Read The Cornbread Gospels Online
Authors: Crescent Dragonwagon
The Cornbread Gospels (55 page)
RAGON
–S
TYLE
S
ANCOCHO
S
ERVES
8
How does a New York–Arkansas–Vermont Jewish gringa have the temerity to come up with a sancocho when her own background has not the slightest Spanish inflection? Read and read and read, talk to people, compare recipes, combine recipes, take what I like best from any number of same, and tweak them to my personal taste and sensibilities. Though vegetarian and non-Latina I am, I stand by this intensely savory stew, with its layers of flavor and color, as proudly as I stood by my gumbo. With fresh hot arepas served alongside—it is just too good.
Besides, dragons are known for being
muy caliente
, right?
Despite the length of the ingredients list, this is simpler than it looks. You can make it the day before (which, if possible, makes the sancocho even more incredibly full-flavored); in some markets, you can even buy some of the vegetables, like the butternut squash, fresh but peeled and already diced. If you want a higher
proportion of the savory liquid to solid components (my preference), use the lesser amount of all vegetables for which a range is given.
Many sancochos use the juice of
naranja agria
, or sour orange. A combination of orange, lemon or lime, and grapefruit juice works beautifully.
F
OR THE MARINADE
Juice of 1 orange
Juice of ½ lime or lemon
Juice of ½ grapefruit
About ½ bunch of fresh flat-leaf parsley, stems included, rinsed and coarsely chopped
About ¾ bunch of fresh cilantro, stems included, rinsed and coarsely chopped
About ¼ bunch of fresh oregano, stems included, rinsed and coarsely chopped
1 bunch of scallions, discolored or dry stems removed, coarsely chopped
3 garlic cloves, smashed
2 teaspoons salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 cake (4 ounces) tempeh, cut into chunky squares
F
OR THE STEW
2½ quarts (10 cups) good, flavorful vegetable stock
1 can (14 ounces) diced tomatoes in juice
1 to 2 ears of fresh corn, shucked, cut crosswise into 4 to 6 large rounds
1 green plantain, peeled, cut in half lengthwise, then crosswise into ½-inch slices
1 ripe plantain, peeled, cut in half lengthwise, then crosswise into ½-inch slices
1 small butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into chunks (2 to 2 ½ cups prepared chunks)
1 large sweet potato, peeled and cut into chunks (2½ to 3 cups prepared chunks)
1 to 2 small yucca roots (see Note,
page 323
)
F
OR THE FINISHING SAUTÉ
3 tablespoons mild vegetable oil
1 large onion, chopped
2 jalapeños or other hot green or red chiles, minced
2 large green bell peppers, cored, seeded, and chopped
1 package (12 to 14 ounces) soy chorizo (slice link sausages into 1-inch rounds; crumble bulk varieties)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Hot sauce, such as Tabasco, for serving
Chopped fresh cilantro, for serving
1.
Combine all the marinade ingredients except the tempeh in a food processor and buzz well, stopping a few times to scrape down the sides. Transfer this green and pungent combo to a large bowl. Add the tempeh, toss well, cover, and let marinate for 2 to 3 hours at room
temperature, or refrigerate overnight.
2.
In a large stockpot, combine 8 cups (2 quarts) of the stock and all the remaining ingredients in the stew component list. (Reserve the remaining stock for step 4 of the recipe.) Bring to a serious boil, then lower the heat to a simmer. Let simmer over medium heat, half-covered, for about 45 minutes.
3.
Toward the end of this period, begin the sauté, either in a large, heavy Dutch oven or your largest skillet. Heat the oil in your chosen pan over medium heat. When it’s good and hot, add the onion and sauté, stirring, until it has softened, about 6 minutes. Then add the jalapeño and bell peppers and sauté for 5 minutes more. Add the soy chorizo, either sliced or crumbled, and give it another minute or so. At this point, it may want to start sticking and will be developing a desirable browned crust on the bottom of the pan.
4.
Remove the tempeh from the marinade, reserving the marinade. Shake off some of the marinade, but don’t obsess over it. Add the tempeh to the contents of the skillet and, stirring constantly, sauté for 2 minutes more. Then pour in the marinade and the remaining 2 cups vegetable stock. Stir and scrape like crazy to get up those good browned bits; they’re full of flavor.
5.
Now, depending on which pot is larger, either transfer the sauté to the stew pot in which the vegetables are simmering, or the other way around. Give it all a good stir. Bring to a boil and turn down to a simmer. Let the contents simmer together, half-covered, for about 30 minutes. Enjoy the fragrance now permeating your kitchen.
6.
You may serve the sancocho right away, after adjusting to taste with salt and pepper, or, better yet, let it sit off the heat for a while, which really helps the flavors to meld but prevents the vegetables from overcooking. You can also make it a day ahead, refrigerate it overnight, and reheat it before serving. In any case, serve it steaming hot, with Tabasco on the table and the fresh cilantro sprinkled over the top.
S
TORIED
, S
ENSATIONAL
S
ANCOCHO
In some Latin American countries—the Dominican Republic, Colombia, Venezuela, and El Salvador—sancocho is fabled in the way dishes like cassoulet or bouillabaisse or gumbo or paella are. And, like those dishes, each sancocho is prepared with its own particular twist in every region, every village, and every household. And, whichever way you grew up with it is the way sancocho is supposed to be.
Like a few other dishes beloved of particular ethnicities, sancocho has the honor of doing a kind of linguistic two-step (or perhaps rumba would be more like it). A word that starts out meaning a particular dish comes to refer also to a state of mind or being that reflects the qualities of that dish. A tzimmes, originally simply a Jewish side dish made of dried fruits and vegetables, thus sweet, savory, and a little confused as to its identity, came to mean as well a mixed-up state of affairs, a mess or messy situation. Similarly,
avial,
a South Indian stew that contains a little of almost everything, has come to mean mismatched; if someone says your outfit is avial, you are
not
receiving a compliment. In a similar vein, those who are said to be sancocho have been out working in the sun or otherwise breaking a sweat; they are stewing.
Want more proof of the iconic nature of this dish? Google “sancocho,” and you’ll find, besides dozens of recipes, a webzine by that name, a CD by that name which contains an eponymous cut (the group is Sol Y Canto), and an organization based in Holland (!) “for everyone with Latin spirit.”
• • • • • • • • • •
Cornbread- and Cornmeal-Based Desserts
“All’s well that ends with a good meal.” So the late children’s book writer Arnold Lobel concluded one of the tales in
Fables.
I agree. And, to me a good meal, most of the time, ends with a good dessert. No, not every meal; no, not every night—but if you have a sweet tooth (I understand there are three or four human beings on the face of the planet who do not), satisfying it deeply and truly is one of the pleasures of a full life.
Now, though I am happy to finish many meals with fruit, sorbet, or something calorically reasonable, when I really want dessert, I want
dessert.
Not a sweet nothing, a definitive sweet
something.
That is where cornmeal comes in. Its distinctive gritty texture adds a
something
-ness to many desserts. It fills out simple sweetness into more, giving complex texture to cakes like Very Lemony Cornmeal Pound Cake (
page 339
) and Miss Kay’s Dark Secret Cornmeal Cake (
page 341
), a rich density to bread puddings like Bourbon-Banana Cornbread Pudding with Bourbon Sauce (
page 334
), and a warm hominess to fruit desserts like Apple Golden-Brown Betty (
page 336
).
So I’m pushing the envelope in this chapter. No, these aren’t strictly cornbreads: Some are cakes that contain cornmeal, others are puddings that integrate stale cornbread thirsty for sweet, creamy custard. They are here because, well, just because … I like them, and I think you will too. We’ve almost ended our time together, and all’s well that ends with a good dessert.
UTTERMILK
C
ORNBREAD
P
UDDING WITH
A
PRICOTS AND
L
EMON
S
ERVES
6
This is just-can’t-stop-eating-it good. Buttermilk and cornbread are old Southern partners, but this dessert, with its almost cheesecake-like quality, takes these longtime friends to an entirely different, very seductive place.
Instead of the raisins found in many bread puddings, the apricots add little sudden bursts of flavor, sweetness, and texture, delightful to come across in the midst of that sweet, unctuous custard.
For the cornbread, use Dairy Hollow House Skillet-Sizzled (
page 12
), White River (
page 25
), Ronni’s Appalachian (
page 21
), or Sylvia’s Ozark (
page 18
).
Vegetable oil cooking spray
2 or 3 slices slightly stale not-too-sweet cornbread, in coarse crumbs (about 1 to 1½ cups, crumbled)
½ cup finely diced dried apricots (12 to 15 apricot halves), preferably unsulphured
2 tablespoons butter, at room temperature
¾ cup sugar
4 eggs
2 egg yolks
1 tablespoon unbleached white flour
2¾ cups buttermilk
½ cup sour cream or reduced-fat (not non-fat) sour cream
⅛ teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
Finely grated zest of 2 lemons, preferably organic
½ to 1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
½ cup finely chopped almonds (optional)
1.
Spray an 8-inch square baking dish with oil. Preheat the oven to 350°F.
2.
Scatter the cornbread crumbs and apricot pieces in the prepared baking dish.
3.
In a food processor, combine the butter and sugar and buzz until smooth, pausing to scrape the sides of the bowl. Beat in the eggs, egg yolks, flour, buttermilk, sour cream, salt, vanilla, and lemon zest. Pour this mixture over the cornbread and let it stand, covered with plastic wrap, for 30 minutes.
4.
Sprinkle the nutmeg over the entire pudding, using as much or as little as you like. Scatter the almonds atop that, if using.
