Food Processor

In Padova, Treviso, and Venice (and elsewhere in Italy), sugar-dusted mounds of these fried cookies are served at weddings and holiday celebrations. They’re essential at pre-Lenten festivities. In the Veneto, it just wouldn’t be Carnevale without lots of crostoli! At our house, these are a favorite treat all year around. The dough is easy to mix in the food processor, and it’s fun for the whole family to make little ribbons and tie them in a knot. Make the cookies a few days in advance if you prefer, and powder with sugar just before serving.

Decades after the fateful bite that I took of the peach when I was in Padova at the age of twelve, I still think there is nothing more sensuous than biting into a perfectly ripe peach. When the same peach is baked, though, it takes on an additional element of complexity in flavor. Bake the peaches on an amaretto crust, with a hint of chocolate, and you have a delectable Italian flavor harmony.

Thick and chewy, with the nuttiness of whole wheat, bigoli is the signature pasta of the Veneto. At Ristorante Celeste in Venegazzu, outside of Treviso, Giuliano Tonon taught me how to extrude fresh dough into strands with a torchio, the traditional hand press. But bigoli is not only a restaurant treat—most home cooks in the region have a torchio in the kitchen and make bigoli every week! Happily, this pleasure is now available to Americans since I have found a genuine torchio for sale on the Internet (see Sources, page 340). Bigoli can also be made with an electric pasta-extruder or a meat grinder. The two traditional sauces on the following pages are packed with flavor. With homemade bigoli, they each make a big, gutsy pasta, very worth the effort and very Venetian. (And if you can’t make your own bigoli, whole wheat spaghetti will be delicious with either sauce.)

Make a whole batch of this pasta dough for Fresh Pasta Quills with Chicken Sauce, page 16; Roast Goose with Mlinzi, page 28; or Pasutice with Seafood Sauce, page 18. Roll, cut, and shape the pasta as detailed below, and use in whichever dish you are preparing.

Makaruni are traditional in Istria, a kind of pasta made when there was no time to roll, cut, and shape it. Rolling little pieces of dough between the palms of one’s hands was quick and effective. My grandmother and other women of her generation were expert makaruni-makers. In no time, they would take a big batch of pasta dough and turn it into slim little noodles. Instead of rolling the bits of dough back and forth for a second or two, my grandmother could compress and stretch a piece of dough into a perfect makaruni with one swipe of her hands—and flick it right onto her floured tray in the same movement. Forming makaruni is truly simple, and once you start rolling, you’ll quickly become proficient. Today, as when I was a child, the whole process is fun, so get the family to help and the makaruni will be done fast. And in a few minutes you’ll enjoy the great taste and texture of your handiwork. This delicious sauce is traditionally made with gallinacci, or chanterelles, though other mushrooms can be used. Makaruni are also wonderful with the amatriciana sauce of tomato and bacon on page 228.

This is a hearty soup that my grandmother made—though never the same way twice. Sometimes she would add some pasta near the end of cooking, in the style of pasta e fagioli, or add another kind of bean, since legumes were so important. In season she would toss in a cup or two of fresh corn kernels. This is really a one-pot meal, in two courses. First you have the velvety, rich soup, then sliced sausage and ribs as a second course. With a piece of country bread and a small salad, who could ask for more?

I wanted to include a dessert where chocolate was the main ingredient because, well, because people love it. This recipe was previously published in Rosa’s New Mexican Table by Roberto Santibañez and is one of my proudest creations. The tomatillo sauce may seem unusual, but trust me, you will be pleasantly surprised, and the smokiness of the chipotles gives an incredible depth to this scrumptious dessert. Boca negra cake got its name because, once you dig in, your mouth will be covered in luxurious chocolate. Be sure to use high-quality chocolate because it will make all the difference in the world. Serve it as is or with a bit of lightly sweetened whipped cream, vanilla ice cream, or Natilla (page 163).

I developed this recipe several years ago. My training was mostly French, and I wanted to take one of the classic French desserts and give it a Mexican flavor. The different layers of textures and flavors come together beautifully and show off the cake’s sophistication when it is cut into beautiful rectangles. It takes quite a bit of time to make because there are many steps, but it can all be prepared in advance and will come together very nicely. It is well worth the effort. Note that you will need 4 baking sheets of the same size.

I used the idea of the delicious brittle caramel topping that defines a crème brûlée on this bread pudding simply because I love it! You will need a propane or butane torch to caramelize the sugar that will top the delicious layers of toasted buttery bread with fresh mango held together by a fragrant custard. The sweet and sour flavors of the sauce go wonderfully with the richness of the custard and heighten the freshness of the sweet yellow fruit.

Milhojas, or “thousand leaves,” is the name given to this pastry because, just as in the fall, when the autumn leaves trickle down and move as the wind blows, tiny pieces of this crunchy, flaky pastry fly around when you take a bite of it. This recipe is one example where the French influence in Mexico began to be very apparent during the rule of Porfirio Díaz at the beginning of the twentieth century, and a love for classic French pastries has remained part of our tradition ever since. Milhojas have remained a favorite dessert and are found all over Mexico in many pastry shops and bread bakeries. As with many other desserts, they are often sold by the slice. Although milhojas are often filled with jams, mousses, and whipped cream, this one is layered with pastry cream, which I find to be the most representative one of all. The addition of mangoes and coconut gives it a nice freshness and tropical flavor. Traditional puff pastry is a bit time-consuming to prepare, so I have provided a quick “mock” version that will work very well when you don’t have the time or patience required to make the real deal.

When I was a little girl, I would sneak downstairs with my cat Lider, while my sister and parents were asleep, and search the cupboard for the doily-lined tray that held these chocolate “sandwiches” decorated with an amusing chocolate scribble. I think these cookies were the first solid that my little brother ate. Garabatos are still baked in the home of a lovely woman named Elvira Bleyer. She extended her home kitchen, attached a storefront to it, and named it Délvis. The bakery has expanded and is now a franchise. These cookies are not part of the traditional Mexican repertoire, but they are part of my culinary memory growing up in Mexico City and are still served for dessert. This version was developed through a collection of recipes from friends and colleagues, but mostly from palatable memory.

Mamey is one of those fruits that is a dessert in itself. Its oval-shaped, light brown sandy shell hides the seductive, velvety, sweet orange flesh. It is hard to get outside of Mexico, but if you are lucky enough to find some ripe ones, make this quick and deliciously creamy dessert.

When I visited the city of Monterrey, a family friend, Amado, lovingly and kindly drove me around, showing me the wonderful delicacies of the surrounding towns. He took me to the small town of Marin where Martha Chapa has a small shop famous for her cookies, where I tried an amazing tomato empanada that I couldn’t stop thinking about. She told me how to make the jam, and, when she saw how excited I was, she gave me a large container filled with it. I kept eating spoonfuls of it on my way home and adapted the recipe once I was back in my kitchen. You can keep the jam chunky, or, if you like a smoother consistency, you can pulse it in a food processor after it’s cooked. The jam can be made well in advance and will keep for months if properly stored. It is very tasty on its own and I recommend that you make a big batch.

Requesón is a slightly grainy, lightly salted cheese somewhere between ricotta and pot cheese. Lime zest complements the cheese filling hidden inside the golden, flaky crust. These are a really nice option for a brunch menu, and if you make the dough ahead of time, you can make these in a jiffy!

One of my favorite candy stores in Puebla is called El Lirio. The owner of the store, Sara Martinez Muñoz, is a lovely woman with white hair and a fighting spirit, who loves to play jokes on her customers. She says that when she sees couples entering the store unsure of what to get, she quietly asks the woman to give her partner a little kiss (which is the name of the candy). Most hesitate, but then oblige—how could they refuse a nice old lady? As they approach the counter, she slowly walks with her cane toward the edge of it, and as the man bends over, she hands him a besito. Invariably they laugh and blush, but it is all soon forgotten once they take a bite of this delicacy. She says the name comes from the fact that they are small and delicious and leave you wanting more, the way a real kiss does.

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.

These candies were supposedly created in the Santa Clara convent in the state of Puebla and are sold everywhere in that state. They are long, cigar-shaped pieces of sugary sweet potato flavored with different fruits (mostly using flavorings and added colorings), but this is the basic recipe without any distractions. They are usually made with white sweet potato, but I prefer the flavor of the yellow or orange kind. Although it takes a couple of days to dry out, you can also serve it on a platter once it has cooled (and then you won’t even have to wait to eat it) the way many desserts were served in convents, and decorate it with some fresh pineapple on top.

Ates are fruit pastes made from cooked fruit and sugar, a method that was brought by the Spaniards by way of the Arabs. In the old days, the word ate was put at the end of the main ingredient, such as mangate (mango paste), perate (pear paste), or membrillate (quince paste). Ates are cooked down in copper or heavy pots, and once cooled they are cut up into slices. The more the mixture cooks, the firmer it will be. They are sold in many markets by weight and are also cut into small cubes, tossed in sugar, and then sold in baskets of assorted flavors and colors. Known as ates in the majority of the country, they are also called cajetas (not to be confused with the caramel sauce) in some of the northern states. Quince ate is one of the most common flavors because of its high pectin content, and it is definitely my favorite. Ate can last for a long time (up to two years!). Be sure to serve it with some kind of semifirm cheese that isn’t too salty (it is commonly served with Manchego).

Jamoncillo is the name of many different candies in Mexico, but they are usually firm on the outside and soft when you bite into them. Most commonly, you will see them in slices or blocks and made only from a couple of ingredients. This particular one is made from pumpkin seeds and sugar and is found primarily in central Mexico. The paste is often used to make alfeñiques, or figures in various shapes. In Jalapa, Veracruz, you can still visit some convents where they make beautiful peach shapes that are molded around a square of wine-soaked cake. Traditionally, this particular recipe was tinted using grana cochinilla, a small insect that comes from a cactus plant and is used to this day for its incredible vibrant red color. I’ve substituted it in this recipe with food coloring, but you can always leave it out. This preparation is a bit time consuming because you have to soak the pumpkin seeds overnight and peel them, but the result is well worth the effort.