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Recipe: tamales, new mexico style

There is a certain class of food that makes its way across cultures. It involves taking some sort of starch and wrapping it around another ingredient or ingredients, cooking it, and passing into bliss as you eat it. These foods are best when homemade and I have made it one of my many small missions in life to learn to make each of these before I die.

So far, I have managed Chinese potstickers, Argentine empanadas, and as of today, tamales. Others on the todo list include, but are not limited to: samosas, ravioli, tsa-tsao bao (Chinese bbq pork buns), tsong-tse (think Chinese rice tamales). If you can think of other delicious homemade delicacies that I’m overlooking, be sure to let me know!

My whole motivation for making carne adovada a few days ago was to ultimately try my hand at homemade tamales. On our road trip back home from New Mexico a few weeks back, I procured some corn husks along with those beloved dried New Mexican reds. I’m sure I could have found them locally in Colorado if I had looked, but that’s the thing about where I live – you have to LOOK pretty hard to find certain ethnic foods and it makes me insane. I hate shopping. I like cooking.

Recipe: carne adovada

I didn’t always like to make food from scratch, you know. I was perfectly happy living in So Cal and paying for truly excellent food over 15 years ago. It was authentic, delicious, and cheap. When I moved away from So Cal to go to graduate school, I moved away from great ethnic food. So I began learning to make it myself. By the time we returned to So Cal, I viewed food differently than before. I tasted everything we ate with a running mental analysis of the flavors, the ingredients, the preparation, and how I could make it at home. At some point, I had crossed the barrier that always led me to believe a dish was out of my reach. No longer!

Now that we’ve moved to a small mountain town, I’m stuck craving those fantastic ethnic foods again. But now, I am eager to try making them at home, and perfecting them.

When my in-laws lived in New Mexico, we used to visit and drop by El Modelo for amazing New Mexican fare. One of my favorites was their carne adovada. I mean, how can I not love pork – I’m Chinese and I grew up in the South, so there is a double whammy right there!

Recipe: chinese vegetarian chicken

*Edit*: Oh, I see that I can enter this into Coffee & Vanilla’s Vegetarian Awareness Month Event! October 1st was World Vegetarian Day. Here’s the banner and go join if you can:

I love tofu. Love it raw, love it dried, fried, shredded, diced, pressed, in soups, in sheets, in stir-fries, in braises… Back in the day, when I mentioned tofu to white people, they would make a face and say, “yech!” But as granolas and vegetarians grew in numbers, so did tofu’s popularity. I’m not vegetarian. I love animals and I love to eat them. That doesn’t mean that I don’t like vegetarian food. One of my favorite haunts in Monterey Park was a Buddhist vegetarian restaurant (Happy Family – anyone know where it went? It’s now an empty lot). Asian vegetarian food is really Effingham delicious.

Whenever I visit my Grandma in California, she insists on sending me home with several times the volume of my duffel bag in food. Let’s see, she’ll hand me a few pounds of fruit, several packages of Chinese snacks, lots of dried goods, and a “loaf” of her homemade Chinese vegetarian chicken. I love that stuff. She taught me how to make it a few years ago, but I never tried until yesterday.

Vegetarian chicken?! That’s the translation of su ji. From what I’ve gathered, Buddhist monks were masters of preparing tofu in many delicious ways. They are vegetarian. I don’t think they eat garlic either because it is the root of the plant, thus destroying the plant. Emperors used to dig this style of food and would have the monks prepare meals for them. Well, you don’t just prepare any old slop for the Emperor. They made dishes that mimicked chicken, fish, squid, duck… out of tofu. The monks even went so far as to insert tiny slivers of bamboo to resemble fish bones. I learned about all of this when my parents dragged me to a Buddhist temple in LA for my mom’s college reunion.

**Jump for more butter**