From Argentina With Love

National Ñoquis (Gnocchi) Day

This is how I knew I was going to fall in love with Argentina:

Argentinos eat gnocchi together on the 29th of every month, and it's a national holiday.

Excuse me while I swoon. 

Yes, that's right--people all over the country get together on the same day every month just to eat gnocchi.  Now, that's s my idea of a national holiday! I didn't grow up with any sort of food traditions that are celebrated like this on a national level.  But in Argentina, the tradition is that on the 29th day of each and every month, one is supposed to eat gnocchi.  Okay, twist my arm... 

Argentinos  are fond of the expression 'a full belly, a happy heart,' and on the 29th they prepare Ñoquis (as they spell it) at home and invite friends over to share the meal; it's also quite common to find ñoquis on the menu in restaurants on this day.  Either way, diners end up both full and happy.

Traditionally, money is placed under the plate to attract prosperity.  The money is kept by the diner as a good luck charm, is left for the hostess to pay for the gnocchi for the following month, or can be given to a member of the party who is in need.

There are a number of stories about how this tradition got started.  Italian immigrants (whose descendants make up about 50 percent of Argentina's population) may have brought this tradition with them. Some say that an Italian saint named San Pantaleon, one of the patron saints of Venice, was canonized on the 29th, each month this day is celebrated as his feast day. 

Some say it was a group of housewives in the 1970s that finally made the tradition widespread, a way to celebrate an otherwise dreary time of the month for most households-the last days of the month before payday, when the money had run out.  (I particularly like this idea, since Housewife is my day job.)

Tomorrow is the 29th.  Invite some friends over and make some gnocchi, or go to your local Argentinian restaurant and eat some.  Put a dollar under your plate-and see what prosperity comes your way!  (And then write and tell me about it, por favor!)

                                                                     

                                                                 Receta de Ñoquis del 29

                                                      Recipe for 29th-of-the-month Gnocchi

The goal (and the challenge) of good gnocchi is that it should be light and fluffy while also dense enough to have flavor, but not so dense that they are chewy or gummy.

2 lbs. baking potatoes (about 6)

salt

2 eggs

1 cup fresh, good quality ricotta cheese

2-3 cups flour, plus more for dusting

Peel and quarter the potatoes, putting them in a medium stock pot with enough water to cover the potatoes with one inch of water.  Add a scant handful of salt.  Put the potatoes to boil until they are tender when pierced with a fork , but not mushy. Drain the potatoes.

Put the potatoes through a food mill or potato ricer.  In a large bowl, combine the potatoes, eggs, and ricotta, and mix well using your hands or a fork until a consistent dough is formed.  Be careful not to overmix. 

Add the flour a half cup at a time, mixing each time by hand until there is a soft, pliable dough.  The dough should not be sticky, and it should not be hard.  If it's too sticky or soft, the gnocchi will be mushy, but if there's too much flour, the gnocchi will be chewy and tough.  (This is the challenging part!)

Knead the dough a few times until uniform, and divide the dough in half .  Flour a work area, and roll the dough out into a long thin roll about 3/4 inch thick.  Cut these tubes of dough into sections about 1 inch long.  Meanwhile, bring a stock pot of water to a boil. 

There are a variety of ways to 'mark' the gnocchi-all just a style choice, since at this point, they are more or less done.  Here are some suggestions:  Mark an indentation in the center of each gnocchi with your index finger; or roll over the side of a cheese grater to make patterned indentations; or roll over the backside of a fork, or roll over the center of a wooden gnocchi tool.

At this point, the gnocchi can be frozen laid out on a baking sheet lined with wax paper.  After they are frozen, they can be stored in a freezer bag.   Frozen gnocchi are just put into the boiling water like the unfrozen ones.

Throw the gnocchi one at a time into the boiling water. They are cooked when they rise to the top.  Collect with a slotted spoon and transfer to a plate.  Serve with the sauce of your choice.  (Some nice choices are walnut Gorgonzola, tomato or white sauce.)

Arroz con Leche-Argentina's Ultimate Comfort Food

 

Argentinos have a wonderful word for nagging someone:  the verb regañar, which translates literally as to scold, but encompasses nagging, scolding, rebuking, growling, grumbling and reprimanding.   I get any and all of these from my husband on certain occasions, but never without a good reason.

In Argentina, you will likely be regañado if you do things that will cause you to get a cold, such as walk on a tile floor without slippers, let your wet hair air dry, or sit in direct sunlight.  (Yes, you read that correctly, sun-worshippers!) Guilty, guilty, and guilty as charged, your honor!  Especially the last one, which my father-in-law, Carlos, is forever scolding me about.   (He never scolds me directly, though, he always says to someone else: "Tell Her she's going to catch a cold if she sits in the sun like that!" And shakes his head in frustration when I laugh and refuse to sit in the shade.)

Yes, I am a shameless lover of sitting in the sun, and I don't care who knows it!  I haven't ever been much of a tanner, per se, but I do love to catch afternoon rays on my skin, listening to the birds and neighborhood dogs barking...especially after suffering through a long American winter, Argentina's late summer sunlight is the most heavenly thing imaginable! 

It must have been that unseasonably warm day we had here in Denver last week that did me in.  Brazen as I am, I tempted the fates and went on a walk in the park, and SAT IN DIRECT SUNLIGHT!!

And then I got a cold.

My father-in-law was right.

(Of course, it could also be attributed to the fact that the crud has been going around...) I've spent the majority of the last week snuffling in bed. 

When I'm sick, like most people, I cling to the foods that offer me the most comfort.  Arroz con Leche is one of them.  Rice Pudding, as we say it in English, is loved by people in every Latin culture, and each one has their own twist with the same basic end result-sweet, warm, milky rice that comforts with each creamy bite. 

One thing I like about this recipe is that you can add things to vary the taste somewhat according to your taste or what you have available.  Some additions might include: soaking the raisins in a couple tablespoons of brandy, cognac, or rum; adding vanilla extract; adding lemon or orange zest; a change in the type of sugar used (brown sugar or even maple syrup may be a nice variation);  nutmeg or the amount of cinnamon used-each of these ideas allows the maker his or her own creative twist.

What comfort foods do you crave when you're sick?  I'd love to know-please share your favorites!

                                                               

                                                             Receta por Arroz con Leche

                                                                        Rice Pudding Recipe

This recipe is a very basic and easy one-perfect for when you're under the weather and don't want to put in too much effort! Can easily be doubled, this recipe serves 4.

3 cups milk

1 teaspoon butter

1 cup rice

1 egg yolk, lightly beaten

1/2 cup heavy cream

1/4 cup sugar

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1/4 raisins, re-hydrated in water

Bring milk to a boil and add rice and butter.  Stir to prevent the rice from sticking to the bottom.  Lower the heat to low and let simmer for 20 minutes or so, until the rice has absorbed almost all of the liquid and is cooked through.  The rice should be well-cooked, not al dente.  Stir in the egg yolk, sugar, and heavy cream and stir well to combine.  Stir in the raisins and cinnamon. 

Not Your Grandma's Palmeritas

Guillermo couldn't contain the excitement in his voice when he called his friend Walter and proclaimed:  "Che!  Loco!  Oh my God!  You're never going to believe what Rebe made!! It's like grandma's house over here!"

Oh, if only everything I cooked received such a reaction. 

The thing he was so excited about were palmeritas, those flaky, sweet, ear-shaped cookies that are made out of puff pastry. 

When Guillermo was  a boy, his father took over the family farm.  They lived far out of town, and only moved closer years later so that the boys could attend high school. 

Each month, his grandmother (with whom they lived) would take Guillermo and his brother, Marcos, into town with her to get her pension money from the bank, and she would treat them to a palmerita  at a local bakery.  Like most farm wives, she was a spend-thrift type of woman, and didn't waste her money on useless things.  She didn't generally buy the boys anything, but the one thing they could look forward to on that once monthly outing was a palmerita after going to the bank.  (I guess everyone, like Proust, has their personal Madeleine.)

I was surprised to find out how easy these cookies are to make-using only pre-made puff pastry and sugar! (So don't go getting all impressed, here!)

I got this recipe from Ina Garten's Cookbook, Barefoot In Paris. 

                                                          

                                                                       Recipe for Palmeritas

2 sheets Pepperidge farm Puff Pastry (left to defrost overnight in the refrigerator so it's pliable but cold)

2 cups sugar

1/8 teaspoon kosher salt

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. 

Combine the sugar and the kosher salt.  Pour 1 cup of the sugar on a flat surface such as a wooden board or a marble slab.  Unfold the first sheet of puff pastry onto the sugar and pour 1/2 cup of the sugar mixture on top, spreading it evenly on the puff pastry.  This is not about sprinkling, this is about an even covering of sugar. 

With a rolling pin, lightly roll the dough until it's a 13 inch square and the sugar is pressed into the puff pastry on the top and bottom.  Fold the sides of the square towards the center so they go halfway to the middle of the dough.  Fold them again so the two folds meet exactly at the middle of the dough.  Then fold one half over the other half as though closing a book.  You will have six layers. 

Slice the dough into 3/8-inch slices and place the slices, cut side up, on  baking sheets lined with parchment paper.  Place the second sheet of pastry on the sugared board, sprinkle with the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar mixture, and continue as above.  (There will be quite a bit of sugar left on the board.)  Slice and arrange on baking sheets lined with parchment. 

Bake the cookies for 6 minutes, or until caramelized and brown on the bottom, then turn with a spatula and bake for another 3 to 5 minutes, until caramelized on the other side.  Transfer to a baking rack to cool.

The Truck Driver's Wife's Eggplant

It was my first trip to Argentina.  Guillermo and I were leaving his parents house to spend the weekend in the city of Mendoza.  We were going to do a wine tour of several wineries, go to a natural hot springs with a day spa, and shop for my engagement ring!  A weekend of romantic bliss...unfortunately, we didn't make it.  (Though we did later buy my engagement ring, for those of you worried about that!)

On the three hour drive from my husband's family's house in Bowen, there is a long, lonely road.  It's a two lane highway,  cars occasionally passing each other going in opposite directions, punctuated by a town or two every so often.  The landscape is dry and dusty, reminiscent of the American Southwest-lots of sagebrush, tumbleweed, tough-skinned lizards running to and fro across the highway; nothing for miles around but open space.  And buzzards. 

We were in Guillermo's dad's truck.  Two greedy buzzards sat in the road, eating the remains of a slowpoke lizard, there was a semi truck approaching  in the opposite direction in the other lane.  As we came speeding along, the two massive birds lifted to fly away, and one was headed directly toward our windshield. 

To avoid it, as its huge wingspan would have caused the bird to come directly through the glass, Guillermo swerved and started heading off the road, clipping the gravelly shoulder.  Then he over-corrected, back onto the road, and directly into the path of the oncoming semi.

Guillermo swerved out of the way just in time.

And then the semi hit us, took off half of the back of the truck , and sent us off the road into the bushes.  This is what I was thinking at the time: What the #&$!! is he doing?  OHGODOHGODOHGOD!!!  I'm going to die! ... and then...My mother is going to kill me for dying in South America!, and then...I think I'm going to throw up. 

Guillermo got out of the car, and the semi-truck driver did, too, all of us without a single scratch, and me thinking there must be a reason behind THAT.  It was the nearest miss I've ever had or will ever  have again. (You don't walk away from something like that twice.)

So we're out in the middle of nowhere.  Guillermo, the truck driver and I.  No cell phone service, no town or police station for miles. 

We waited for about an hour, a passing car said he would tell the police in the next town to head our way.  And my husband and the truck driver SAT DOWN TOGETHER AND DRANK A MATE.  Okay... I have never had an experience like that with a person with whom I have just  been involved in a car accident.  Instead, a fender bender involves people getting out of their car, screaming obscenities, threats, etc., etc.  But they sat down and drank tea together.  Only in Argentina.

And right about now you're probably thinking-so what does this have to do with eggplant?

We ended up driving with the bumper in the back of the truck to the nearest town, Ñaquñan (if you haven't heard of it, don't worry) to make a report at the police station.  By now it's been almost 3 hours, and we didn't bring any lunch, since by then we were supposed to have been at a sidewalk cafe in Mendoza, sipping wine and eating a great meal.  Ñaquñan has no restaurants, no cafes, even a gas station or a grocery store.  It does have a bus stop and a community center.  And a bunch of stray dogs.  We did find a place that sold packaged cookies, so I sat there with this very friendly stray pup that we nicknamed Ñaqu, eating cookies. 

And the truck driver says, "Do you want something else to eat?"  And proceeds to take a cooler out of his rig, filled with ham sandwiches on thin white bread, chard-filled calzones, and a container of marinated eggplant. Each thing was better than the last.  I was like a castaway starving on a deserted island who has just come across a treasure chest full of food.  I felt guilty taking his lunch, but it seemed he sincerely wanted me to have it, and since he would now have to make a stop instead of going along his regular route, I agreed. 

The eggplant was the best thing I had ever tasted.  Maybe it was just because I was so hungry, but they really were incredible!  Long, thin slices of  purple eggplant, marinated in a mixture of oil and vinegar, herbs, garlic, and a hint of crushed red pepper.  Simple and delicious! 

Later, when I was trying to explain the eggplant to my mother in law, she said "Oh, yeah, berenjenas en escabeche-marinated eggplant!"  As in, it's very common in Argentina, pretty everyday and everyone can make it.  And she gave me the recipe, which I have adapted for you here.  So this isn't the actual Truck Driver's Wife's Recipe, but every time I make this dish, I'm reminded of that day.

                                                 Receta por Berenjenas en Escabeche

                                                         Marinated Eggplant Recipe

2 medium sized eggplants, washed

coarse salt

1 cup vinegar (red wine or white)

1/2 cup water

1/4 cup olive oil

1/4 cup vegetable or canola oil

1 T. dried parsley

1T. dried oregano

2 cloves crushed garlic

crushed red pepper to taste

salt to taste

Trim the ends off the eggplant. Cut in in half lengthwise, and then lay it flat side down and cut into 1/4  to 1/2 inch slices.  Put the slices layer upon layer in a roasting pan.  Salt each layer with coarse salt and let sit for 2 hours.  (The salt draws out the bitterness and moisture from the eggplant.)  After two hours, drain and rinse the eggplant.  Put the eggplant, the vinegar and the water in a  stock pot and bring to a boil.  Lower the heat to a simmer and cook the eggplant until it takes on a translucent look, about 35 minutes.  Meanwhile, combine the remaining ingredients in a bowl.  When the eggplant has cooked through, drain off half of the vinegar/water and put the rest, along with the eggplant, in the bowl with the oil mixture.  Mix well.  Refrigerate until cold.  Eat within the week, this dish is not recommended for canning.  Makes a great side dish, appetizer or potluck dish.

Be Mine!

For Valentine's Day this year, I got adopted!  (Or, rather, my blog did.)  Kristen from Dine and Dish is hosting an Adopt-A-Food Blogger event, where a new food blogger (yours truly) is paired up with a (pardon the pun) seasoned food blogger.  The idea is that food bloggers can share support, be linked up and share ideas about blogging.

Ooo!  Pick me! Pick me!

I have been adopted by the lovely Lydia from The Perfect Pantry.  Lydia is just amazing!  She is hostess of her blog, teaches cooking classes, writes about food, organizes cookie donations, and STILL finds time in a 24-hour day to write to me every time I have a question about my blog!  Working with her over the last few weeks has been great-she's provided technical support and helped me focus my ideas, and has been a great soundboard for me to bounce ideas off of.  Thanks a million, Lydia, for being mine this Valentine's Day!

In honor of the event, I'd like to do a Perfect Pantry-esque post featuring one item that every Argentinian pantry-coarse salt.  This salt is used in asado-Argentinina barbeque-to flavor the meat.  They don't use marinade, special seasonings, or barbeque sauce, they use coarse salt.  I won't even get into Argentinians and their barbeque ( for now), just know that it involves salt.  The blue word on the label, Parrillera, means 'for the grill,'.  Coarser grains of salt are 'less salty', according to my husband, and they are also lower in sodium.

This coarse sea salt can be used on meat, poultry,  fish and vegetables. 

Thanks again to Lydia for all her help and to Kristen for cooking up (ugh! with the puns again!) this event!

For those of you waiting to see the pics my mother-in-law sent of the steps for making Dulce de Tomate, here you go...straight from Florencia's kitchen:

Tomatoes seeded, peeled, and halved...

Cooking with the syrup...

During the longer cooking time...

Stirring the finished product with a wooden spoon...