Category Archives: Cooking

[Author’s note:  This is an edited and expanded version of a note that I wrote back in 2007.  My diet no longer allows me to eat this way except for special occasions.  Some days I think that more’s the pity]

I’ve been dicing garlic and onions.  Cutting the potatoes and bell peppers length wise and chopping parsley.  Now comes the meat.  Am I in over my head?

Maybe it’s because of the cold January weather or maybe it’s pure nostalgia but I was sitting on the couch flipping through the TV channels early on a Saturday morning when I settled on the cooking network and they had Paula Deen cooking some recipes from her childhood when I suddenly got the whim to make something myself.

With the cold wind and the gloomy weather I decided to try my hand at an “Ajiaco“.  This is a Chilean soup (or possibly it may be considered a broth) for cold weather days and this miserable day certainly qualified.  I looked on Google for a recipe.  At first I wasn’t even sure how to even spell it but I found something that sounded familiar and I printed out a recipe list and headed out to HEB, the local supermarket.

The store has been open for less than an hour.  I picked up all the stuff needed for the recipe and on a whim a bottle of wine.

Problem.

Apparently you can’t buy wine this early in the morning.  Stupid law.  So I put it back and take off with the rest of the items and pass by Whataburger to get a breakfast taco to tide me over while I cook.

Chilean cooking can be at best described as comfort food and at worst it’s a dietician’s nightmare.  Simple preparation, simple ingredients, and lots of it. One particular dish comes to mind, “Bisteq a lo pobre”, or poor man’s steak.  This is a plate that comes with:  A steak, rice, fried onions, french fries, sausage, beans, chimichurri sauce, and is topped off by a fried egg (or two), all for one person.

Remember that this is a country that until fifty years ago was primarily composed of miners, farmers, fishermen, and ranchers.  Not people who are looking for subtle hints of flavors, or small portions, or impressive plating techniques.  Just serve it all up with a large glass of red wine and keep it coming.

Urban Chileans rarely eat this way anymore.  Although restaurants do exist that cater to this type of home cooking, it is becoming harder to find and in some circles it is frowned upon as a relic of the past.

Back to the recipe.  I’ve cut the meat into long strips and placed it in the broiler to brown it.  Most of the cooking will take place on the stove top.

In a pot I put the onions and garlic with some butter to brown and soften.

Or burn.

I turn round for literally a second and I swear the damn thing is smoldering already.  My mother always called electric stove tops “treacherous appliances that can’t be trusted”  She swears by her gas stove top.  More likely though she would prefer to go back to the wood burning stove that her mother cooked on and that she grew up with.  Thinking of that reminds me of when I was a little kid and would be home from school, sick.  My mother would sometimes let me watch shows like “The frugal gourmet” or “Great chefs of New Orleans” with her on the local PBS station.  Fond memories.

It’s not quite ruined but I do remove some of the worst blackened bits.  I think it can still be saved.  I add cumin and oregano and three cans of beef stock and three cans of water.  Then come the potatoes and the strips of beef.  Now to let it simmer and wait.  About 20 minutes in and I add the bell pepper strips.  More waiting.

I remove the lid and look in the pot.  Doesn’t quite look like I remember.  Thinking about it now, I think this is sort of like a Pho but with potatoes instead of noodles.  Almost forgot to add the parsley.

The potatoes are soft so they must be done.  I taste the broth.  Definitely not mother’s cooking but then again what is.  This is a common complaint among all humanity.  No one, no matter who it is will ever replicate your mother’s cooking.  Nostalgia is that one ingredient that is missing any recipe and that can’t be bought in any supermarket for any price.

I shrug and ladle it up.  On a cold miserable day like today it’s welcome in my stomach.

I do wish I could replicate some of her more complicated recipes like the desserts.  She would take a can of condensed milk and on the embers of a dying barbecue let it slowly cook overnight.  The result was a caramel like jam that she would spread liberally on one side of a sponge cake mass and then she would carefully roll it up into a roll and slice and serve with powdered sugar.  It’s called “brazos de reina” or Queen’s arms in Spanish.

Maybe one day I will be able to cook like this.