Posted on 05/09/2003 11:38:45 PM PDT by Luis Gonzalez
Here you go, wash it down with an ice-cold Jupiña.
There's a couple of Hispanic groceries within a couple miles of my house. I'll have to see if they carry it.
The best of them has a greasy spoon atmosphere and has huge rotisseries in the kitchen that can serve up racks of pollo asado.
They have at least 100 seats in the place, and the waiting line for dinner always has about thirty people outside waiting to get in.
I wish my Mother could make Chicken fried steak again... but she's on oxygen now and can't go near the gas stove. She made a beautifully turned and perfectly breaded steak, with thick cream pan gravy. The spices, the tender meat, it was a dream I'd love to relive; but alas, it is not to be.
If I try to make Chicken Fried Steak, it turns ugly brown, gets greasy, and the breading all peels off like the steak caught leprosy. Upon approach to the table the family pelts me with rocks and garbage because "it's just not like Gramma's". My cream gravy is wretched and has lumps. And my mother laughs at my cooking.
So I guess it's true, no one makes it like Mom - and every day, my children thank God for that.
Bump to that. No one, but no one in my family can make wine cookies the way my nana could. Probably because they had my grandpa's wine in them. ;-)
Food that is made without love tastes as though something is lacking, and while it may feed our stomachs, it fails to feed and warm our hearts. :-)
bijol = achiote = annatto
It makes perfect sense now.
Get electric!
Now she just sits over in the corner and watches me cook. Watches VERY closely, and asks if I'm going to burn all her cookware, and if I do I'll have to scrub the copper-bottom pan til it's pure again. Then she starts for the stove and says, "Oh, here let me do it" so then I relent and do it exactly the way she says, because I don't want us to all die in a flaming oxygenated fireball.
Yessiree bob, I think she's got it made... but I still wish she could make a Chicken Fried Steak again.
My great grandmother was THE best cook, her eldest daughter, my grandmother was fantastic and NO ONE can make deserts as she could. Mt mother was also a wonderful cook, and I am no slouch either. My daughter is a good cook, getting better, but can't replicate my Yorkshire Pudding. I don't know why.OTOH, NO ONE can replicate my great grandmother's poopy seed horn and my cousin and I yearn for it.
When I was a very tiny child, I thought that cooking was " magic "; like making a potion. It is and the " secret" / " magic " ingrediant is L-O-V-E ! :-)
BTW, the best Arroz con Pollo from a restaurant I ever had was in Federal Way, Wa. I think the name of the place was Azteca's, near the mall (13 yrs ago). It was superb. One of my favorite meals.
My mother treated her cream sauce recipe for chicken-fried steak like a state secret. She never did tell my younger brother how to make it, because up until a few years ago he considered Taco Bell to be haute cuisine and had no interest in passing on the family tradition. As others have noted in this thread though, food is love. And, after lengthy and careful tutelage under my watchful eye, he can prepare a passable version of the stuff that doesn't taste like library paste.
Younger brother finally got his inheritance, just not as soon as he had hoped. And I hope that wherever she is, Mom thinks that I've done the right thing.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.