The mysterious Portuguese recipe

Speaking of recipes, Yoli has some recipes she’s been saving for almost 20 years. Many of them are hand-written or cut-and-pasted into a little notebook.

Last night she decided to try a recipe that she had wanted to make for a long time. The recipe was written in Portuguese, and it was called “Torta de Chocolate,” although it really looked more like a pie than a cake. She had found the recipe on the street back in Bolivia and had always wondered how it might taste. Now was her chance to find out.

(And yes, Yoli knows enough Portuguese to be able to prepare this recipe)

But there are always some monkeys to throw wrenches into things. In this case, the monkeys were named Jadzia, Ludi, and Josie.

All the girls wanted to be in the kitchen watching Yoli as she cooked. Ludi was standing on our step ladder, Jadzia brought in a stepstool from the bathroom, and Josie was just crawling and doing whatever.

When Yoli went to fetch a pan from the basement, Ludi sprang into action. She took Yoli’s good vanilla, and poured all of it into the mixture for the torta’s filling. The cap fell to the floor, where Josie eagerly picked it up and began licking it. Jadzia the eager spectator didn’t bother to call for help.

Suffice it to say that Yoli threw all three out of the kitchen, cleaned the mess, and continued cooking.

I got to taste the torta last night. It was very mousse-pie-like, but the crust was like a very firm cake rather than a pie crust. Very tasty, but it had enough vanilla flavor that it almost had an alcohol taste.

The humility of turning 30

By which I mean to say that the day I turned 30 had some humbling moments. (The age itself really doesn’t faze me, and I haven’t given it much thought)

Our journey to Washington D.C. was a lot of fun, but it was marked by moments of constantly being lost.

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Pastries, popping, parents, peppers, and persistence

At long last, Yoli made some perfect salteñas.

A few days ago we invited a friend over for a dinner of various Bolivian delicacies. On the menu were: salteñas, cuñapes, and mate to drink.

(Check out some pics from the dinner)

Over the years Yoli has had trouble baking salteñas. They are pretty difficult to pull off.

Continue reading “Pastries, popping, parents, peppers, and persistence”

Family, food, history

Family history isn’t all dusty books and blurry microfilms.

Lately, I have re-discovered salsiccia.

Salsiccia is an Italian sausage. My memory of it is that my Grandpa Renaud would always cook it as part of his big Christmas breakfast spread each year. I remember as a kid not being thrilled with the taste of it.

Well, it was on sale at Schnucks a few weeks back. Because of the family connection, I thought I’d give it another try after many years. And it turns out we all liked it quite a bit. It wasn’t spicy enough to make the girls complain (which they sometimes do depending on the variety of sausage).

So we bought another batch this week. We ate some today as part of a simple meal: salsiccia, broccoli, and corn on the cob.

Tonight I was reminded by a Wikipedia article on St. Louis-style barbecue that salsiccia is pronounced locally as “suh-zee-tsa.” I had been saying “sahl-see-cha,” which is similar to the Spanish word for sausage (salchicha).

As soon as I read that, it was like lightning resonating in my brain. I could hear the voice of my Grandpa Renaud and my Aunt Carol using that pronunciation in my mind.

Anyway, please share your food-related family stories. I’m sure there are quite a few!

Ocho de mayo

This morning we took the girls out for “transportation day.” It’s a special event in Florissant put on by Parents As Teachers. We were there last year, and Jadzia really liked it. The girls got to explore all sorts of vehicles: police, ambulance, fire truck, motor home, refrigerated 18-wheeler, dump truck, front loader, snow plow, golf cart, tractor, Big Foot, etc.

In a very strange coincidence, later in the afternoon three of those vehicles would converge on our street. First, a police officer pulled over a driver for some sort of infraction. This is unusual on our street, as traffic tends to be light. Moments later, a fire truck and an ambulance pulled up to a house on our street, lights flashing and all. A woman was led away on a stretcher.

It was as if the transportation fair had followed us home.

After Yoli came home from work, I thought it might be nice to get some Mexican food. I hadn’t remembered it was Cinco de Mayo, but once Yoli mentioned it, I felt sure that’s what we should do.

We headed over to El Palenque. Pretty much all of Ferguson was there.

We got into a booth right away, but the ordering process and getting our food took forever. But the miracle of miracles is that not one, not two, but all three of our daughters were well-behaved through the entire evening. Jadzia and Ludi ate most of their food, too — always a plus. It was an evening that had all the ingredients for disaster, but by God’s grace, we averted it.

(this article’s title is in reference to Jadzia. I tried to explain Cinco de Mayo to her at the restaurant. She insisted that today was Ocho de Mayo)

Easter 2009


Yoli and the girls colored eggs on Easter Eve. They kept it simple, using regular food coloring, rubber bands, and crayons.

The eggs turned out beautifully, but the only problem was the girls wanted to eat them right away!

I am retro-dating this post, since the photos in it took place in the middle of April. Sorry for the long delay.

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How do you like them apples?

Saturday morning we went to the Ferguson Farmer’s Market and had a good time. I returned with a stroller heavily-laden:

  • 10 lbs of lard
  • 2 lbs green beans
  • 1 lb romano beans
  • 10 jonathan apples
  • 2 soy candles
  • 1 sleeping baby

And here’s what we used the apples for:

A while back Yoli found a cookbook called “Great British cooking: A well-kept secret.” Last night she tried her first recipe from it: a sort of baked apple-cinnamon pudding, using the jonathan apples from the farmer’s market.

It turned out quite delicious. We ate it fresh at 2 a.m. and it was wonderful. Our second helping, reheated this afternoon in the microwave, was just as tasty (and not a bit soggy).