Camotes Enmielados (Mexican Candied Sweet Potatoes) | #SheMadeEllaHace

Somehow it's been over a year since the last time Leslie and I got together in the kitchen for a round of She Made, Ella Hace. Life has this crazy way of passing by so quickly that you don't realize that you've missed spending time with someone until it hits you like a load of bricks, doesn't it? A lot has happened between then and now, but one really cool thing? Leslie wrote a cookbook! It's called Taqueria Tacos—if you're a taco lover (and who isn't), you should really get your hands on a copy ASAP.

Speaking of time and things missed, since today begins Día de Muertos, we are sharing a couple of traditional recipes that are often served on this day. Leslie made some Classic Café de Olla and I made Camotes Enmielados, or Mexican Candied Sweet Potatoes.

Ponche Navideño {she made, ella hace}

For this month's edition of she made, ella hace, Leslie and I thought that it would be fun to make Ponche Navideño (basically, Christmas Punch).  We just call it Ponche around here.  Every year around about the beginning of December, you can long rods of sugar canes leaning against one wall of our local Mexican Mercados.  I'm talking TALL.  Taller than six foot each and standing straight up like pool sticks.  I remember about ten years ago just standing there and wondering what in the world they were used for.  I wanted to bring one home just for the fun of it.  But I waited.  And I went home and asked the hubs about them.  Not long after that, I was pretty educated in the ways of Christmas in Mexico.  And the glories of Ponche.

Mi esposo gets a far-off look in his eyes when he remembers  his mami's simmering pots of Ponche...and really, I can't blame him.  If you come home to a warm home that is permeated with the warm, sweet scent of cinnamon, apples, oranges, and tamarindo...you'd swear it was Christmas Eve then and there.  It puts you in a very dreamy state of mind.  For those of you who've never tried it, it is very reminiscent of spiced cider.  Or maybe a Hot Toddie.

Recipes and methods for making ponche vary from state to state, town to town, and person to person...just like any cherished family keepsake.  And now I feel extra cool when I saunter into the mercado in December and walk out with a rod of sugar cane that is taller than me in one hand and a bag overflowing with tamarindo, tejocotes, piloncillo and canela among various other things in my other hand.  You can use crab apples instead of tejocotes if you aren't able to find any.  You could add pears or raisins.  You could even add other spices, if you choose.  Add fruit whole, halved, sliced...find your favorite way of doing it.  Some people like to cut their fruit into chunks small enough to fit in their cups.  We prefer to leave them larger and pull just ladlefuls of steaming liquid from the pot or bowl.  And just like Mexi grew up doing, we serve a slice of cañe that you can dip into the liquid and then pull through your teeth...chewing along the way to release that sweet liquid.  Heck, in a pinch you can even buy Ponche "mixes" (basically dried fruit and spices or fruit suspended in liquid in glass jars) in the right mercado.

Here's the way we make our Ponche...and now I'm headed over to see how Leslie made hers!

Ponche Navideño

{Christmas Punch}

from the kitchen of girlichef

yield: just over a gallon

1 lb. tejocotes (hawthorne apples)

1 lb. guayabas (guavas)

9" stick of cañe (sugar cane), or the equivalent

3½ oz. tamarindo pods (tamarind)

2 large sticks canela (Mexican cinnamon)

2 naranjas (oranges)

2 large manzanas (apples)

4 oz. ciruelas (prunes), pitted

7 oz. piloncillo (unrefined sugar cone)

3 quarts + 2 cups cold water

to finish:

rum, brandy, tequila or other alcohol (optional)

Prepare fruit:

Cut tejocotes in half and remove the large seeds.  If you like, you can blanch them for a few minutes in boiling water, then remove.  This will let you easily half and seed them...plus, you'll be able to just slip off the skins.  If you want to do this, I recommend measuring out the amount of water called for and then doing it right in this water, so as to not lose any flavor.

Cut guayabas in half, crosswise.  Slice oranges.  Cut the apple from the core and slice.  Cut ciruelas in half, lengthwise.

Cut the sugar cane into sections by carefully whacking your knife down on one of the "divider" lines hard a few times.  You should be able to just use your hands to break it off the rest of the way...or else just continue to cut through with your knife.  Slip the edge of a sharp knife under the outer "lip" of the outside of the sugar cane.  Carefully push down with your knife while pulling back on the hard "bark".  Basically, you're peeling it.  Do this all the way around.  Once it is peeled all the way, cut into strips, lengthwise.  You could shell and seed the tamarindo, if you'd like to...but I don't.

Place everything except the alcohol into a large pot and bring to a boil.  Lower heat and let slowly bubble for ~30 minutes.

Serve hot from the cooking vessel or transfer to a punch bowl.  Plop one of the strips of sugar cane into your cup to use as a swizzle stick and then ladle in the warm punch.  Drink and enjoy.  

Or add a healthy shot of rum (or other alcohol) to the cup and then ladle in the warm punch.  Drink and enjoy even more!

*Head on over for a cup of mi amiga Leslie's Ponche!*

What happens when two American girls who are both married to Mexican guys find out that although one of them lives in the U.S. and one of them lives in Mexico, they both love eating the same food?  Well, naturally they decide to get "together" the only way they can and cook up the same dishes.  Or perhaps take the same ingredients and talking about them in their own voice or using them in their own way. 

Leslie and I have teamed up to occasionally cook/bake/make a our own versions of the same food.  We want to see how similar (or how different) they turn out.  Other times we will pick an ingredient and use it however we choose...or maybe just talk about it.  Good food knows no borders and we hope to share the food we love with you.  It's not a competition, it's a showcase.  We will post on the same day as each other and would love to hear your thoughts on what we've made and how you make it. 

Join me (here at girlichef) and Leslie in her kitchen (at La Cocina de Leslie) for some delicious food.

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Champurrado {Atole de Chocolate}

Mi esposo?  He's a fabulous storyteller.  He can mimic voices and movements and the slightest intonations that others may not pick up on.  Expertly, I might add.  I love it when he talks about the food and cooking going on in his abuelita's kitchen.  Homemade tortillas and beverages hot from the stove inevitably conjure up visions of the tales he's woven for us.  

For example, I know that his abuelito had a mouth of steel!  He built his wife a huge L-shaped "cooking corner" of sorts...ith a hole cut out where the two sides meet for lowering earthen cooking vessels, large and small.  Wood can be tucked in on the sides and pushed deeper inside to stoke up the fire.  On one side, she had a huge metate on which she would grind the masa early in the morning for making things like tortillas and atole.  As she worked her way around that "L", she'd ladle steaming atole into a waiting jarro and pass it over to her husband.  Then she'd toss the first tortilla into his calloused hands.  He'd quickly roll it up and scoop a big helping of salsa into his mouth.  And then...then he would grab that still-steaming mug of atole and slurp it into his mouth.  As if to wash down hot with hot.  I imagine his mouth and throat must have been calloused, as well.  When hubby tells the story, he makes the noise that his abuelo would make when he took a drink.  Imagine sucking air in at the same time as you're drawing in a big gulp of steaming liquid.  And that's how it was.  Every morning for many, many years.

To this day, every time I hand him a mug of steaming coffee, tea, hot chocolate, or atole...we both grin as he makes "the noise" and takes a sip.  Emulating the grandfather he loves so deeply.  This Champurrado is just the thing for warming you up on a cold morning or after a romp in the snow.  The masa thickens it and assures you with every sip that it is sticking to your ribs like an internal blanket.  I love the flavor that anise seeds lend.  If you don't like them, feel free to leave them out and add a stick of canela instead.  This is comfort in a cup.

Champurrado (Atole de Chocolate)

Masa-Thickened Hot Chocolate

adapted from: Authentic Mexican

yield: 4-6 servings (~1 quart)

½ c. masa harina

2 c. warm water

2 c. milk

4 oz. Mexican chocolate, chopped

2 ½ oz. Piloncillo, chopped

½ tsp. anise seeds, crushed

pinch of sea salt

Combine masa harina and water in the jar of a blender.  Blend until smooth and pour into a medium pot.  

Pour milk into blender and shake it around to get all of the masa that has been left behind.  Pour this into the pot, as well.

Add chopped chocolate, piloncillo, crushed anise seeds, and sea salt.  

Bring to  a simmer, whisking almost constantly.  Reduce heat to medium-low and continue to simmer and whisk for ~5 minutes, or until sugar and chocolate are dissolved and the liquid has thickened.

Pour into mugs or glasses and serve immediately.  You can strain this if you like, but I love the rustic charm of the bits of anise seed, masa, and Mexican chocolate.

Mexican Chocolate Chunk Cookies

I love the grainy texture of Mexican Chocolate- but I've got to admit, I've become totally spoiled.  Since mi amiga has been bringing me freshly made disks of soft, pliable (and often still warm...or so it seems) cinnamon-flecked chocolate from Mexico an average of two times a year, I'm ruined for the store bought stuff.  I ran out of the good stuff a few weeks ago and tried substituting a round of the type I used to love from my Mexican market.  I found that I no longer loved it.  It's harder.  It doesn't melt as beautifully.  Spoiled.  Fortunately, I received another baggie-full this week.  I don't know what I'd do if she went to Mexico less often than she does (or wasn't able to bring me any).  Now, I know how to make it, but I am absolutely unable to source cacao beans.  But enough woe is me...I will survive.  If I use it frugally.

Arroz con Leche {Rice Pudding}

Arroz con Leche is really Mexi's "thing".  On those days when there's not much to eat in the house, it's inevitable that my hubby will be in the kitchen putting together a pot of this sweet, comforting concoction.  The great thing about arroz con leche...or rice pudding, basically...is that it is very versatile.  He's probably never made it the same way twice.  Sometimes he uses sweetened condensed milk.  Sometimes evaporated.  Sometimes regular ol' milk.  I suppose that's why it always winds up on the stove when everything else is running dry...you can pretty much guarantee that we at least have rice, some variety of milk, and some sort of sweetener in the house at all times.  Now, while Mexi's versions vary, whenever I am in the mood to make some, I make this version.  To me, it is perfection.  Sometimes I switch out the raisins with dried mango (my favorite dried fruit!) or cherries...sometimes I leave it out altogether.  But this method using medium-grain rice (my preferred type/size rice grain) is what soothes me the quickest.

Arroz con Leche
adapted from Mexico One Plate at a Time
yield: ~6 servings (~5½ c.)

2" piece of Mexican canela (or any cinnamon stick)
2 (2") strips of orange zest
½ tsp. fine sea salt
1 c. medium-grain white rice
4 c. milk (preferably whole or 2%)
¾ c. sugar
½ c. raisins (or other dried fruit like cherries, cranberries, diced apricots or mango)
Miel de Piloncillo (Mexican Raw Sugar Syrup), for serving

Place cinnamon stick, orange zest, ½ tsp. salt, and 1¾ cups water into a 4 quart saucepan.  Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer over low heat for 5 minutes. Stir in the rice, then cover and lower heat as low as it will go while still simmering gently, for ~17-20 minutes (until all of the water has just absorbed).  Remove cinnamon stick and orange zest.

Add milk and sugar to the pan.  Set over medium-low heat and simmer until mixture just begins to thick (no thicker than the consistency of heavy cream), ~15-20 minutes.  Turn off the heat and stir in the raisins (or other dried fruit).

Serve warm, drizzled with Miel de Piloncillo.

*This can be refrigerated in a covered container for a few days.  It will thicken as it sits, so you will need to stir some more milk into it when warming it up. 

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Miel de Piloncillo {Mexican Raw Sugar Syrup}

Who else thinks that piloncillo cones are irresistible?  Translating roughly as "little pylon" in honor of its shape, these cones of Mexican raw sugar can vary in color from a golden, honey color to a rich, dark molasses color.  As you would imagine, the darker the color, the deeper the flavor.  You can find them ranging in size from pretty small (like the ones pictures...~¾ of an ounce) to tall ones that can weigh a ½ pound or more.  While I often just chuck a couple of them into a big, warm pot of Agua de Tamarindo in order to sweeten it (a trick I learned from mi suegra), in order to use them in a recipe, they need to be grated, shredded, shaved, or chipped- whatever is easiest for you.  If I need it small, I use a box grater, otherwise I may just shave away at it with a sharp knife.  

Today I'm sharing a lovely, sticky, deeply-hued syrup that can be used to drizzle over buñuelos, on top of Arroz con Leche, as a sweetener in a cocktail...or any other way you choose. 

Miel de Piloncillo

{Mexican Raw Sugar Syrup}

from Mexico One Plate at a Time by Rick Bayless

makes ~¾-1 c.

8-9 oz. Piloncillo (1 large cone or several small)

one 2" strip orange zest

⅛ tsp. anise seed

Combine piloncillo, orange zest, and anise seeds with 2 cups of water in a small saucepan.  Set over medium heat and bring to a gentle boil.  Stir until sugar cone melts completely, then keep it at a gentle boil until mixture has reduced to a syrupy consistency, ~20-30 minutes.  Cool and strain into a jar.  This syrup will keep refrigerated for several weeks.

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