Friday, March 21, 2003

For Eric’s Spicy Thursday, Eric bravely broke the cycle of Wolfman Jack Burger abuse by cracking open Diana Kennedy’s “The Essential Cuisines of Mexico,” which I bought with an Amazon gift certificate I got from the lovely and amazing Ethan, Elizabeth and Caroline, and have never used.  (Though I do have a tendency to leaf longingly through it of an evening, as the lamb is roasting, with visions of poblanos dancing in my head.) The recipe was Taquitos de Natas.  Otherwise known as “Sour Cream Tacos.”  This, of course was irresistible to Eric.  Actually, he didn’t use sour cream, but rather Mexican crema, which is, as far as Eric is concerned, the best thing since mayonnaise. I got home around nine-thirty (having had a very nice time going out for drinks with someone, and it’s none of your business who it was, I’ve got a right to a private life, thank you very much…) to find Eric, surprise, surprise, watching the war-porn (and thank you, James, I too find it a rather pithy bit of phraseology, though I will confess not entirely original….)  He’d roasted some tomatoes, chopped some onions, and chopped some jalapenos into strips.  I guess he’d been waiting until I got home to do the rest.  Poor Eric.  He’s a brilliant man, and can turn out a hell of a good meal when he has a mind to, but he gets flummoxed so easily by recipe instructions.  “Jalapenos cut into strips?  What?!!”  “Shredded chicken?  What?!!”  He figures it out though.  Eventually.  He just sometimes needs to panic first, and believe me, I understand perfectly.  As you know.  I’d been trying to talk to my mother on the phone, but after a few outbursts, she gently said, “why don’t you go help your husband?  Give him a hug for me.”  So I did.  He hates that. Anyway, he blended the tomatoes, onions, garlic and some salt in the Cuisinart.  Putting the Cuisinart together took our combined efforts, and we had load and unload its contents I believe three times.  Morons.  He blended it up and put half in one skillet with some chicken he’d poached and torn up and the jalapeno strips, and have in another skillet by itself.  The chicken tomato mixture he browned over high-ish heat, the plain tomato puree he heated over low heat.  When the puree was hot and dried out a bit, he added the crema to it, making a cream tomato sauce. In yet another skillet (it’s no fun at all being on the other end of the dirty-dish build up, let me tell you….) he heated up some mystery grease from our freezer because we didn’t have any vegetable oil.  I think it was duck fat, maybe.  Anyway, he heated that up and fried the tortillas in it.  He had flour tortillas, which was all the grocery store had.  I don’t think it’s what Diana intended, but she didn’t say specifically, so she can’t expect my husband to read her mind.  He fried them lightly in the oil, put some chicken filling inside, folded them over and laid them in a roasting pan.  The crema sauce he poured over.  He baked them for ten minutes, and then we ate them. They were excellent, even with the oddness of flour tortillas.  I think Eric was a little disappointed that they weren’t deep-fried, sour cream stuffed and evil.  They were actually remarkably light.  Next time, though, more jalapenos. 7:56:49 AM    comment []