MattBites

Sopaipillas

There are just some things that instantly take me back to my childhood. Sopaipillas do that to me every time. Made by my grandmother, the tender warm pillows of fried dough were sprinkled with cinnamon sugar and drizzled with honey and always disappeared within minutes. She would encourage us to eat them immediately while they were still warm, but it was always said with a wink in her eye – she knew we couldn't keep our hands off them until there was an empty plate of grease-laden cinnamon-scented crumbs.

My grandmother was the best cook I have ever known (next to my mom, of course!). She was in the kitchen every day and her way with food was astonishing, no matter what she prepared.  But unlike her rice and beans, sopaipillas were for special events (as were her bunuelos, too). It was usually Christmas or New Year's Eve when she would make dough and fry it in her cast iron skillet, and I always wondered why we had to wait so long. To a child eleven months might as well be an eternity.

Traveling the world you're bound to find various versions of hot-oil-meets-dough desserts, whether it be beignets, youtiao, malasadas, loukoumades or gulab jamun.  Unfortunately I adore every single one of them. But sopaipillas top my list, and not just because of their familial significance but also because they are among the most basic of all fried dough desserts. A very simple dough puffs up in the hot oil in a matter of minutes, and when drizzled with honey it's pure nirvana.

My grandmother passed away over 20 years ago, but the love she shared and the meals she prepared for us will always be in our hearts. And while I will never claim to be even remotely as talented as she was,  I find comfort in having a part of her with me whenever I cook.

Sopaipillas
adapted from Taste Of Home

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons shortening
2/3 cup water
oil for frying
cinnamon & sugar
honey

Combine the dry ingredients and then cut in shortening until crumbly. Gradually add water, tossing with a fork until mixture holds together. On a lightly floured surface, knead dough for 1-2 minutes or until smooth. Cover and let stand for 5 minutes. Roll out to 1/4-in. thickness. Cut with a 2-1/2-in. star cookie cutter or into 2-1/2-in. triangles. In an electric skillet or deep fat fryer, heat oil to 375°. Fry sopaipillas for 1-2 minutes on each side or until golden brown and puffed. Drain on paper towels. Sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar and serve immediately with honey. Yields 1 dozen.

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Sometimes it's the tiny little things in life that bring the most joy.

I always get so excited when my trees start waking up from months of dormancy. Even though our orange tree (known forever as "Granny's orange tree") never really loses its deep green leaves, it has its own way of letting you know that it's kicking into high gear.  Every year around this time buds begin to appear, and within a day or two these creamy, supple pods begin to open up into beautiful little flowers. And even if you were inclined to bury your head in the sand and ignore the seasonal shift, orange trees let you know their intentions by perfuming the entire yard with a heady, intoxicating fragrance of orange blossoms. It's literally the most soothing and luxurious smell I can think of and far from the tart, acidy flavor of the fruit (if I'm comparing smells and tastes, mind you). It's much closer to honeysuckle than orange. And if the scent drives me crazy in the best of ways, I can only wonder what it does to bees!

I've thought about pitching a tent underneath the tree for a few nights so that I won't miss out on the blossom's short lifespan. Once my little buds open into flowers they only have a few days; they fall to the ground and fruit begins to grow. While I love my citrus fruit, it's the special little blossoms that make me so happy and fill my heart and my senses with pure, unbridled pleasure. In this crazy haphazard world we live in I think it's important to step back and breathe in the things that mother nature gives us, no questions asked.

While citrus is known for its staying and preservation power, the delicate orange blossoms don't last long. About the only way to continually experience the scent of orange blossoms is to trek to my nearest Whole Foods and buy a bottle of essential oil, but that's not quite the same thing, is it? After some quick poking around I discovered I could use the blossoms to infuse their essence into sugar and water and continue to enjoy their unique flavor. And it couldn't be easier.

Orange Blossom Sugar

If you have an orange tree or can get blossoms now is the time to do this. Make sure the blossoms are untreated and come from an unsprayed tree–you don't want chemicals here. Rinse 2 to 4 small flowers and allow to dry completely. Gently bruise a few petals and place them in a glass jar that has been filled halfway with 1 cup of sugar. Cover the petals with the remaining sugar and store in a dark cool place for 3 to 5 days.  Check periodically, you can let it go a bit longer but be forewarned that a little goes a long way! Discard the blossoms once done and keep your sugar tightly sealed.

A teaspoon in iced tea gives it a new dimension. it's great sprinkled over fruit and gives it just a hint of orange blossom, and this weekend we're going to experiment with a creme brulee using our infused sugar. I'll let you know how it goes.

Oh, how neglected I am. Apparently I was skipped over for the "5 things" meme, and I'm so so very sad. See this tiny tear and crack in my beating heart? Ok, not really. But had I been tagged I would have told you that I don't really have a big sweet tooth like some others I know. I appreciate desserts and confections, but they are not my weakness. Grill it, slather it in sauce, salt it, deep fry it or top it with cheese and you'll see my food version of kryptonite, but it sure ain't sugar.

Of course, every now and again I'll veer of my usual path and fixate my tastebuds on a lil something sweet. I remember my first taste of salted caramel a few years back and couldn't get enough. Right now I seem to be riding a small dulce de leche wave, but having spent a few weeks in Argentina you cannot blame me. As I mentioned in previous posts, those wacky Argentines serve it with everything, and I had to beg and plead with them to not serve it to me as I just couldn't take one more bite! (that's the part where I say "wink wink" and down another spoonful while talking about how I don't really like sweet stuff, har har har.)

Thanks to current TSA regulations involving travel I wasn't able to stock up on jars of dulce de leche as I planned. There were triple checkpoints in the airports in South America that involved the inspection of every single piece of carry-on luggage of every passenger right before you boarded the plane, and as a result there went the suntan lotion, bottled water and a few small jars of dulce de leche. It's not a big deal when you consider safety, but a word to every single North Americans who threw a fit about it while every other South Americans stood by patiently and gracefully: shut the hell up! MY GOD! Stop acting like an idiot! YES, they are checking bags again and YES you are 1st Class passenger who has to stand in the same line with me and YES you are dumb for flying halfway around the world only to get on a ship and cruise around for 10 days without getting off the boat and interacting with other dumb Americans and would you PLEASE quit bitching about it and making THIS American look bad because they world ALREADY hates us ENOUGH JESUS H. CHRIST PLEASE SHUT THE FRIGGIN HELL UP!!!!!!

Ok, where was I? Oops. I got a bit riled up. Sorry for the Jesus reference in that manner.

Oh yes, my precious dulce de leche. I promise there's a recipe in here. I swear.

Luckily living in such a big sprawling melting pot like Los Angeles I'm able to find almost anything, so it only took a car trip to Tito's Market in El Monte to find a pretty good selection of Argentine dulce de leche, alfajores, cheap bottles of Malbec from Mendoza and some tasty empanadas. Locovores will surely hate me when they discover that I drove 23 miles for a jar that traveled 5,000 miles so guess what? No dessert for you!

Once home, we sat around for a few minutes before trying to decide the best way to enjoy our imported sweet stuff. I was happy with just a spoon, but that's not really civilized, is it? Like only he can, Adam consulted a few cookbooks and before long churros magically appeared. Churros are crunchy bits of heaven that originated in Spain but are popular in Mexico for dessert and usually served with hot chocolate for dipping. Now, who doesn't like fried dough that is dusted with sugar and cinnamon? I sense an impending disaster at Chez Armendariz now that I really know how easy they are to make and I don't have to drive to a flea market or Disneyland to get a fix. And they really are much better made fresh. And in this case, they are only made better by dipping into dulce de leche, which is really what making churros was all about. Boy I took FOREVER to get to that point, didn't I?

I don't get out much.

Churros
Adapted from "Mexican" by Jane Milton. I was surprised how thick the dough was for churros, and it might take a few tries to get a perfect-looking piece. But you get to eat the mistakes, and I promise they taste just as good.

Ingredients
3 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 1/2 cups water
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons dark brown sugar
2 egg yolks
oil for deep frying
powdered sugar & cinnamon for dusting

Method
Sift the flour and baking powder into a bowl and set aside. Bring the measured water to a boil in a saucepan, add the salt and brown sugar, stirring constantly, until both have dissolved. Remove from heat, add all the flour and baking powder and beat the mixture continuously until smooth.

Beat in the egg yolks, one at a time, until the mixture is smooth and glossy. Set the batter aside to cool. You can use a piping bag fitted with a large star nozzle to get the perfect churro shape, or you can use a churro maker. Who knew there such things? Facinating!

Pour oil into a deep-fryer or-suitable saucepan to a depth of about 2 inches. Heat to 375"F, or until a cube of dried bread, added to the oil, floats and turns golden after I minute.

Spoon the batter into a churros maker or a piping bag. Pipe five or six 4-inch lengths of the mixture into the hot oil, using a knife to slice off each length as it emerges from the nozzle.

Fry for 3-4 minutes or until they are golden brown. Drain the churros on paper towels while cooking successive batches, then arrange on a plate and dust with sugar and cinnamon. After that dip generously until all your dulce de leche has disappeared and your teeth hurt.

 

This is a true story.

Today as I walked into my office I was immediately confronted.

“Hey Matt, my mother-in-law taught my daughter Courtney to make homemade cream puffs! I brought some in today, would you like to try them?” she asked.

Why, certainly!

“Hey Matt, you’ve really gotta try this Almond Toffee Bark I made last night,” said another coworker.

Well, ok, I responded.

“Hey Big Boy, there are Krispy Kremes in the conference room,” teased another.

Not anymore, I thought.

“Oh! I forgot! She also taught her how to make homemade donuts! They took forever and they look funny but they’re really good! Have one!” screeched coworker #1.

And I did.

Do you want to know what’s worse then everyone being clever and crafty and baking and frying during the holidays? It’s being born without one ounce of self control.