A SWEET PUDDING FOR HOLY WEEK

Cinnamon and lemon flavor springtime rice pudding.

In Spain, the days of Holy Week leading up to Easter are marked by vigilia, abstinence, when observant Catholics abstain from eating meat. But, adding a touch of sweetness to the season are several milk puddings, such as flan (recipe ); natillas, a creamy custard, and arroz con leche, milky rice pudding.

Milk puddings are typical for the season because in the springtime dairy animals are producing plenty of milk. In Asturias (northern Spain), rice pudding is made with cow’s milk and enriched with butter or cream. It is the dessert de rigueur following fabada beans (recipe ). In Andalusia (southern Spain), where I live, rice pudding is traditionally made with goat’s milk. 

Cinnamon stick and lemon peel flavor the milk. The pudding is sprinkled with additional ground cinnamon after it is ladled into bowls.

Use medium-short grain rice—the same Valencia rice used for paella—to make the pudding. Let it cook until very tender.

Arroz con Leche
Milky Rice Pudding

Serves 4.

4 cups water
¼ teaspoon salt
½ cup medium-grain rice
4 cups milk
Peel from 1 lemon
1 cinnamon stick
½ cup sugar
Ground cinnamon

Bring the water and salt to a boil in a heavy pan. Add the rice and cook for 5 minutes. Drain the rice.

Place the milk, lemon peel and cinnamon stick in the pan. When it begins to bubble (take care the milk does not boil over), stir in the par-boiled rice. Reduce heat so the rice simmers. Cook, partially covered, 12 minutes.

Stir in the sugar. Let rice simmer, uncovered, until thick and creamy, about 15 minutes. Stir frequently to prevent the milk from scorching (a heat diffusor is useful). Discard the lemon peel and cinnamon stick.

Ladle hot pudding into 4 bowls. Sprinkle liberally with ground cinnamon. Allow to cool, then refrigerate until serving time. The pudding will thicken as it cools.

TRADITIONAL FOODS INSPIRE MODERNIST CHEFS

The chef called it cazuela de fideos, a seafood and noodle casserole that belongs to Malaga’s traditional kitchen. But, hoo boy, this was nothing like any cazuela I’d seen before.

"Noodles" with sea bass.

The chef concocted a saffron-tinged shrimp fumet, thickened it with agar-agar, inserted it with a plunger into a plastic macaroni tube (sort of like the drip tubes used in hospitals). Once it had set, he extruded the “noodle” onto a plate, snipped it into short lengths that looked a lot like handmade pasta. Topped with olive oil-poached sea bass and a green pea puree, the dish was a riff on the traditional.

Another pair of chefs spun off variations on Málaga’s traditional boquerones fritos, fried fresh anchovies. In one version, the fresh fish were marinated with orange, lime, bay leaf and Sherry vinegar, then dipped in tempura batter before frying.

Anchovy tempura.

In another, the anchovies were combined with finely chopped onion and peppers, added to batter and dropped by spoonfuls into oil to make buñuelos, fritters. The one traditional ingredient that tied them all together was extra virgin olive oil as the frying medium.

These were several of the demos I attended at a three-day gastronomy forum, Foro Gastroarte, that took place in Málaga last week. The Gastroarte collective is made up of a group of 23 top chefs and culinary professionals from Andalusia (southern Spain). Among them is Málaga’s own Dani Garcia, whose Restaurante Calima in Marbella has two Michelin stars. Dani recently opened Manzanilla Spanish Brasserie in New York City http://www.manzanillanyc.com .

I enjoyed the “show cooking” and marveled at the modernist appliances and clever use of ingredients. I especially liked the wit and humor of these chefs, who are using the basic products from the sea, farms and pastures of Andalusia to create wondrous new dishes. But, I am not likely to whip up any “air” of plankton, nor cook my sea bass sous vide nor freeze beef marrow in a PacoJet.

Luckily, I found that Chef Dani Garcia's modernist genius is grounded in the traditional kitchen--that of his mother. His recently published (in Spanish) EN LA COCINA DE MI MADRE, In My Mother’s Kitchen—Recipes and tips recalling timeless flavors, has recipes that are easily made in the home kitchen.

“I seek ideas and new concepts framed by my memory,” writes Dani. "Lentils with cheese, cuttlefish roe, rice with a rabbit that my father hunted. A family legacy, a mixture of tradition and improvisation, fusion and necessity.”

Thick-skinned mature lemons are almost sweet.

The book is divided into chapters by season. I turned to springtime and found an unusual recipe for Ensalada de limones cascarúos, Salad of Thick-skinned Lemons. Dani writes that he remembers as a child,  when his parents took him into the center of Málaga for Holy Week processions, that street vendors sold fat, thick-skinned lemons, peeled and sprinkled with salt. “With low acidity and a marvelous touch of sweetness.” From the memory, he invented the salad. “I close my eyes and I see myself walking through Málaga streets with my lemon, peeled, with just the right amount of salt, in my hand.

“Ah ha,” says I. “So that’s what to do with those huge, thick-skinned lemons still on the tree.” I went out to the garden and picked a few of the “old” lemons, cut into one and tasted. Absolutely, the sharpness has receded, so the fruit tastes almost sweet. Brilliant. (The tree has huge mature fruit, thin-skinned green lemons and fragrant blossoms, all at the same time.)

Salad of lemons, salt, olive oil and mint.

Dani’s recipe is simplicity itself—peel the lemons, cut them in sections, sprinkle with salt and plenty of extra virgin olive oil. His mom suggests sprigs of mint to garnish. And, if the lemons should be very tart, a pinch of sugar.

Ajetes are baby garlic shoots.

I added some chopped ajetes, green garlic shoots from the garden to the lemon salad. How about adding some sliced avocado and cooked shrimp? No special equipment needed.

BROCCOLI IS TRENDING

“I say it’s spinach and I say to hell with it.” That’s more or less what old man Vega said the first time he tasted broccoli. This was back in the early 70’s when broccoli was unknown in local Spanish markets. In our small garden plot, we were growing just two vegetables, broccoli in the winter and sweet corn in the summer.

Broccoli did very well in our sun-baked huerta (garden). (Sweet corn did not.) I took a basketful of it to Maria who did the cooking at the tapas bar where Vega was a regular. Vega farmed an irrigated plot below the village and regaled us with his tomatoes and peppers. I had visions of becoming a broccoli entrepreneur--Vega would grow it and I would market it.

María had never eaten broccoli before, either. She gamely prepared it, sautéed and mixed with eggs in a tortilla, pretty much the way she made spinach tortilla for the tapa bar. But, for Vega, that was the beginning and the end of the broccoli campaign.

We should have stuck with it! By the 1990s, broccoli began appearing in Spanish markets. Now it’s a cash cow in the agri-business. More than 60 percent of the broccoli grown in Spain, mostly in the province of Murcia (eastern Spain), is exported.  My guess is that the other 39 percent that stays in Spain is being consumed by expats like me, who love this veggie, because I still don’t see Spaniards eating it.

Maybe that’s about to change, with a current PR and marketing campaign (see the article at Foods From Spain). Thirty-five restaurants around Spain are including broccoli on their menus. Top Spanish chef, Rodrigo de la Calle, even cooked broccoli at Madrid Fusión, the big gastronomy event in January.

And if, after all these years, broccoli is trending, can kale be far behind? 

While there aren’t any traditional Spanish recipes for broccoli, recipes for other vegetables, such as cauliflower, can be easily adapted for broccoli. As a side, I like broccoli straight-up, with just extra virgin olive oil and lemon juice. I use leftover cooked broccoli scrambled with mushrooms and eggs for a revuelto. Here are two more ways to get broccoli talking Spanish.

Broccoli with a quick sauce of olive oil, garlic, almonds and pimentón.

Broccoli, Mule-Driver’s Style
Brócoli al Ajo Arriero

Before there were trucks and trains, muleteers once transported wool and wheat from inland regions to the seaboard for shipping abroad and carried salt-fish and other imports to the interior. En route, they stopped at rustic wayside inns, where the wine was rough and the food was simple. You can expect to find garlic in any dish prepared “mule-driver’s style.” This simple hot dressing is added to cooked vegetables or salt cod. The almonds in this version are a bit of a refinement. Using smoked pimentón (paprika) gives an extra dimension to the broccoli.

Serves 6 to 8.

1 ¾ pounds broccoli
Salt
3 tablespoons olive oil
4 cloves garlic, sliced crosswise
1 tablespoon slivered almonds
Red pepper flakes (optional)
1 teaspoon sweet pimentón (paprika, smoked or unsmoked)
1 tablespoon vinegar
3 tablespoons water
1 tablespoon chopped parsley

Cut broccoli into 2-inch florets. Peel the stem, cut in half lengthwise, and cut crosswise into 2-inch pieces.

Cook broccoli in boiling salted water until tender, 6 to 8 minutes. Drain and place in a warm serving bowl.

While broccoli is cooking, heat the oil in a small skillet. Add the sliced garlic and almonds and fry them until they begin to turn golden, about 30 seconds. Remove the skillet from the heat.

Stir in the red pepper flakes and pimentón and immediately the vinegar and 3 tablespoons of water. Add the chopped parsley.

Spoon the garlic and almond dressing over the broccoli. Serve immediately.

Broccoli gratin with garlicky-lemon alioli.

Broccoli with Alioli Gratin
Brócoli Gratinado con Alioli

For the alioli (garlic mayonnaise)
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 egg, at room temperature
¾ cup extra virgin olive oil
½  teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Put the garlic and egg in a blender and pulse until garlic is finely chopped. With the motor running, pour in the oil in a slow trickle, allowing it to be absorbed by the egg before adding more. Blend in all the oil. The sauce will emulsify and thicken. Blend in the salt and lemon juice.

The sauce will keep, refrigerated, for up to 2 days. Makes 1 cup of sauce.

For the broccoli gratin.
1 pound broccoli, cut in florets and stems in 2-inch pieces
½ cup alioli
1 tablespoon fine dry bread crumbs
Pimentón (paprika)

Cook the broccoli in boiling salted water until crisp-tender, 4 minutes. Refresh in ice water (this keeps the broccoli bright green) and drain well. Spread the broccoli in a single layer in an oiled oven-safe pan. Pour the alioli over the top of the broccoli. Sprinkle with bread crumbs and a little pimentón.

Place the pan under a preheated broiler until the top is golden, about 5 minutes. Serve hot.