You may remember that I was lucky enough to have spice wizard Lior Lev Sercarz create a custom blend for Glutton for Life and that it was duly dubbed "The Shizzle." And you may have entered last year's holiday giveaway to win a jar. And you may still be pining to try this deliciously piquant mix that is poised in flavor somewhere between Mexico and Thailand. I'm happy to be offering another 2 jars of this spectacular seasoned salt to my readers, so please leave a comment below by midnight on Friday 2/13 to be eligible to win. And to those of you who recently won a jar on Glutton for Life's Facebook page, read on for a recipe that makes great use of The Shizzle!

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This is an overdue post I had promised to write sometime in August, I think, back when our local farmer friend found this rare treat/calamitous pest in his cornfield. I know this corn fungus as huitlacoche, the name (Nahuatl in origin) it goes by in Mexico, where it's considered a delicacy. In the States, it's called "corn smut," and destroyed for being a pathogenic blight on the harvest. Although Ustilago maydis can infect any part of the plant, it tends to enter the ovaries. It then replaces the normal kernels with large, distorted tumors or "galls." Doesn't sound very appetizing, right? But, like many fungi (think truffles), huitlacoche has a savory, sweet, earthy flavor that defies description. In Mexico, it's often eaten in cheesy quesadillas, with creamy scrambled eggs or in a kind of succotash with onions and spicy serrano peppers. I've come up with my own take on it that's delicious whether or not you can get your hands on any huitlacoche. It's available canned but I'm sure so much is lost in the processing. Go fresh or go home.
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So there went August. As fleeting as a summer romance. And not nearly as steamy. The weather was downright cool, in fact. We even lit a couple of fires! There was little time in the hammock, I'm afraid. No dangling of toes in pools. Can you see the fine lines my hair shirt made in the soft white flesh of my back? Ah, well. Perhaps next year I will live the summer of my dreams. This year, I was writing a book proposal. Dredging up my magnum opus and setting it down on paper. It felt plenty good to sift through all the photographs and recipes and musings and memories I have compiled over the years of this blog. To sample the fruits of my labor until the sticky juices of creativity ran down my chin. Thank you for being my sounding board, my inspiration, my partners in time. I am so excited for this book. Now, to find a publisher.

August was not without its moments, many of them enjoyed in the company of good friends. I cooked up a storm and can't wait to share some of my successes with you. (I also puttered in the garden quite a bit, and some recipes emerged from there that are being featured on Gardenista every Friday, so please stop by for a visit.) What I'd really love is to hear about your summer, to be regaled with tales from the shore, or wherever you were at liberty. I could use a little vicarious vacation. In the meantime, let me tell tempt you with tamales...
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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).

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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...

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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...
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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 6th), 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.
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