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Recipe: stuffed sopaipillas

It’s a brilliant sun that has been shining down on Colorado this week, each day warmer than the one before. Whenever Jeremy is on travel, I use the alone time to get as much work done as possible so that we might ski or just spend time together when he gets back. If I were truly alone, I might work from sunrise to the wee hours of the night with nary a pause, but I am not alone. Kaweah requires more attention in her old age. Not that she demands it, just that we want to be sure she is happy and comfortable. One of us will check on her frequently throughout the day and sometimes lie on the floor next to her, rub her belly, or just nuzzle her face. Anything to hear the thump of that wagging tail.

she likes the sun on her coat and her feet in the snow

Kaweah’s walks take more time and cover less distance. I have to stop myself when I start to feel impatient. Lately, I have been setting aside extra time for Kaweah. It’s not a walk anymore, but Kaweah-time. Time for sniffing every tree trunk, every dead leaf, every invisible thing in the snow. Time to walk slowly through powdery drifts, sometimes requiring a quick rescue. Her back paws knuckle under as she grows tired, but her nose is in the air drinking in all the news the wind can deliver. Old age is slowing her down. So far it hasn’t stopped her.

checking out the lake

happy to be outside

The other day we went to a little lake where the snow lingered and the sun shone bright. Instead of menacing winds, there was a gentle breeze and birds chirped in the woods. I unleashed Kaweah (because she’s too slow to outrun me now!) and watched as she went about sniffing what was what, her meandering tracks having absolutely no agenda other than to be a happy black dog on a lovely bluebird day. I knelt down and called her to me. I had to call again, loudly because she’s deaf – or she was ignoring me… or both. It doesn’t matter. She strolled lazily toward my outstretched hands and rolled her head into them like she always does, her tail doing big circular wags. I gently wrapped my arms around her neck and shoulders and placed my cheek against her warm, black fur. My little girl. Circular wag, circular wag.

time to go home

A couple of weeks ago, I was chatting with my friend Trent, who runs Pica’s in Boulder. I’m always telling Trent what I think he should carry on the menu. “How about a GIANT salsa bar? A GIANT SALSA BAR!!” This time I didn’t mention the salsa bar, but I did sing the praises for sopaipillas. I’ve had bad ones (here in Colorado) and I’ve had amazing ones (in all of New Mexico), but the best are the ones that come straight from your own kitchen. He had never had one before. WHUT?! The next evening, Trent was running a pop-up in my neighborhood, so I made fresh sopaipillas and brought them to his family. Thumbs up all around. They ate them with honey, but another fabulous way to enjoy the sopaipilla is to stuff it with heavenly goodness.

beef, cumin, chile powder, lime, oil, salt, pepper

dice the beef

mix the seasonings

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Recipe: breakfast torta

Sometimes things come to a head that you have no control over and suddenly you find yourself treading water. I try to avoid situations like these. I try to avoid unnecessary stress, but every now and again there are external factors that are out of my hands. It’s been like this for the past week or so – a rollercoaster of sorts, but everything is fine here at Butter Headquarters. We can always count on Kaweah to bring us back to what is normal.

she recently got a bath and smells like lavender

When there are deadlines or when my brain won’t shut off at night, I tend to neglect things like getting enough sleep or drinking enough water. Sometimes I forget to eat and then I stuff myself with junk food late in the day. They are all bad habits and thankfully, I only revert to that mode when it’s crunch time. Despite my ambivalence toward breakfast, I do try to eat something in the morning to avoid the late afternoon gorging when you realize you haven’t eaten anything yet all day. It’s easier to do when you have breakfasts to look forward to. Last fall when I was at the Sacramento airport at puke-thirty in the morning for my flight home, I zombied through the concourse in search of something to quell the urge to hurl. Standing in front of the Dos Coyotes menu board, I ordered a breakfast torta. Never had one before, but you know what? It was really good.

you’ll need: tortas, refritos, bacon, chipotle peppers in adobo sauce, eggs, mayonnaise, garlic, lime, avocado, and cheese

That torta was so satisfying that it lingered in my mind for several weeks. Then I forgot about it. But passing through the same airport just this past weekend, it jogged my memory. I needed to make a breakfast torta of my own. I’m a fan of condiments and figured I could make some chipotle mayonnaise for that creamy, spicy component. It adds a nice zing to the sandwich and can be as strong or as mild as you want it. It was simple enough: mash up garlic into a paste, purée the chipotle peppers (with a little adobo sauce), squeeze some lime juice, stir it all into the mayonnaise and add salt to taste.

mashing minced garlic into a paste

chipotle pepper purée

add desired quantities to the mayonnaise

squeeze lime juice into the mix

What you end up with is a pale orange-pink spread for your sandwich. If you decide to put it in a squeeze bottle, make sure the bottle tip is large enough to let chunks of pepper and garlic through. I buy my tortas from Costco because I bought them by accident one day and happened to love the texture. They freeze well and are great for toast or sandwiches. I have no idea how these compare to authentic tortas, but I’m sure someone out there has an opinion to share. Toast or don’t toast, that is completely up to you.

chipotle mayonnaise

slice the torta

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Recipe: mexican red rice

People complain an awful lot about winter. They don’t like the cold. They don’t like the snow. They don’t like the greyness or darkness. But I have a theory… I think a good percentage of those folks would love winter if they knew how good it could be. I treat winter like summer. It’s an opportunity to explore, fill your lungs with good clean (and thin) air, and get off your bum.

all of the footwear we used this past week

Of course, Colorado winter is something else entirely from the winters I’ve experienced in other places like the East Coast or even California. First, there’s sunshine and lots of it. We get fabulous snow of the dry, fluffy, powdery variety. And our forests and mountains… well, see for yourself.

view from the ski lift

my buds on the chair behind us

I’m convinced if winter were this awesome everywhere, then people would share my fondness for this oft-maligned season. It’s the kind of winter that is a joy to get into rather than one to barricade against. The après ski isn’t bad either!

chirashi bowl, please

walking off lunch with my friend andrew in boulder

sweet sweet colorado (boulder flatirons)

Before Jeremy and I moved here, I was unaware of just how many different ways there were to ski the mountains. Now I know… or rather, my legs, butt, back, shoulders, arms, and neck know. It’s great. Winter is great AND you don’t have to worry about being bikini-ready (unless of course you’re dipping into the hot tub), just ski pants-ready. We’ve had a string of cool, windless, sunny days to take advantage of. It’s my favorite way to earn those calories.

on the approach

skinning up

skiing out

It’s right around this time of year when I start digging into my stash of summer goodies like the jams, pickles, and tomatoes I canned in September, or the green chiles we roasted and froze in August. I love a good chile relleno, especially the ones I prepare at home because I remove all of the seeds. But I’m also a sucker for the traditional plate you get in New Mexico with a side of refritos and Mexican rice. And when you’re back from a day spent backcountry skiing, you are craving the works.

mexican red rice: medium grain rice, tomatoes, onion, garlic, broth, peanut oil, mild red chile, salt

everything minced, diced, and prepped

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