México y las Pilipinas: What the Damned Spaniards Left

I have been feeling the Spirit a lot lately and it makes me happy. My Sabbath was really good. Today I was reminded that beautiful things come from Mexico by a couple of friends (in a platonic way, I HOPE, but you never know, unfortunately) and in particular I was reminded of another friend from Mexico. That means you get a recipe. Be glad somebody can drive people to enjoy God by listening to her sing and her sister accompany. The woman this fact that good things come from Mexico reminded me of was nice, even if a bit of a fresa (ask a Mexican what that means; most other people will just tell you it means “strawberry,” but that would just leave you even more confused), and a very capable cook. She showed me some methods for successfully employing a Baño de María. At least I’ll remember her as vanilla and caramel. Lucky her.  Another great woman is my step-mom. She lived half her childhood in the Philippines and the rest in the U. S. Not only is she a brilliant medic, but an extremely capable cook and superwoman who makes my dad a happy man. I got most of my flan ideas from her; in fact, most of the unique textural qualities come from her cooking. It takes a while, but when you taste it you won’t mind.

When I had more time on Sundays, I used to make two of these and take them to random families I knew. A couple of ladies once even asked me for the recipe. When a Latin American woman asks you for your recipe, you know you’ve done something right. I once almost got set up on a blind date with an attractive and intelligent Colombian woman because of this stuff, but no chemistry .

Flan mexicano y pilipino: for a small group of non-diabetics or irresponsible diabetics

3 Egg Yolks (use the whites for a merengue or something)

1 Egg

7 ounces (half a can in the U. S.) of Sweetened, Condensed Milk

12 ounces (one can) of Evaporated Milk

True Mexican Vanilla Extract (this is important; use enough to make this flavor important)

A Couple of Drops of Mint Extract

3/8 Cup of Sugar

1/2 to 2/3 Cup of Sugar

A Few Squeezes of Lime Juice

Preheat the oven 350-375 degrees Farenheit. Grab a small pan with a handle that doesn’t get hot as well as an 8-inch diameter pie pan. Put the second instance of sugar (1/2 to 2/3 cup) into the small pan on a stove at medium heat. Make sure it’s nice and level to prevent clumping. When it begins to liquefy, drop in that lime juice. It prevents it from burning as dark. This is a tip I got from yet another Mexican friend who is a very talented cook and enthusiastic about missionary work. As it progresses, stir it with a spoon. Have something you can put sticky, hot things on near your stove. Wait until it reaches about the viscosity of 10-40 motor oil. The more fluid it is, the easier it will be to pour.

When it reaches this viscosity, put on some oven mitts. Pour the caramelized sugar into the pie pan. Swirl the pie pan around to coat all of the bottom and as high up on the sides as possible. Do it quickly, or you’ll end up with a pie pan full of useless, caramelized sugar. This coats it, making a protective mold for the flan. To clean, fill up the small pan with water and let it set until the caramel comes off by itself. Be patient. Don’t slash and burn your pan by trying to clean it too early. It’s stupid and a waste of cookware. Let the mold cool for a while.

When the mold is hardened and dried, you are ready to pour in the flan mixture I’m about to tell you how to do. Mix in the yolks, egg, milks, vanilla, mint extract, and first instance of sugar (3/8 Cup) so that they have a consistent consistency (all a creamy yellow). Don’t beat it and create air bubbles. A whisk makes this really easy. Pour this into the mold. Cover the mold with aluminum foil.

This part is kind of speculative. Get an oven-safe thing much bigger in diameter than the mold (so you can fit your fingers between them without getting burnt). Fill it with water about one half inch plus one quarter the depth of the pie pan. Get a platform of some type that’s 1/2 inch tall (if not, adjust the water accordingly) and allows water to pass under it freely. If you don’t have anything, get a very wide strip of aluminum foil and fold down enough times so it can form a circle with a slightly smaller diameter than the mold and support it with the flan mixture inside. You’re setting up a Baño de María, or double boiler (I think that’s what it is in English) This is complicated to explain, so just follow the graphic:

Carefully place this setup in the oven so the flan mixture and the water don’t spill (even though the pie pan is covered in foil). Put it in for about 1 hour to 1 hour 20 minutes. The danger is under-cooking, so if in doubt, give it a few more minutes. From here, remove the Baño de María setup and the mold from the setup. This is where you wish you had a bigger thing than the pie pan. Get a knife and stick it halfway into the flan. If it comes out clean, it’s done cooking. Otherwise, put it back into the Baño de María, covered, of course, as before, and cook it a bit longer.

After it’s done cooking, let it cool in the refrigerator for one or more hours so it can solidify. Invert the mold onto the flattest dish with a rim you’ve got, preferably over a sink so you don’t get caramelized sugar everywhere. You may want to drain out a little bit of the caramelized sugar before doing this. The sugar will cover the flan and make it pretty. Say thank you when Europeans and other flan connosieurs are impressed. A French lady once asked me incredulously in an elevator if I really made it!

Cerdo for a Chancho: Pork Roast and Level-Headedness

I suppose I’m free to scare off some more women, now.  I believe in my newly free state I already have done so with one who I know can dance (she knows how to move) and I know can cook (see previous entries), but who also, in my opinion, has some compatibility with me. She also has an awkwardly pretty voice. Since calling off the tiburón hunt, I’ve decided to become the tiburón myself! You geography buffs, I’m going hunting off the coast of the following UTM coordinates, competing with an apparently lazy predator from the second set of UTM coordinates:
Zone 17, X: 618652.9294196471; Y: 9760438.464298917
Zone 19, X: 715299.2107135195; Y: 1157717.9769320383

I think until I’ve got a nice, concrete relationship with really natural reciprocity, it’s wise to have crushes on several women at once. If any of them are reading this, they should know it’s true! Just because I’m nice doesn’t mean I’m as interested as you think! It makes me behave more level-headedly. It doesn’t always work since some are more serious interests than others, but generally it works like a charm. One of those crushes is food itself. I like to buy pork butt roasts sometimes.

I have this friend who really has bad luck dating. He shouldn’t. He’s a nice guy. That doesn’t always count for as much as it should. One day for a big party, he taught a bunch of us how to make a really yummy pulled pork. We each had a roast that we prepared as he instructed and stuck in our own ovens! It was cool. I took his ideas and some of his methods and changed it a little according to my ingredients. Adapt accordingly. I don’t have sides included, but you can be smart and figure out something from what you’ve got on hand, right? For foreigners, we Americans like to eat vegetables with our roasts. Simply-seasoned potatoes and carrots are classics at the U. S. table.

Pork Roast, inspired by my friend

One Pork Butt Roast, Bone in

Olive Oil

White Vinegar

Freshly-crushed Pepper Corns

Sea Salt

Cumin

Ground Cilantro

Red Curry

Dried, Crushed Chiles de Árbol (if you like it hot) or some other nice pepper

I like to use cast-iron to cook the roast in, but you can use whatever you’ve got that’s oven-safe and has a nice, high rim to catch the drippings. On the fatty side of the roast, cut evenly-spaced slits one third of the way deep into the roast and on the other side as well as shown:

Mix the oil, vinegar, peppers, and seasoning (except salt) in quantities to taste together so you have a liquid to pour into each of those slits on both sides you just cut. Sprinkle the salt somewhat liberally over both sides as well. Cover the top and sides of the roast with aluminum foil so that moisture doesn’t escape too much. Leave it fatty side down in the oven overnight at 225 degrees Farenheit. Don’t even bother using a knife to serve it. You don’t need it. Garnish it so it looks nice, and serve drippings on top according to health preferences (as much or as little fat as you like). It tastes really good.

An End with Chicken and Red Leaf Lettuce

Now that this thing has a purpose I want to write stuff in it. So the whole gringa thing that sounded so nice and poetic hasn’t proven as fruitful as it seemed to be budding (Maybe I’ll use food metaphors for everything I say about my life!). Food is a great marker of stuff. Smells are, especially. My good friend (she’s so cool that she is STILL my good friend–believe you me) I DTR-ed with will now be remembered as a mixture of onions, balsamic vinegar, basil, lime, and Manchego cheese, with one eaten apple and one uneaten apple that I got with my neurotic roommate on a motorcycle adventure for freshness and lack of wax. So here’s her recipe (well, my recipe themed after her; I am not modest about my cooking successes):Chicken Salad with Apple: for 2 decent eaters

3 chicken thighs sliced into strips (not tasteless white meat, please–resist globalization and keep more chicken body parts domestic)

2-3 strips of bacon, cut into inch or so-sized pieces

some red leaf lettuce for salad

half an onion, chopped according to textural preference

balsamic vinegar

basil

manchego cheese (or Romano or something nice, chalky, and robust)

lime juice

chicken stock or similar flavor-enhancing thing–I used the “caldo de pollo” powder you can get at Latin stores

Preheat an oven 350-400 degrees Farenheit. Put the pieces of bacon into the bottom of a pie pan or something of similar size that’s cool with an oven. Dice the onion a bit, then put it in. Cut chicken into strips. Put those on top of the bacon and onions. Grate as much cheese as you like over that, then sprinkle on the basil, balsamic vinegar, and chicken stock (liquid or dry, like that “caldo de pollo” stuff you get at Latin stores is really convenient and respectful in terms of flavor). Cook that for 15-30 minutes, covering it halfway through cooking. While it cooks, tear up the red leaf lettuce, and sprinkle on some more vinegar and cheese (I really like cheese). Pull out the fully-cooked chicken and bacon. Mix it in with the lettuce. Serve at whatever temperature you like. Apples (In the words of my roommate, “We do this in Taiwan all the time!”) or other fruit with a fruity drink taste good as a side.

Special Cooking Methods Note: I like to make stuff that doesn’t require a lot of equipment because I am a college student with roommates who despite their best efforts will always disrespect kitchens. Also, simple is good, with available ingredients, preferably local and fresh. I don’t buy into the “waste-all-your-money-buying-the-same-shit-as-everyone-else-at-Walmart” sort of cooking. I did this on the move in the JFSB foreign language activity center. Also, I have celiac disease, so most of this is going to be gluten-free. I usually don’t trust anybody’s cooking besides my own. Two of my grandmas are out to destroy my intestines with supposedly gluten-free stuff, but I don’t trust ‘em one bit! Most balsamic vinegar’s made from grapes, corn, and sugar (the “condimento” cheap shit we buy in the US, anyway); if you don’t trust me, research it or use something else. Food is politics. I hope we haven’t forgotten that.

Personal Note: If I get a girlfriend soon, this blog is going to get FULL. On top of the searching (which should be fixed by the time this gets sizable), I’ll add a forum so people can respond to everything and ask questions.

FOOD!

I forgot! I kick ass at cooking! Well, this is now the place for my recipes, for I need to document the successes and failures. I will figure out a search function for the left side bar that works as intuitively as possible, and make the recipes nice, standard, and readable. Now that somebody’s about to finish his mission, maybe he’ll be into some collusion. If that happens, thank me. The man is an artist.

More on the Blog

I decided there are a lot of places where the sadly over-globalizing world can hear about what some white kid thinks about his life. Maybe there are a couple of unique spots here and there, but regardless, I think most of this can be used for personal journal material. Kids, maybe a wife and some other family members, or some weird, co-dependent, possessive girl (they follow me sometimes) may be the only ones interested in reading something like that anyhow. I will think of something useful and in need of constant update. The title will stay the same as will a lot of things, but the content will be useful for something. Meanwhile, I’ve got to go ward off a tiburón (see Maná’s latest album, “Amar es combatir.” It’s got a really sexy cover)…

Mexicans, Latinos, and Gringa

I am glad it was a fruitful night. It’s time to talk about what I said I’d talk about last entry. My relationship with some Latin Americans is complicated. The missionary relationships are some of the most interesting, and easier to recall in Spring-like weather. The rest is confusing, and I think rightly so. Another relationship seems a little clearer. Regardless, don’t trust the lucidity completely. I’m quite caffeinated right now, and comfortably so! If you can believe it, that has something to do with the missionary relationships, too!

Maybe I’m happy to remember the missionary relationships because they were generally pleasant. Anything is generally pleasant when the Holy Ghost is helping out, and people sometimes respond well to nicely-dressed and nicely-behaved (mostly) young men and women, especially kind people whose culture encourages nearly unconditional hospitality. I really have begun some sincerely important and sincere (adverb form of adjective describing same adjective–there has to be a word for that) relationships through my mission regardless of those qualifiers.

I connected with people first because Jesus was involved in Gospel-teaching and second because Jesus was involved in friendship-making. I could say that he helped me to love everything about the beings of Latin Americans and Mexicanos (they might both appreciate that distinction, or not). My friends that are in most contact with me could quote me saying, [had to get to work! Entry continues at 9:25] “I like their Catholicism.” Most of those friends are LDS, so they can see it’s a holistic respect and not one premised on some sort of conversion that makes them more like me. My irritating and manipulative mission companion really clarified that for me and I sincerely thank the idiot for that. Too many people could see this, so I hope he gets/got the chip off his shoulder and the stick out of his toothbrush.

I tried not to have shallow preferences. I like the solidarity of the Mexican nation, too, though not so much when expressed over calls for humane behavior during protest marches, carrying Mexican instead of U. S. flags. Non-Mexicano (write a paper on that, you “those who can’t” academians, who are a distinct subset of academians) Latinos know what I’m talking about. Dancing is necessary and eating is an ordinance.

There’s a Gringa. I’ve neither tasted her cooking nor even danced with her much, but I like her. If she were a Latina or a Mexicana, I would like to say the same, but she isn’t and it doesn’t matter.

Excitement, Pretention, and Procrastination (as always)

Maybe if I make these more brief they’ll be better. There is a lot of social theory discussion that’s produced, recycled, confused, and finally rhetorically imprinted onto the minds of people that want to get an enjoyable, well-paying job, then discover they want an enjoyable education, too. The Greeks really latched onto something with that rhetoric concept, not to mention the unholy worship of competition itself. Somehow they both found their way into sticking around in alternate forms up to the present.

Having said all that, I’ve discovered that I have limits to my mental and emotional dedication to things. Social theory can really dominate things cognitively if it’s not economized a controlled space in my mind. It’s kind of like urban sprawl, but with gray matter instead of earthy stuff: fast, easily replicable, sometimes really boring, and generally homogenous… It’s damned noisy, too.

A friend of mine in academics mentioned “deer shit” as one of the components of apples from an orchard. I think it’s more cool than unpleasant. I’m glad he didn’t have to cite ten different people just to say that. I like a girl, and I don’t have to cite anybody for that but will, from the movie, Monsieur Ibrahim with Omar Sharif, whose character, Ibrahim, is counseling Moises/Momo/Mohammed about love: “It doesn’t matter. . . . What you give, Momo, is yours for good. What you keep is lost forever.” I give. Ain’t that profound…

Next time (soon I hope) I will write about my friends who call themselves Latin Americans, but mostly just my friends who claim Mexico as their mother land. Sonora is beautiful (even the desert parts are beautiful to me) and so is Baja. More, though, I can say that Mexicans as people are, too. Sorry, amigas that I drove to a place with one summer. I was a nervous wreck, and trying way too hard to impress one of you. Maybe Guatemala is a traveler’s redemption, but hopefully it’s not that exclusively selfish. I don’t care excessively, because mostly I’m just excited.

Recursive Stupidity

Before I say anything, the weblog owes its existence to my roommate’s ex-girlfriend’s apparently charming roommate who has her own log that I read and admired. I figured the best course of action, since I was so impressed that action seemed inevitable, would be to follow example, instead of the usual tendency to be interested in her! Hopefully with time, the content and layout gets higher in quality.Today was quite the break from my routine of slowly devolving into mental weakness due to fatigue brought on by voluntary sleep deprivation, at least I hope.

What usually happens is that things go really well with lots of self-discipline, then I lose the part of me that regulates when to go to bed and when to wake up. Completion of school assignments happens normally until I get really tired, and then I fall behind. Then, if I get so tired that my mood becomes grumpy and my cognitive state severely affected, the day ends with me deciding to sleep in, but with no clear plan…

Today I decided to get caught up again, then try to develop a more disciplined sleep regimen, but of course only after I get caught up. We’ll see how that goes.