Easy

This is one of those recipes that I am sure you will cook again and again. It takes just minutes, and when you set the mussels on the table, steaming and aromatic, they beckon the whole brood. Give everyone a warm soup bowl, put a ladle in the pan to scoop out the shellfish and luscious sauce, and set a basket of grilled country bread in the middle. Nothing could be better.

A cold-weather tradition I remember fondly took place around the fogoler, or open hearth, of my maternal grandparents’ home. When neighbors would stop by to visit, everybody would gather around the crackling fire and talk. My grandparents would serve zuppa istriana, hearty spiced wine, to satisfy and warm their guests. My grandmother would roast some quince in the hearth, and have a pan of wine nestled in the coals, perking away. Then she would combine the two and pour the soup into a boccaletta, a ceramic pitcher. The pitcher was then passed around the hearth, and everybody would fish out a piece of quince with a fork (or sometimes with a thin sharp twig), take a good sip from the pitcher, and pass it on. The ceramic boccaletta was always considered a hospitable vessel, since no one could see how much one drank from it. Today I prepare zuppa istriana when the snow begins to pile up outside and I want to have something warm and comforting to welcome my friends and family in from the cold.

Raspados are sold by street hawkers, particularly in warm climates, where they are especially refreshing. The vendors pour colorful sweet syrups over shaved ice, and the flavors vary depending on which fruits grow locally (although some vendors use artificial flavors). This tangerine ice has a naturally refreshing fruitiness. You can substitute any other citrus, or combination of citrus, and can add up to 1 cup of sugar if the fruit is tart.

Who doesn’t love a margarita? Well, this is one way to get the flavor in a very refreshing ice that you can keep on hand in your freezer. You’ll be tempted to add more tequila, but try to refrain, because it won’t freeze.

The bright burgundy color of the hibiscus is only half the beauty of this delicious flower. It is one of the most common flavors for aguas frescas, and its acidity is fantastic in this yummy frozen treat.

My brother Pedro loves anything with mango and chile, and he’s not alone. It has become one of the most common combinations in sweets in Mexico; in fact, when you eat fresh mango, powdered chile of some kind is always on the table. I wanted to do something in this book just for him, but I am sure he won’t mind sharing (that’s the kind of guy he is). The chile powder you use is a matter of taste. It isn’t just about the heat; it’s also about the flavor. I particularly like the piquín chile from Oaxa ca, but feel free to substitute it for ground guajillo, chipotle, or your personal favorite.

Tamarind, a tropical fruit native to Asia, looks sort of like a brown fava bean with a hard tan shell that surrounds a sticky, meaty brown flesh. The fruit is often mixed with chile, and I found more than three dozen different candies made from it. Tamarind sorbet has a seductive tartness that comes through in this smooth nieve.

If you’ve ever visited Oaxaca, my favorite state in all of Mexico, undoubtedly you have seen people walking around with cones or cups filled with fluorescent green sorbet. I try to stay away from colorings, especially when it comes to fruit preparations, but if you can get past the scary color, you’ll discover a surprisingly refreshing flavor. The color may not be subtle, but the flavor is, and lime is one of the most popular flavors in Oaxaca. Try to select very green small limes, because they tend to have the best flavor. Be sure to wash and dry them very well. Although the original recipe doesn’t call for fresh lime juice, I find that a little bit balances the sweetness of the sorbet and adds another layer of flavor.

Whenever I crave a cold sweet treat, I always go for the nieves. Ice cream is great, of course, but I am all about the fruit. Anyone who knows me knows that I can eat a quarter of a watermelon in half an hour, that I eat six to ten pieces of fruit per day during the summer, and that I have a particular weakness for stone fruit. The fruit is always the main focus in sorbet, with no distractions. Although the variety of stone fruit is not as diverse in Mexico as it is in other parts of the world, we have some tart and sweet apricots that make an extremely refreshing and silky nieve. Feel free to substitute any other stone fruit that is ripe and in season.

Sliced cucumbers mixed with salt, lime, and chile are often eaten in Mexico as a snack and are even sold at movie theaters. I was about thirteen when I first tried this combination as a sorbet on a warm day in Cuernavaca. Well, this time the flavor of the cucumber was heightened with a little sugar, and the sorbet was topped with a mixture of chile and lime. I’ve included the chiles in the sorbet itself, by infusing them in the syrup; however, you can always sprinkle some powdered chile on top after it has set.

Whenever I visit Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, I always look forward to the ice creams in the main square. During my last visit, as I waited for the crowds to diminish at noontime so that I could interview Amparo Contreras de Galván with my childhood friend Martha Silva, I had a couple of scoops of sorbet. I tend to order the same ones wherever I go, but the membrillo one at La Pancada caught my eye. As I took a bite, without even swallowing it, I knew it had to be in the book. Although the famous ice creams in the town are called pastes, I have to say, this was the one for me. Whenever something so special comes my way, I remember it vividly, taking mental notes of each layer of flavor and texture that at times allows me to re-create things I love so much. I must say, this quince sorbet is pretty close to the one I had. I suggest you make a batch of the Requesón Cheese Ice Cream (page 185) to go with it, in the classic pairing of cheese and quince but in a whole new way.

Although pumpkin is not technically a fruit, it is eaten in this sweet preparation, as many fruits are. There are many foods specially made for Día de los Muertos celebrations throughout Mexico, and this is one of the most representative. It is traditionally cooked in clay casseroles, with the seeds and strands attached, but you can also clean and dry the seeds and snack on them later.

Tejocotes are small fruits similar to crab apples but are quite sour and have inedible seeds. The name derives from the word texocotl, meaning “sour, wild, or hard fruit,” and they are abundant at the end of the year. My maternal grandmother, Juanita, used to make this delicious treat and always reserved a huge jar just for me.

It was dark and chilly outside as my friend Claudia Santa Cruz showed me how to make these marvelous crunchy morsels. As the egg whites whipped, her youngest daughter (about eight years old and a natural-born chef) measured the sugar she would later carefully pour. We moved to the dining room and three generations filled countless trays of the white kisses that would sit in the oven overnight. Claudia’s mother took several to her home because they didn’t all fit in the oven. I woke up around 5 A.M. to take a peek, and there was evidence that someone else had already been there, so I knew it was okay to take one. I took another, and before I realized it, I’d had a full meringue breakfast in the silent morning.

As weird as it may sound, whenever I think of these, I think of the trunk of a car. You see, parked around the streets of Mexico City are numerous cars filled with towers of corn breads. Their trunks are open and there is a cardboard sign announcing the delicacies for sale. This particular recipe takes only a few minutes to prepare (plus baking time, of course) and the result is very tasty and moist. Enjoy a slice with a cup of cold milk or coffee.

This recipe is based on one in a magnificent book called Delicias de antaño by Teresa Castelló Yturbide and María Josefa Martínez del Río de Redo. The anise flavor comes from toasted aniseed as well as anise liqueur. These cookies are a unique preparation, because they are submerged in a sweet syrup after baking and dusted with sugar once they’ve dried out.

Amaranth was a primary source of protein and an essential part of the diet for the pre-Hispanic population of Mesoamerica. It was often described as the “golden grain of the gods.” The seeds from the plant are considered one of the most nutritious grains and are a good substitute for wheat for those on a gluten-free diet. I like it simply for the flavor. I think it’s pretty awesome that the conquistadors forbade its cultivation because it was associated with human sacrifice, and yet, because of some “rebels” who valued the importance of their culture and traditions, it is still around thousands of years later. That surely should not go unnoticed! You can buy amaranth fl our and puffed amaranth in some health or specialty food shops and online (see Sources).

Sometimes the best gift in the world on Christmas is to serve your children one of their favorite dishes. And, boy oh boy, does Spenser love cheesy potatoes! Warning: this recipe is extremely addictive. We use smoked paprika to add a hearty smokiness that’s like nothing else out there.

This dish is the king of all veggies. Turnip greens, kale, Swiss chard, and mustard greens all join forces in a hearty, healthy side dish. Putting them all together may go against your style, but, trust us, the combo is surprisingly delicious. (Just ask the girls; they were skeptical at first, too.) As you know, we can all use more veggies!

PAT We all love carrots in this household, but no one more than Gina. Adding the maple syrup brings out their natural sweetness, giving some sugar for my sugar. (Maybe she’ll let me steal some back later on!)