Category Archives: Travel

Cooking at Casa de Colores

Posted on March 2, 2012 by Kyle

Due to technical difficulties, I cannot get the photos off my camera. I will update the post with my actual pictures as soon as I can. In the meantime, this is the grinder at the tortilleria where we sampled the amazing Nixtomal corn tortillas!

After spending a week in Cabo at perhaps the most ridiculous house I’ve ever stepped foot in, I had an epiphany: working after a week of vacation reminds me that I’d rather be on vacation. I think I’ve been holding onto this post in my head as a way of prolonging the week we spent doing nothing. Well, almost nothing. Between Coronitas and dips in the pool, I managed to sneak in a cooking class. And boy…I’m glad I did.

If you ask an American what Mexican food is, you’ll get a different answer depending on the geographic location of the person you’re interviewing. In middle America, Tex-Mex is all the rage, but a Californian would hang you for trying to pass off anything as Mexican that wasn’t fresh tacos or a bulging burrito. And then there’s actual Mexican food that doesn’t resemble either of these things.

My Cabo cooking class was titled “Mexican Comfort Foods.” Not having a ton of experience in the genre, short of what I filled up on at Gay and Larry’s growing up (RIP), I wasn’t really sure what I was in for. I met Donna in the parking lot of a large grocery store near downtown, and truth be told, I wasn’t sure who I was looking for, how many people were going to be in our class, or what we’d be doing that day. One of my favorite parts about taking all of these different classes around the world is that no two have proved to be the same yet. And this was no different.

Once we assembled our group, Donna had me jump into her car and she whisked us over to an authentic tortilleria for lunch. Lunch? I thought I was going to a cooking class. Smart not to argue, we pulled up to the al fresco restaurant and sampled some of the freshest tortillas this side of Oaxaca. The “Tortilla Goddesses,” as Donna so dubiously named them, barely speak English and turn out hot corn tortillas straight from the comal. They start by making their own Nixtomal, a mixture of corn, limestone and filtered water that’s passed through a grinder. That’s their masa, and this technique has been going on for thousands of years thanks to the Aztecs. There I was, literally eating history. My God, history tastes good.

From there, we headed back to Casa de Colores, or “House of Colors” in Spanish, where Donna lives. Her charming abode is perched on a lookout in Cabo and you can see all the way to the ocean. It’s also aptly named–the terracotta exterior is trimmed with colors borrowed from the rainbow, and in Mexico, this aesthetic just works. She conducts the cooking classes from the upstairs part of her house in a well-equipped kitchen that is perfect for groups of about six people. That day, there were five of us and Donna.

When we arrived, she served us a delicious Agua de Mandarinas “fresh water” to wet our whistle and get us ready for a serious dose of Mexican comfort classics. We started with a discussion of the comal, a word she uttered at the tortilleria that left all of us scratching our heads. Whether industrial sized or plate-sized, a comal is a staple in a Mexican kitchen. Put simply, it’s a disk of steel that you cook on with dry heat. We immediately put the comal to work with roma tomatoes, a white onion, serrano chilies, and garlic. We were making a cooked salsa!

After we blistered the ingredients on the comal, we transferred them to a blender and pulsed it all together. The juice from the tomatoes served as the liquid, and what we tasted was smokey and fresh. To deepen the flavor further and thicken it up, we “fried the salsa” for 10-15 minutes in a Tbsp of oil on the stove top. It really did the trick, enriching the flavor and deepening the impact.

That was our fresh salsa, but we also had a discussion and worked with dried chilies. I think one of the most common misconceptions is that Mexican ingredients like the ones we used are hard to find. Guilty of the same assumption, I was wondering where I was going to find dried guajillo chilies in Portland. So you can imagine my surprise when I flipped open the Penzey’s Spice catalog that came in the mail to find they sell them there…right up the street. I also happened to spot Nopales (cactus paddles) in our regular old Safeway yesterday too. So, there you have it…even in rainy Portland, we’re cookin’ Mexican!

Back to the guajillos. These deep red peppers are fairly mild but have a great flavor, and are very popular in Mexican sauces. Donna pulled out a few dried ones, we smelled them and felt their texture, and then we chopped them up. We reconstituted them with boiling water from the stove, and let them sit for a bit to come back to life. This “Devil Salsa” that we were putting together was a cinch. We pureed the chilies in a blender with their water, and then passed them through a sieve to strain out the tough parts of the skin that no self-respecting human would want to chew on. From there, we simmered the sauce for a bit and that was that. We would turn our salsa into a masa dumpling soup, use it later on our chile rellenos, and Donna also mentioned that we could use it to make “Camarones Diavola,” or devil shrimp served over rice. Another option: add chicken stock and turn it into a tortilla soup. “Devil Salsa:” the gift that keeps on giving!

Another enlightening part of this class was the chile relleno. I remember my Grandma Elsie always ordering this dish, but I never really knew what it was. With my childish, undeveloped palette, I never asked to try it, but suspected that it was a deep-fried chili pepper stuffed with cheese. I was sort of right. The only difference in the traditional Mexican version is that it’s coated with a fluffy egg mixture that creates an omelette around the chili when it’s fried in the hot oil. A lot of restaurants will take short cuts and bread and deep-fry a chili to pass off as a relleno. It’s a cheap knockoff though, kind of like plastic shoes that cut your feet.

If you’re headed to Cabo, take a break from the chi-chi’s and guys selling your name on a grain of rice. Make some time to venture out of the mayhem and sample some authentic Mexican cuisine. At Casa de Colores, you’ll learn about a tortilla environment, discuss moles, and talk a lot about Mexico’s culinary culture that stretches from border to border. And you’ll also start to realize that although Mexico borders Texas, it scoffs at anything Velveeta or Rotel related.

Casa de Colores…A Tasty Corner of Cabo

Email Donna at brisasjones@yahoo.com for a schedule of classes

2 Comments

Posted in Cooking Class, Culinary, Culinary Hopscotch, holiday, Mexico, Recipe, Travel and tagged food, travel, vacation. Bookmark the permalink.

Cabo Cooking Class: Booked!

Posted on February 1, 2012 by Kyle

Despite this pretty mild winter we’ve had in the Pacific Northwest, I’m really looking forward to our upcoming trip to Cabo. It pays to have family members who bid on ridiculous auction items like the mansion at the Palmilla where we are staying. Ok, I don’t really know if it’s a mansion officially, but it’s a grande casa for sure.

I figured while we’re there, I better scout out a cooking class, which is exactly what I did. Here is the description of what I’ll be cooking:

MEXICAN COMFORT FOODS- Foods that taste like home in Mexico include corn masa antojitos like Tlacoyos con Salsa Verde (delicate turnovers of blue masa stuffed with yellow fava beans served in a green sauce a colorful Central Mexican street favorite), Ensalada de Nopales (fresh nopal cactus salad with bright, crisp vegetables), Albondigas (savory meatball and vegetable soup) and Tortitas de Papa en Salsa Roja (crisp fried potato-cheese cakes with a red sauce)… and maybe even Minguichi (strips of roasted poblano pepper in a melted cheese sauce Michoacan style, delicious tucked into hot tortillas). For dessert caramelized roasted Camotes (sweet potatoes) and cream. Yum!

As I’m sure you can imagine, this Southern California native is dearly missing her daily dose of quality Mexican cuisine. So, in between sunning myself on the beach, catamaran cruises, and downing copious margaritas, I’ll be rolling up my sleeves until I’m elbow-deep in masa. Stay tuned for the blog about my adventure!

Banging Around a Berlin Kitchen

Posted on December 21, 2011 by Kyle

Overdue is normally a word reserved for library books, but it’s fitting here, as the cooking class that I took in Berlin happened the Friday before Thanksgiving. That was November 18th for those keeping track, meaning I’m a solid month behind schedule in getting this posted. Demerit.

I guess I could blame it on the fact that I’ve been busy translating the recipes or making a failed attempt at piecing the marathon seven-hour long evening back together. But neither of those are really true. Minus part of the piecing, but that took place on my RyanAir flight from Berlin Schoenefeld back to London EARLY Saturday morning when the alarm went off. I found myself scratching my head wondering how a harmless cooking class turned into nearly a full day’s work, three full-course meals, and more bottles of wine than we properly counted, but hopefully paid for. At least I hope someone did.

Just getting to this class was a victory because it had been on my list during the original installment of Culinary Hopscotch. But as these things go (and went on that trip), Berlin was smack dab where my bank account reached an all-time low and I mentally began the journey home. There were no funds for the Kochen & Würzen class that time, but this trip to Berlin would be different. I was on a mission; I had a second chance at my class, on a day when Blane Gish (an American expat) was hosting, and I would be there to cook alongside him. I was doing it come hell or high water.

And I did…with two of my American friends, and about 10 of our newest German ones. It was, hands down, the most rammed cooking class I’ve been apart of, with the exception of my demonstration-based classes where you could hardly see let alone get your hands on a whisk. Being that Blane was an expat, I had assumed the class would be taught in English. It was. Kind of. Since 7/8’s of the class was German-speaking, he conducted the class that way, with random English commentary sprinkled in. Despite wondering what the hell was going on for a good portion of it, I was in awe of his command of the German language. It’s something I want desperately to learn, but my God, it’s a major pain in the ass with all of those cases. I digress. Sort of. Blane handed my friends and I the recipes, and low and behold, they were entirely in German. We looked at each other, had a laugh, and decided to get on with it. Surely there was a plan for us Amerikaneren.

Basiskurs feines Geflügel

Gebratene getrüffelte Perlhuhnbrust an Kürbis-Lauch-Risotto

Wachtel aus dem Ofen, gefüllt mit Prosecco-Sauerkraut und Thymiankartoffeln

Entenbrust mit Zimt-Orangensauce, Pommes Dauphin und Gemüse der Saison

Ouittenmousse mit Cranberry-Kompott

Yep, those were the dishes we would be making that evening, and our method of finding our way around the kitchen and the recipes was to pair up with a German ally, and be shown the ropes that way. It worked, until my partner began pouring glass after glass after glass of wine, which made for a comical evening. Especially when we washed and dried the Wachtel (those are Cornish Game Hens for the uninitiated) together, laughing mostly about the English name for which I had no explanation. We walked through the recipe together, me pointing out the few German food-related words I did know, and her marveling at the fact that an American could even piece together a sentence or two of her native tongue.

After we banged around the smallish kitchen, our class of 12-13 came together on three separate occasions over a fully prepared meal in the dining room. There was, of course, more wine to go with them. When the third of the three meals was nearing completion, I had a look at my phone. It was nearly 1:00 a.m., and it made sense to me why Blane had asked early on if we needed to be out of there at a certain time. No, no…we could catch a taxi home, so we weren’t on any U-bahn time constraints. But it all made sense now, and I could hear the nagging chime of my cell phone alarm bellowing at 5:45 a.m., telling me it was time to get up, surely hungover, for my early morning flight. Tick one for foreshadowing.

If you find yourself trolling Berlin’s duplicitous city streets–the ones that once forced out foreigners but now offer them staggering autonomy, the ones that once hid behind a wall that no longer stands, the ones who know their storied roots but watch progress grow where things have fallen down–make it a point to find Kochen & Würzen. You’ll learn your way around a German kitchen, but also find a place where everybody knows your name even when you can’t remember it yourself.

Why Social Media Counts, or How 140 Characters Scored Me 20K JetBlue Points

Posted on June 30, 2011 by Kyle

As a Culinary Hopscotch reader, you may be wondering why you’re reading a blog post on social media. Trust me…read on and you’ll see how this all comes full-circle. You may also dart to create your own Twitter handle.

Twitter is one of those things that has been around for awhile now. You have probably seen the icon on webpages begging you to follow along, but you might not fully understand what Twitter is, how it’s useful, and why you should be on it. Facebook seems to reign supreme, and the young, old, and everyone in between know how to use it. To boil it down, Twitter is another platform where people can connect with messages that are 140 characters (letters and spaces) or less. Today, I want to share a personal anecdote about why social media is increasingly important, and how Twitter helped me score 20,000 JetBlue “Trueblue” points.

I follow @JetBlue on Twitter. Why? Because once a week on Tuesday they release their JetBlue “Cheeps,” or cheap airfares that are only advertised on Twitter via their handle @JetBlueCheeps. I follow both because I like to travel and don’t want to miss any deals that might apply to me. I’ve been following them both for a few months now, but haven’t interacted with either account at all. Until yesterday.

Two days ago, there was a CNN travel article about Twitter and how airlines are using it effectively to resolve customer service issues, complaints, reschedules, and so forth. In some cases, it’s an easier and quicker method of getting in touch with an airline than standing in line at the airport. I let my Google Reader stalk the CNN travel section for me (yay technology), so of course I read this article. They mentioned that JetBlue and Virgin America are probably the best Tweeters out there airline-wise, and that JetBlue specifically has resources dedicated exclusively to social media (i.e. there is a person manning the @JetBlue handle on Twitter).

So yesterday, I’m thumbing through Twitter on my iPad, and I see a message from @JetBlue about their CEO @DavidJBarger conducting an in-air contest for 20,000 “Trueblue” points. He was on a flight from JFK to somewhere, and this contest was taking place at their cruising altitude. “Rad!” I thought, and wished I was on that flight. I replied to the Tweet and said “Maybe you should think about having this same contest on Friday during your flight from LGB–PDX at ohhh, 3:10p.m.,” a flight I’m going to be on. @JetBlue responded to me and said “Did you pull that flight out of thin air? Thanks for choosing JetBlue but we don’t think the CEO normally flies that route.” Clearly, this Tweet was just for me, and that was very cool. I wasn’t after a handout, and was happy that what I had read on CNN was true: they do monitor their Twitter account and they respond.

I’d learn the next morning that their social media staff aren’t the only ones who monitor the @JetBlue account. When I woke up, I had an @message from the CEO himself telling me he had copied the Director of Customer Loyalty via Twitter and asked him to deposit 20,000 “Trueblue” points into my account. I then had a follow-up message from @Tremdave requesting my “Trueblue” account number, which I gave, and less than 10 minutes later, the 20,000 miles were in my account, I was thanked for being a loyal JetBlue customer, and wished a pleasant journey on Friday. Now that’s what I call customer service!

There are a couple of things to garner here. First, why would JetBlue do this? They’re in the business of running an airline, not giving away free flights for no reason (the points they gave me are equivalent to two roundtrips, by the way). It’s actually genius psychological marketing. Yesterday, there I was with 228 “Trueblue” points in my account thinking, “What am I going to do with these? It’s going to be years before I collect enough points for a free flight.” Now, I have more than enough for a couple of flights, and I’m inclined to fly JetBlue so I can continually add to my balance. Plus, they’ve shown me that they do listen, they care about their customers, and they are interested in maintaining my loyalty. I like that. And they’ll like the cha-ching they get each time I book a flight with them from here on out, my plugs for them via Twitter, Facebook, this blog post, etc…, and the windfall of additional business that may come their way as a result. That’s how and why social media works; it’s a way to ensure your brand is consistently on the mind of consumers, that you organically pop up first when people Google your name, etc…

Before you rush out and create your own Twitter handle and try to pilfer miles or points from any airline, do realize that this was likely an isolated incident. I was at the right place, at the right time, and said something that resonated with someone who could make things happen. I don’t maintain that this is the norm, and I doubt it will ever happen again. Ironically though, I received an email yesterday from a friend offering to give me additional Russian cooking lessons at her home in New York, home of @JetBlue and the place where all of this originated. If nothing else, with a short 140-character message, Twitter helped to condense my world a bit; I’m thinking of using these gift flights to reach my next few cooking classes for @CulinaryHScotch. Are you following me yet?

Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming…

1 Comment

Posted in Airlines, Travel. Bookmark the permalink.

Find Yourself the Spice Monkey

Posted on June 17, 2011 by Kyle

There has got to be a way for me to convince Nikita to open a Spice Monkey in the USA. First things first: convincing him to give me the recipe for the flat rice snack we had. I’m vowing to figure it out.

Today, I traveled far from Fulham to Alexandra Palace. My beginners Indian cooking class was at Nikita’s family home, and I knew upon entry that I was in for a truly authentic experience. His adorable tiny mother, Mrs. G, acted as sous chef, and despite my early arrival, they welcomed me in from the impending rain. While we were chatting, I had a look at the table that was covered in an array of colorful spices, the nucleus of any Indian recipe. Clearly, spices were going to be a large part of our conversation.

Our class took place in their greenhouse, and there were just three of us and Nikita, which was fabulous from a learner’s vantage point. We spent a solid hour pouring over the different spices, their taste, their texture, and their origins. He had everything, from dried coriander and two kinds of cardamom to mustard seeds, fenugreek, and ground red pepper. Let us not forget turmeric; my hands and nails are currently stained a gorgeous yellow hue. He even had fresh turmeric, which I had never seen nor tasted before, but it was amazing. I presumed it was ginger by it’s looks, but as they say, “don’t judge a book by its cover.”

From these spices, we created a variety of masalas. Garam masala is probably the most common and widely recognised, and in a grinder, we made our own version after toasting the different seeds in a dry pan. We also created a version that we didn’t toast at all, and it was great to be able to compare and contrast the two with our noses. Much of what we did today was sensory oriented. It was a wonderful way of getting familiar with so many spices that we have seen, heard about, or shoved to the back of our cupboards after using them just one time. One of Nikita’s biggest points was not to get overwhelmed by the options; use what you like that day, and if you leave something out (like we did a few times), c’est la vie.

Our menu today consisted of aromatic rice, Mrs. G’s chicken curry, cauliflower bhagi, potato curry, and shrikanda, an Indian dessert. I had no idea that Indians had such a sweet tooth, but evidently, that is the case, and randomly, I think the dessert may have been my favourite dish. Most people think of curry as blow-your-head-off hot, oily, and generally difficult to prepare, but I learned today that none of that is the case. In fact, with some thoughtful planning, I think an Indian feast would be the perfect way to entertain. We need to be more adventurous with our palettes in America, and it would be nice if you didn’t have to drive ten towns away to find a decent curry. I always lament that when leaving London because there are about as many Indian places here as there are Mexican joints in California. Are all of them good? Now, I think we all know the answer to that one.

Point being, don’t be discouraged when it comes to experimenting with Indian food in your own kitchen. Try your hand at it with a cookbook and only buy small quantities of the spices until you decide which combinations suit your taste best. Better yet, if you can swing it, make a trip to Spice Monkey and take a class. You’ll be happy you did. I can’t tell you how much easier it was to learn from an expert and see things firsthand. I will be back for another class with Nikita, mark my words.

For now, I’m hanging up my apron to head back to America. Next stop: California followed by a more permanent stop in Portland, Oregon. It may be time for a move into the culinary world, because with each of these classes, I realise more and more that this is what I’m meant to be doing whether it’s stirring, writing, teaching, or otherwise.

The Spice Monkey
http://www.spicemonkey.co.uk
info@spicemonkey.co.uk

1 Comment

Posted in Cooking Class, Culinary, Culinary Hopscotch, holiday, London, Travel. Bookmark the permalink.

Culinary Hopscotch Continues!

Posted on April 19, 2011 by Kyle

I cannot wait for June. I just can’t. Not only are we heading to Capri to see our good friends tie the knot, but we will also be spending some time in London.

It’s an amazing city…a favorite in fact. And despite the stereotypes about the food, I’m planning to take some cooking classes while I’m there.

Keep your eye on the blog for the latest and greatest!

3 Comments

Posted in Cooking Class, Culinary Hopscotch, holiday, Travel. Bookmark the permalink.

Stove-Slaving in St. Petersburg for Stroganoff & Kotlety

Posted on November 6, 2010 by Kyle

Today, our journey took us into the depths of St. Petersburg on the metro, and out of the historical city centre. Exiting the metro, we’d find architecture that triggered immediate ideas of Communism; we had ascended into the projects. Real estate prices here, however, fetch surprisingly high tariffs, and we still are at a loss for an answer as to how people pay to live in this city. It is incredibly expensive.

The food, on the other hand, is quite simple. Russian cuisine is hearty to a point of insulation, and it reminds me a lot of the cuisine I had in Poland earlier this winter. In fact, some of the words are even the same, however, their translations couldn’t be farther apart. Take “pierogi” for example. During our city tour the other day, our driver, Alex, took Brady and I to a traditional Russian “fast food” restaurant for pierogi. We walked in, approached the counter, and looked around for the tender dumplings of various fillings, only to find exquisite golden pastries bursting with sweet and savory insides. Lost in translation? Apparently. Russian pierogis have nothing to do with the dumplings you’d find in Polish milk bars and in the frozen food section of Trader Joe’s. They are bonafide pastries filled with everything from salmon to apricot jam. And quite good. But I digress. The cooking class is why you are reading.

Brady (or Buh-rian, depending on who you ask) and I jumped on the metro this morning and made our way far out of the city centre. You wouldn’t believe how deep these metros are here. A picture wouldn’t even do it justice (and we tried), and if that wasn’t enough, we descended to find just a row of metal doors with people hanging about. Where were the trains? Behind the doors, of course. We entered the train, the doors slammed shut with a resounding clunk, and we were not getting out. Russian suicide prevention, or something else? We wouldn’t find out, but this was unlike any metro either of us had ever seen. The train skated along the tracks briskly, and after about 40 minutes, we arrived at our stop, the 2nd to last on the line.

The plan was to meet our host there at the exit, but as we waited and waited, we both questioned why I hadn’t been more judicious in getting a description of this woman, or giving her ours. Clearly, we stood out; Brady, looking like a proper English gent in his camel overcoat, and me with flat boots and round eyes taking it all in. Everyone was staring. Suddenly, from nowhere, Polina appeared.
An unforeseen incident with her electricity forced us to her mom’s apartment around the corner where the three of us met her mom and Jack, the English Spaniel. Polina and I were about to be up to our elbows in Beef Stroganoff and Turkey Kotlety, so we got straight to work. Neither of these dishes required any special cooking equipment though, only time. The three of us had a chat before we got started regarding the American interpretation of Beef Stroganoff versus the Russian one. Being that it was invented by a chef in this city, I can without a doubt say, we’ve got it all wrong.

I didn’t see a can of mushroom soup anywhere today, nor did I see a mushroom for that matter. Egg noodles need not apply, as they’re not even a part of this dish. Our stroganoff included hand-pounded and sliced meet, an onion, olive oil, a bit of sour cream (save it people), Russian herbs (which Polina so graciously sent us home with), and salt and pepper. C’est tout. The dish truly could not have been easier and I can imagine having it on a cold winter’s night, assuming we actually have a winter this year. Based on current reports, it sounds like a long-shot. We boiled off some potatoes for a mash on the side, and there, my friends, you have the real Beef Stroganoff. Where we ever came up with this concoction over noodles is beyond me.

Next to our Beef Stroganoff and potatoes were massive patties called Kotlety. We ground the meat by hand, and passed all the other ingredients (garlic, carrot, onion, and a bit of white bread) through the meat grinder as well. Cinchy. Before forming the mixture into patties under water, we added in an additional Russian dried herb and salt and pepper, and then sauteed them in frying pans until they were golden brown. This was truly winter fare, and perfect for the flurries falling outside the window.

At the conclusion of our cooking, Brady, Polina and I sat down to a lovely lunch, and talked about all things everything. Polina has Russian citizenship, but was born in London so she’s a British national above all else. We each shared our interpretation of St. Petersburg, discussed immigration in our countries, pondered what living in the Soviet time must have been like, and laughed about how Russians can’t queue or drive for shit. She regaled us with some hilarious stories about being pulled over for driving on the wrong side of the road here (they drove over from London, and she drives on the opposite side in her car), and it was a really fun afternoon.

If you’re headed to Russia and fear the food, don’t worry. It’s really nothing more than meat and potatoes, just like my Irish ancestors noshed on in a similar effort to keep warm in blustery times. The cooking digs today were a real indication of what Soviet Era Russia must have looked like. From the austere apartment buildings with unfinished concrete hallways and stairwells, and the metro experience from start to finish, we were whisked away from European Russia and transported to decades of yesteryear. I’m realizing more and more that traveling through the lens of cooking is a fantastic way to move between countries. Fantastic and different. Really.

Culinary Hopscotch