Happiness is a Wild Avocado

I've packed a set of handpainted cups from San Gimignano, a weathered cutting board, two old cork screws, a pair of mismatched dishtowels and assorted kitchen knick knacks no one wanted when my two sisters and I divided our mother's things after she passed away. My husband has packed his own treasures: his Pavoni coffee machine, his pizza peel and, of course, some basic tools. We've packed our hearts in these bags.

I'm on the plane looking down below at Mexico's majestic mountains, at a land where we will eventually live.  Squinting down at the winding roads below, I wonder how many times my family has been back and forth across this forsaken land, led by whatever heart wrenching forces drove them to first leave from north of the Rio Grande to travel south, then from south to north and now, in my case, from north to south once again. The spirits of the women in my family who preceded me, surely must be waiting with a welcoming rebozo in hand to drape around my shoulders for the chilly mountain nights I will encounter. “Hija, por fin has regresado” they'll whisper to me.

I long to take in the vibrant colors and smells, the riotous noise of the perennial fiesta, the lament of the ubiquitous mariachi, and most of all, a quintessential feeling of belonging. A part of me wants to hold on to what I leave behind, but the pull is strong to look forward and not back. For now, my adrenaline is pumping, thinking about the friends I will visit, the trips to the market I will make, the food I will prepare, and the restaurants I will try in San Miguel de Allende, the place I will someday call home.

I arrive and one of the first things I find are glossy-black, wild avocados.  My aunt Gloria used to call them aguacates criollos. They have a thin, aromatic peel that can be eaten along with the creamy green meat. The peel tastes somewhat like Thai basil.

What to make?  Wild avocado tacos.

Buy only the smooth black ripe ones. Slice them in long thin slices. Arrange them in warm corn tortillas and top them with fresh cilantro, salt, and finely chopped onion. Squeeze lime juice and sprinkle with salt. Go up to the rooftop with a cold beer and take in the view of the glittering night sky or devote your gaze to the glow of the Parroquia below. And make a wish.

Note: If you don't have access to wild avocados, use ordinary avocados. (But don't eat the peel, for heaven's sake!)

Message in a Molcajete

Hijo,

I want to tell you a story. It's been part of the lore of our family. It's about a molcajete. This is a story I would have told you, along with many others about our family but, child, we simply ran out of time.

So many years ago, your grandfather, Rogelio, returning safely to Laredo from the Second World War, proposed to your grandmother, Floria, or Lita, as you used to call her when you were learning to speak. A wedding was planned in a poor neighborhood just a few blocks south of the bridge in Nuevo Laredo. The bride's family was humble and, therefore, the wedding party was not large. As the story goes, or as Lita used to say, there was a little girl in the neighborhood who wanted badly to attend the wedding. This little girl, who must have been around eight years of age, according to Lita, appeared at the backyard wedding reception with her best dress and a wedding gift wrapped in newspaper.

The gift was a molcajete that Lita came to treasure probably more than any of the more costly gifts she received. The identity of the little girl is lost in time and hopefully no calamity befell the household in Nuevo Laredo that discovered its molcajete suddenly missing.

This pumice stone mortar and pestle has sat quietly resting on its three legs, when not in use, like a witness to the years we lived in your grandparents' house. I began to use it when I was just a child myself when I helped Lita cook. And when I left home, Lita let me have it. Its black porous surface has an almost smooth texture from so much grinding and I can attest to contributing to its smooth edges these past ten years. If it could talk, what stories it could tell.

Hijo, I'm writing you a recipe for Salsa Molcajete, a sauce Lito, your grandfather, made very often quite early in the morning. Lito was an early riser and he would inadvertently annoy his three sleeping daughters by getting up at 6 a.m. On a Saturday morning, he would roast serrano peppers for his breakfast sauce until they started smoking. Unfortunately, the smoke from the chilis would get us all coughing. Poor Lito...he just wanted to make a sauce quickly, not taking the time to slowly roast the chilis. I'm laughing at the memory of the commotion and yelling that would break out of the bedrooms as my sisters and I would wake up coughing to the smell of smoking chilis slowly wafting into our bedrooms. Throughout the house you could hear the three of us yelling "Papá!!!" Then Lita would join the fray, "Rogelio!!!"

Needless to say, the molcajete has been around for a lot of our family stories. It would have been around for yours too.

Salsa de Molcajete

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Author: Gilda Valdez Carbonaro

Prep time: 15 mins

Cook time: 5 mins

Total time: 20 mins

Serves: 4

Grinding roasted tomatoes, peppers, garlic, and onion in a mortar, gives them a complexity of flavor you wouldn't otherwise get.

Ingredients

• 2 cloves peeled garlic


• 1/2 white onion


• 1 extra large tomato


• 1/4 teaspoon seasalt


• 1/4 cup cilantro


• juice from one lime


• 1 serrano pepper (or you can subsitute a jalapeño)

Instructions

1. Dry roast the garlic, onion, serrano pepper, and tomato on a comal for about 5 minutes until they are slightly charred.


2. Peel the tomato.


3. In the molcajete grind the garlic, serrano pepper, onion (chopped fine) and cilantro with the sea salt.


4. Empty the contents of the molcajete into another bowl to make room to grind the tomato.


5. Mix everthing together again in the molcajete, squeeze the lime juice and fix for salt.

Notes

This makes a chunky sauce with intense flavors. You can add or diminish any of the ingredients according to your taste.

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2.2.1

Rice: Toasted, Not Stirred!

My earliest childhood memories in the kitchen are of adults having heated conversations about rice. The way it should look, how it should taste, and what texture it should have. Above all, they would ultimately concur, never stir it after you've poured the liquids, otherwise you'll get arroz meneado. Nothing could be worse than ending up with an atole, a porridge-like rice sticky and gooey from being stirred. These conversations swirled around the kitchen where opinionated cooks (friends and relatives) jealously guarded the integrity of the rice.

This is not much different from the frenzy in Italy over the possibility of overcooked pasta, which for Italians brings on a lot of excitement and emotion, something which can actually get a little scary if you're not used to it. Trust me, they don't like overcooked pasta. It's the same with rice, it's got to be just right.

Rice was the staple we ate almost everyday with beans. And like the beans, it could be prepared in a variety of ways. But one thing is for certain: if you want rice that is fluffy and not stuck together, you have to begin by toasting the rice in oil.

Each time I toast my rice, I feel my Tía Oralia leaning over my shoulder, telling me how the rice should sound when it's stirred in the pan before adding the liquid. When I make white rice with crema mexicana, I am twelve years old again, sitting primly in a flowery summer dress with Tía Gloria doting on me in her cavernous, lonely house in Monterrey.

Mexican rice is easy to master and quick to prepare, why would one ever eat instant rice? On the other end of the spectrum is paella. Much revered by Spaniards (who inherited rice from the Moors and then introduced it to the New World,) paella is not for culinary slouches. My good friend, Ana from Seville, taught me to make a delicious paella with short grain rice, a rice that reminds me of the arborio rice I use for risotto. The technique for making paella also includes toasting the rice in oil.

In addition to being a simple dish, rice is healthy, especially if you pair it with vegetables or legumes like lentils or beans. It's also gluten-free. If you're game, experiment with the million different varieties of rice in specialty grocery stores: basmati rice, arborio rice, red rice, black rice, or brown rice. Brown rice, for example, is a very healthy rice, but it's not as easy to make a pilaf style rice which is what latino and Spanish rices are.

All rices have different cooking times and not all will end up fluffy. But, beware! Your aunts might suddenly appear from the más allá (the beyond) to scold you about technique. For now, enjoy this easy recipe for simple rice and, remember, no stirring once you pour the liquid!

White Mexican Rice

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Author: Gilda Valdez Carbonaro

Prep time: 10 mins

Cook time: 20 mins

Total time: 30 mins

Serves: 4 - 5

To rinse or not to rinse rice, that is the question. I stopped rinsing rice long ago. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that our mothers rinsed rice prior to cooking because it was dirty with bits of debris. That's not the case with the rice we buy now so, many years ago, I decided to skip that step.

Ingredients

• 2 cups long grain rice


• ¼ cup canola or corn oil


• 2 cloves garlic


• 1 teaspoon cumin powder or grind cumin seeds yourself in a molcajete (mortar)


• 1 onion, minced


• 2 teaspoons salt


• 4 cups chicken broth or 4 cups water with 2 Goya chicken bouillon cubes


• ¾ cup chopped or sliced fresh vegetable of your choice such as red sweet peppers, lima beans, peas, carrots, etc.


• sprigs of cilantro for a garnish


• corn tortillas to be warmed on a comal and eaten with rice.

Instructions

1. Heat the oil in a pan that is no more than 3 inches high on the sides and place the rice to brown slowly; stir the rice for about 3 minutes on low flame to toast it


2. Add the chopped onion, garlic, salt, and vegetable and cook for another 3 minutes. You may need to add additional oil.


3. Add the liquid, arrange vegetables evenly with a spoon, and bring to a boil. After it's boiling, lower to a steady simmer and leave uncovered as it cooks slowly.


4. After 15 minutes, check to see if rice is almost ready, if water has evaporated too quickly and rice is still not done you make have to add a little more liquid, (keep it heated so you can add it if needed).


5. Serve it in the same skillet or transfer to a heated earthware bowl with a lid and garnish with the cilantro.

Notes

Add a dollop of Mexican cream, which is a bit like clotted cream, to the rice when it is ready if you want to make it like my Aunt Gloria's rice.

Cochinita Pibil

The banana leaf has been used in the Americas and elsewhere, for that matter, for millennia as the environmentally friendly aluminum foil used to keep food moist during cooking. This Yucatecan dish is a fusion of the Mayan and the Spanish, a love child of this blending of two contrasting worlds. It is a "surprise du chef" to be opened up at the table like a gift, revealing the achiote-colored meat flavored with sour orange and other spices.

Instead of using recado rojo or achiote paste, I have ground the achiote seeds myself with the rest of the spices because I don't like some of the additives in the commercial paste but you might want to take advantage of the convenience of the achiote paste, especially if that is all that is available to you. Add it to your mixture a tablespoon at a time until you get the desired consistency and color: about as  thick as porridge and a rusty red color.

The name, cochinita, means suckling pig and pibil in Mayan language is the underground pit.  Here, I've used pork shoulder and set my oven at 325 degrees for about 3 hours. I personally don't like the look of shredded meat, so I leave mine in large chunks. 

A a brief search online will show you there are a million ways to prepare Cochinita Pibil, but the similarity will always be in the length of cooking time. It does take time to cook, but you don't have to stand by the stove; it will take care of itself. This meat will be so tender and flavorful, you will not need a knife.

Cochinita Pibil

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Prep time: 30 mins

Cook time: 3 hours

Total time: 3 hours 30 mins

Serves: 2

You will need to marinate the meat for at least an hour with the achiote mixture and the sour orange juices. Leaving it to marinate overnight is even better. Many of these spices are available through our friends at Latinbag.

Ingredients:

• 1 lb. pork shoulder cut into large chunks

For grinding together in a coffee grinder or molcajete

• 3 tablespoons achiote seeds
• 1 teaspoon oregano
• 1 teaspoon cumin
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 2 teaspoons salt

Liquids for the marinade:

• 1 ¼ cup sour orange juice or juice from about 3 oranges and 2 (juicy) limes
• 1 tablespoon vinegar

Toast on comal

• ½ red onion cut into about 4 pieces
• 5 cloves peeled garlic
• 3 bay leaves
• 2 guajillo chiles split open (first simmered for 10 minutes)
• 1 package banana leaves

Instructions:

Achiote

1. For grinding in a coffee grinder (if you don't have a coffee grinder just throw them into the blender with the other sour orange juice and blend for about 3 minutes until it is no longer grainy)


2. In a blender mix the dry achiote ingredients above with the orange/lime liquid until it is blended into a thick sauce


3. Marinate the meat with this sauce in the refrigerator for at least one hour, but overnight is even better.


4. On a comal or iron skillet on a very low flame, toast the chunks of onion, the peeled garlic, bay leaves and guajillo chiles


5. Wash the banana leaves and heat them slightly on the skillet or comal to soften them.


6. Lay them out on the bottom of your baking dish leaving 'flaps' that will fold after you've placed your marinated pork into the dish.


7. Arrange your toasted spices on top of the marinated pork.


8. Fold over all your 'flaps' until the pork is completely encased in the leaves.


9. Cover the dish with a layer of tin foil for additional protection.


10. It will be ready from between 2 1/2 to 3 hours.


11. Serve it on a bed of rice or make tacos with the meat garnished with red onion that has soaked in lime juice.

Garnish for tacos

1. ½ red onion sliced thin and soaked in fresh squeezed lime juice

If Life Gives You Blood Oranges, Make Candied Orange Peel

My students at an all boys school are exceptional in many ways, one of which is how they often take the initiative to pursue enrichment through extracurricular activities.  Sometimes, the boys design their own after-school clubs and ask a faculty member if he or she will host it. That is how I came to host the Cooking Club several years ago.

This past Friday my twelve to fourteen year old cooking devotees donned their aprons, washed their hands and readied their knives for the lesson of the day: How to make a Sicilian blood orange and fennel salad. Their bantering about food on this day and any other is nothing short of impressive. This little group is no stranger to terminology such as the locavore ethic, sustainable agriculture, slow food, and are knowledgeable about a myriad of exotic ingredients. They understand simplicity and authenticity in the context of food. Listening to their lively chatter as we sit down to enjoy the products of our labor, I smile to myself knowing they will grow to be men and fathers who will value the importance of sharing healthy meals with family and friends.

To practice what we preach, I asked the boys to save the peels from the blood oranges we used for last week's recipe. I know what you're saying. Blood oranges are not exactly locally grown; they come from who knows how many thousand miles away, but we used every bit of the orange and used the peels to make the delectable candied fruit one finds everywhere in Mexico.

Candied Orange Peel

Recipe Type: Dessert

Author: Gilda Valdez Carbonaro

Prep time: 20 mins

Cook time: 1 hour 30 mins

Total time: 1 hour 50 mins

Serves: 8

This is the ideal thing to have on hand to chop up and add to a dessert bread such as the holiday rosca or pan de muertos.

Ingredients

• Five or 6 oranges or 5 oranges and 2 lemons


• Water in which to boil the orange peel and to make the syrup


• About 1 cup of turbinado cane sugar


• 2 cups regular sugar

Instructions

1. Cut into the citrus as if you were going to quarter the fruit, but don't cut into the orange or lemon itself.


2. Peel off the quartered peel.


3. Slice into strips.


4. Drop into boiling water and cook for 5 minutes.


5. Drain and repeat two more times to remove the bitter taste, then set aside.


6. Dissolve the 2 cups regular sugar in 2 cups water, bring to a boil and add the peels.


7. Stir occasionally; when the syrup is almost completely absorbed (about 50 minutes), remove the peels and drain.


8. Spread the peels on a rack for about an hour to dry ( or in a slightly warm oven)


9. Place the peels in a paper sack with the turbinado sugar and shake to coat them with the sugar.


10. Spread them on wax paper to dry.

Pan de Jamón

My family and I spent our first Christmas in Spain in 2010. My husband, our daughter, my mother, and I had just settled down in a tiny apartment in the center of a small suburb of Valencia. What brought us to Spain? It's a very long story, I can only say it wasn't altogether a straightforward decision. Suffice it to say that, unlike past Christmases with all the family present, there were only five of us at the table.  I love to cook and even more so when it is for a special occasion; but in this case, it was actually a challenge to cook for so few people. Fortunately, we had leftovers for several days.

In July we moved to Cantabria after having lived for a year in Valencia. The region has enough water, fertile soil, and other possibilities that my husband and I were able to start an organic farming project.  Maybe this enticed guests to our table for Christmas the following year because we grew from five to sixteen at the table.

Here, we also live in a tiny apartment in the center of a tiny, ancient town 40 kilometers from Santander. As much as I like to cook, with so many guests and my microscopic kitchen I had to perform culinary magic to be efficient and avoid chaos.

This pan de jamón or ham loaf constitutes what is considered traditional holiday fare served in Venezuela with hallacas (similar to Mexican tamales) and the obligatory chicken salad.   The preparation of it is something I look forward to every year; to get up early, knead the dough, and then drink my coffee while the dough grows is a ritualistic and meditative process.

You can prepare the loaves in the morning and they will stay fresh for a few days, although that's an illusion if there are a lot of hungry guests in the house. It's a simple recipe and can be eaten for breakfast, lunch, a snack, dinner, or to accompany a main dish.

I should add that I only prepare this at Christmastime, but nowadays one can find it all year round in bakeries in Venezuela, taking something away, in my opinion, from the precious memories one associates with foods prepared at special times.

Pan de Jamón

Recipe Type: Appetiser, Entree

Author: Carmen De Las Casas

Prep time: 30 mins

Cook time: 2 hours 30 mins

Total time: 3 hours

Serves: 10

This is a savory and slightly sweet bread that is perfect to prepare ahead of time.

Ingredients

• 1 ½ lb flour (you'll need more for kneading)


• 1 cup lukewarm milk


• 2 tablespoons bread yeast


• 2 eggs


• 6 tablespoons melted butter


• ½ cup sugar


• A pinch of salt


• ½ lb cooked ham


• ½ lb smoked ham


• ½ cup raisins


• ½ cup olives filled with pimentos

Instructions

1. Place the lukewarm milk in a bowl with the yeast, cover it with a dishtowel.


2. Keep in a warm place in the kitchen for 10 minutes.


3. In the meantime, melt the butter without letting it cook.


4. Beat an egg, the sugar, and salt.


5. Add the melted butter.


6. In a large bowl place the flour and make a well in the center.


7. Add the yeast mixture and the butter mixture and start to amalgamate it all starting from the center toward the outer part, first with a wooden spoon and then using your hands.


8. Add more flour if necessary until you get a homogeneous and flexible texture.


9. Place the dough on a tabletop and begin to knead for 5 minutes.


10. Place in a bowl with enough space for it to double in size, cover it with a dishtowel and let it rise for about an hour.


11. After an hour, punch out the dough, knead it against the tabletop and deflate completely.


12. Let it grow for another ½ hour and then divide it in two.


13. Roll out the dough to obtain a rectangle about ¼ inch thick.


14. Divide the ham, the olives and the raisins in two.


15. Start covering the dough with the ham, both smoked and uncooked; the ham should be placed in a wrinkled manner.


16. Spread the olives and the raisins.


17. Roll the dough, leaving the seam well closed underneath.


18. Prick it with a fork on the top and leave it on a floured baking sheet covered with a dishtowel for about 20 minutes before placing it in the oven.


19. Bake for about 30 minutes at 350 degrees F.


20. Beat the other egg with a tablespoon of sugar and moisten the loaves just before taking them out of the oven.

Las Navidades del 2010 fueron las primeras que mi esposo, nuestra hija, mi madre y yo pasamos en España. Hacía pocos meses que nos habíamos establecido en la región de Valencia, en un pequeño apartamento en el centro de un pequeño pueblo suburbio de la ciudad. Qué nos trajo a vivir a España? Es una historia muy larga, sólo puedo decir que no fue una decisión propia. Por primera vez en muchos años éramos solo cinco personas a la mesa en Navidad.

A mí me encanta la cocina y más aún cuando es una ocasión especial, sin embargo no sabía cómo cocinar para tan poca gente. Cuando estás acostumbrada a cocinar para muchas personas, ajustar las medidas de las recetas para poca gente puede ser un reto. La parte buena es que tuvimos sobras por varios días.

En julio nos mudamos a Cantabria. Después de un año viviendo en Valencia decidimos probar Cantabria. A pesar de ser un sitio desconocido, este lugar parecía tener agua suficiente, tierras ociosas y más posibilidades para que empezáramos un pequeño negocio de agricultura orgánica. Mi esposo ha estado en el negocio de la agricultura por más de tres décadas. Años atrás, después de haber sembrado grandes extensiones de tierra se dio cuenta que la producción orgánica a pequeña escala era el futuro en agricultura.

En todo caso, por obra y gracia de lo inexplicable esta Navidad pasada crecimos de ser cinco a ser dieciséis personas a la mesa. Pienso que como el año pasado fue tan diferente para nuestra familia, este año había un sentimiento general de tratar de estar juntos.  Aquí también vivimos en un pequeño apartamento en el centro de un pequeñito pueblo a 40 Km de Santander. Por mucho que te guste cocinar, cuando hay tanta gente a comer y tienes una cocina pequeña y una mesa de comedor donde ocho caben apretados, tienes que hacer magia para poder ser eficiente y conseguir que no sólo la comida esté lista a tiempo sino que los comensales sean atendidos a la vez y sin caos.

El pan de jamón le gusta a todos y a mí me encanta prepararlo. Este forma parte de la tradicional comida navideña venezolana, junto con la ensalada de gallina es el acompañante obligado de las hallacas las cuales son parecidas a los tamales mexicanos.  Y aunque son laboriosas, se hacen con varios días de antipación, luego ya solo es calentarlas. Levantarme temprano, amasar y luego tomarme mi café mientras crece la masa es un proceso ritualístico y meditativo. Los preparas por la mañana y se mantienen frescos por un par de días, aunque cuando cuentas con mucha gente hambrienta pensar en un par de días es una ilusión. En todo caso es una receta fácil y se puede usar para desayuno, comida, merienda, cena lígera o como acompañamiento de un plato principal.

Tengo que añadir que yo solo preparo este pan durante la Navidad. Ahora en Venezuela puedes conseguir en las panaderías pan de jamón durante todo el año, pienso que le resta ese encanto especial de la comida tradicional navideña.

Receta para dos panes medianos

1 1/2 lb de harina (un poco más de harina hará falta al amasar)
1 taza de leche tibia
2 cdas de levadura para pan
2 huevos
6 cdas de mantequilla, derretida
1/2 taza de azúcar
una pizca de sal
1/2 lb jamón cocido
1/2 lb de jamón ahumado
1/2 taza de pasas
1/2 taza de aceitunas rellenas de pimiento

Poner la leche tibia en un bowl con la levadura, taparla con un trapo y dejarla en un lugar tibio por unos 10 min. Mientras tanto derretir la mantequilla sin que cueza. Batir un huevo, el azúcar, la sal y por último la mantequilla derretida.

En un bowl grande poner la harina y hacer un hueco en el centro. Añadir la levadura y la mezcla de la mantequilla y comenzar a unir todo desde el centro hacia afuera. Yo comienzo a hacerlo con una cuchara de madera y luego cuando esté unido ya meto las manos. Añadir más harina si fuera necesario hasta conseguir una mezcla homogénea y flexible.

Entonces pasar la masa a la mesa y amasar por unos 5 minutos. Poner en un bowl con espacio suficiente para que crezca el doble, tapar con un trapo y dejar por una hora más o menos. A la hora, desinflar la masa, y tirarla contra la mesa unas cuantas veces para sacar el aire y amasar otro poco.

Dejarla crecer nuevamente por una media hora más. Dividir la masa en dos. Extender con el rodillo hasta obtener un rectángulo de aproximadamente 1/4" de espesor.

Dividir el jamón, las aceitunas y las pasas en dos. Ir cubriendo la masa con el jamón, mitad ahumado, mitad cocido. El jamón debe ponerse en forma arrugada, sin extenderlo. Esparcir las aceitunas y las pasas.

Enrrollar el pan dejando la costura bien cerrada por debajo. Pincharlo con un tenedor por encima y dejarlo sobre un bandeja de horno enharina cubierto con un paño unos 20 minutos antes de meterlo al horno.

Repetir con el resto de la masa y los ingredientes. Hornear por unos 30 min a 350 grados F. Batir el otro huevo con una cucharada de azúcar y pintar el pan unos minutos antes de sacarlo del horno.


Carmen De Las Casas is a native of Venezuela.  She is a photographer and avid cook and lives with her husband, an organic farmer, in Spain.  To learn more about hallacas, read her cookbook here and visit her photography blog here.

Sweet New Year

Another year is gone.  What is remarkable about the year is that the war in Iraq finally ended, in a manner of speaking.   Our troops came home. These four words: Our troops came home do nothing to tell the story of the profound loss some of us suffered or how our lives changed forevermore.

As I have throughout these years, I attempt to find meaning in all this 'sound and fury' of this life. I deal with this rage over this unspeakable loss of my only child, through the tireless activities of my day to day existence, in the forceful and difficult breaking of old habits and the willful discovery of new ones. But I also reminisce about my past and what there could be in it that led me to survive where others have not.

From my past I gather and reorganize my memories again of days when the the aunts and cousins from Monterrey or Villaldama, or Puebla arrived in Laredo with gifts for us. We all lived frugally in those days, that is, the 50's and 60's, but no one ever arrived without treats for us. Recently, one of these cousins, visiting from Mexico city arrived with a magical box from a legendary candy store in Mexico City: Dulcería Celaya.  I was fascinated by the elaborate decoration and delicate aspect of these sweets. I had not seen my cousin in years and the box she brought me resurrected memories of the past when everything was safe, and good...and sweet.

On this one year anniversary of the launch of this blog, las dos Gildas wish you all the luxury of time to spend with your families.   Enjoy the sweet things in life as if there is no tomorrow!

If you have never tried your basic dulce de leche, here is a recipe from Girl Gone Granola