brazil, there’s an analogous food history. There, men driving ox carts across what is now known as the State of Rio Grande do Sul, were known as Carreteiros, or coachmen. They too had a signature, portable staple – Arroz de Carreteiro – Coachmen’s Rice.

Where Tex-Mex chili in its pure form simply blends meat with heat, arroz de carreteiro was initially just jerked beef, rice, and water, heated in an iron pot over an open fire. It was fast, easy, and filling, everything a gaúcho needed. The dried meat was known as Charque, a local specialty from the coastal part of the region.

Today, a Gaúcho is what folks from Rio Grande do Sul are known as, and their signature dish has, like chili, grown to something more than its humble origins. Arroz de Carreteiro is made with other cuts of beef, even leftovers, for which the dish is ideal. It’s still a hearty, savory, delicious meal, even way up here in Los Estados Unidos. This is, in fact, a fabulous dish to make camping, over coals from a real fire – that combination of cast iron and wood-fired heat is pretty unbeatable. If you go that road, you’ll want 75% of your coals under the ditch oven, and 25% on top. Finally, this can also be made with wild rice, and that makes things a whole ‘nuther level of amazing – The complex, smoky nature of really good wild rice makes an unforgettable meal.

Arroz de Carreteiro – Coachmen’s Rice
Serves 4 to 6

8 ounces Beef, (trimmed Chuck is my choice)
8 Ounces Long Grain Rice (or wild rice)
2 Roma Tomatoes
1 each Green, Red, and Yellow Bell Peppers
1 small, sweet Onion
2 Spring Onions
2 cloves Garlic
2 Tablespoons Avocado Oil, (Peanut oil works well, too)
2 Tablespoons fresh chopped Parsley
1 Tablespoon Black Pepper Corns, (fresh ground is fine)
2 teaspoons Sea Salt
1 teaspoon Sweet Smoked Paprika
Optional:
1 teaspoon dried, hot chile flakes or powder

Smash the garlic cloves under the flat side of a chef’s knife. Remove the peels and nibs.
In a molcajete, (or mortar and pestle), grind together the garlic, salt, and pepper, then set aside for flavors to marry.

Trim excess fat from the beef, and dice it into larger bite sized pieces, about 1/2″ square.

Rinse all produce. Stem and seed the peppers, peel the onion.
Dice the peppers, onion, and tomatoes, (about 1/3″ pieces).
Peel and trim the spring onions, then cut them into thin wheels.
Chiffonade the parsley.

In a cast iron Dutch oven, (or sauté pan with a tight fitting lid), over medium high heat, heat the oil until very hot.

Add the onions and sauté for about one to two minutes, until they begin to brown.
Add the seasoned garlic paste and stir to incorporate.

Add the beef and paprika; continue to sauté over high heat for two to three minutes more, stirring steadily, until the meat is evenly browned.

Add the peppers and tomatoes and stir to incorporate.

Now add the dry rice to the mix, and stir well to incorporate.

Add water until all ingredients are coved by about 1″ of water.

Allow to mixture to come to a boil, stirring sparingly.

Cover the oven or pan and and reduce heat to low, just enough to maintain a simmer.

Simmer for about 20 minutes, or until almost all the water has been absorbed. If the dish seems dry, or the rice a bit too chewy, add more water.

Once the rice is nice and tender, serve piping hot, garnished with parsley and spring onions.

Carne Polaca – A Polish Swing on Mexican

T’is the football playoff season here in the States, and as such, the occasion calls for appropriate eats. It’s traditional to cook stuff that’ll feed a bunch of folks, and that’ll fill them up right as well. In many parts of Mexico, there’s such a dish, and it might even be made for a football match, although they mean what most of the world means when they say football, (and that’s soccer, of course). Doesn’t matter which game you’re glued to, ’cause Carne Polaca is guaranteed to please. Here’s the scoop on a very popular dish south of the border that you’ve likely never heard of – Carne Polaca – a Polish swing on Mexican.

How did a polish influenced dish make it to Mexico? The answer is broader than that, because versions of this dish reside all through South and Central America, as well as Mexico. That shouldn’t be a surprise, frankly. At something over 22 million souls, the Polish diaspora is one of the largest in the world, and that very much includes points south of the border. Most of this emigration occurred because of long term and repeated persecution by more powerful neighbors, though it has continued into the 21st Century, when Poland’s inclusion in the E.U. lead to a large scale migration of young folk headed elsewhere for work. Poles arrived en mass in Mexico during the mid 19th century, and again post WWII, settling mostly in the states of Chihuahua, in central northern Mexico, and Nuevo León in the northeast. The mid 19th century bunch also settled in Brazil, Argentina, and Chile. Naturally, they brought their cooking with them, but believe me when I tell you that they also loved what they found to work with in their new homes.

Many assume ‘Polish food,’ to be a backhanded homage, as if it were describing something inordinately simple or dull – Neither could be farther from the truth. Because the country often changed hands over the millennia, Polish cuisine is incredibly diverse. Influences run from neighbors like Czech, German, Austrian, Hungarian, Slovak, and Ukrainian, to more widespread roots in French, Turkey, and Italy. There is, internally, rich variety among the regions of the country, and the influences there naturally dovetail with their respective neighbors and traditions. Bagels originated in Poland, as did donuts, as did Kolacz, AKA kolaches. Polish food has always been centered on meats, from a wide variety of game, to beef, pork, poultry, and fish. Side dishes are hearty, focused on local crops and traditional favorites. Spice is everywhere, and used liberally – Paprika and other chiles, dill, cloves, garlic, marjoram, caraway, beetroot, and pepper all get liberal use. Sauerkraut is widely popular, as are a cornucopia of traditional sausages and cheeses. Kielbasa, golabki (stuffed cabbage rolls), and pierogis have all made their way across the globe from their homeland. So, a dish called Polish meat in Mexico isn’t so farfetched after all.

Recipes in English for carne Polaca are few and far between – In fact, I found exactly one, (sort of), so I stuck with the ones in Spanish. While quite a few recipes I checked out did indeed come from the northern border states where Mexican Poles are more concentrated, there were versions from as far afield as Tabasco on the Yucatán peninsula, to Colima on the Pacific coast. Carne Polaca is hugely popular as a party and family gathering dish, and there is significant uniformity as to ingredients and the process of making it. That said, what you won’t find, or at least I couldn’t find, was much of anything about the roots or history of this dish, as popular as it may be. As such, I shifted my sleuthing to traditional polish food, and found what I believe to be the answer – Bigos – Polish Hunters Stew.

Bigos is huge in Poland, a national dish and a tradition pretty much everywhere. It is an ancient dish, full of all things prized by hunter-gatherer societies. Like Burgoo here in the states, almost every polish cook has a version, (and theirs is best, just ask ’em). In essence, Bigos is a meat stew featuring cabbage as a main ingredient, heavily sauced and spiced, just as is carne Polaca. What goes into Bigos is what’s available. It’s often touted as a great thing to make when you need to clear out your freezer, smokehouse, or pantry. As such, there really isn’t a standard recipe, although there are some commonalities. The cabbage used may be fresh or fermented, (sauerkraut). Onions are common, sautéed until lightly browned. Spices include salt, pepper, juniper, and bay. Cloves, garlic, mustard seed, nutmeg, paprika and thyme are also mentioned quite often. This is particularly of interest given that almost every Mexican carne Polaca recipe includes quite a bit of ketchup, and many of those latter ingredients are common therein. There is often a sweet note to Bigos, as well, and that is also most definitely present in ketchup. All things considered, it’s a solid bet that Bigos is the root of carne Polaca, and that’s good news for us.

So here is our swing at a very tasty dish, indeed. You can do this with any protein you like, served over chips as a kind of dip, or with fresh tortillas taco style. It gets better the next day, so lends itself well to making burritos or chimis. What we came up with uses no ketchup, and that’s much for the better, truth be told. The tomato element we provide has the spice notes of good ketchup, with less sugar, and other stuff you may not want, and is truer to the roots of the dish.

Carne Polaca de UrbanMonique

2 Pounds Chicken Thighs
2 12-14 Ounce cans Whole Peeled Tomatoes
16-24 Ounces Chicken Stock
1 small Onion
1 head Green Cabbage
1 bunch Cilantro
1/4 Cup Avocado Oil
2 Tablespoons Cider Vinegar
2 Tablespoons Tomato Paste
1 Tablespoon Agave Nectar
1 teaspoon yellow Mustard
2 cloves Garlic
2-5 Chipotle Chiles
1 small Lemon
2 whole Cloves
1/2 teaspoon Allspice
1/2 teaspoon Celery Salt
2 California Bay Leaves
Sea Salt
Ground Black Pepper
If you’re using dried chipotles, reconstitute them in a small bowl of warm water. If you’re using canned or crushed, you’re good to go.

Peel and trim garlic.

Preheat oven to 250° F.

In a Dutch oven or heavy sauce pan over medium heat, add a couple tablespoons of oil and allow to heat through.

Add chicken thighs to hot oil, season with sea salt and pepper, and braise them, about 2 minutes per side.

Add chicken stock to the Dutch oven, to almost cover the chicken. Add bay leaves, garlic, and cloves, allow the stock to simmer.

When you’ve reached a low simmer, cover the Dutch oven and slide it into a middle rack in the oven.

Zest lemon and cut in half.

Open tomatoes and carefully pour the liquid into a small mixing bowl. Pour the tomatoes into an oven-proof dish, (not too large, you want the liquid concentrated.)

To the bowl of tomato juices, squeeze half the lemon, then add a tablespoon of oil, the vinegar, agave nectar, mustard, allspice, and celery salt. Whisk with a fork to incorporate.

Add the blended liquid to the tomatoes, and slide them into the middle rack beside the chicken.

Allow chicken and tomatoes to stew for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, until the chicken is fork tender. Remove from oven and allow to cool enough to handle.

Hand shred chicken and set aside. Reserve the jus and freeze for future projects.

Add chipotles and juice from remaining half lemon to the tomato blend and process with a stick or regular blender to a smooth consistency.

Peel, trim and rough chop onion, cabbage, and cilantro.

In the Dutch oven over medium high heat, add two Tablespoons oil and allow to heat through.

Add cabbage, onion, cilantro, and lemon zest to the Dutch oven. Sauté for 2-3 minutes, until onions are lightly browned.

Sauté the veggie blend until the onions are lightly browned

Add chicken to the Dutch oven and stir to incorporate.

Add tomato blend and stir to incorporate.

Allow the mix to cook on a low simmer for about 10 minutes.

Serve over warm tortillas, taco style, or with tortilla chips, or whatever way floats your boat.

We’re here to tell you that this stuff is bloody amazing, and even better the next day – We went with taco salads on day two.

Cuñapes – Guarani Yuca Starch and Cheese Rolls

Down in South America, there are, thank the Gods, still a pretty healthy chunk of indigenous peoples, not the least among them, the Guarani. This ancient society traditionally ranged from what is now Paraguay, (between the Uruguay and lower Paraguay rivers), east into to the Misiones Province of Argentina, (the thumb of land that just no Ruth between Paraguay and Brazil, and then down into modern day Brazil as far as Rio de Janeiro.

The Guarani got their modern moniker from the Jesuits. They refer to themselves as Abá, meaning simply, the People. Guarani means ‘Warrior’ in the Tupi-Guarani dialect spoken by the Abá, an indication of how they reacted to Spanish aggression. It’s estimated that there were some 400,000 Abá when European invaders first showed up. That number has sadly dwindled to somewhere around 75,000 today, yet the people, culture, and language do survive. It’s telling that Guarani, along with Spanish, are the two official languages of Paraguay. The Guarani are a beautiful and compelling people. Their spiritual life still centers largely around an age old Animistic system, despite concerted efforts to christianize them. And they certainly do have a lovely cuisine as well.

Manihot Esculenta - Cassava — Manihot Esculenta – Cassava

Yerba, herb tea, comes from the Abá, as does Mate, the caffeinated version. And Mandioca, AKA Cassava or Yuca starch, is absolutely core to Abá food, (not to be confused with Yucca, a different thing altogether). Mandioca is served virtually with every meal, in one form or another. Also known as manioc, arrowroot, and tapioca, Manihot Esculenta is the third most common starch of the tropics, right behind rice and maize. Given its popularity with the Abá, it’s no wonder that this woody shrub is widely cultivated. The fat, fleshy tubers produced by the cassava plant are a major carbohydrate source, and a darn tasty one at that.

Mandioca - Vassava tubers. — Mandioca – Vassava tubers.

We keep cassava flour and powder, (that’s Arrowroot), in house here at UrbanMonique, for its unique taste and formidable thickening power. It’s naturally gluten free, and of course doesn’t come from nuts or grains either, so it’s pretty good stuff for those who require or desire such dietary consideration. Cassava flour is not the same as tapioca flour – the former is made from whole root, dried and ground, while the latter is the starch component extracted from the root, then dried. Cassava is not only a great source of carbs, it’s the closest thing to wheat flour for my mind – Not grainy or gritty at all, and a very light, neutral flavor profile. Couple that with the fact that cassava flour can be substituted 1:1 for a whole bunch of flour-based recipes, and you have a very popular gluten and grain free baking resource.

There’s little doubt that authentic street food provides some of the tastiest kicks you’re going to find when you’re out and about, and Guarani versions of such are no exception. Consider, if you will, the Cuñape. This little gem is powered by fresh, soft cheese, cassava flour, and little else. Like the French analog, le gougère, they are simplicity itself. The word likely stems from the Guarani language, combining Cuña, (woman), and pé, (breast), an obvious nod to the bun’s shape, (graphic representation not withstanding.)

Cuñapes are a joy to make. There are, of course, variations in required ingredients, most of which stem from where the recipe originates, and are worth discussing. First off, South American, and especially Guarani cooks, never use a leavening agent, preferring instead to count on a neat little production trick for the rise, (more on this with the recipe, below), North American cooks tend to add baking powder, soda, or both, and that’s a mistake in my opinion – Adding highly refined ingredients definitely impacts flavor and how they bake, neither in a good way, so do yourself a favor and try this our way.

Secondly, in something so simple, ingredients really matter. Keep in mind that the folks who originated the dish either make their own, or get super fresh ingredients, and you can and should emulate that as much as possible. Making queso fresco is super easy and fun, so if you’ve got a bit more time and the predilection, try our recipe here – You don’t need any special ingredients or equipment, and making the cheese will take less than an hour, all told. If you don’t make it yourself, find a local Mexican or South American market near you and buy the freshest queso you can.

While many American Cuñape recipes call for combinations of cheddar, provolone, or mozzarella, you really need queso blanco to do it right. If you like things a bit gooey, find some queso asadero at the market as well – This semi soft, melting cheese makes a great counterpoint to the dry queso blanco – Not necessary, but a very tasty variant. And finally, get good quality cassava flour; your local specialty market will have that, and if not, it’s readily available online.

Cuñape ingredients - simplicity itself. — Cuñape ingredients – simplicity itself.

Cuñapes – Guarani Cheese Rolls
Makes about 10 to 12 rolls

1 Cup Cassava Flour
3 loose packed Cups Queso Blanco, (or 2:1 Blanco to Asadero, and Monterrey Jack will work OK)
1 large Egg
Pinch of Sea Salt
Few Tablespoons Whole Milk

Have all ingredients at room temperature.

Grate cheese.

In a large mixing bowl, combine cassava flour, cheese, salt, and egg. Work by hand to incorporate into a dough.

The consistency should feel dry, not moist moist, wet, or sticky at all. Add milk a tablespoon at a time until the dough reaches the right consistency.

By hand, pinch off a chunk of dough about the size of a golf ball and roll it into a uniform ball.

Holding the dough ball in your palm, stick your thumb into one side, creating a little hollow.

Coat an ungreased baking sheet with a little cassava flour.

Set each ball, divot side down, firmly into the baking sheet. The little air pocket that results will help the rolls rise a bit as they bake, making the interiors nice and light.

Preheat oven to 375° F, and allow the rolls to rest while the oven heats.

Slide baking sheet into a rack in the middle position and bake for 15 to 18 minutes, until rolls are light golden brown.

Remove from heat and take rolls off the pan.

Serve immediately.

Chimichurri

On any given day when we’re preparing something in the kitchen, anything really, that little light bulb blinks on and we think, ‘This would be so much better with a sauce or marinade, or both.’ 99% of the time, we’re right, but what to make? When you’ve nothing definite in mind, and maybe even not 100% sure what you’ve got in fridge and pantry, the correct answer is Chimichurri, (or chimmichurri, if you really like Ms).
Chimichurri is a green sauce designed ostensibly for grilled meats, but that’s frankly selling it short. It’s fabulous on pasta, goes great with fish, makes a great seasoning for soups and stews, and shines on roasted or steamed veggies as well – It’s even great on eggs. The popular claim is that this legendary creation hails from Argentina, the Holy Land of grilled meats, but its roots go deeper yet. Given the classical Spanish pronunciation of the word, with the initial ch spoken almost as a tz, and the double rr well rolled on the tongue, it’s a good bet that the origin of chimichurri lies with the Basque settlers who arrived in Argentina back in the 1800s. The Basque have a word designed specifically for the kind of spur-of-the-moment sauce we’re discussing here – Tximitxurri, which more or less means, ‘a mixture of several things in no particular order’. Perfect, right?

That’s exactly what chimichurri is. The classic version consists of flat leaf parsley, garlic, olive oil, red wine vinegar, and red pepper flake, but variants on this are not only OK, they’re expected. It’s very much like spaghetti sauce – Sure there’s a ‘classic’ version, but everybody makes theirs different, and all those variants are equally as valid. Chimichurri was designed to take advantage of what you’ve got on hand, and the beauty lies in the options. Other parsley variants, cilantro, culantro, kale, celery leaves, or arugula can replace the flat leaf. Onion or shallot can augment the garlic. Any one of a number of herbs can be added – smoked or sweet paprika, cumin seed, lemon thyme, or any variant of basil come readily to mind. Sweet pepper, chiles, tomato, tomatillo, citrus, all go great as well. The only limits are your imagination and what’s on hand.

Marinate meat or veggies in chimichurri for at least two hours and up to overnight, refrigerated and covered. Fish should go no longer than an hour or so, so as not to overpower it. Freezing chimichurri works great; it’s a perfect sauce to do the ice cube tray trick with; you can snap out a cube or more whenever you feel the need. While store bought is available, that’s just an absolute no no; making chimichurri is so quick and simple, there’s no reason not to make a fresh batch; you’ll save yourself from preservatives and stabilizers., too.

Here’re a few versions to get you started. Bunches of parsley, cilantro, etc, all pretty uniform these days: If I had to hazard a guess at the volume of 1/2 Bunch, I’d call it 2 Cups loosely packed.

Classic Chimichurri

1/2 Bunch Flat Leaf (Italian) Parsley

8 cloves Garlic

3⁄4 Cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil

1⁄4 Cup Red Wine Vinegar

1 teaspoon Red Chile Flake

Pinch Sea Salt

Few twists fresh ground Pepper

Combine all ingredients in a blender or food processor and pulse until you have a smooth sauce.

Placed in an airtight, non-reactive container and refrigerated, it’ll last a week; frozen, it’s good for 90 days, easy.

Urban’s Chimichurri

1/2 Bunch Flat Leaf (Italian) Parsley

1/4 Bunch Cilantro

6 cloves Garlic

1 Hatch Chile, (Anaheim Pepper will work too)

3⁄4 Cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil

1⁄4 Cup Champagne Vinegar

2 Tablespoons Sweet Onion

1 Tablespoon fresh Lemon Juice

1 teaspoon Smoked Paprika

1 teaspoon Lemon Thyme

1 teaspoon Turkish Oregano

1/2 teaspoon fresh ground Pepper

Pinch Sea Salt

Combine all ingredients in a blender or food processor and pulse until you have a smooth sauce.

Placed in an airtight, non-reactive container and refrigerated, it’ll last a week; frozen, it’s good for 90 days, easy.

Red Chimichurri

1/2 Bunch Flat Leaf (Italian) Parsley

2 small ripe Tomatoes

6 cloves Garlic

1 sweet red Pepper

3⁄4 Cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil

1⁄4 Cup Red Wine Vinegar

2 Tablespoons Sweet Onion

1 Tablespoon fresh Lemon Juice

1 teaspoon Turkish Oregano

1/2 teaspoon fresh ground Pepper

Pinch Sea Salt

Combine all ingredients in a blender or food processor and pulse until you have a smooth sauce.

Placed in an airtight, non-reactive container and refrigerated, it’ll last a week; frozen, it’s good for 90 days, easy.

Tomatillo Chimichurri

1/2 Bunch Flat Leaf (Italian) Parsley

4 ripe Tomatillos

1 small ripe Tomato

6 cloves Garlic

1-2 Jalapeño Chiles

3⁄4 Cup Avocado Oil

1⁄4 Cup Cider Vinegar

2 Tablespoons Sweet Onion

1 Tablespoon fresh Lemon Juice

1 teaspoon Mexican Oregano

1/2 teaspoon fresh ground Pepper

Pinch Sea Salt

Roast tomatillos, tomatoes, and chiles under a broiler until skins are blistered.

Remove from heat and cool until they’re workable.

Remove skins, stems and seeds

Combine all ingredients in a blender or food processor and pulse until you have a smooth sauce.

Placed in an airtight, non-reactive container and refrigerated, it’ll last a week; frozen, it’s good for 90 days, easy.