A few years back, New York magazine announced that eating goat was starting to become a trend. A reader wrote into its website, saying, Here are white people again!!!! Acting like they invented goat meat. That’s pretty funny, and also painfully true. Goat is actually the meat most consumed around the world. We’re behind, people.

Goat is not only delicious, it’s sustainable, higher in protein than beef and lower in fat than chicken. This leanness makes it particularly good when braised or steamed so it doesn’t dry out. Fresh goat is still hard to find in New York City markets, so I imagine it’s not readily available from your average grocer. Try farmers markets or Halal butchers, or look for it on the menus of hip, locavore-friendly restaurants.

At Scarpetta, Scott Conant is known for his roasted capretto—that’s Italian for baby goat aka kid. At Girl and the Goat in Chicago, chef Stephanie Izard—who got into goat (and named her restaurant for it) when she discovered that izard is a breed of Pyrenees goat—uses it in a homemade sausage on pizza and in a ragú with gooseberries and rosemary that she tosses with homemade pappardelle. Now she buys her goat from a local farm (as do I) and goes through seven whole goats each week (I do not).

steam table

My go-to recipe for goat is from Mexican cooking authority Rick Bayless by way of a restaurant in Jalisco that specializes in birria, a savory stew that’s really a bowl of chile-based broth combined with chopped or pulled roasted meat and served with corn tortillas, onions, cilantro and fresh lime. Now my mouth is watering. There are a few easy steps and in the end you wind up with something authentically delicious that you could serve to real Mexicans or a deserving bunch of gringos. I use a deboned leg that’s been tied, but on the bone might be even better (more flavor). First, you steam it, well-wrapped, on a rack in the oven over a watery bed of onions and garlic.

out of the oven

If you’ve eaten some gamey old goat somewhere and are afraid to try it again, be brave. A young goat which has met its end at around 9 months and who, up until then, frolicked happily in green pastures, is sweet, tender and delicious.

spice of life

The next step is to make a wonderful chile sauce rich with sesame seeds and classic Mexican spices, including clove, cinnamon and cumin. I also used Mexican oregano which we grew in our garden last summer and dried. Very satisfying.

chile today

Still a chile virgin? ¡Basta! This is your moment. Latinos are now so prevalent in this country that you can usually find a good selection in most markets, but you can also order them here or here. Many of the Mexican chiles are not super-spicy; it’s more about their complex flavor that includes hints of chocolate, wine and earth.

glazed over

You separate the steamed (and now slightly cooled) meat into big hunks, lay it in a roasting pan and pour most of the sauce over. Then it roasts until the meat is beautifully glazed. While it’s in the oven, you take the remaining chile sauce, the oniony liquid left over from the steaming step, as well as tomatoes, agave and cider vinegar, and blend it all into the sauce you’ll serve with the roasted goat.

shreds of evidence

When the goat is done, you chop or shred it as you would barbecued pork. I like to pour some of the sauce over it, and serve the rest at the table, along with chopped onion, cilantro and some hot sauce, like Tabasco.

a crisp slaw is the perfect side dish

I make a simple slaw to tuck into warm tortillas along with the goat meat. You can find my recipe here. Together, it’s pretty much the perfect combination of salty, spicy, sweet, tangy and savory, with just the right crunch. For dessert, I made a chocolate sorbet spiked with a little cinnamon. It was pretty divine. Let me know if you’re interested in that recipe.

come to the table

Is there anything better than sitting down for a late Saturday lunch with good friends?

photo snatched from the interwebs

I reckon my own turkey tostada would look a lot better than this, but I have absolutely no intention of making one (and photographing it) in time to inspire you to use your leftovers, so this shot will have to do. Last night, driving home with an overfull belly, I told G that the only thing I wanted to eat today was some grapefruit sorbet. We received a huge box of Florida beauties from his parents last week, and it seems like the one thing that would go down well today. Of course I’ll be making turkey soup with the carcass—that will come later—and there will undoubtedly be a sandwich at some point, but for now, I am sitting in front of the fire with a cup of roasted buckwheat tea (my latest obsession) and a tall glass of green juice (apple-celery-parsely-ginger). After throwing my back out on Tuesday, I spent the better part of the next two days on my feet in the kitchen, which was not exactly what the doctor ordered, so today will be all about R&R. I’ll be doing some shopping from the safety of my own couch (Aesop is now available online; check out their seasonal kits!), catching up on magazines, and maybe even starting one of the new books I ordered on my Kindle (this, this, or this, all eagerly anticipated). In case you’re planning to eat, I’m offering you my recipe for turkey tostadas as well as…

photo by Sarah Shatz for Food52

…another recommendation of Winnie Abramson‘s hugely appealing turkey pho, a light and flavorful way to use up both turkey meat and the stock you’ll make from the carcass.If you’re not feeling disgustingly oversated from yesterday, you can always consider making turkey tetrazzini, that retrofabulous classic with a high cozy quotient.

Speaking of carcass, it’s time mine got horizontal again.

Business first: If you haven’t yet tossed your name in the ring to win the gorgeous giveaway basket of Tate’s Bake Shop cookies and brownies, today is your last chance. Just visit this post and leave a comment by 12pm. I will announce the winner tomorrow.

Happy Halloween! Or All Hallow’s Eve, if you will. Tomorrow is the Day of the Dead, the traditional holiday for celebrating friends and family who have died. It’s a big deal in Mexico, with elaborate picnics transported right to the grave sites featuring favorite foods of the deceased. It’s sort of like a tailgate party, but without the football. In honor of this occasion, I offer you a recipe for one of my most beloved dishes, typical of the Mexican cooking I ate growing up. I wonder who will bring it to my gravesite when I’m gone…

two-part hominy

Pozole is made with a special kind of lime-treated corn called nixtamal, which you can sometimes find fresh or frozen, but you’ll probably come across dried American Southwestern pozole corn (hominy) more easily in good specialty stores. Fastidious cooks like to remove the hard, pointy end from each kernel so that they splay into a rough flower shape as they cook. A fingernail works well for this job, along with a lot of patience. It’s pretty much impossible to do with the dried hominy unless you soak it first. You can also just forget about this step with little consequence.

a good soaking

Soaking definitely reduces cooking time, so I usually do it. You just cover the pozole with cold water, making sure it rises a couple of inches above the corn, and leave it overnight. The next day you gently simmer the pozole until the kernels are tender. While this is happening, you make a rich broth that is the other half of this hearty and soothing stew.

from good stock

Pozole is generally made in large quantities to feed a crowd and the classic version contains vast amounts of pork—often shanks, trotters and shoulder. I had a couple of shanks in the freezer, as well as a bag of chicken wings, so I decided to use both to make a very flavorful broth. You’ll want to skim the fat, so plan ahead. When you’re ready to eat, you simmer the cooked hominy in the broth until the flavors are nicely melded.

green chiles: a gift from the garden

Powdered red chiles are sometimes stirred into pozole, but I added a New Mexican touch with the last green chiles from my garden, Anaheims aka California chiles. I stuck them under the broiler, turning them occasionally until they were blistered on all sides, then pulled the charred skins off, seeded and sliced them, and added them to the finished broth where they contribute a nice vegetal note without any spice.

plato del día: a warming bowl

As with many Mexican dishes, the garnishes are key. Pozole has something in common with Vietnamese pho, the beef soup that’s loaded up with raw bean sprouts and herbs, though here we use shredded cabbage, thinly sliced radishes, chopped cilantro and a squeeze of lime. Though it may not sound like it, pozole manages to be substantial without being very heavy. And it’s delicious enough to raise the dead.

I opened the fridge and saw a jar of red chile puree, left over from our chile-fest the other weekend, and thought, instantly: enchiladas. Italians have their red sauce, their seminal tomato “gravy” that gets right to the heart of who they are as a people, a culture, and New Mexicans have their own version, a thick, smoky and deeply complex puree of toasted chiles that is their lifeblood. My mother poured hers from a can—routine at that time, but seems like sacrilege now. It was my grandmother who taught me to lightly toast the leathery, dried chiles in a hot skillet, then soak them before pureeing them in the blender. I’ve got my own methods now, but the whole process still connects me to the women who came before, the ones who made pink beans and sopaipillas and tamales with their own hands. This is the food of my people, and it tastes of courage, the earth and love.

chile peppers have been eaten in the americas since 7,500 b.c.

To learn how to make a chile sauce, or puree, check out this post. Yes, you can use canned enchilada sauce, and Montezuma won’t curse you. But making your own really is worth it; for starters, because you can create your own mix of chiles and there are so many to choose from: Anaheim, ancho, pasilla, guajillo, chipotle… They range from fiery to sweet, from smoky to fruity. Learn about them and their distinctive properties here. “Enchilada” is actually the past participle enchilar,  which literally means to to add chile to something, so it really is all about the peppers.

this is jack

Enchiladas are kind of like Mexican crepes; you can roll pretty much anything you like inside them. Cubed cooked squash, shredded chicken or beef, barbecued pork or goat or, like these, just cheese. Goat cheese is lovely, as is cheddar, but I’m using jalapeño jack, a mild, creamy cheese spiked with red and green spicy peppers.

a tangle of onions and spices

Cheese and white onion is a classic New Mexico filling for enchiladas, especially the stacked kind (versus the rolled ones I’m making here). Usually, chopped white onion is tossed in raw, but I’ve never been a fan of the half-crunchy (slightly slimy), partially cooked onion. Instead, I caramelize mine with some cumin, coriander and Mexican oregano. I like the way the sweet, spicy flavors complement the cheese.

dunk tortillas into the sauce

You thin the chile puree a bit, so it’s got some movement to it, and heat it in a skillet. Then you submerge your tortillas in it. Traditional enchiladas call for you to fry the tortillas in oil first, then in sauce, but many deem this step unnecessary. (And it sure is messy!) All you’re really trying to do is infuse the tortilla with a bit of flavor and make it malleable enough to roll easily. Don’t leave the tortilla too long in the warm sauce—a matter of seconds will do—or it will fall apart, especially if it’s fresh.

you’re on a roll

Pile some cheese and a bit of the onions on your tortilla, and roll it up like sushi. A little fresh cilantro would be nice here, too. As a child I forbade my mother to add either onions or cilantro to my enchiladas. Silly child.

headed for the oven

Fit your enchiladas snugly together in a casserole, douse with sauce, sprinkle a little cheese on top, and into the oven they go. This recipe can easily be doubled and tripled (or more) to feed a larger crowd. Leftovers are also delicious the next day. Although beans and rice are classic sides, I find all that a bit heavy—maybe just one or the other. Or whip up a quick slaw. This time I used green cabbage, sliced fine, and tossed it with lemon, lime and grapefruit zest and juice. I love the cool, crisp contrast between this and the rich, spicy enchiladas. ¡Buen provecho!

I grew up eating Mexican food, in Mexico and in California. Although my mother was raised in California, her family was from New Mexico, so her version of Mexican cooking betrayed subtle influences of that, and of Sunset magazine, the bastion of California living. In a sad twist of fate, she became paralyzed for the last 14 years of her life, which put a definitive end to her reign in the kitchen. On visits, I cooked quite a bit, but we also had our local sources for good Mexican takeout. Christmas Eve meant tamales from El Paisano, and no trip home was without at least one visit to Tacos Moreno, where the choice between al pastor, carnitas or quesadillas often resulted in an order of all three. I associate fish tacos more with Southern California, where the competition for who has the crispiest batter or the best sauce is quite fierce. I do love fried fish, but when summer rolls around, grilling makes this dish even easier. The real trick with fish tacos is not to get lazy. Don’t just shove a bunch of unseasoned fish into a limp tortilla with some raw cabbage and a glug of bottled hot sauce and expect it to be sublime. What really takes it to the next level are a combination of flavors—you guessed it: hot, sour, salty sweet—and textures that complement each other.

pico de gallo, a fresh salsa,  boasts the colors of the mexican flag

I was devastated when Gourmet magazine went out of business, and furious that they automatically transferred my subscription over to Bon Appétit, a publication I never liked much. But the new editor, Adam Rappaport, has done a fantastic job of upgrading this title, and I am actually excited to get my issue each month. (While we’re on the topic, I also subscribe to Saveur, Food & Wine, Diner Journal and Lucky Peach.) Their August “Contributor’s Pick,” where they provide the recipe for a reader’s favorite dish, was the mahi-mahi tacos at Malibu Seafood. The fish is rubbed with a blend of spices and then quickly grilled. It sounded so good, I was inspired to get to make my own version.

At the same time, I came across an article on salsas in the August Saveur, and it was a perfect convergence. They ran a similar piece back in May for their Mexican-themed issue, and I posted some of those recipes here. But I think these are just as good, if not better. In the end, my fish taco components included grilled spiced fish, griddle-warmed corn tortillas, crema, pico de gallo, slivers of red cabbage, guacamole taquero, and an insanely addictive salsa de chipotle quemada. If it’s all Greek to you, read on.

like a very creamy version of guacamole

Salsas tend to vary from region to region in Mexico, generally reflecting local ingredients. You can riff on these recipes with what’s in season and on hand, remembering that roasting fruits and vegetables can bring in interesting flavor components. I like to grill pineapple, then chop it up and combine it with lime juice, jalapeño and cilantro, for a salsa that’s great with fish or pork. The classic pico de gallo, above, is raw tomatoes, lime juice, cilantro, scallions and white onion, stirred together and seasoned with salt, pepper and a little fresh Mexican oregano. I made the creamy avocado salsa, perfect for drizzling over fish tacos, with avocado, lime juice, garlic, serrano chile, cilantro and white onion. I pureed it in the food processor to get that silky texture.

chipotles, dried and leathery, are actually smoked jalapeños

I took the recipe for spicy-sweet salsa de chipotle quemado (burnt chipotle salsa) straight from the pages of Saveur. It’s similar to this one they ran in May, but with less garlic and the addition of cider vinegar and agave, it’s actually much more delicious. I could drizzle this over G’s old sneaker and eat it. I’ll be slathering it on grilled steak, pork and chicken wings, and dreaming up other ways to use it, like stirred into mayonnaise or as a facial mask. (Not.) Incidentally, don’t kid yourself that over-processed and denatured agave is any better that sugar. As with honey, it’s best to find a brand that makes (or bottles, rather) pure, raw agave. I order mine from here.

this sauce is the real deal

I was fascinated to discover a while back that chipotles are actually smoked jalapeños. This gives them their incredibly rich and complex flavor, almost an umami quality that makes them irresistible. They do tend to be quite spicy, though, so be careful when handling and eating.

there’s the rub

If you decide to grill your fish for tacos, choose a firm white filet. I used local blackfish. Try to avoid very large fish (they contain more toxins) as well as anything overfished, in favor of smaller, fresh local fish. Take it out of the fridge to come down to room temp before grilling, and rub it all over with a mix of spices. I’ve included a recipe, but you can really use any combination that appeals to you. Grill it about 5 minutes per side, then shred it into small chunks. Stuff some into a warm corn tortilla, add a little fresh cabbage, a spoonful of a couple of these salsas, and finish it with a drizzle of crema. (Make your own by whisking together 1/4 cup heavy cream with 2 tablespoons sour cream, a couple of dashes of Tabasco and a generous pinch of salt.) Eat, and repeat.

You’re sitting in your screened in porch, or on your tiny terrace, front lawn or tar roof. The sun is high in the sky. Maybe you’ve worked up a sweat gardening or playing badminton or thinking about your in-laws’ visit. What you need is a nice cool glass of something. Not a soda, for crying out loud. Those eat the enamel off your teeth and cause osteoporosis. Not lemonade which is, frankly, too much work on a day like this, what with all that squeezing. Need some new ideas? Pick up Fany Gerson’s latest book, Paletas: Authentic Recipes for Mexican Ice Pops, Shaved Ice and Aguas Frescas, recently published by Ten Speed Press. You may remember I referenced her book on Mexican sweets, here and here. Not only does this popsicle queen of the Hester Street Market have loads of great recipes for cooling ice pops—like pineapple-chile; fresh coconut; and sour cream, cherry and tequila—but you can also learn how to make raspados, Mexico’s answer to Italy’s granità, and some wonderful traditional drinks called aguas frescas. These are essentially fruit or herbal infusions in water; not too sweet and very refreshing. This one, called agua de jamaica, is made from dried hibiscus flowers, also known as Jamaican sorrel.

dried hibiscus flowers are a deep almost-black purple

Both yesterday and today I arose with the intention of taking a photo of the amazing, deep purple brew that you make with these flowers. Both mornings dawned stormy and dark. Since I shoot with natural light, it’s been just too dark to take a photo that does it justice. So you’ll have to use your imagination to picture a tall, frosty glass of agua de jamaica, much like I’m using mine to picture a warm sunny summer day.

Dried hibiscus flowers are relatively easy to find in any Hispanic market, or you can order some here. It’s the outer circle of the flower that’s dried and used to make this infusion. Hibiscus is a good source of vitamin C and calcium, and is rich in antioxidants. Studies have also shown that drinking hibiscus tea can lower blood pressure, triglycerides and overall cholesteral levels. The beautifully tinted liquid has a tart, subtle flavor reminiscent of berries. This recipe calls for a bit of sugar, but you can try substituting agave if you like, or use no sweetener at all. It doesn’t really need it.

photo from saveur magazine

It’s hot and rainy here in Indonesia, and so far I haven’t managed to do more than catch up on sleep and wander around the hotel. Any hopes I had of going sight-seeing with G were dashed the moment I clapped eyes on his leg: scarily mottled and swollen, his toes like little sausages. Not to mention the 8” incision through which they inserted two titanium plates and seven screws. I’ll venture out into the city on my own eventually but for today, the 5th of May, I’m content to do a little armchair traveling to another part of the globe: Mexico. It’s Cinco de Mayo, not Mexican Independence Day as so many seem to believe (that’s September 6^th), but a date observed in the United States as a celebration of Mexican heritage and pride, and in one part of Mexico as a commemoration of the army’s unlikely 1862 victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla. If you lack the time or inclination to make something like my mother’s chile relleno casserole or my green chicken enchiladas, but still want to skew south of the border, maybe you’ll try one of these salsa recipes from Saveur magazine. (This month’s issue is devoted to Mexican cuisine.) Salsa simply means “sauce,” and variations extend well past the fresh-tomato-onion-chile-cilantro pico de gallo we all know (and love) so well. They’re quick and easy to throw together, pack a huge punch of flavor and are endlessly versatile. Beyond scooping them up with tortilla chips, you can serve them with grilled chicken or fish, stir them into scrambled eggs, spoon them into quesadillas, or whip them into mayonnaise to slather on fresh seafood or a steak sandwich.

tomatillos grow covered with papery husks

Tomatillos—not tomatoes at all, but related to gooseberries—have a tart, fresh taste that makes a bright, citrusy salsa. It pairs beautifully with chicken, cheese and seafood. You can also use it dress a cabbage slaw or an avocado salad.

Big note: Please remember to handle chiles very carefully. Their skin and seeds exude a powerful oil that can be very painful on the lips or in the eyes. Many people like to use rubber gloves when handling chiles. I find that with careful knife work and tongs I can avoid touching anything, but this requires some practice.

SALSA VERDE

makes 1 ½ cups

1⁄2 lb. fresh tomatillos

1 garlic clove, peeled and chopped

4 fresh serrano chiles, stemmed and chopped

sea salt

2 tablespoons minced white onion

2 tablespoons roughly chopped fresh cilantro

Remove papery husks from tomatillos, rinse and quarter. Place in a blender or food processor with garlic, chiles, a pinch of salt, and 1⁄3 cup water. Pulse until finely chopped.

Transfer to a bowl and stir in onions and cilantro. Season with salt.

freshly fried tortilla chips are so worth the (minimal) effort

The juices released when you broil tomatoes are incorporated into this red salsa. It’s slightly smoky sweetness is excellent with tortilla chips, but is also perfect for a Mexican-style shrimp cocktail.

SALSA ROJA

makes 1 ½ cups

2 large, ripe tomatoes

2 garlic cloves, unpeeled

1 large fresh serrano chile, stemmed

1 tablespoon roughly chopped fresh cilantro

pinch of sugar

sea salt

Preheat broiler. Place tomatoes on a baking pan lined with aluminum foil. Char, turning to blacken all over, about 15 minutes.

Heat a cast-iron skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and chile, and toast, turning frequently, until soft, 10–15 minutes. Set aside to cool.

Peel garlic, then place in a blender or food processor with chile and pulse until chopped. Core tomato (blackened skin will lend a slightly smoky flavor), add to purée, and pulse until blended. Transfer to a bowl. Stir in cilantro and sugar. Season with salt.

chipotles are intensely smoky and spicy

Chipotles are smoked and dried jalapeño chiles that have a very spicy, complex flavor. Try a little of this intense black salsa stirred into hot rice or drizzled over caramelized grilled pineapple. Whip a few teaspoons into mayonnaise to make the rich sauce found in restaurants in Veracruz, where it’s used as a dip for grilled or poached shrimp, lobster and crab claws.

SALSA NEGRA

makes 1 ½ cups

3 oz. dried chipotle mora chiles

7 tablespoons vegetable oil

12 garlic cloves, peeled

sea salt

Rinse chiles. Heat 3 tablespoons of the oil over medium heat in a cast-iron skillet. Add chiles and garlic and cook, stirring, until chiles are puffed and garlic is brown, about 5 minutes. Transfer chiles to a bowl; set garlic aside.

Soak chiles in hot water until soft, about 15 minutes. Drain, and carefully remove stems, veins, and seeds. Purée chiles, garlic, and 2 cups water in a food processor or blender. Heat remaining 4 tablespoons oil in skillet over medium heat. Add chile purée and cook, stirring with a wooden spoon, until mixture begins to stick to pan, about 10 minutes. Season with salt.

CHIPOTLE MAYONNAISE

makes 1 cup

1 cup mayonnaise

4 teaspoons Salsa Negra

1 garlic clove, peeled and minced

juice of 1 lime

In a medium bowl, whisk the Salsa Negra, garlic and lime juice into the mayonnaise. Refrigerate to chill and allow flavors to meld. Can be stored in fridge for up to 1 week.

One of my earliest memories is of being handed a small saucer of fresh cajeta by a tall, dark-haired neighbor of ours in Mexico. A sweet seduction like this you never forget, no matter how chaste. This amber-colored elixir is the taste of my childhood: dizzyingly sweet, with notes of burnt sugar and barnyard commingled in a sigh of pleasure. The name allegedly comes from the Spanish phrase al punto de cajeta, which means a liquid thickened to the point at which a spoon drawn through it reveals the bottom of the pot. But I’ve also heard it said that it takes its name from the small wooden boxes it was traditionally packed in. Cajeta is a specialty of Celaya in the state of Guanajuato, although it is also produced with the traditional method in Jalisco, and is widely available all over Mexico.

the traditional hand-stirred method for making cajeta

There is simply nothing like goat’s milk caramel, cooked to a dark satin swirl and touched with hints of salt and vanilla. It’s delicious with cheese, believe it or not, and drizzled over or mixed into ice cream, but I enjoy it best spooned straight from the jar. You’ve most likely had dulce de leche, the very popular (especially in Argentina) cow’s milk version of this, but it’s missing some of the earthy, goaty notes that make cajeta so divine.  If you’ve never tried it, you can looks for jars or squeeze bottles of it in Latino markets or even online. Coronado is a decent brand, but I recommend you make your own or go for the full-on artisanal experience with Fat Toad Farm.

if you don’t want to make your own, this is a good option

Fat Toad Farm is a family-run dairy in Vermont, and they produce delicious cheeses as well as several flavors of cajeta, made the traditional hand-stirred way (see above), including cinnamon and coffee. I think plain or vanilla are my favorites.

If you can get your hands on some goat’s milk—and raw is always best—you’ll be surprised how incredibly easy it is to make your own cajeta. You just need some time and a good arm for stirring. As always, I remind you that children come in very handy at times like this.

CAJETA

from Fany Gerson’s My Sweet Mexico

4 cups goat’s milk (can substitute whole cow’s milk)

1 cup sugar

1 tablespoon light corn syrup (optional, but good for consistency)
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise, or 1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon baking soda, dissolved in 1 tablespoon cold water

Combine the milk, sugar, corn syrup if using, and salt in a medium, tall heavy-duty pot. Scrape the vanilla bean into the pot and add the pod as well (if using vanilla extract, don’t add yet). Bring the mixture to a boil over medium heat, stirring occasionally so that it doesn’t stick to the bottom. Remove from the heat, add the baking soda/water mixture and stir carefully as it will bubble up and steam. When the bubbling has stopped, return the pot to the heat.

Adjust the heat so that the mixture is at a constant simmer, stirring often so that it doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pan. Once the mixture starts to turn golden brown, pay more attention and stir it more often. Cook until it is thick and a dark caramel color, about 1 hour. (GFL note: mine took much longer–keep going until it’s a beautiful rich amber color and a bit thick, although it will thicken up as it cools)

Remove from the heat. If using vanilla extract, stir it in now, being careful not to burn yourself as it may steam again. Allow to cool before using and remove the vanilla bean. The mixture will get thicker and stickier as it cools. If you ever feel it’s getting too thick, you can always thin it with a bit of warm water once it has cooled.

CHEATER’S RECIPE

Although it doesn’t compare to the traditional made from scratch cajeta, a fun shortcut id to make it with a can of condensed milk. Using a can opener, poke 2 or 3 holes in the top of the can, then place the can in a pot with simmering water about 3/4 of the way up the can for about 2 hours. Replenish water as needed. Open the can and stir in the salt and vanilla extract. Cool, then pour out the cajeta and store in a glass jar.

We’re so bombarded with commercialized holidays that I’m loathe to even mention Valentine’s Day again, but it’s hard to be completely cynical about a day that’s all about LOVE. Of course we’ve all been programmed to think of candy, flowers and—for the really optimistic among us—jewelry as expressions of love. But remember how exciting it was in elementary school to open those teensy envelopes with your name clumsily scribbled in grubby little-boy script? (I was popular until I moved to Spain in the 4th grade, and so can remember 3 blissful years of adoration before it all went to shit.) Those days may be over, but I know the die-hard romantics among you are already planning something special for Monday night. How about a delicious and heart-warming dinner, lovingly whipped up without too much bother? Does it really need to include cheese, beef and chocolate? How about something that takes into consideration your beloved’s heart—in the high cholesterol sense?

Let’s start with dessert, because I’ve actually planned ahead so I could post these options in time for you to be inspired, shop for the ingredients and try something new this year. My pals at The Dog’s Breakfast were waxing poetic about the divine flan they ate in Mexico, and we all decided to order Fany Gerson’s My Sweet Mexico in order to try her take on this custardy classic. I’m kicking myself that I don’t have my mother’s recipe, but I’m pretty sure hers used condensed or evaporated milk, giving it a slightly different taste than this one, which is all half-&-half. I remember as though it were yesterday sitting on the floor of the kitchen and chipping away with a spoon at the hardened caramel on the bottom of the bundt pan in which she made a large flan for dinner parties.

the ingredients for flan are simple, but quality counts as always

As an alternative, since I’m always interested in exploring promising, nutritionally rich alternatives, I thought I would try a version of the coconut custard known in Latin America as tembleque. (Temblar means “to tremble.”) It seemed like a good place to use the coconut sugar that’s been calling to me from the back corner of my baking cupboard. (Can we talk about the surplus of ingredients I have accumulated? I think I might have a serious problem. As in rehab.)

for flan, the first thing you make is the caramel atop which you pour the custard

you pour it into your ramekins and swirl it around to coat the bottom

then you heat half-&-half, infuse it with vanilla and beat in some eggs

the last step is baking it in a water bath (but pop those bubbles first!)

The verdict? Both are delicious. The flan is smooth and velvety, like a Barry White song. (Btw, those little speckles you see on top in the first photo? The vanilla bean seeds that made it through the strainer. I like how they add just the tiniest crunch, but they’re definitely not traditional.) The tembleque is rich but delicate. But neither one is chocolate. So if you truly insist on those individual molten chocolate cakes, the one invented by Jean Georges Vongerichten and emulated by every restaurant from here to Kansas City, you can have them. Here’s the recipe. Having recently made them to honor a dear friend’s birthday request, I have some advice for you. Instead of using flour with the butter to prepare your molds or ramekins, use cocoa powder. It’s genius. And, they’re ready to come out of the oven when the sides are set and a bit puffed up and only the center is still liquidy. Not before, or you’ll be eating them out of a bowl with a spoon. (Which is not actually such a bad thing.) I served mine with a dollop of crème fraîche and some candied kumquats, as you really do need something to cut the extreme richness.

love me tender

Now, to the rest of the meal. I’ll admit, there’s nothing like slow-cooked and succulent short ribs. Try these, à la Suzanne Goin. Or these, with red daikon and miso, à la moi. Remember, it’s best to start a day ahead so you can skim the fat. The whole fish in a salt crust, from my spring dinner party, could also be a nice choice as it has a very sexy presentation. Or make some duck legs, either braised like this—or just pick up some confit legs (even less work)—and serve them atop a melting puddle of polenta or some creamy celeriac mash. Or maybe you just want to cut right to the cheese fondue. Here’s a classic recipe. You can dip things other than bread into that—sausage, lightly roasted Brussels sprouts, radishes. And don’t forget to serve it with a few crisp and vinegary cornichons.

A little wine, a loaf of bread and thou—since when is that enough?

FLAN A LA ANTIGUA (Old Fashioned Flan)

from Fany Gerson’s My Sweet Mexico

serves 6 (I halved the recipe and it was fine)

1 3/4 cups sugar

1/2 cup water

2 cups half-&-half

1 large piece canela (Mexican cinnamon), or 1/2 vanilla bean (your preference)

5 large egg yolks

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

pinch of sea salt

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Combine 1 cup of the sugar and the water in a small, heavy saucepan and cook over low-medium heat until the sugar dissolves and turns a dark golden color (once it starts changing color, swirl it around so it caramelizes evenly). Working quickly, pour the caramel into 6 ramekins and swirl around to coat the bottoms.

Combine the half-&-half and canela (if using vanilla, slit the bean lengthwise with the tip of a knife and scrape in the seeds and add the pod) in a saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Remove from the heat and cover. Allow to steep for 15 minutes to extract the flavor.

Menwhile, mix together the egg yolks, the remaining 3/4 cup sugar, the vanilla and the salt in a large heatproof mixing bowl placed on a towel to keep it from wobbling while you whisk in the hot liquid. Slowly ladle about 1 cup of the hot infused cream into the egg mixture while whisking. Then add the egg mixture back to the cream while you whisk gently (try to prevent excess air bubbles from forming). Strain and use right away, or chill it over an ice bath to use another day (can be made up to 3 days ahead).

Place the prepared ramekins evenly spaced in a baking dish lined with a towel to keep them from sliding. Divide the mixture among the ramekins and pop any bubbles with a spoon (or a chopstick). Carefully pour hot water to fill three-fourths of the way up the side of the ramekins, and cover the pan with aluminum foil. Make a few holes in the foil to prevent steaming. Bake until the flans are set around the edges but slightly jiggly in the center, about 30 minutes.

Remove the baking dish from the oven and remove the ramekins with a towel or tongs. Let cool, uncovered, until they feel cool to the touch, and then chill in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours (overnight is fine).

To unmold, fill a bowl with 2-3 inches of very hot water. Dip in a small, sharp knife, dry it quickly and run it around the edges of the ramekins. Dip the bottom of each ramekin in the hot water for about 20 seconds, then unmold unto  plate. The flan should slowly unmold. Spoon out any caramel left in the ramekin on top. Serve chilled or at room temperature.

TEMBLEQUE (Caribbean Coconut Pudding)

serves 4

4 cups organic coconut milk

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup cornstarch

1/4 teaspoon sea salt

Ground cinnamon and toasted coconut flakes for garnish

In a saucepan, mix together the cornstarch, sugar and salt. Whisk in the coconut milk and simmer over low to medium heat. Stir constantly until the mixture is thoroughly cooked and thickens. Remove the saucepan from the heat and pour pudding into ramekins.

Allow the pudding to chill in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours. Garnish with a pinch of ground cinnamon and a sprinkle of toasted coconut flakes.

Valentine’s Day is approaching. Do you even care? Even if you do, the last thing you’ll be planning is dinner out with your sweetie. We all know what a disaster that is, right? Surrounded by tables of clammy-handed twenty-somethings trying to express their devotion through over-priced specials at restaurants with mood lighting? No, thanks. If you want to be truly romantic, prepare a lovely meal at home. In the next couple of days, I promise to post some richly satisfying and epicuriously exciting dishes worthy of this over-hyped occasion that you can consider whipping up for your beloved(s). You might even try this one, a fairly simple, easily customizable recipe for stuffed poblano chiles, those gorgeously green and glossy creatures you’ve undoubtedly admired from afar.

looks like torture

Poblanos hail from the Mexican state of Puebla. Like the best partners, they are generally mild but can surprise you with a bit of heat. When dried, they are known as ancho chiles. The fresh ones are used for chiles rellenos, a delicious preparation in which they are stuffed with cheese, dipped in an egg batter and fried. They are also served with a delicious walnut sauce for the traditional chiles en nogada. Both of those dishes are a lot more bother than this one, which involves simply stuffing the chiles with whatever you have on hand, blobbing a bit of cheese on top and roasting them briefly with a bit of spicy sauce.

The first step, as you can see above, is charring the skin of the chiles so you can easily remove it. I simply stick them on my gas burners, turning them with tongs until they are evenly charred all over. This is painless.

you really want to blacken them all over

Then you place the charred chiles in a plastic bag, so they can steam. Leave them in there until they are cool enough to handle.

i like to think of this as a chile sauna

Then you pull off the peel. Sometimes it’s easier to do under running water. Do it gently, as you want to avoid tearing the flesh of the chile. This is a bit of an acquired skill, so don’t get all freaked out if some little bits of skin are left behind. It’s just not a big deal.

naked and ready for love

Once peeled, you make a slit up one side and remove the seeds from within the chile, leaving the stem intact. Now they’re ready to be stuffed. You can stuff them with a mixture of ground meat and rice, or just rice, or lots of chopped up vegetables, cheese or even mashed potatoes. Basically they have become a vehicle for whatever you’ve got on hand.

it’s what’s inside that counts

I used a mixture of cooked quinoa with some fresh corn I had frozen this summer, some grated carrot, a few raisins (traditional in Mexican cooking), onion, garlic and cilantro. I winged it, and so can you. Just sautee everything together until it melds into an orgy of flavor. Leftover squash, barley, tomatoes? Toss in some pine nuts or chopped almonds. Anything goes.

ready for the oven

I put mine in a small casserole, dotted them with some fresh mozzarella, and drizzled them with the remains of that can of chipotle sauce I had opened when making those bean tostadas the other day. Then I popped them in the oven at 350 until the cheese and sauce were bubbling. Beyond this, you don’t need a recipe. Make up your own. Let your freak flag fly. Put a little love into it and see what happens.