It’s an old-fashioned trick that works.ġ 1/8 teaspoons (1/2 package) active dry yeastġ 1/4 cups warm water (100 to 110 degrees)Ģ quarts mild oil, such as grapeseed, sunflower or avocado, for deep-frying Recipe for Iraqi funnel cake from “The Seasonal Jewish Kitchen.” A couple of 2-inch chunks of raw carrot added to the frying oil act as magnets, attracting all those little brown bits that might otherwise burn and impart an acrid taste to the oil. Bake for about 5 minutes longer, or just long enough to brown the cheese. Remove from the oven and sprinkle 1 cup of shredded extra sharp cheddar over the top. Mix the pasta and sauce together in a 1 1/2-quart baking dish (The Hattie B recipe recommends a ratio of 1 cup cooked macaroni to 1 1/4 cups of the cheese sauce). It is easy to scorch the sauce at this point, which can ruin the whole batch.Ĭook pasta in rapidly boiling salted water for 7 minutes (al dente). Do not cook long after you add the cheese you just want to melt it.
At the end, add 1/2 cup of the cheese and stir it in. Simmer the bechamel sauce for about 10-15 minutes on very low heat, stirring. Do this until all the milk is blended in. Once the milk comes to a simmer, ladle it gradually into the roux, whisking to incorporate. In a separate pot, heat up the milk with the crushed red pepper, a big pinch of salt, and the bay leaf. Simmer the roux for 4-5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Once butter is completely melted, whisk in all the flour at once. Melt 3 tablespoons of the butter in a medium sauce pot on medium high heat. I think to make it non-alcoholic I’d simply leave out the rum for the little ones, and add vanilla or rum extract for flavor.Īdapted from “The Hot Chicken Cookbook,” recipe from Hattie B’s.ġ 1/2 cups shredded extra sharp cheddar cheese, dividedĢ cups (raw measurement) elbow or other macaroni It’s a pretty standard formula, though I know some traditionalists object to the cinnamon, and some like to use star anise, and some insist you need 3 milks, so add fresh milk or cream as well. The recipe is not mine, but one I got from the food writer at El Herald, Rafael Casalins, who died tragically soon after.
#Mac and cheese with evaporated milk eggs door cream how to#
Now my mom can’t find the recipe, so I thought I’d ask for yours, and also an idea of how to make a non-alcoholic version. I’d like to give gifts of the eggnog to my friends and family this year and asked my mom for the recipe, but she said the one she uses she got from you, long ago when your daughter and I went to Cushman School together, because my abuela never wrote down recipes. The toast was always, “Next year in Cuba.” This year that is finally possible. The adults had rum in theirs, but ours was just as special. I remember my grandparents serving a drink at Christmas that was a Cuban version of eggnog called Crema de Vie, or Cream of Life. I am now 85 years old and have three grandchildren in the military.
I would give anything to see that boy get his mother’s pumpkin pie. I don’t know what the post office would do today, but in my day we cared about our military people. It has been many years now, and I don’t remember the soldier’s name or his mom’s, but I vividly remember that cake. It was handled by hand through every PO station, and I later learned it was in perfect condition when the soldier got it. She had it wrapped with heavy cellophane so we could see the cake. I retired from the postal service in 1990, but I remember once we had a birthday cake a mom had mailed to a member of the armed forces. I recently read in your column where a mother wanted to send her son in the service a pumpkin pie (and was looking for a shippable alternative). The stories include the purported origin of Hot Chicken - a “rampant carouser” named Prince whose girlfriend decided to punish him for straying by dumping a whole lot of pain into his favorite fried chicken - along with some interesting notes about how whites had to come to the back door at Prince’s to get their chicken, and got a taste of segregation if they wandered mistakenly into the dining room. But what I love most about this little book are the anecdotes and the recipes for iconic sides, from pan-fried okra to black-eyed pea salad and vinegar slaw. There are a couple of recipes for the Hot Chicken itself, such as a paste made with bacon grease, cayenne, paprika, ground mustard, garlic, sugar and salt. It’s a preparation so fierce that even the “mild” as served at any of many Nashville emporiums will break you into a sweat, and always it is served on a slice of squishy white bread, with pickles. To those who have never had the pleasure, hot chicken is a fried fulmination, chicken brined and rubbed and battered in loads of hot chili.