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Monday Meal Review: Hungary

THE SCENE:

“No, no, no. That’s not how you make it! You need much more paprika.”

I looked down at the heaping tablespoon in front of me.

Like, what? Two tablespoons? I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“At least.” Mom waved her hand like she was shooing a fly. “As much as you can stand.”

She looked down at Ava’s head and wrapped another strand of hair around the soft cotton curlers. In a few short hours they’d have matching curls.

I tasted the broth. My eyes began to water.

“It’s spicy.”

“That’s what the sour cream is for.”

“Should I add it now? That’s what these recipes say to do.”

“No no no. Where did you get these recipes? Add it at the end. At the end.”

She sighed dramatically. Ava looked up at her and sighed a little copycat sigh. Laughing, mom patted Ava’s head. The curlers were secure.

An hour later I whisked in the sour cream. “I can’t believe you’re not even going to eat this.”

She got up and peeked in the pan.

“I can’t – I’m vegan. I can’t eat like I used to.”

As she said so, she dipped her finger into the sauce and gave it a taste. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It’s good.”

After a pause she added: “The chicken isn’t brown enough, though. Burn it next time.”

THE FOOD

Chilled Cherry Soup [recipe]

What I liked most about this dish:

The tart, slightly sweet flavor of this chilled soup was exactly what I needed this hot, humid summer. My mom loved it best of all, staking a claim to any and all leftovers. I will definitely be making this again.

What I liked least about this dish:

I should have doubled the recipe. It makes enough for 4 if you use tiny dessert/appetizer bowls, but if you’re wanting this as your main meal, it probably would only feed two.

Chicken Paprika [recipe]

What I liked most about this dish:

This is childhood on a plate, for me. The creamy sauce cuts the heat from the paprika – the contrast is fun and interesting. I can’t believe I had never made this for Keith before. He loved it. Ava did too.

What I liked least about this dish:

If you don’t brown the chicken enough, the skin becomes soft and flabby… not good eats. My mom tried to warn me, but it was already too late – the chicken was in the sauce.

Hungarian Campfire Bacon Kabobs [recipe]

What I liked most about this dish:

This is a fabulous summertime camping or grilling activity. I especially like cutting off the browned bits and dropping them over a salad. It makes the whole thing seem healthier somehow.

What I liked least about this dish:

Aside from health concerns, I’d say finding the whole, rind on bacon was the hardest part.

Palacsinta (Hungarian crêpes) [recipe]

What I liked most about this dish:

Everything.

What I liked least about this dish:

Be sure to keep an eye on the heat – you don’t want to burn these. Have fun with the fillings. While the jam and walnuts are great, next time I’ll put out more filling options like yogurt and sliced fruit. I even found a sour cherry jam that would be a nice nod to the Hungarian love of cherries.

Ava’s Corner
.
P.S. I love my husband. He’s the one who edits these videos every week, ya know.
Not to mention the fact that he willingly samples new foods in an effort to overcome his “Mr Picky” tendencies.
He’s tops.

Mom’s Chicken Paprika

“Whose recipe is this? No, no, no. Much more paprika! Heap it on!”

And so the Adventure to recreate a favorite childhood supper began.

I say this is mom’s chicken paprika, but it didn’t start out that way. I had a basic recipe and then asked for her help to execute it. As we simmered along, however, mom tossed corrections my way – saving me from disaster and cluing me into how she would have made it, if she was the one wielding the wooden spoon.

I promise you – although Chicken Paprika is not much to look at (especially if you add chunky chopped onions, like I did), it tastes amazingly creamy and – if you use good, half-sharp paprika – surprisingly spicy. Serve with buttered noodles for a completely addicting bite of Hungary. You can also roll shredded bits of the chicken inside Hungarian Crêpes (palacsinta) [recipe] and coat with the sauce – a great way to use up leftovers.

Ingredients:

One 4 lb chicken, cut into pieces (or 2 lbs assorted chicken pieces)
2 Tbsp oil, or as needed
1 onion, chopped
1 cup chicken broth
2 Tbsp half-sharp paprika
salt
1 1/2 cups sour cream

Method:

First things first, find a chicken to bone. This is the way an old Hungarian family would do it. Slice it up into legs, wings, and breast. Keep the carcass to make chicken stock.

Next, brown the chicken in batches. Use hot oil.

My mom would like to tell you that this is definitely not brown enough. She might even have yelled “Burn it!”

So, with that being said, remove the chicken once it is much browner. Pour off all but a tablespoon of fat. Set the chicken aside while you brown the onions.

While they’re cooking, add in some paprika.

“More! More! Much more.” mom says.

Once everything is brown and toasty and your mouth is watering, pour in the chicken stock…

and return the much, much, much, browner chicken to the pan. (She’ll never let me live this down). Season with salt.

Let simmer, covered, for about 45 minutes, or until the chicken is falling off the bone.

While it’s cooking, shut your eyes and imagine you’re laying in a field of poppies, staring at clouds dance across the sky.

Field of Poppies in Hungary

Ah, beautiful Hungary. Thank you for that daydream.

When 45 minutes are up, turn off the burner and remove the chicken to serving platter/bowl. Whisk the sour cream into the cooking liquid to make a pale pink sauce. Check the seasonings and add more salt if necessary.

Pour sauce over chicken. Serve over buttered noodles. You could also shred the chicken and roll it up in Hungarian Crêpes, a.k.a. palacsinta [recipe].

Ah, the joys of tender, succulent, spicy, creamy chicken.

Don’t think, just dive in.

And ladle on more sauce for the noodles.

Thanks Hungary!

Mom's Chicken Paprika
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I promise you – although Chicken Paprika is not much to look at (especially if you add chunky chopped onions, like I did), it tastes amazingly creamy and – if you use good, half-sharp paprika – surprisingly spicy. Serve with buttered noodles for a completely addicting bite of Hungary. You can also roll shredded bits of the chicken inside Hungarian Crêpes (palacsinta) and coat with the sauce – a great way to use up leftovers.
Servings Prep Time
4-6 people 15 minutes
Cook Time
1 hour
Servings Prep Time
4-6 people 15 minutes
Cook Time
1 hour
Mom's Chicken Paprika
Votes: 1
Rating: 5
You:
Rate this recipe!
Print Recipe
I promise you – although Chicken Paprika is not much to look at (especially if you add chunky chopped onions, like I did), it tastes amazingly creamy and – if you use good, half-sharp paprika – surprisingly spicy. Serve with buttered noodles for a completely addicting bite of Hungary. You can also roll shredded bits of the chicken inside Hungarian Crêpes (palacsinta) and coat with the sauce – a great way to use up leftovers.
Servings Prep Time
4-6 people 15 minutes
Cook Time
1 hour
Servings Prep Time
4-6 people 15 minutes
Cook Time
1 hour
Ingredients
  • 4 lb whole chicken , cut into pieces - OR -
  • 2 lbs chicken legs AND
  • chicken thighs
  • 2 Tbsp vegetable oil (or as needed)
  • 1 onion , chopped
  • 1 cup chicken broth
  • 2 Tbsp paprika (half-sharp)
  • salt
  • 1 1/2 cups sour cream
Servings: people
Units:
Instructions
  1. Bone your chicken and brown the chicken in batches using hot oil. Once browned, remove and pour off all but a tsp of fat. Set the chicken aside while you brown the onions.
  2. While the onions are cooking, add in some paprika.
  3. Once everything is brown and toasty, pour in the chicken broth and return chicken to the pan. Season with salt.
  4. Let simmer, covered, for about 45 minutes, or until the chicken is falling off the bone.
  5. When 45 minutes are up, turn off the burner and remove the chicken to serving platter/bowl. Whisk the sour cream into the cooking liquid to make a pale pink sauce. Check the seasonings and add more salt if necessary.
  6. Pour sauce over the chicken. Serve over buttered noodles or shred the chicken and roll it up in Hungarian Crêpes.

Chilled Cherry Soup

Serves 2-4

Relaxing has never been so easy. Dive into this cool bowl of deep violet cherry soup and feel the blissful calm of Hungary overtake you. It only takes 12 minutes to make, 10 of which you’ll be daydreaming in a lawn chair with your sunglasses on. That’s the kind of cooking I can get behind on a hot summer’s day.

If you can get your hands on fresh tart cherries (a.k.a sour cherries), the soup will be even better. In fact, if you do, you’ll be able to float some whole cherries on top of the soup as a garnish. The season is just getting started – they haven’t made their way to Oklahoma yet – but keep an eye out – they’ll be here any day now.

Note: The recipe is vegan if you leave out the sour cream garnish.

Ingredients:

1 jar tart cherries in water (29 fl oz), plus the liquid from the jar.
1/3 cup sugar, or to taste
1/4 cup dry red wine
1 cinnamon stick

Garnish:

sour cream, to taste (optional, not for vegan)

Method:

When I’m relaxed, life is good. I smile more. I laugh more. I dance more.

Summertime meals should be relaxing. It’s too hot for anything else.

To make this easy, breezy, chilled soup, flip flop into the kitchen and add the cherries, their juices, sugar, red wine, and cinnamon stick to a medium pot.

Bring to a gentle simmer.

Don’t forget to pour on the wine. It adds flourish and deepens the cherry flavor. You can drink the leftovers, which goes well with our theme of relaxation.

Let everything gently simmer and mingle for about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, take a nap in the glorious shade at the Fisherman’s Bastion in Budapest. Let the 7 towers of the viewing terrace take your dreams up, up and away – over the ambling Danube river.

Fisherman’s Bastion (Budapest, Hungary) Photos courtesy AngMoKio & Andrew Bossi

Ahh, that was nice.

Upon waking, add the cherries to a blender (be sure to remove the cinnamon stick).

Pour on 1 1/2 cups of cooking liquid (should be just about the entire thing). If you don’t have quite enough, add a little water or wine.

Puree until perfectly smooth. Serve with a dollop of sour cream.

Sending you relaxing regards, from Hungary’s Global Table.

P.S. Eat with your mother or grandmother, on pretty china. Preferably at the Fisherman’s Bastion. In the shade of a mighty tree.

Chilled Cherry Soup
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Dive into this cool bowl of deep violet cherry soup and feel the blissful calm of Hungary overtake you.
Chilled Cherry Soup
Votes: 0
Rating: 0
You:
Rate this recipe!
Print Recipe
Dive into this cool bowl of deep violet cherry soup and feel the blissful calm of Hungary overtake you.
Ingredients
  • 1 jar cherries , tart (29 fl oz)
  • 1/3 cup sugar , or to taste
  • 1/4 cup dry red wine
  • 1 cinnamon stick
  • sour cream , garnish (optional)
Servings:
Units:
Instructions
  1. Add the cherries, their juices, sugar, red wine, and cinnamon stick to a medium pot. Bring to a gentle simmer for about 10 minutes.
  2. Add the cherries and 1 1/2 cups of the cooking liquid to a blender. If you don't have quite enough, add a little water or wine.
  3. Puree until perfectly smooth. Serve with a dollop of sour cream.
Recipe Notes

If you can get your hands on fresh tart cherries (a.k.a sour cherries), the soup will be even better.

Hungarian Campfire Bacon

Stars poke holes in the black sky. Crickets chirp. A campfire crackles.

A few dear friends sit in a circle, chattering. They laugh until they cry and cry until they laugh.

And, since they’re Hungarian, they’re holding bacon. Giant cubes of bacon. On sticks.

Welcome to Hungarian summer.

Campfire bacon kabobs, a.k.a. Gypsy Bacon (Cigany Szalonna) are an integral part of any Hungarian barbecue. In Planet Barbecue Steven Raichlen states:

There once was a time – perhaps it’s true still – when Hungary had the highest per capita calorie intake of any country in Europe. Lard and Goose fat undoubtedly helped Hungary achieve this distinction, but the real culprit was […] grilled bacon.

Now I know why mom and brother, Damien, always loved to “chew the fat” – literally. Our Hungarian roots all but require it.

Here’s how it works:

1. Buy the biggest piece of rind-on slab bacon you can find. Unsliced. I had to call about 5 butchers before I found it at Perry’s in Tulsa. Even then, they tried to slice it up for me.

2. Cut the bacon into hunks. About 2″ cubed is good. Stick it on a… stick. A skewer is okay too.

3. Slowly roast the bacon over a campfire (or grill). As it renders, drop the drippings  onto a slice of rye bread. This is then eaten with various toppings, such as sliced onion, peppers, tomatoes, or radishes. The browned bits of bacon can be shaved off, onto the bread or into a salad.

4. While you wait for the bacon to render, talk about the meaning of life, the joys of the evening, and your hopes for tomorrow. Talk until you yawn. Talk until dawn.

For more pictures of this neat tradition, see Patty’s annual Hungarian family reunion, where they indulge in many a Campfire Bacon Kabob.

Starry night photo by chensiyuan
Hungarian Campfire Bacon
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Rating: 3.67
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Campfire bacon kabobs, a.k.a. Gypsy Bacon (Cigany Szalonna) are an integral part of any Hungarian barbecue.
Servings Prep Time
8 people 5 minutes
Cook Time
20 minutes
Servings Prep Time
8 people 5 minutes
Cook Time
20 minutes
Hungarian Campfire Bacon
Votes: 3
Rating: 3.67
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Campfire bacon kabobs, a.k.a. Gypsy Bacon (Cigany Szalonna) are an integral part of any Hungarian barbecue.
Servings Prep Time
8 people 5 minutes
Cook Time
20 minutes
Servings Prep Time
8 people 5 minutes
Cook Time
20 minutes
Ingredients
  • 1 lb bacon (rind on, slab)
Accompaniments:
  • rye bread
  • onions , sliced
  • bell peppers , sliced
  • tomatoes , sliced
  • radishes , sliced
Materials
  • Sticks
Servings: people
Units:
Instructions
  1. Buy the biggest piece of rind-on slab bacon you can find. Unsliced.
  2. Cut the bacon into hunks. About 2″ cubed is good. Stick it on a… stick. A skewer is okay too.
  3. Slowly roast the bacon over a campfire (or grill). As it renders, drop the drippings onto a slice of rye bread. This is then eaten with various toppings, such as sliced onion, peppers, tomatoes, or radishes. The browned bits of bacon can be shaved off, onto the bread or into a salad.
  4. While you wait for the bacon to render, talk about the meaning of life, the joys of the evening, and your hopes for tomorrow. Talk until you yawn. Talk until dawn.

Hungarian crêpes | Palacsinta

Serves 2-4

Ah, the glories of simple love. Simple food. Simple summertime breakfasts in Hungary.

My mom has been making palacsinta under the guise of crêpes for decades. Despite being half Hungarian, she even calls them crêpes -I suppose because it’s easier to say. Still, like any good Hungarian, she’s made an art of rolling them up with fruit, yogurt, and nuts. Today – in her honor – we make the simplest preparation of all: smeared with apricot jam, sprinkled with crushed walnuts and stacked as high as we can handle. It’s like a Hungarian hug on a plate.

Start this recipe the night before you need it. The next morning you’ll have thin, delicate palacsinta, perfect for wrapping up sweet or savory food (you could even wrap up chicken paprika in it). Some will tell you to keep the batter thin – it should pour about like maple syrup. You can thin it as needed with extra milk.

Ingredients:

2 cups flour
2 cups milk, plus extra as needed
2 eggs
1 1/2 tsp almond extract
pinch salt
butter, for cooking

Method:

If you’re the kind of sweet, tender soul who needs a hug when you wake up in the morning, palacsinta are totally the way to go. Each bite is as lovely as a smile just waiting to unfold and as comforting as the biggest bear hug you ever hugged.

For starters, you make the batter the night before, so when you wake up there’s almost nothing to do.

That’s love, right there.

So here’s what you do.

The night before, preferably while wearing cotton pj’s, whisk together the flour, milk, eggs, salt and almond extract. Make the batter as smooth as you can, but don’t worry too much about the tiny lumps. After a rest in the refrigerator overnight they’ll disappear.

Reminds me of life; the lumpy parts eventually go away if given enough time and space.

Don’t forget that pinch of salt. It makes the crêpes taste like “good.”

Refrigerate overnight. Meanwhile, go to bed and dream of being inside this painting, frolicking around Visegrád, eating crêpes.

Visegrád, by Markó Károly (1793-1860)

In the morning wake up, stretch and smile. When you finally make it into the kitchen, pull the batter out of the fridge and give it a good whisking. Add more milk until it thins to the consistency of maple syrup.

Pour a ladle of batter into a medium-hot, buttered skillet and, with a turn of the wrist, spread the batter evenly around the pan.  Cook until the top changes from wet and shiny to dry and dull. Flip and cook another few seconds on the other side.

Continue cooking the palacsinta. Keep finished ones in a warm oven until done.

Spread with golden apricot jam…

…and a sprinkle of crushed walnuts… Stack and stack… until they either reach the top of the Visegrád castle or … you think you’ll cry if you don’t eat them right away.

Whichever comes sooner.

Finish with a dusting of sugar.

Rakott Palacsinta, or stacked Palacsinta, will take you right to the heart of Hungary – a great big bear hug.

The first time you make them, eat by yourself under a tree, on a picnic blanket. Save half the batter to cook the next day.

The second time you make them, eat with one dear friend and give them a giant hug when you’re done. And a kiss, if they happen to be your most special dear friend.

Hungarian crêpes | Palacsinta
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Print Recipe
Start this recipe the night before you need it. The next morning you’ll have thin, delicate palacsinta, perfect for wrapping up sweet or savory food (you could even wrap up chicken paprika in it). Some will tell you to keep the batter thin – it should pour about like maple syrup. You can thin it as needed with extra milk.
Servings
2-4 people
Servings
2-4 people
Hungarian crêpes | Palacsinta
Votes: 0
Rating: 0
You:
Rate this recipe!
Print Recipe
Start this recipe the night before you need it. The next morning you’ll have thin, delicate palacsinta, perfect for wrapping up sweet or savory food (you could even wrap up chicken paprika in it). Some will tell you to keep the batter thin – it should pour about like maple syrup. You can thin it as needed with extra milk.
Servings
2-4 people
Servings
2-4 people
Ingredients
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 cups milk , plus extra as needed
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 1/2 tsp almond extract
  • 1 pinch salt
  • butter , for cooking
Servings: people
Units:
Instructions
  1. The night before, whisk together the flour, milk, eggs, salt and almond extract. Make the batter as smooth as you can, but down't worry too much about the tiny lumps. After a rest in the refrigerator overnight they'll disappear. Don't forget that pinch of salt.
  2. Refrigerate overnight.
  3. The next morning, pull the batter out of the fridge and give it a good whisking. Add more milk until it thins to the consistency of maple syrup.
  4. Pour a ladle of batter into a medium-hot, buttered skillet and, with a turn of the wrist, spread the batter evenly around the pan. cook until the top changes from wet and shiny to dry and dull. Flip and cook another few seconds on the other side.
  5. Continue cooking the palacsinta. Keep finished ones in a warm oven until done. Spread with golden apricot jam, stack and sprinkle with crushed walnuts and a dusting of sugar.

Menu: Hungary

Ava calls my mom Grammie Sue, but it really comes out more like “miss you,” which is exactly how we’re feeling today. Living far from my family was okay when I was single, but became excruciating once Ava was born. It’s like Keith and I have a home filled with starlight and each day she glows and smiles and spreads joy all over the place. Not being able to share that on a regular basis feels like a crime.

After a completely lovely visit, Mom flew back to Boston in the “ahww-pwane,” as Ava calls it. We’re all sad to see her go, but the memories of this happy meal – straight from our Hungarian heritage – will keep us until the next time.

What would you like to try?

Chilled Cherry Soup [recipe]
Traditionally served as an appetizer in Hungary, Chilled Cherry Soup is tart, slightly sweet, and rounded out with earthy cinnamon and the slightest hint of red wine.

Chicken Paprika [recipe]
Chicken stewed with loads of paprika, chopped onion and finished off with a not-so-small, really-rather-giant blob of sour cream.

Campfire bacon kabobs (Cigany Szalonna) [recipe]
Thick chunks of bacon, skewered and grilled over a campfire or conventional grill. As the fat renders, it drips onto rye bread, which is then eaten with radishes, onions, and tomatoes.

Palacsinta (Hungarian crêpes) [recipe]
Thin crêpes spread with apricot jam and crushed walnuts. The palacsinta are then stacked and dusted with powdered sugar for a decadent dessert or breakfast.

*All recipes and the meal review will be posted by Monday morning.

About the food of Hungary

Ava meeting her great grandpa (my Hungarian grandpa) Michael Molnar. He died a few months later at age 96 after suffering a heart attack.

I’m Italian-Hungarian on my mother’s side. Which is like saying I’m wet-dry. Hot-cold. Tall-short. In our family, the Italian side is loud, boisterous and in each other’s business. On the Hungarian side no one talks about anything. Discussions rarely surface and, if they do, they begin and end with “just forget about it.” I rather like the combination. It makes for interesting family gatherings.

When I quizzed my mother about our Hungarian heritage, she said “I don’t know. It wasn’t like the Italian side, where we got together every Sunday to have a big fight.”

The only story I ever heard my Hungarian Grandpa tell was how he would ring the chickens’ necks for dinner. It consisted of two sentences: “I wrung their necks. Your grandmother cooked ’em.” I had to really probe to get this tiny tidbit.

My mom only found out what her grandpa, Lajos, did for a living a few years ago. The story? He was in construction. She asked for details.

“Like building houses?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

End of story.

The Foppiano cousins, on the other hand, told me anything they could think of and mostly stories I was not supposed to know.

The conversation picked up when I asked mom what she ate growing up. The first thing she said was “Paprika, paprika, paprika.” This rusty red spice was in and on every dish imaginable, from Chicken Paprika [recipe], to eggs, soups, and cucumber salad with sour cream. Instead of common, mild paprika, she uses half-sharp paprika which is spicy and impossibly tingly, with a heat level floating somewhere between regular paprika and cayenne.

The conversation died down and we sipped our tea.

After a long silence, mom blurted out “Pig’s feet.”

She explained that her dad brought home pickled pigs feet – something her Italian mother had zero interest in. In general, meat was a big deal – mom was raised to chew the fat. The men did a lot of hunting. Rabbit, deer – it was all fair game.  They even ate bacon kabobs at campouts [recipe]. Stews like goulash and paprikas were served with buttered noodles.

Sweet summertime dishes included strudel and stone fruit, like cold cherry soup [recipe]. Hungarian crepes – palacsinta [recipe] – were adored any time of day. Mom rolled them up with apricot jam, walnuts, or yogurt/sour cream and we ate so many our tummies stuck out for hours. Savory versions were a big hit, too – mom stuffed many a palacsinta with chicken paprika. The funny thing is, growing up, I always assumed she was cooking French when she made crepes – I had no idea until this week that the versions we munched on my entire life were actually a Hungarian treat. Life is funny that way.

Full disclosure: except for the photo of my grandpa and great grandpa, my mom has no idea who the people in these pictures are. She said she found them in her dad’s family album, unlabeled. Which, as with any good tragic-comedy, makes us cry a little, but laugh more. As the Hungarian side of the family would say, “just forget about it.”

Monday Meal Review: Haiti & Honduras

Keith’s parents would be here in just a few hours. I went to the window. Blue and clear. A good time as any to get cooking.

I tore open the gelatin and whisked it together with warm water until dissolved.  Next, I cracked open the thick white coconut milk, and swirled it with the rest of the ingredients, stopping to dab a little vanilla extract on my wrists. Time for the stove top. I clicked on the burner and let things heat up.

After a moment, the smell of summer billowed up.

I poured the steaming liquid into the mold and stirred in the tropical fruit. The next day we’d have elegant, grown-up jello from Haiti. Blancmange. The whole thing took less than ten minutes. I smiled at the novel simplicity.

Ava would love it.

I pushed the dessert into the refrigerator gently, trying not to splash the blancmange around too much. I should have made something like this a long time ago, I thought to myself. I hardly ever make food that wobbles. In fact, with no memories of ever having done so, my best guess is that I’ve made jello twice my entire life.

This was cause for celebration.

The next day, I put lemon yellow wildflowers in the window and a smile on my face. Everyone took a slice.

Ava looked at the creamy white slice of blancmange studded with jeweled tropical fruit. She frowned.

Keith, my Mr Picky, took a bite. There was a pause as he shifted in his chair.

“From looking at it, I thought it would be sweeter,” he finally said.

I took a bite.

“The fruit’s sweet.”

Ava continued to look skeptical, the way only a toddler can. Her skepticism remained firmly lodged until I brought out the coconut ice cream.  Then she was all smiles. And kind enough to share with her new baby doll.

For Ava’s reaction to the blancmange, watch the video at the bottom of this post.

Caribbean Coconut Ice Cream [recipe]

What I liked most about this dish:

There’s nothing so wonderful when hot, sticky weather creeps into the house (even with the a/c on full blast), as a no-cook ice cream that only takes three ingredients. The flavor is rich, creamy and wonderful. The time to make it? Three minutes, plus churning time. Excellent.

What I liked least about this dish:

Not much, although real coconut fans might want to add a bit of shredded coconut to the recipe for texture. I prefer it on top, myself.

Blancmange Coconut Fruit Jello [recipe]

What I liked most about this dish:

This is a totally new concept for me. The flavor is rich and fruity, but also rather sedated as far as jellos go. I rather liked it.

What I liked least about this dish:

This not a sweet treat. This is delicate and creamy. If you aren’t into mild desserts, this recipe might not be for you.

Plantain & Cheese Turnovers [recipe]

What I liked most about this dish:

The creamy, melted cheese and tart plantain dough go nicely together, especially once the whole thing gets the crispy crunch of pan-frying. Keith gobbled these up.

What I liked least about this dish:

Watch them carefully in the pan. The flour helps them from sticking, but they can fall apart if you are too rough with them or if you don’t add enough flour to your dough.

Crunchy Jicama & Chayote Salad [recipe]

What I liked most about this dish:

Refreshing and citrusy – this is my ideal slaw. No mayo for me, thanks! The other diners – Keith’s very Oklahoman parents – seemed a little more perplexed.

What I liked least about this dish:

Not much. Next time I might add a third orange for even more juicy bursts in every bite.

Ava’s Corner

Haitian Coconut Fruit Jello | Blancmange

Makes a 1 1/2 quart, large molded dessert

There’s something about jello that’s so 1897. So Victorian. So old-school. So… over-the-top-retro. You see, 1897 is the magic year gelatin and fruit syrup were first combined to make the wobbly dessert we’re familiar with today.  Fast forward through several decades and continents and you get today’s recipe, blancmange. It’s loaded up with evaporated and coconut milks, making it jello’s creamy counter part.

It’s the reason Haiti’s get up in the morning. At least, I like to think so.

This wibbly-wobbly dessert is fun for kids to make – you’ll find it at weddings and other celebrations. While it is not very sweet it is creamy, smooth and silky, almost like eating a wet coconut cloud. The tradition hails from France, where these sorts of molded desserts are extremely popular. Haiti was a French colony, so it’s only natural they put their Caribbean twist on the dessert.

Ingredients:

1/2 tsp vanilla extract, optional
1, 13.5 oz can coconut milk
2, 12 oz cans evaporated milk
3 packets gelatin
3/4 cup warm water
1/4 cup sweetened condensed milk, or more to taste
1 14 oz can tropical fruit cocktail, drained and diced small, or fresh diced fruit (like mango, pineapple, papaya etc).

Method:

While you’re making this dessert, think back to your childhood. Did you eat jello? Did you like jello? Did all the wiggling weird you out?

I’d like you to meet elegant, grown-up jello. Here’s what you need:

First, dissolve three packets of gelatin in warm water.

Give it a good stir so there are no lumps.

Next, whisk together the evaporated milk, coconut milk, and sweetened condensed milk. Add the gelatin and cook until almost simmering and gelatin is dissolved. Do not let simmer. Remove from heat.

Strain fruit. I like to cut the pieces up smaller than this, so there is more juicy goodness throughout the dessert. You could probably even add more than this – play around with the recipe.

Pour milk mixture into a lightly oiled mold. Evenly sprinkle the fruit around the mold.

Chill for 24 hours. Loosen the edges with a clean knife and give a few wiggles until you see the blancmange shake loose from the edges. Invert onto serving plate. Slice with a sharp knife and eat on dainty plates, while drinking tea and dreaming about the most wonderful time in your childhood.

Ah, memories.

Worth every bite.

Haitian Coconut Fruit Jello | Blancmange
Votes: 1
Rating: 5
You:
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This wibbly-wobbly dessert is fun for kids to make – you’ll find it at weddings and other celebrations. While it is not very sweet it is creamy, smooth and silky, almost like eating a wet coconut cloud. The tradition hails from France, where these sorts of molded desserts are extremely popular. Haiti was a French colony, so it’s only natural they put their Caribbean twist on the dessert.
Servings Prep Time
1 1/2 quart molded dessert 10 minutes
Cook Time Passive Time
10 minutes 24 hours
Servings Prep Time
1 1/2 quart molded dessert 10 minutes
Cook Time Passive Time
10 minutes 24 hours
Haitian Coconut Fruit Jello | Blancmange
Votes: 1
Rating: 5
You:
Rate this recipe!
Print Recipe
This wibbly-wobbly dessert is fun for kids to make – you’ll find it at weddings and other celebrations. While it is not very sweet it is creamy, smooth and silky, almost like eating a wet coconut cloud. The tradition hails from France, where these sorts of molded desserts are extremely popular. Haiti was a French colony, so it’s only natural they put their Caribbean twist on the dessert.
Servings Prep Time
1 1/2 quart molded dessert 10 minutes
Cook Time Passive Time
10 minutes 24 hours
Servings Prep Time
1 1/2 quart molded dessert 10 minutes
Cook Time Passive Time
10 minutes 24 hours
Ingredients
  • 1/2 tsp vanilla extract , optional
  • 13.5 oz coconut milk
  • 24 oz evaporated milk
  • 3 packets gelatin
  • 3/4 cup warm water
  • 1/4 cup sweetened condensed milk , or more to taste
  • 14 oz tropical fruit cocktail , drained and diced small (fresh tropical fruits may also be used)
Servings: quart molded dessert
Units:
Instructions
  1. First, dissolve three packets of gelatin in warm water. Give it a good stir so there are no lumps.
  2. Next, whisk together the evaporated milk, coconut milk, and sweetened condensed milk. Add the gelatin and cook until almost simmering and gelatin is dissolved. Do not let simmer. Remove from heat. Strain fruit. I like to cut the pieces up smaller than this, so there is more juicy goodness throughout the dessert. You could probably even add more than this – play around with the recipe.
  3. Pour milk mixture into a lightly oiled mold. Evenly sprinkle the fruit around the mold. Chill for 24 hours. Loosen the edges with a clean knife and give a few wiggles until you see the blancmange shake loose from the edges. Invert onto serving plate. Slice with a sharp knife.

Jicama & Chayote Salad

Makes 1 large bowl

If you’ve never had jicama or chayote, you’re in for a real treat. Jicama is watery and crunchy, a lot like water chesnuts, but mildly sweet. Chayote is in the squash family, and you can taste it. When dressed with a splash of lime and orange juice, the salad brings together the tropical flavors of Central America.

Ingredients:

1 jicama, peeled and sliced into matchsticks
1 chayote, sliced into matchsticks
2-3 large oranges, segmented
1/2 large red onion, sliced thinly
1-2 limes, juiced
fresh cilantro, to taste
olive oil
salt & pepper

Method:

Welcome to a pantry of fresh flavor. Of deliciousness. Of happy salads just waiting to be made.

Slice everything up, nice and thin.

Segment the orange – meaning cut off the skin and use a sharp knife to cut wedges out from between the segments.

Sprinkle with plenty of lime juice. Realize your salad bowl is much too small to do any ingredient tossing.

Pile everything into the largest, reddest bowl you can find. Douse with a splash of oil. I like olive oil, personally, although vegetable oil would be okay too.

Season with chopped cilantro, salt and pepper..

Serve chilled and crunchy… to chill, crunchy people.

You can store for three days in the refrigerator and it will only get better.

Like a good love story. Or a piece of good news you just can’t wait to share.

Jicama & Chayote Salad
Votes: 0
Rating: 0
You:
Rate this recipe!
Print Recipe
Jicama is watery and crunchy, a lot like water chesnuts, but mildly sweet. Chayote is in the squash family, and you can taste it. When dressed with a splash of lime and orange juice, the salad brings together the tropical flavors of Central America
Jicama & Chayote Salad
Votes: 0
Rating: 0
You:
Rate this recipe!
Print Recipe
Jicama is watery and crunchy, a lot like water chesnuts, but mildly sweet. Chayote is in the squash family, and you can taste it. When dressed with a splash of lime and orange juice, the salad brings together the tropical flavors of Central America
Ingredients
  • 1 jicama , peeled and sliced into matchsticks
  • 1 chayote , sliced into matchsticks
  • 2-3 large oranges , segmented
  • 1/2 large red onions , thinly sliced
  • 1-2 limes , juiced
  • fresh cilantro , fresh, to taste
  • olive oil
  • salt
  • pepper
Servings:
Units:
Instructions
  1. Place fruit and vegetables in a large bowl and sprinkle with lime juice.
  2. Douse with olive oil and toss.
  3. Season with chopped cilantro, salt and pepper. Served chilled and crunchy.

Caribbean Coconut Ice Cream

Makes 5 cups

I like to float around in easy, breezy sundresses all summer long. I also like to wear my hair short and laugh really loud at silly jokes. Finally, I like to eat ice cream by the gallon while squeezing my eyes really tight and imagining I’m on a Caribbean island. This is best done while nibbling on a cold spoonful of creamy coconut ice cream, made even sweeter by the fact that I didn’t have to turn on the stove – not even for one second – to make it.

Call me a glutton for punishment, but I think this ice cream should be served with warm Baked Brown Sugar Bananas, another wonderful Caribbean treat.

Ingredients:

2 1/2 cups half and half
1 1/4 cups sweetened condensed milk
1 1/4 cups coconut milk

Garnish:

Toasted, shredded coconut

Method:

Before we get started, let’s give a nod to how coconut ice cream is traditionally made in the Caribbean. First, a beautiful coconut would be hacked open and shredded for deeply rich coconut ice cream. I couldn’t even figure out how to get this thing open without a hammer and nail, so we’re going with something a little more cosmopolitan. And quicker.

Today’s recipe has all the big flavor of fresh coconut, but with three simple ingredients.  All you need are half and half, coconut milk, and sweetened condensed milk. No hammer or nail required.

Whisk the ingredients together, then pour into ice cream maker and churn according to manufacturers instructions. Put it in the freezer to harden up all the way. When you’re ready to eat it, set it out at room temperature for a few minutes before scooping. Top with toasted, shredded coconut if desired.

Share with a friend. Eat with a smile. Possibly in a coconut bowl. Or you could wear the coconut halves. That might be interesting.

Or not.

Either way, sit back in amazement at how ridiculously easy it is to make coconut ice cream.

Caribbean Coconut Ice Cream
Votes: 1
Rating: 5
You:
Rate this recipe!
Print Recipe
Call me a glutton for punishment, but I think this ice cream should be served with warm Baked Brown Sugar Bananas, another wonderful Caribbean treat.
Servings
6 cups
Servings
6 cups
Caribbean Coconut Ice Cream
Votes: 1
Rating: 5
You:
Rate this recipe!
Print Recipe
Call me a glutton for punishment, but I think this ice cream should be served with warm Baked Brown Sugar Bananas, another wonderful Caribbean treat.
Servings
6 cups
Servings
6 cups
Ingredients
  • 2 1/2 cups half and half
  • 1 1/4 cups sweetened condensed milk
  • 1 1/4 cups coconut milk
Garnish:
  • shredded coconut , toasted
Servings: cups
Units:
Instructions
  1. Whisk the ingredients together, then pour into ice cream maker and churn according to manufacturers instructions. Put it in the freezer to harden up all the way. When you’re ready to eat it, set it out at room temperature for a few minutes before scooping. Top with toasted, shredded coconut if desired.

There’s *what* in my drink?

Welcome to the wonderful world of “I didn’t know that!”

Haiti

Take a stroll through the Haitian markets. Soak up the sights and smells. See that lady selling jars of brightly colored liquid? She’ll tell you “All the medicine you’ll ever need is in a jar of rum.”

She’s not selling just any rum, this is the Klerin pharmacy, a.k.a. the white rum pharmacy. All manner of goodies are added to her jars – from spices to bark, fruit to leaves. A few sips of this trempé and you just might find your tummy woes gone.  Or eyes feeling better. Or that growth on your face suddenly shrinking. Who knew?

Honduras

Honduras, like many countries in the Americas, enjoys a good smoothie. Pineapples and melons, outrageously heavy with sweet juices, get whirred up into licuados, meaning latin smoothie.

The fun thing about licuados  is you can have your breakfast cereal right in your drink. Locals particularly love granola, oatmeal, and cornflakes. Try it with your next drink – toss in a small handful and give it a buzz to combine. Instant thick, healthy carbs.

NOTE: For a totally oatmeal smoothie, try Avena [recipe]

What do you like to put in your smoothies? Have you ever put cereal or oatmeal in one?

Sources: Lonely Planet Dominican Republic & Haiti and Lonely Planet Honduras & the Bay Islands