From Argentina With Love

Pionono de Atun y Morrones--Pionono with Tuna and Roasted Red Peppers

 

If there were ever a quality that would make a food lovable, for me that quality would be versatility. Take the humble Pionono--a handful of basic ingredients (above) blended together to create a spongy cake that has just about as many filling options as you can dream up.

In the mood for something sweet?  Spread your Pionono with Dulce de Leche, or maybe Nutella and crumbled nuts.  Or spread it with a soft gelato, then roll and freeze to make an ice cream cake.  Looking for a brunch option?  Whipped cream and strawberry-filled Pionono make a great  brunch dish.

In the mood for something savory? Fill your Pionono like a sandwich--with layers of ham or salami or turkey, provolone cheese, sliced olives, roasted red peppers and hard boiled egg.  Or whipped cream cheese with Roquefort crumbles mixed in.  Or like this version, it can be filled with tuna salad spiked with fresh herbs and roasted red peppers.

The humble Pionono, a staple in Argentina's kitchens, makes a great party appetizer or something different to bring to a potluck.  And last week we had it paired with a hearty quinoa salad--it was the perfect small plate to go with a grain, both playing an equal part as main dishes on the plate.

What are your favorite filling  ideas?

Pionono

Pionono (Jelly Roll)

5 eggs

5 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon honey

5 tablespoons flour

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. In a stand mixer, put the eggs,sugar, and honey, and beat on high speed for 8 to 10 minutes. Meanwhile, line a rimmed cookie sheet with parchment paper and grease with butter or spray with cooking spray.

After 8 minutes, you should have a fluffy batter. Add the flour in all at once and beat for one minute more, until incorporated. Pour the batter onto the cookie sheet and spread gently with a spatula (you don't want to de-fluff the batter!) Make an even layer covering the cookie sheet. Place in the oven for 6 minutes.

Wet a cotton (not terry-cloth) towel and put it flat on the counter. Sprinkle it lightly with sugar. Lift the parchment paper off of the cookie sheet, and lay the pionono face down on the wet towel, paper-side up. Carefully peel the corner of the paper off, and continue, careful not to rip the pionono, until the paper has been removed. Fill with filling as below or as desired by spreading the chosen filling evenly across the pionono.   Roll carefully (too long on the wet towel is not good) and slice. Arrange on a plate to serve.

Relleno de Atun con Morrones

Tuna and Roasted Red Pepper Filling

Salmon would also be a nice option here, just substitute the 2 cans of tuna for 2 cans of skinless, boneless salmon. 

2 cans tuna, drained

2 tablespoons (or more, to taste) mayonnaise

1 teaspoon lemon juice

2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley (tarragon or basil would also be nice)

1 egg, hard-boiled, peeled and chopped (optional)

2 roasted red peppers, chopped

Place the tuna in a medium mixing bowl, and flake with a fork.  Stir in the mayonnaise and mix well until combined.  Add in the lemon juice, and then fold in the parsley, hard-boiled egg, and roasted peppers.  Spread the mixture across the pionono as described above, before rolling and slicing.

 

Buñuelos de Manzana --Apple Fritters

 

My appetite for books is as voracious as the one I have for food--there's nothing I love more than getting into a really good book.  My favorite stories are rich in sensory details--they bring me in with the sights, smells and tastes of the story.

Monica, friend and Uruguayan transplant, recommended The Invisible Mountain, by Carolina de Robertis(also an expat from Uruguay). De Robertis' first novel tells the story of three generations of women living in Montevideo at the turn of the twentieth century.  For me, the book has shades of Chilean author Isabelle Allende's work--a lyrical and engaging writing style, wrapping the highs and lows of the country's political and economic upheaval of the time around the characters' lives.

I couldn't put it down.  And the description of the ordinary, day-to-day things the characters did--eating and drinking--brought the story to life for me.  Two lovers meeting on a park bench and sharing a gourd of yerba mate, or eating fancy bizcocho pastry in an elegant salon gives so much presence to the story that I felt like I was in the room listening in on the conversation.

Likewise, in the humble barrio where most of the story takes place, there is a lot of buñuelo eating going on.  Buñuelos are fritters--fried dough balls with something added in; a sweet like apple or quince paste, or a savory--chard or seafood.  Fritters have a long history in the American South, as well as in South America--but the recipes do vary slightly.  It's likely that the snack has its origins in Spain, but fried dough is on the menu of almost every cuisine in the world, and each culture adds its own flavor variation.

Buñuelos are the type of snack shared with family or intimate friends over a coffee or a mate--good problem-solving food.  It's not fancy company food, and it's not expensive.  It's simple, homemade fare--total comfort food--that can be made, as so many recipes I adore--with the ingredients you already have on hand.  LIkewise, they can be adapted, a little of this and a little of that--no need to run out for a single ingredient; just change it up.  (Don't have apple?  Use banana instead.)

With these apple buñuelos, the apple is shredded, though I found recipes using apples sliced in rounds and battered, or cut in small pieces and mixed in.  The shredded version is light, airy, and only vaguely sweet and appley--though I bet the other versions are just as tasty. 

Invite a friend over, share a mate and some buñuelos and enjoy some good conversation.  Ina book club?  Make The Invisible Mountain one of your selections, and bring a plate of buñuelos to share while you talk about it.  Both the book and the fritters are something you'll enjoy sinking your teeth into. 

 

Buñuelos de Manzana

Apple Fritters

This is a very basic recipe.  It can be adapted as needed for savory (take out one tablespoon of the sugar) or sweet--you can also add more sugar to taste.  Add in whichever filling you like--from banana to quince, some are even filled with pastry cream--the basic batter is very versatile.

Serves four to six (depending on how many disappear into each belly!)

2 cups flour

3 tablespoons sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

2 eggs

3/4 cup milk

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 tablespoons oil

2 Granny Smith apples (or any variety you like) peeled, cored and grated

2-3 cups neutral oil (like canola or vegetable) for frying

confectioner's sugar, for dusting

Mix the dry ingredients together in a large bowl.  In a separate bowl, mix together the eggs, milk, vanilla, and two tablespoons oil.  Mix together well, there should be no lumps in the batter.  Stir in the shredded apple until well incorporated.

Meanwhile, heat the 2 cups oil over medium heat.  During the course of the frying, I had to replenish the oil twice during the frying process, reheating the oil each time.  When the oil is hot enough for frying--you can test the heat by dropping a little of the batter into the oil--it should sizzle.

Using a tablespoon or small scoop or ladle, drop some of the batter into the oil, about three or four fritters at a time.  Fry until golden on one side, about two minutes or so.  Flip the fritters and fry on the other side until that side is also golden brown.  The oil needs to eb hot enough for frying, but not so hot that the outside of the fritter gets too brown or fried without the center being cooked.

Remove the cooked fritters with a slotted spoon or spatula to a paper-towel lined plate.  Let cool, then dust with confectioner's sugar before serving.  Serve with coffee or yerba mate.

Turrón de Avena--Chocolate Oatmeal Wafer Bars

 

 As I've mentioned in previous posts, one of the best things about this blog is the emails I get from readers requesting recipes--I hope that From Argentina With Love is a reference point for those folks who have married into it (as I have), who have traveled to Argentina and fallen in love with it,  for those readers who are the descendants of immigrants from Argentina, and even those who are expats, themselves! 

Not long ago I got just such an email from Alex, requesting a recipe "I used to have as a child when I went to my grandmother's house, but she has passed away and my father (and his family) have no trace of a recipe for it. "

Tortas Fritas--Rainy Day Fried Bread

 

This morning as I bustled around getting ready to take Esteban to preschool, the wind was blowing but the sun was shining; an autumn chill was in the air.  On our drive, the weather was a bizarre mix that defines Colorado's typically atypical seasonal weather--bright morning sun in the East, and a wall of black clouds looming on the horizon.  Miraculously, a bright rainbow was seen, too, and it seemed to lead right to our son's preschool--the thought of his teachers 'bringing' the rainbow to school just delighted him.  After drop-off, I lingered to talk to another mom and coo over her new baby, and by the time I left ten minutes later, the weather had completely changed.  It was now a despicable, blustery mess.

We have an expression in Colorado:  "If you don't like the weather, just wait a minute!"  It sums up our mercurial climate perfectly, since things here can change in a heartbeat.  I dashed to my car.  The wind was whipping fiercely, gold leaves skittered sideways across the road, and icy rain pelted my windshield.  I only had one thought as I raced home.

 

Milanesa a la Napolitana--'Neopolitan-Style' Schnitzel

 

Months ago, I wrote about how the iconic Milanesa got it's name--and while the dish was pilfered by an Austrian Count during a stay in Italy and  adopted by the Austrians as Wiener Schnitzel, those in Spanish-speaking countries use the name that's a nod to the city it came from.

In Argentina, they are so Italian that even their Spanish is spoken with an Italian accent (more than 60 percent of the population is of Italian descent) but don't let that fact or the name Milanesa a la Napolitana confuse you--this milanesa  is 100 percent Argentinean.

It starts with a grass-fed beef cutlet, breaded and fried.  But then, it dresses itself up as if it were a countess going to a costume ball in the era of Count Radetzky, a frilly, layered swath of temptation.  First goes on a  slice (or two) of thin, salty prosciutto.  A generous dressing of tangy tomato sauce.  Topped with thick slices of Mozzarella.  And the final touch--it's placed under the broiler until the cheese topping browns and bubbles.