Cook's Tour

FOOD

By CROSBY GAIGE

IT WAS in a Cuban patio that I first, made the acquaintance of a number of dishes bearing Iberian influence. They became at once a joyous part of my culinary repertoire. The patio belonged to an American friend, James Gillespie, who lived at Mariel in the Province of Pinar del Rio, about thirty miles along the coast southwest of Havana, He was “Don Jaime” to his neighbors. He had a real flair for fine food, and his personalized versions of Spanish dishes were invariably improvements on the originals.

One dinner at Don Jaime’s started off with a Moro Crab Cocktail. The succulent chunks of crab meat were served in crystal bowls bedded in finely cracked ice. In the center of each bowl was an ample glass of sauce. It was the well-chilled sauce that made all the difference from the usual offering of ketchup. Here is the rule for its composition: —

1 cup mayonnaise

2 tablespoons ketchup

2 tablespoons chili sauce

1 teaspoon very finely minced green pepper

1 tablespoon tarragon vinegar

1 teaspoon grated horseradish

1 dash cayenne pepper

In Don Jaime’s patio I first, sniffed the pungencies of Arroz à la Valenciana. This dish must have been the creation of some cook of great genius. I wish I knew his name so that I might pay him proper tribute. It. savors of the Mediterranean, and in one form or another and under various names its excellencies are known wherever Spanish feet have trod. The Andalusians call it Paella from the iron pot in which it. is cooked. In the Gillespie household it was called Paella, and sea food did not predominate, as is usually the case. Take and enjoy this dish wherever you find it, but, if you prepare it at home, try the Gillespie formula.

Into a good-sized stewpan or casserole pour one cup of olive oil, and when it is really hot, slice in three medium-sized onions. Next add two broiling chickens that have been cleaned and disjointed. Let onions and chicken sizzle and tan lightly on both sides until the onions are golden yellow. Have a sufficient quantity of long-grained rice — Patna, if you can get it — that has been thoroughly washed in several waters to remove all the surface starch, and then well dried. There should be a demitasse of rice for each person. Add the rice to the pot and stir until the rice begins to yellow.

On the stove, have a pot containing about three pints of good rich chicken stock at a boil and now add a cup of this to the rice. Stir the rice to prevent scorching. When the cup of broth has been absorbed add another.

At this point add to the pot eighteen well-washed peanut clams in their shells (you may have to order these tiny bivalves in advance from your fish dealer), two dozen cleaned shrimp, and a dozen thin slices of Spanish or Italian sausage. If peanut clams are not available, use cherry stones. In your mortar put a level teaspoon of saffron and three cloves of garlic along with a half cup of hot chicken broth. Mash with the pestle until the broth is impregnated with saffron and garlic and then strain the seasoned broth into the pot. Mix well. Continue the cooking until chicken and rice are done and the clam shells have steamed open. Enough cups of boiling broth have been added to complete the job, and each grain of rice should be a separate and complete entity. Final, but not necessary, touches are a few strips of pimento and a sprinkling of grated cheese on top, and the dish should sojourn a couple of minutes beneath the broiler.

Memory brings back to me from another Cuban patio something quite magnificent for dessert. Each guest had on his plate a small chilled pineapple. The top had been cut off and an ample cavity scooped out. This was filled with a fifty-fifty mixture of pineapple ice and champagne.

Mrs. Herbert Johnson, of Racine, Rio, and intermediate points, is a talented actress and an equally capable cook. She gave a beautiful performance for me in a play called Accent on Youth under her stage name of Irene Purcell, and an even more brilliant one in my kitchen when she and her husband week-ended at Watch Hill Farm. For a Saturday dinner she produced a soup called Canja, famous in Brazil and in Portugal. I watched carefully, pad in hand, while she worked, and here is the record: —

1 plump chicken

1 cup finely diced ham

1 clove of garlic, minced

1 onion, sliced

1 cup rice

2 tablespoons olive oil

Pepper and salt

1 bouquet garni

The cleaned chicken was disjointed, lightly rubbed with pepper and salt, and set aside for about an hour. Then Irene heated the oil in a good-sized saucepan and added the onion and garlic and let them cook until the onion was a golden color. Next the pieces of chicken went into the pot, and the pot was covered. When the chicken was browned on one side the pieces were turned over to allow the same light browning to take place on the other. The raw rice was then thoroughly washed, drained, and dried. It went into the pot along with the ham. The pot was again covered and the frying process continued over low heat for about fifteen minutes, with occasional stirring to prevent burning. The next step was to add two quarts of boiling water and the bouquet garni, consisting of a bay leaf, a few sprigs of parsley, and a sprig of sweet marjoram. (If marjoram is not available a stalk of celery may be used.) The liquid was allowed to bubble gently until the chicken was tender and ready to drop from the bones. At this point Irene took the chicken pieces from the pot, removed all bones, tendons, and skin, and cut the meat into small pieces, which rejoined the soup. Another five minutes of simmering and it was ready for service in hot earthenware bowls, garnished with chopped parsley.

Chupe is Peru’s contribution to the chowder family. There are many versions of it. Here is one slightly on the de luxe side, which should go far toward promoting the Good Neighbor policy: —

2 minced green peppers

2 minced medium onions

2 large potatoes, diced

1 package cream cheese, diced

1/2 cup cream

1 clove of garlic, minced

1 quart good chicken stock

1/2 pound cleaned fresh shrimps, diced

5 egg yolks

Salt and pepper

Fry onions, peppers, and garlic in a little olive oil until onions are golden. Add the diced potatoes, the pieces of shrimp, and the boiling stock. Simmer for half an hour. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Cut the cream cheese into small dice and add to the soup. When ready to serve, thicken the soup with the cream and egg yolks lightly beaten together.

This hurried tour will permit only a brief and final stop in Mexico City, where native foods have real interest. A cautious study of Mexican and Aztec cuisines will be rewarding. In Mexico a fish is a pez until it is caught and then it becomes pescado. One of the most delightful fruits of the sea I have ever encountered is a baby red snapper (huachinangito, if memory serves), weighing perhaps a pound or so. Red snapper or red fish may be had in many Atlantic and Gulf Coast cities. At Prendes, an excellent eating place near the financial district, they split this little fish, broil it over charcoal, and serve it with parsley butter and French fried potatoes.

Fonda Santa Anita is a centrally located restaurant where national cuisine may be met in variety and quality. Start your meal with a glass of ice-cold tequila. Have ready half a lime, tilt back your head, and squeeze lime juice into your mouth. To this add as much salt as you can hold in the little hollow on your wrist back of your thumb. Experts propel the salt to the mouth by a sharp blow on the arm below the elbow. Thus equipped take the tequila in one gulp. For a soup try Sopa de Albóndigas — a tomato preparation garnished with albondigas, or well-spiced meat balls. For an entrée, experiment with tacos, little turnovers filled with meat and fried in oil. For the main dish, test Olla Catalana, a Spanish version of a New England Boiled Dinner. A bottle of rod Marqués de Riscal is recommended. If you have any capacity left, finish up with a guacamole and plenty of black coffee.