Family Feud

A Brief History of Italy
Northerners says risotto is made by dumping all the liquid into the pot at once and letting it cook without any fuss. Southerners says risotto is made by adding the liquid little by little and stirring every now and then.

A Brief History of My Family
My dad, being of southern Italian descent, taught us the slow, arduous method for making risotto. This is sometimes referred to as The Real Way.

Enter Adele
My dad's Significant Other is a Northerner. She is also an excellent cook. Her risotto comes out just fine. This makes enthusiasts of The Real Way uncomfortable.

I used The Real Way tonight to make a simple mushroom risotto. I realized, though, that I couldn't use the northern method until I figured out precisely how much liquid I needed, since adding too much would ruin the dish. I've never paid close attention to the amount, since I just kept adding some until the rice wouldn't absorb any more. So it turns out The Real Way is The Imprecise Way. Or The Lazy Way.

I usually use cremini mushrooms for this dish, though a number of varieties would work. Creminis are relatively inexpensive and easy to find, and add a bit more depth than button mushrooms. I used scallions in place of onions, partly because I had them in the fridge, and partly because I wanted a little extra texture and color in the dish. I used to make this dish with leeks, so I figured scallions were a reasonable substitute, but use whatever onion-esque option you have.

I also decided to throw in a little white wine this time, and it turned out to be one of the best risottos I've made. I used a very inexpensive Sauvignon Blanc I opened for another dish, and it was perfect. The flavor boost was especially helpful now that I don't use any parmesan, though of course wine adds a different note than salty cheese.

As I stood at the stove stirring the risotto, micro-managing the burner output, and adding Just Enough liquid, the thought creeped into my head that Real Way Risotto is a little high-maintenance. It can't be left alone for longer than a minute or two, because if it sticks to the bottom it's over. It can't get over-zealous liquid additions because if too much is added near the end it becomes soggy. Faintly, I could hear my dad's voice from my childhood in my head, high-pitched for dramatic effect: "I slaved all day over a hot stove, working my fingers to the bone to make this for you!"

And suddenly, I remembered the flavor of risotto we used to eat all the time: Real Way Risotto Infused With Guilt.

White Wine-Mushroom Risotto

The entire process should take about 30 minutes.

3/4 C arborio rice

1 3/4 C broth (vegetable or chicken)

1/4 C dry white wine

2 TBSP butter, divided

1 1/2 C sliced cremini mushrooms 

2 scallions, thinly sliced

2 TBSP chopped parsley

salt and pepper, to taste

grated parmesan (optional)

1. Saute mushrooms: heat 1 TBSP butter in a pan over medium heat. Add sliced mushrooms. Cook until dark brown and mushrooms have released liquid. Leave just a little liquid in the pan. Sprinkle with a pinch or two of salt and pepper, and a little chopped parsley. Stir to combine. Remove from heat and set aside.

2. Heat remaining butter in a medium sauce pan over medium-low heat. Add scallions and cook 1 minute. Add rice and stir well to coat grains with butter. 

3. When grains are translucent, add approximately 1 cup of broth. Stir to incorporate, making sure no grains of rice stick to the bottom of the pan. Allow rice to simmer for several minutes, stirring occasionally, scraping bottom of pan.

4. When nearly all liquid has been absorbed (do NOT allow rice to dry out completely), add another 1/2 cup of broth. Repeat process as in step 3. 

5. When nearly all liquid has been absorbed, add wine. Proceed as before. 

6. When wine has absorbed, add remaining broth a little at a time. You may have a few tablespoonfuls left over. Cook until rice is al dente. Add mushrooms and a little more fresh parsley. Adjust salt and pepper to taste. Garnish with parmesan, if desired.

Disaster Week

I had big plans for this week.

I came across a cookbook called A Taste of Provence: Classic Recipes from the South of France. Aim high, right? That's what I thought, too. So I put together a few recipes that I thought might complement each other well, and didn't involve buying an entire lamb to roast in my fireplace or something. I had most of the ingredients already, so off I went, naively. Funny how that's a French word.

First, I made Olive Bread. It sounds like one of those rustic loaves that go well with everything, including the extra olives and tiny bit of Gruyère I bought. It turned out to have a nice crust, as the recipe promised, but the interior was way too dense for, well, anything practical. It also had an overly, um, earthy, flavor, which I think is due to the "2 generous handfuls" of buckwheat flour in the dough. Normally I love directions such as these, since my favorite way to cook is to throw in aliddulladis and aliddulladat. But in this case, the buckwheat flour seemed to outflavor everything else-- not that there is much else in bread to add flavor-- and so in essence I made olive-studded hockey pucks.

While the bread rose about 20 times, I made an onion chutney to add a little spicy sweetness to the plate of olive bread, cheese, and little nibbly vegetables I wanted for lunch. This was no chutney, I am sure. The recipe calls for WAY too much cayenne pepper, which makes the entire concoction super-hot and not at all calming the way fruit chutneys should be. The onions never stopped tasting oniony and just stunk up my house all day. The honey did nothing to sweeten the deal for me, and while the whole thing could have made the perfect liquid to soften the hockey pucks, the taste was vile enough to make me eat the bread plain.

The next day, I made roasted chicken and a Provençal reduction with lemon, white wine vinegar, and honey. In theory, all those things go well with poultry. Lemon chicken, after all, is practically a new classic. But this sauce was a bit too vinegary and didn't taste at all like something that just came out of an oven in the South of France. Edible, I suppose, but not great. I made a pumpkin gratin but with butternut squash as a side. This bizarre dish turned out to be little more than rice and chunks of squash baked in a dish in the oven for a while. Barely edible, and ugly to boot. The recipe swore the squash would get all caramelized and gooey and the whole thing would be soft and lovely. It was so not lovely.

To use up the other half of the squash, I tried a new recipe from Vegetarian Times. So far, I've had pretty good luck with their dessert recipes, which makes sense since most desserts don't call for a side of beef. This was an Indian Pudding recipe, which the recipe says isn't very pretty but tastes great and has been made in New England for ages. Which figures, since Native Americans have lived there for about that long. Anyway. Cinnamon, nutmeg, a dash of ginger, a little molasses and brown sugar would all add up to a pumpkin pie-esque dessert, or so I thought. Instead of bread or flour, the recipe calls for cornmeal. I only had blue cornmeal, which worked fine and is indeed ugly as promised. But since making this dessert, I've decided that everything made with cornmeal turns into cornmeal mush. So Mush Pudding became Disaster Number 5 this week. 

The cookbook is now listed for sale on amazon.com. This might be the culinary equivalent of selling a car you know is a lemon to some unsuspecting schmuck, but hey, that's what reviews are for.



 

Bolinas Blackberry Pie

My mother used to read Blueberries for Sal to me before bed when I was small.  It was one of my favorite books, in part because eating my way through a bush of blueberries as Sal does seemed like a brilliant idea, and in part because the mother-child mix-up that happens is classic.


This Labor Day weekend, I drove out to rural Marin County to see my dad, and relieve him of some blackberries which grow [a little too] wild in his yard. He hacked at the brambles with a machete while my dog ran amok and I got lost (practically) picking berries. I imagine blackberry bushes are a little more violent than blueberry bushes, since Sal's hands and legs didn't look like mine when she, the bears, and her mom were done picking. Bear claws, though, are pretty near the top of the Potentially Damaging hierarchy.

Since I didn't have to compete with bears, I gathered about nine cups of blackberries. That doesn't include all the ones I ate as I picked, or the ones I dropped as my skin snagged on a thorn and I cursed the entire universe. I gave about a cup to my dad-- I wasn't being stingy. He didn't want more -- and took the rest home to bake in a pie.

I wound up tossing out about a cup of berries this morning, since some were just past their peak. Apparently, blackberries' peak lasts about 3 seconds. Others just got crushed from the weight of the other eight cups stacked on top of them. I froze about a cup to use in smoothies later, so used about six cups of berries in the pie.  I didn't have an official blackberry pie recipe to use, so I combined elements from a few different pie and fruit tart sources, and created what just might become an annual tradition.

For the crust, I used a recipe from Vegetarian Times I'd cut out ages ago but hadn't used yet. The ingredients are simple and the method is easy-- basically, everything is thrown in the food processor and pulsed until the dough comes together. I've already written an ode to the Food Processor (Wo)Man for this very thing; it turns out a perfect crust every time. My lattice was a little gangly and uneven, but for my first attempt, it was Not Bad At All.

For the filling, I started with brown sugar, and lots of it.  My dad and I both noticed that the berries were not as sweet as they've been in years past, which my dad attributes to the lack of warm sunny days this summer. I think it may also be that the brambles are being choked by the two other invasive vines spewing over from other people's yards. (Several blackberry species have also been deemed invasive here in California. Eh, potayto, potahto...) Property lines and semantics aside, I added a little cornstarch to thicken the soupy mess the berries were becoming, and a little lemon juice to brighten up the whole thing.  This is also what goes into the filling for the Rustic Fruit Tart I wrote about. Except with blackberries. Not plums.

I blind-baked the crust to prevent it from getting soggy from berry juice. The problem with this method is that the top edges of the crust brown long before all the rest of it, and sometimes even burn before the pie is ready. The logical solution would be to blind-bake it for less time, but then the bottom wouldn't be baked enough to stay, well, crusty. I might try covering the edges with extra parchment paper next time, with some kind of clamping or folding trick to make the paper stay in place over the edge.  

All things considered, the pie is perfect for the end of summer. It even has tan lines.   

Fine. I admit it. The crust recipe didn't make enough dough for crust AND lattice.

I know! I was a little worried about the whole machete/dog/me combination, too! But I made it out alive. And so did the dog.

 

Bolinas Blackberry Pie

*If you choose to create a lattice (or any other) design on top, you will need to a) make 1.25 times this amount of dough (use extra water instead of 1/4 egg); b) set aside a small quantity of the dough as you begin Step 5a.  This way, you will create extra dough for the lattice, and still have the original quantity for the crust. 
** Pre-bake times have been adjusted to account for my mistakes. You may need to add another minute or two onto your time.

For the crust

1 1/2 C all-purpose flour

1 TBSP sugar

1/2 tsp salt

1 stick (1/2 C) cold, unsalted butter, cut into chunks

1 egg yolk

1/4 C ice water

1. Pulse flour, sugar, and salt in food processor a few times to combine. Add butter, and pulse 5-6 times, or until mixture resembles coarse sand. 

2. Beat egg yolk and ice water in small bowl with fork. Add to flour mixture in food processor. Pulse just until dough comes together. 

3. Transfer dough to piece of waxed paper or plastic wrap. Press into a flat disk. Wrap tightly and refrigerate at least one hour (or overnight). 

4. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. 

5a. On a well-floured surface, roll out dough into a circle approximately 1/4" thick and 14" in diameter for a 9" pie plate. Lay crust over pie plate, pressing lightly into bottom and sides. Create a fluted design, if you wish, around the edges by lightly pinching the overhang. 

5b. Also roll out dough reserved for lattice into rectangular shape, 1/4" thick and 11" wide. Cut rectangle into long strips. Set aside.

6. Place parchment paper over the crust (you can cut a circle to fit the bottom, or you can lay strips across the crust that overlap) and weigh down the paper with dried beans. Bake for 10 minutes. Remove beans and parchment paper and bake for another 5 minutes. Top of crust should be just beginning to brown.

7. Reduce heat to 350 degrees.

For the filling

6 C ripe blackberries, washed 

3 TBSP cornstarch

2/3 C brown or granulated sugar (adjust slightly according to sweetness of berries)

1 TBSP lemon juice

1/2 tsp grated lemon zest (optional)

1. Combine all ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Stir gently to combine, coating berries well.

2. Pour berry mixture into pre-baked pie crust. Arrange lattice strips on top.

3. Bake for 30 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and filling is bubbly. 

4. Cool on wire rack for as long as you can wait. 

5. Serve with a dollop of whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

Cheater

Version 4.0/strained

Soup is not my favorite thing. The ratio of broth to good stuff is way too high, and quite frankly that makes me feel as though I'm getting cheated.  I've never understood why people order soup at a restaurant, since they pay top dollar for what amounts to little more than a bowl of water and salt. Besides, soup is prisoner food-- picture any movie set before the last few decades and the prisoners eat nothing but stale bread and a bowl of broth.

But then I found someone else's food blog, called "Culinary Adventures of a New Wife," and the blogger posted a recipe she adapted from a cookbook of Oprah's. Her husband loved it, and it combined two of my favorite flavors (coconut and green curry) so I figured it was worth at least one go-round. It also seemed to be loaded with good stuff, which I reasoned must lower the broth-to-stuff ratio to a non-prisoner level.

The first time I made it, a friend was in town visiting, so I followed the recipe almost exactly, leaving out only the fish sauce and chicken because a) I don't like fish sauce. And with shrimp cooked in the broth, how much more fish flavor does a soup really need? b) chicken and fish sauce are mutually exclusive; c) having both chicken and shrimp in the soup is gluttonous. I thought it turned out pretty well, and my friend claimed to like it, too, though there is the possibility that she was just being polite.

The second time I made it, I used extra-firm tofu instead of either chicken or shrimp. I pan-fried the cubes first in a little of the chili sauce that goes in the soup, so they formed a nice crust. Extra-firm tofu doesn't have that slimy-gummy texture that offends so many people, but even so, the crust was just extra insurance against gumminess. The cubes stood up really well in the soup, staying cube-like and not crumbling to bits as they could have with softer tofu. Plus, tofu absorbs flavors so nicely, so after soaking in the broth for a while, they are perfect. The other advantage to using tofu is it doesn't reek of fish the next day when you eat it for lunch.

As I ate the leftovers, though, I wanted more stuff in the soup. The noodles are one of my favorite stuffs, so I just cooked another bundle and threw them in. And now that I have re-read the recipe for the zillionth time in preparation for posting here, I realize the recipe calls for 2 bundles, which is why I didn't think there were enough noodles with just the one. Well done, me.

I didn't strain the sautéed bits from the broth the second time. I especially liked the cilantro leaves, which I left nearly whole, in the broth, though it was less aesthetically appealing that way, so strain--- or don't-- according to your preference.

I am still surprised by how much I like this soup, and how many equally good variations of it there are. It even fills me up, unlike prisoner soup.

*Note: to make this entirely vegan, substitute vegetable broth for chicken broth and replace chicken/shrimp with tofu. Omit fish sauce.

Thai Coconut-Curry Soup

adapted from "Culinary Adventures of a New Wife", who adapted it from Oprah

4 C chicken or vegetable stock

5 garlic cloves, peeled and cut into chunks

1/2 tsp ground ginger

1 TBSP Thai green curry paste

1/2 tsp ground coriander

1/2 tsp cumin (I used about half this much)

1/2 tsp whole black peppercorns (I just threw in some ground black pepper)

3/4 C loosely packed cilantro leaves (plus more for garnish), chopped

2 rounds vermicelli glass noodles, cooked according to package directions

1 C unsweetened coconut milk (can use light coconut milk, but broth will be a little thinner)

1/2 C chopped green onion

1 C sliced or quartered mushrooms

YOUR CHOICE OF:

1 chicken breast, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

1/2 lb medium shrimp, peeled and de-veined

1 package extra-firm tofu, drained and cut into 1-inch cubes

1/4-3/4 tsp chili-garlic sauce

(recipe also calls for 2 TBSP lime juice and 2 tsp brown sugar, but I used neither. So I guess I didn't follow the recipe quite as closely as I thought...)

1. In a large pot over medium-high heat, combine stock, garlic, ginger, curry paste, coriander, cumin, pepper, and cilantro. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes. 

2. Meanwhile, if using tofu, heat 1 TBSP oil and 1/2 tsp chili-garlic sauce in a medium frying pan over medium heat. Add tofu. Stir occasionally, allowing brown crust to form on all sides (approximately 5-8 minutes). Set aside.

3. Strain broth through a sieve and discard solids. Return broth to pot, adding coconut milk, half the green onions, and shrimp, chicken, or tofu. Return to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until chicken and/or shrimp are fully cooked (about 5-8 minutes). 

4. Add chili-garlic sauce. I add noodles to pot here, but these can be added to individual bowls according to taste, if desired.  Garnish with remaining green onion and cilantro.

Obviously, I don't use 5 cloves of garlic.

I heart miniature cans of coconut milk: none goes to waste.

I heart these, too.

World Peace Cookies

Might be the stupidest name for cookies EVER.


Fortunately they are also known as sablés.  Which is still fairly pretentious. But these cookies are good enough to stand up to any name in any language. That must be why about a million other food bloggers have already written about them.

I checked out a book from the library a few months ago whose author I had never heard of. Her name is Dorie Greenspan. I know. Anyway. In the book she tells the story of how her recipe for these cookies was served to her at a swanky party, only the host had no idea it was Greenspan's recipe. Even though it is really some French guy named Pierre Hermés I also hadn't heard of's recipe. I know. But up until this point in the story they are still called sablés and then some other guy told Greenspan that a daily helping of these cookies could ensure world peace, and now they are Stupidest Name Ever cookies. 

I googled the recipe after I'd returned the book to the library and forgotten to photocopy the recipe (copy pages out of a book? who does that?), and discovered that not only had every food blogger and her grandmother written about them, but there exists this exclusive food blogger club of sorts that picks a different recipe each week from that same cookbook of Greenspan's. Then they all make the recipe. Then on Tuesdays, they all write about it on their blogs. It's called Tuesdays with Dorie. Kind of like Tuesdays with Morrie. Except nobody dies. 

Even though I don't get to join the club (membership for this book is closed; I'll scurry to join when her next book comes out) or put that cute little button on my site which demonstrates affiliation with the club (I am SO envious), I am going to blog blog blog about these cookies anyway. Since discovering the recipe, I haven't made any other cookie. Nor do I want to. Ever. They are ridiculously easy to make. The batter can be frozen and popped into the oven whenever unexpected guests arrive, which of course happens to me all the time. The frozen ones are equally as delicious as the not-frozen ones. When does that happen?

Try sprinkling extra salt on top before you bake these cookies. I like Maldon flaky sea salt, but use your favorite.

World Peace Cookies

adapted from Dorie Greenspan's Baking: From My Home to Yours, who took it from Pierre Hermés

1 1/4 C all-purpose flour

1/3 C cocoa powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

11 TBSP butter, at room temperature

2/3 C brown sugar

1/4 C granulated sugar

1/2 tsp fleur de sel

1 tsp vanilla extract

5 oz semisweet or bittersweet chocolate chunks
Flaky sea salt, for sprinkling on top

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

2. Sift together the flour, cocoa powder, and baking soda. Set aside. 

3. Beat butter until fluffy (about 2 minutes). Add sugars, vanilla, and salt. Beat for another minute or two. 

3. Add sifted flour mix to butter mix, being careful not to make a mess (Greenspan advises using a towel to cover the stand mixer bowl when you first add the flour, but I haven't had to do this). Mix until just incorporated. Add chocolate chunks and stir to combine. 

4. Shape dough into two round logs. Wrap in parchment or waxed paper and refrigerate for 3 hours. (At this point you can freeze one of the logs for future baking, if you want.)
NOW you can preheat the oven to 325 degrees!

5. Slice into thin cookies (approximately 1/4" thick) and lay flat on a baking sheet. Sprinkle with a little flaky sea salt. Bake for 12-15 minutes. They will look nearly the same as when you put them in the oven, but they are done. 

6. Cool a minute or two on the pan, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Cookies will become crisper but should not be brittle. 

Batter will seem a little dry and crumbly.

The emptiness of this cookie jar just might bring on World War III.

Even Oprah Makes Mistakes

I have never eaten proper Southern biscuits. Probably because I have never been south of the Mason-Dixon Line. I might not even recognize the difference between proper biscuits and improper ones. I can't think of any restaurants I go to that serve biscuits, plain or topped with gravy. Nobody I know claims to be a Biscuit Maker Extraordinaire.

Fans of Oprah gave her grief over her biscuit-making scene in "Beloved" many years ago. One woman told her flat out, "You are making your biscuits wrong."  Apparently 'wrong' is relative, though, since there are as many variations on biscuit recipes as there are on, well, everything else.  The elders in my family have passed down several of these recipes that must be made a certain way; anyone who does not make them this way is automatically an idiot.
Or so they say.

The article's author insisted that Northerners can make good biscuits (am I a Northerner? a Westerner? a Californian, which seems to be its own category?), so I decided to see for myself, though I had no intention of drowning perfectly good biscuits in fat-choked sausage gravy. My sweet tooth usually prevails anyway, so I figured maple syrup would drown them just as well as gravy, and I had a hankering for baked beans, which I sort of associate with all things Southern and biscuit-like.

One thing's for sure: biscuits really are easy. I used regular old AP flour and regular old unsalted butter. I used my food processor to cut in nearly frozen butter (Oprah's very vocal fan must be horrified right now) and had dough ready in under 5 minutes. I let it rest for 30 minutes as directed, and got what I think are pretty proper biscuits out of the oven.

I have no idea what Oprah did wrong, but if hers tasted like mine, I bet she didn't care.

They baked up a little lopsided. I suspect uneven heat in the oven is to blame. Whatever. The flavor is fab.

All-Purpose Biscuits

recipe lifted straight out of the New York Times magazine, 7.21.11

serves 6-8

2 C all-purpose flour (plus a little more for dusting)

2 TBSP baking powder

1 TBSP sugar

5 TBSP cold unsalted butter

1 C whole milk

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

2. Sift dry ingredients into a large mixing bowl. Transfer to bowl of food processor. Cut butter into smaller pieces and add to flour mixture, pulsing 5-6 times or until mixture resembles rough crumbs. (You could also cut butter into flour with a fork or pastry cutter.)

3. Return mixture to mixing bowl and add milk. Stir until it forms a rough ball.

4. Turn dough out onto a well-floured surface. Pat it down into a rough rectangle, about 1 inch thick. Fold over and gently pat it down again. Repeat once more. Cover dough loosely with a kitchen towel and let rest for 30 minutes. 

5. Gently pat out dough a bit more to form a rectangle that is approximately 10" x 6". Cut dough into biscuits with a biscuit cutter or floured glass. DO NOT twist cutter when cutting; this crimps the edges of the biscuit and impedes its rise. You can reform the remnants into another rectangle and cut out more, but know that these will be slightly less airy than the first batch. You can also bake the remnants as free-form biscuits with minimal handling (and therefore toughening). 

6. Bake on a cookie sheet until golden brown, approximately 10-15 minutes.
7. Drown in syrup, honey, or molasses.

Meat n' Wheat Free

L to R: yams with skin on, platanos fritos, brown jasmine rice with tomatillo-avocado salsa, black beans with jerk, and dinosaur kale. This is a salad plate, not a dinner plate, and after eating everything on it, I am 100% full!

My friend RSJ is a vegetarian. She is also gluten intolerant. Her husband KJ, a carnivore who likes his ground beef nestled between two rounds of wheat, sums up her dietary needs this way: "So basically, you need a meal that is meat- n-wheat-free." Indeed.

I'm not a vegetarian. I'm not gluten intolerant. I don't spend a lot of time thinking up meals that would suit RSJ's needs, especially since we live in different time zones now. But I do eat a few meatless meals each week and have thrown together un plato of sorts that is inspired by some of my favorite cuisines. Best of all, it is free of meat, wheat, and dairy. You know, the  way the other 99% of the planet eats.

There are those who believe that eating a meal with no meat in it is an utter waste of the energy it takes to bring fork to mouth. To this I say, quinoa-barley-seaweed pilaf doesn't really satisfy me either. But when I create meals that are not vegetarian versions of dishes I love, but instead are just good vegetarian meals, I am almost always satisfied.

The July/August 2011 issue of Vegetarian Times features an article on the best veg food trucks across the nation. The mention of one truck's coconut-mashed yams caught my attention, since I firmly believe that everything is better with coconut. Then the plantains ripening on the counter popped into my head. The free association-- I do this a lot when I am cooking-- continued with the jerk seasoning I haven't put on chicken yet, the black beans waiting in the pantry, greens in the crisper, and cilantro growing on the fire escape to go in the rice I wanted to put next to the black beans. (Yeah, I've heard that you don't have to eat these two together to make a complete protein, but I still like the combination.)

The prep and cooking time for this plate is super-fast, making it a good choice for I-got-home-from-work-late-and-I-don't-feel-like-cooking nights. Of course, if you choose to use dried beans and begin soaking them the night before and spend two hours cooking them when you get home from work late, well, hopefully you will earn some kind of Universe Points for your effort. For the rest of us, the beans, rice, plantains, greens, and yams are ready in under 20 minutes.

There are endless variations on this plate. The first time I made it, I added a little pineapple to the rice, along with cilantro. The second time I made it, I added tomatoes to the beans, used only about a milligram of cilantro, and didn't mash the yams. Or add coconut. But in all its incarnations, it is meat-n-wheat-free.

Not pictured: all the other maduros I ate that night.