Buñuelos

Depending on where you are in Latin America the term buñuelos
can mean different things. In Central America they are balls of dough,
sometimes filled with cheese, then fried. In most of Mexico, if you ask
for a buñuelo, you are going to get a very thin piece of fried dough,
either dipped in a syrup made from piloncillo, or sprinkled with
cinnamon sugar. The latter variety are the ones I grew up on.

If you've never had one, a buñuelo is a paper thin, extremely fragile,
wafer of fried dough, cinnamony and delicious. They are best eaten
either over a sink or outdoors because when you bite into them, they
have a tendency to shatter, sending a shower of cinnamon, sugar, and
crumbs all over the floor. They melt in your mouth nearly as quickly as
cotton candy. They are very light. As a joke, I have considered sending
the recipe in to Cooking Light magazine as a healthy alternative to
funnel cakes.

My family used to make these every year during Christmas. It's a bit of a
project...very labor intensive, so it helps to have a lot of people
around to pitch in. The tradition sort of died out after most of my
siblings went off to college. About a dozen years ago, my sister Diana
got together with her friends Bob and Lise Burson, and started the
tradition back up. Now every year on Christmas eve, a group of us
convene at the Burson's house, roll up are sleeves and get to work.

The dough for buñuelos is quite similar to a dough for flour tortillas, but
instead of plain water, you use a tea made from water that is steeped
with a cinnamon stick and some anise seeds for about 30 minutes. I've
misplaced the recipe, but I will post it in a day or two. Once the
dough is made it needs to rest for an hour or so, then it's rolled into
roughly ping pong sized balls. Then the assembly line needs to get to
work. A round or two of mimosas will motivate them and make the time
fly by.

You really need a crew of at least four to get the job done, but seven or eight is ideal.

The positions are as follows:

Roller - this persons job is to roll the small balls of dough into relatively
round, paper thin disks. We have found it works best to have a group of
three or four people rolling out dough, as this is the most time
consuming part.

These disks of dough are then passed to the...



Stretcher - this person takes the already very thin dough, and stretches it even
thinner. In the end, the dough should be thin enough to read a
newspaper through. A granite counter top works great. You just lay down
the pastry, then lift an edge, stretch it out a bit, and lay it down
again, so it sort of sticks to the granite. Repeat working your way
around the dough, stretching it until it is impossibly thin. Sort of
like a strudel pastry.  

Once the dough is stretched, it's passed to the...

Frier - who as the name implies, fries the dough, flipping it once. This takes about 20 seconds per side tops.  

Once the dough is crispy, it's set aside on newspapers to drain, then is picked up by the...

Duster
- who very gingerly sets the buñuelo into a large roasting pan filled
with copious amounts of cinnamon sugar, then spoons sugar over the top.
The finished buñuelos are set aside in a safe spot. We have found
sturdy cardboard boxes work very well. You can stack them up 10 or 12
high with no problem. They are so light the bottom ones won't get
crushed. Just make sure your sister doesn't trip and fall on the box
instantly converting two hours of work into crumbs (yes this happened
once about 20 years ago).

One batch of dough makes a good four dozen eight inch buñuelos. In terms of
storage, you do can just keep them in the box. They will disappear
before they have time to go stale.

Salvage Operation

We had a hard freeze in Austin last weekend.  It was 24 degrees outside my house on Saturday morning.  I had moved all my potted plants to safety, but we did have tomato plants in the ground and they weren't so lucky.  When I went out to assess the damages, I found two big green tomatoes on one of the plants.  I didn't realize those were out there, and now they appeared to be frozen solid.  I went ahead and picked them and took them inside, figuring I'd end up throwing them away.

By mid afternoon those tomatoes had thawed, and to my surprise, they didn't turn to mush.  In fact cutting one open revealed that it was actually in pretty decent shape.  From what I could tell, only the outer 1/2 inch or so of flesh had really frozen, and even it was fine, perhaps a bit softer than the rest of the fruit.  I decided to try to make some sort of a preserve from the tomato.  I found an interesting recipe for tomato jam.  It called for several pounds of green tomatoes, but I was able to adjust the recipe down.

I diced the tomatoes, weighed them, then added an equal amount by weight, of sugar.  To that I added lemon zest, lemon juice, and half a stick of cinnamon.  I allowed the mixture to sit for a while to draw the juice out of the fruit, then cooked it over medium high heat until the fruit had turned translucent, and the mixture thickened.  I ended up taking the mixture a bit too far (probably to the soft ball stage), and I could see that if I had allowed it to cool, I would have wound up with a jar of green tomato taffy.  That might have been an interesting new confection, but it wasn't really what I was going for.   I could have cooked it some more to try to make green tomato Jolly Ranchers, but instead I added another several tablespoons of lemon juice to thin it out and hoped for the best.

Once it cooled, it ended up a bit stiffer than I'd like, but not unreasonably so, it looks beautiful, and the flavor is great.  It goes great on a thin cracker with a bit of goat cheese.  Yummy.   Next time I find myself with an abundance of green tomatoes, I may have to make a bigger batch of this to give out as gifts.

Thanksgiving 2009 - Post mortem.

Thanksgiving diner came off without a hitch.  I was a bit harried at the end, as there were a bunch of things that needed to be done at the last minute, sauteing green beans, making gravy, carving turkey, etc. but over all things went fine.   The standouts.  I'd say the turkey was delicious, the mashed potatoes are always a crowd pleaser, but my sister made what is known as "Mom's stuffing", and for me that was a highlight.  It is a really nice, light, rice based stuffing with sausage, apples, and pecans.

Mom's stuffing was the only stuffing we ever ate with our Thanksgiving meal, for all of the years I was living at home.  I've only prepared it once or twice, and it's been probably 7 or 8 years since I last had it.  I never knew where the recipe came from, so I recently got the story on it from my mom.  Apparently she saw the recipe in a magazine she was reading in a dentist's waiting room.  She doesn't recall what magazine it was, but since it was about 1970 I'd guess Better Homes and Gardens.  Mom is too polite a person to go and rip a page out of someone else's magazine, and she didn't have anything to write with, so she she did her best to memorize it.   Apparently she didn't write down the recipe when she got home, but that Thanksgiving, she put together the recipe from what she remembered.  It turned out so good, that she made it again and again each Thanksgiving.  One year my sister Martha asked mom for the recipe, and she told her she didn't have one, so Martha watched mom make it, and documented the recipe.

So here it is, Mom's Stuffing, or perhaps we should call it Gloria's Stuffing.  I have modified it slightly.  It called for 2 handfuls of pecans, whatever the heck that measure is, so I changed it to a half cup, and none of the dried herbs had any measurements, so I set them each to 1 tsp.  You can adjust these to taste.  Also, there are absolutely no instructions on the recipe card, so I provided a basic procedure.

Gloria's Stuffing

1 c. wild rice

3 c. chicken broth

1 lb. pork sausage

3 stalks celery chopped

1/2 green bell pepper chopped

1/2 onion chopped

2 granny smith apples, peeled, cored, and chopped

1 c. seasoned croutons

1/2 c. chopped pecans

1 tsp. dried thyme

1 tsp. dried tarragon

1 tsp. poultry seasoning

1 tsp. dried basil

1 tbsp. Worcestershire sauce

Salt and pepper to taste

• Cook the wild rice in the chicken broth until done, about 1 hour. 
  
• Cook the sausage in a large skillet over medium high heat, breaking it up as you go. 
  
• Drain off all but 2 tablespoons of the fat from the pan, then add the celery, onion, and bell pepper.  Saute the veggies until translucent, about 10 minutes.
• Turn the temperature down to medium, add the apples, and cook stirring occasionally until the apples begin to soften about 10 minutes. 
• Add the remaining ingredients, and continue cooking for about 5 or 10 more minutes stirring occasionally.  Add a bit more broth if the mixture seems a bit dry.  In the end the apples should be tender but not mushy and the croutons should be soft.
  
• Adjust the seasonings and serve.
  

Notes

• Mom always used Jimmie Dean sage breakfast sausage, but an upgrade to a good quality pork sausage would work, but I'd add some rubbed sage to the spices. 
• You can use other rices.  We often used a rice blend that you can buy in bulk that is a mixture of long grain brown rice and wild rice.

The brined heritage turkey was great.  It's the third year in a row that I prepare my turkey this way, and I am not sure when, if ever, I'll change what I am doing.  Thanksgiving is about tradition after all.  My camera lens was mangled and not functioning when I was preparing the bird, but I documented my process in a Flickr photo album a few years ago, which can be found here.




Of the two pies I made for desert, the Praline Pecan Pie, from a Cooks Country (Cooks Illustrated) recipe was the hands down winner in my book.  It's loaded with spices, and the topping is sweet, crunchy, and slightly salty.  I served it with some fresh whipped cream.  Delicious.  The recipe can be found here.

I also made an apple pie, which I drizzled store bought cajeta over before serving.  It was tasty, but the sweet cajeta did not go as well with the tart apples as I thought it would.  However, I was the only one who was disappointed by it, so perhaps I'm being too critical.  It certainly looked great.

Thanksgiving 2009 - Let the games begin.

I'm hosting Thanksgiving at my house for my mom and several siblings.  I've been working out the menu, and it looks a little excessive as most Thanksgiving menus tend to look.  I'm doing most of the work myself, because I love it.  I did ask my sister to bring a salad and some stuffing, or more accurately, dressing, since it's not actually going to be stuffed in the bird.

Here's how this years menu is shaping up:

Starters - a country style Rabbit Pate from France, Quail Liver Mousse from Dai Due (a wonderful local gourmet foods company/supper club), Cranberry Pecan Goat Milk Ricotta from Wateroak Farm.

Green salad with vinaigrette dressing
Brined roasted heritage turkey with gravy
Cranberry sauce
Dressing/Stuffing - TBD
Mashed potatoes - Yukon golds and sweet
Green beans with tomato confit (the ones from my earlier post are still holding up)
Curried creamed onions
Sweet potato biscuits

Apple pie with cajeta drizzle
Praline pumpkin pie
Whipped cream

Then on Friday, a quick trip to the cardiologist.

Cranberry Sauce - It's not just for Turkey anymore.

As a tot growing up in the 70's my first memories of cranberry sauce were of a very gelatinous, deep red cylinder, squeezed out of a can, once per year, to go along side our Thanksgiving turkey.  My father really enjoyed the stuff, but to a 10 year old growing up in deep south Texas, it was scary stuff.  It didn't even look like food.  And why would I want to spoil the salty gravy laden goodness of my turkey with a big slice of some sort of mystery berry jello anyway.  I don't remember ever trying it.

By the time I started hosting Thanksgiving dinners of my own, fresh cranberries had become a common site in just about every grocery store during the fall and winter.  I decided to give cranberry sauce a try, but no way was I going to start by opening a can.  How difficult could it be really.  I grabbed a bag of berries and read the directions on the back...

Place berries in a saucepan with 1 cup of sugar and 1 cup of water.  Bring to a boil, reduce the heat and boil gently for 10 minutes.

Wait...what?  Is that IT?  Why the hell are people buying this stuff in cans?  I went ahead and made a batch.  It was yummy.  Sweet, tart, and perfect for cutting the fatty richness of everything else traditionally served on Thanksgiving.  Now I got it.

However the recipe yields 2 cups of the stuff, so I wound up with well over a cup of leftovers.   I tried some on toast for breakfast and had my second revelation.  Cranberry sauce isn't a sauce at all.  It's a jam...and one of the easiest ones ever to make.

The next year I made the stuff again a few times, but I applied some tweaks to make my Cranberry Jam more interesting.  Here's what I settled on.

Iggy's Cranberry Sauce Jam
1 12oz bag of fresh cranberries
grated zest of 1 orange
1/2 cup orange juice
1/2 cup water
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon (preferably Vietnamese)


Combine all the ingredients in a saucepan, bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat and boil gently for 10 to 15 minutes, until the jam has thickened a bit and the berries have begun to break down.  Don't worry if it doesn't appear very think.  It will definitely set up.  

If you've never made jam before here are a few pointers.

• Don't walk away from it.  In the first 5 minutes, it's going to foam up quite a bit, and if you aren't there to stir it down, you could burn your house down.  
• Most jams require a good long simmer to reach the point where they jell.  That is not the case with cranberries, because they are absolutely loaded with pectin.
• You could make a big batch of this, and put it up in sterilized jars, but what's the point, since it only takes 10 minutes to make.

A few years ago, I stumbled upon a recipe for Egg Nog French Toast.  It's hardly a recipe really.  All you do is take good quality egg nog, pour it over sliced bread (I like challah), and cook it on a griddle.  See egg nog has all the ingredients that typically go into French toast batter, so it works beautifully.  But what does this have to do with cranberries you might ask?  Well, I serve my egg nog French toast with cranberry maple syrup.  Simply mix 1/2 cup real maple syrup with 1/2 cup of cranberry sauce/jam.  It's a breakfast that screams "Smile damn it, it's the holidays".

Here's one more recipe I found for leftover cranberry sauce.  I make cranberry sauce throughout the winter just so I can have these muffins because they are so damn tasty.

Cranberry Sauce Muffins

- makes about 12 muffins -

Ingredients

1 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup rolled oats
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 ½ cups of leftover cranberry sauce
1/2 cup skim milk
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 egg

Procedure

1. Heat oven to 400°F. Grease muffin tin or line with paper baking cups. 

2. In a large bowl, combine regular flour, whole wheat flour, oats, brown sugar, baking powder, cinnamon, baking soda and salt; mix well. In medium bowl, combine milk, oil, cranberry sauce and egg; blend well. Fold into dry ingredients all at once; stir until dry ingredients are moistened. 

3. Fill muffin cups about three-quarters full. 

4. Bake 20 to 22 minutes or until golden brown. 

Seeing Red

It was a fruitful trip to the farmers market this week, as I found a tomato vendor selling big baskets of "seconds" for a measly $6.  I looked them over and they were in great shape.  None were overripe or nibbled on by birds, the only real issue was that many were a bit cat faced.  I snatched up a basket.

I got the bag home, and tossed it on my kitchen scale.  It weighed in at 6 1/2 lbs.  That's a lot of tomatoes.  Obviously, I am going to need to do something to preserve some of these, as they won't keep more than a week or so on my counter.  My first project was to confit some of them.  It's a relatively simple process where the tomatoes are slowly roasted in the oven with a good amount of olive oil.  The idea is to get much of the juice out of the tomato, so smaller ones are better for this, since the process would take too long with the big boys.

Here's the basic idea.  Slice the tomatoes in half crosswise, squeeze out the seeds, and arrange them cut side up in a foil lined sheet pan.  Top each tomato with a bit of sliced garlic, some fresh thyme, a bit of course salt, and some course ground pepper.  Pour a generous amount of extra virgin olive oil over them.  For a half sheet pan of tomatoes, you will likely need 1/2 to 3/4 of a cup of oil.

Toss the pan into a pre-heated 300 degree oven for about 2 hours.  In the end the tomatoes should have shrunken a bit, and should be almost leathery.

Arrange the tomatoes in a clean jar, cut side up, and pour all of the oil from the pan into the jar.  There should be enough oil to cover the tomatoes, but if not, top off the jar with more olive oil.

The tomatoes will keep for two or three weeks in the fridge.  This actually works best with plum tomatoes.  The ones I had were globe tomatoes, which are a bit too juicy for this process.  No matter, they are still delicious, they just won't keep as long.  I guess I better get cooking.

A few uses:

• As is on sandwiches.  Great with turkey and havarti cheese.
• Diced up as a condiment for grilled chicken or fish.
• Coarsely chopped, tossed with some pasta and feta or parmesan cheese. 
• Tomato confit vinaigrette.  Finely dice 1 or 2 of the tomatoes, whisk together with 2 tsp of dijon mustard, 2 tbsp of red wine vinegar, 6 tbsp of the oil from the tomatoes, salt and pepper to taste.

   

Yeast defection

By the fourth day, my starter was really going nuts.  I had moved it up to a quart sized jar, and it filled to the point where it was starting to compress against the lid.  It had developed a very beery and more pleasant aroma.  It had also become quite liquid.

I separated out about a half cup of the mix and stored it in the fridge.  With the remainder, I made a simple dough of bread flour, salt and water, using a recipe from Baking With Julia for Pain de Campagne, which is a French bread made using only wild yeast.  The dough looked quite promising.

As per the instructions, I let it rise for five hours.  It had not done much in the first five hours, but according to the recipe, this is normal.  I then shaped a simple loaf and transferred it to a floured, linen lined basket for the final rise.  The final rise was supposed to take four or five hours, and is supposed to result in a dough that has not doubled in size, but has "risen perceptively".  Unfortunately after five hours, my loaf still hadn't done much of anything except spread out in the basket.  It was actually flatter now then when I first put it in, since the gluten had relaxed and it had essentially become a puddle.  I moved it to a much warmer spot and gave it 3 more hours.  Still nothing.  It was getting late, so I went ahead and baked it off, hoping there might be some magic when it hit the hot oven.  No dice.  I might as well have been firing clay in a kiln.  I now have a lovely deep golden brown brick, with an interesting yeasty, almost nutty aroma.  I may try cutting into it when it's cool, but I need to go find my hack saw first.

Oh well, it was an experiment.  I may try again by following the recipe from the Julia book to the letter and see if I get a different result.  Their technique for the initial starter is quite different from what I did.

What a difference a day makes

There is definitely something alive in there now.  Moving my starter over to a warmer spot made a big difference.  The aroma is not terribly sour at this point.  It actually smells sort of like a dive bar at 7 AM...a subtle mix of beer, booze, and bacteria.  I'm going to move it to a larger jar, give it a good stir, feed it with some additional flour and give it more time to develop.  Apparently rye flour is a good choice for boosting the sour notes, so I am going to try that.

Wild Yeast Experiment - Day 2

Not much has changed with my starter.  It's turning a slightly unappetizing shade of grey on the surfaces exposed to the air.  The aroma is not sour at all, but it does seem a bit wheatier than yesterday.  I don't think the cool weather we are having in Austin right now is helping.  Apparently the ideal temperature for the yeast is between 75 - 80 degrees fahrenheit.  Right now the temperature in my house is hovering around 70.  I am moving my jar over next to my stereo equipment where it's nice and toasty.

Wild Wild Yeast

I love baking, bread baking in particular.  There is something really satisfying about it.  The notion that you can take three basic items: flour, water, and yeast, and transform them into hundreds of different breads, by making small changes in the quantities and/or technique is what keeps it interesting.  Today, nobody should fear taking a stab at making a loaf of bread.  Modern commercial yeasts are extremely reliable.   Combine that with a good sturdy stand mixer or even a food processor, to do the heavy lifting, and really anybody an do it.

Modern commercial yeasts are built for speed, but they don't bring much to the table in the way of flavor.  Sure breads made with them have a pleasant yeastiness to them, but if you want something with a little more going on you need patience.  More complex flavors take time to develop.  If you slow things down, by proofing your dough in a fridge for a couple of days, you get a much more interesting result.  Whenever I make focaccia or even pizza dough, I make the dough in the evening, then park it in a zip top bag in my fridge until I am ready to use it, a day or two later.  This produces a great crust, a pleasantly chewy texture, and a slightly tangy, fermented flavor.

If you want to go further down the tangy flavor road, you need to start with something other than commercial yeast.  Sourdough breads are made with wild yeast, which is not nearly as speedy as commercial yeast, allowing much more time for the fermentation process to take place.  In addition, the wild yeasts themselves have a much more complex flavor.  There are many different strains of wild yeast, which is part of the reason a loaf of sourdough bread in San Francisco tastes quite different from say a pain au levain in France.

I made sourdough years ago using a "San Francisco" starter I bought at Whole Foods, and it was quite good, but I want to try harnessing some wild yeast on my own.  I read about a very basic recipe, where you start with nothing more than a cup of whole grain flour and a cup of water, mix it together, put it in a jar, and wait.  The piece I read stressed starting with a very fresh whole grain flour, preferably from a local mill, because you are relying on the yeast that is naturally present on the grain itself.  I thought, "in Austin...good luck".  Then, to my amazement, at the farmers market this morning, Richardson Farms, purveyors of some of the finest pork in central Texas, was selling fresh ground whole wheat flour.  I shop there every week and have never noticed it before.  I grabbed a bag, and headed home to take my first shot at a homegrown sourdough starter.

I used bottled water.  Chlorine can kill the wild yeast.

I packed the dough in to the jar, being careful to get rid of most of the large air pockets in the bottom of the jar.  I don't know if this is actually necessary, but it sure seems like the right thing to do.

Here's what it looks like at the beginning of the process.  The starter has a nice mildly sweet aroma right now.  We'll see how it turns out.  Making a starter in this way is very much the luck of the draw.  Hopefully there was enough wild yeast in the flour and in the air to get it going before any funky bacteria or mold takes root.

I'll post a photo of it each day to show how it's coming along.

Well this isn't good news.

The day after I ate the first of my cactus pear popsicles, I felt sort of achey, and the skin on my back was sensitive.  I asked my older daughter how she felt, and she was fine.  My symptoms lasted about a day.  Last night we had popsicles again, and this time my three year old joined us.  By about midnight, I was experiencing the achey feelings again.  Shortly there after our three year old came into our room and proceeded to hurl all over our sheets.  She had a rough night, but as of this morning she seems fine.  Both my wife and older daughter experienced no symptoms.

I did a quick Google search, and discovered that about 1% of adults and up to 2% of children have an allergy or at least a sensitivity to carmine, the chemical that give prickly pear fruits their color.  It is apparently a commonly used food additive.  The list of potential symptoms for this allergy is about a mile long, but both nausea and aches made the list.

I don't know for certain that this is what we experienced, but neither of us will be eating any more of the popsicles, just to be safe.  At some point in the future, I need to get both of us tested for the allergy.  It's never bothered me before.

Bummer.

An unabridged guide to making Paletas de Tuna

The prickly pear cactus is ubiquitous in south Texas.  In the spring time the cacti produce big beautiful yellow blossoms, by June the blossoms have dropped and what's left behind is a green inverted pear shaped fruit.  By late summer these fruits have turned a deep reddish purple color and are ready for picking.    I vaguely remember eating them as a kid when out hunting and fishing with my dad, but can't say the flavor stuck with me.  One day about 10 years ago, I gathered a few of the fruit, and gave them a try.   The texture is nearly identical to that of a kiwi, but the center of the fruit is filled with small, hard, inedible seeds.  And by center I mean like 70% of the total volume of the fruit.  They were a little bitter...really they didn't taste like much.  I then and made a puree out of them and strained out the seeds.  It needed quite a bit of sweetening, but once I got the blend right, I was hooked on the taste.  When they are good, it tastes like a bouquet of wild flowers with a hint of watermelon.  Perfect for fruity mixed drinks and margaritas, but I tried freezing some and found the prickly pear's true purpose in life.  Paletas.  Not an original idea mind you.  In interior Mexico, Paletas de Tuna can be found at many Paletarias, but good luck finding one in the US.  Even in the barrio they are pretty much impossible to find here.  Making them myself has become a semi-annual summer tradition.

This past weekend, I  was driving north on I-35, and halfway between Laredo and San Antonio I spotted a bunch of cacti on public land, chock full of ripe tunas, so I brought the family truckster to a screeching halt, and jumped out of the car.  The scrub by the highway was pretty thick stuff, but I plunged in anyway.  Keeping a watchful eye out for rattlesnakes and chupacabras which are literally behind every bush down here, I gingerly picked a couple of dozen of the egg sized fruits.  Since I had no gloves, I knew I would be picking tiny cactus needles out of my fingers for several days, but it should be worth it.

The first step to transforming these into paletas is to peel them.  The best way I have found to do this is to stand the tuna on end.  The top of the fruit is nice and flat and makes a good stable base.  Then using a paring knife, carefully slice off thin strips of skin while rotating the fruit.  You can use a small bamboo skewer to hold it if you're really worried about the spines, but since your hands are probably full of spines already, it will probably be quicker to just your hands.

Once the sides are done, turn the fruit on it's side and cut off the bottom, then take a little off the top.

Repeat with the remaining fruit.  Once they are all peeled, toss them into a food processor, and blend into a relatively smooth puree.  It won't be completely smooth, since it is full of seeds.

Pour the puree into a mesh strainer set over a medium sized bowl.  Work the puree through the strainer using the back of a spoon.

This part is really the biggest pain in the butt, and takes quite a while.  When you're done, you'll be left with a thick paste of seeds and pulp, and will have several cups of crimson cactus pear juice.

You will be dying to taste the luscious looking juice.  Go ahead.  It's probably pretty bitter, and you'll probably be wondering why the hell you just went through all that trouble.  Never fear, we are not nearly done yet.  It's time to sweeten it up.  You will need at least 1/3 cup of sugar for every cup of juice, and perhaps a little more.  The amount of sugar you add will affect how the popsicles set up.  The more sugar the softer the texture of the finished product, so don't over do it.  I've done it so many times I just eye ball it.

Whisk in the sugar until completely dissolved.  Then add 1/4 to 1/3 cup of lime juice and a pinch of salt. Whisk again, and start tasting.  You can add a bit more sugar or a bit more lime, to suit your taste.   Just be sure to whisk the mix to thoroughly dissolve the sugar after each addition.

At this point you have a fine looking and hopefully tasty batch of prickly pear syrup.  You can use as is in mixed drinks.  They make delicious margaritas.  You could whisk in a few tablespoons of tequila, pour this mix into an ice cream freezer to make a prickly pear sorbet.  But that's not why we are here.  So break out your fancy pants William Sonoma popsicle mold, and fill'er up.

Slap on the lid, and insert the sticks.

Freeze for at least 24 hours.  Un-mold and enjoy.

A note about spines.

The cactus fruits are covered with small clusters of tiny little spines.  They don't hurt much going in, but they are annoying.  If you don't have gloves when picking the fruit, you will get tons of these suckers in your hands in spite of your efforts to avoid them.  You can pick them out one by one with tweezers, but it will take a while.  I find taking a long bath, or going for a swim works wonders.  The first thing I did when I got home from picking these was to head to the pool to swim laps. After 45 minutes in the water, the spines were essentially gone.  I guess the water softens up your skin and opens your pores enough that the spines drop off.

And so it begins.

So after years of prodding from foodie friends, I have decided to start a food blog.  I thought I would focus on some of the more involved cooking projects I take on, and decided to call the blog, Will Work For Food, since the majority of the things I plan on discussing will involve some effort.  However, I found that name to be REALLY unoriginal and consequently, unavailable.  Next I thought, okay, how about Food Porn, a term I'm fond of.  No dice, taken.  How about A Pinch of This?  Nope.  For f***s sake.  How many food blogs are there?  I remembered the first time my sister and I tried to get a recipe for flour tortillas from friends and relatives down in Laredo.  Pretty much every conversation about it went the same way...

"You take some flour, salt, lard, and water, and you make a dough..."
"Okay, how much of each?"
"Al tanteo honey"

"Al tanteo" literally means "by estimate", but what it really meant in this context was, "you feel it" or "you'll know when it's right".  Really?  I'll know when it's right?   Seems unlikely given that I have NEVER made flour tortillas before and am asking you for the recipe.

Al Tanteo.  Sounds like a perfect blog name...  Donkey balls!  It's taken too.

So what I finally settled on is Turducken Was My Everest.   And it kinda was.   I made one about 12 years ago.  I followed the Paul Prudhomme recipe to the letter, with three different stuffings in each of the three birds, home made turkey stock, everything from scratch right down to the cornbread that went into the cornbread dressing.  It took me the better part of 3 days, and it was awesome.  My family has asked me to do it again, and that has been my response ever since.  It was my Everest, and now that I have climbed it and survived, I don't really want to be doing that again.

So stay tuned.  I don't think my posts will be that frequent, but when the do come the should be informative, and hopefully mildly amusing.  Next up will be a posting on making Paletas de Tuna, or Prickly Pear Cactus Popsicles for you gringos.