A Picante Margarita

There is a single road in Tulum that segments about 10 kilometers of beach from the jungle.  The road is shared by tourists, taxis, cavalier bikers, and mosquitos with questionable ties to Zika. Along most of the pavement there is no sidewalk, and thus no mercy for those on foot.  Not from anything with wheels or wings.  You can walk along with the current of the road or get out of the way.

This is the mantra of Tulum, Mexico, a stunning land curated for tourists, hacked out of the wild, where the juxtaposition of grandeur and dust is both jarring and beautiful. A paradise that defies taming, despite the decoration of antique-style Marconi light bulbs and leather purses made by Mexican designers that outline the palm trees and jungle leaves.

Most of our days were spent under tiki-style straw huts, soaking in white sand and turquoise waves, which would occasionally drag a novice kite surfer down the beach and threaten to take out any surrounding bystanders.

While we were there, Brett and I went to the famed Hartwood, only to be driven out after our chaya salad with mango, smoked fish, and hibiscus-stained eggs by a very bad case of Montezuma’s you-know-what, leaving behind plumes of insect repellent and drunk bodies dressed in fedoras yelling for tequila shots and waving cigarettes.  Despite the charm of a wood-fired restaurant carved out of the jungle with a star canopy for a ceiling, lit by lanterns and flames, I fell for another restaurant.

 is situated near a part of the beach segmented by a cluster of jagged rocks decorated with sunning birds.  The waves and sand are easily visible from your table and the ocean breeze wafts in through the restaurant’s windowless windows and open-air entrance.  The interior features sanded wood in muted beach blues and greens and is decorated, somewhat ironically, with old doors and window frames, used for style instead of structure.  It too has its share of bobbing hipster hats, but it also has one of the best margaritas I have had.

A few things about Posada Margherita.  They are an Italian restaurant.  They make rich homemade pasta to order and feature shrimp—with their heads still attached—that are the size of small lobsters.  The also serve a generous helping of olive oil focaccia alongside a few cubes of parmesan and a curious jar of pickled cauliflower that goes largely untouched by most patrons.

They also have a very strong cocktail garnish program.  (I am not even sure this is a thing.) I could have watched the drink parade all day.  One cocktail had a dusting of citrus zest shavings that looked like a girandola firework.  Another contained a bushy sprig of rosemary alongside a fuchsia-colored flower.

But the best garnish was so simple and beautiful that it is hard to believe I had not seen it before.  A single dried lemon slice sat surrounded by a perimeter of salt submerged with the rocks of a classic margarita.  The cocktail itself could be sucked down in a couple thirst quenching swigs, I think by design, to help hydrate thirsty beachgoers without turning them into drunkards.

It was a quirky place filled with a peculiar grouping of people and an unusual cluster of cuisine set on the beach in the Yucatán.  It was very inspiring.

So when Brett and I got back, we got to work drying lemons and squeezing citrus. We tested, and retested, and ended up with a small collection of tequila-soiled scratch notes decorated with arrows, stars, checkmarks, and dashes and somehow, miraculously, avoided hangovers.

The result is a mutant margarita born on its fifth iteration, with borrowed inspiration from the famedgrapefruit habanero version at Hartwood—that I have heard plenty about but did not get to try—and the Golden Posada margarita that we sampled a half dozen of.

It is bright and refreshing without being a pushover, and spicy without being abrasive. I am always a big proponent of a salted rim, particularly in this case as it reminds me of the beach, so that comes highly recommended.  As does the garnish, because it looks cool and smells good.

So is seven ingredients, plus water, a lot for a margarita?  Maybe. But it also creates space for a little retreat at home.

“Mille grazie,” said the Mexican waiter, as he dropped the check at Posada Margherita.  Many thanks to you, Mexico.

Habanero Grapefruit Margarita with a Dried Lemon Slice 

(Inspired by Posada Margherita and Hartwood)

Ingredients:

• 1 lemon (organic if possible, since you will be using the rind)
• 8 ounces white tequila (blanco), divided
• 1 habanero, quartered with the seeds intact
• 10 ounces fresh grapefruit juice (you’ll likely need more than one grapefruit)
• 2 ounces fresh lime juice (roughly 2 limes) (see note)
• 2 ounces demerara simple syrup (recipe follows)
• Fleur de sel or fine sea salt, for the rims

Instructions:

This is a cocktail that requires some advance planning.  You will probably want to make the lemon slices and demerara syrup ahead of time (the day before will help divide up the prep). Both can be made in advance and stored until needed—the slices in an airtight container at room temperate and the syrup in the fridge.

You will also need to be around at least an hour in advance to steep the habanero for the tequila.

for the demerara simple syrup

In a small saucepan, stir together 2 cups of demerara sugar and 1 cup of water.  Cook on medium heat, swirling occasionally, until the sugar dissolves.  (This will happen before the liquid boils.) Let cool; store in fridge for cocktails (you will have extra). (Sugar in the raw would be a substitute if you cannot find demerara.)

for the dried lemon slices

Set the oven to 170 degrees. Thinly slice your lemon into rounds as close to an eighth of an inch as you can get. Set a metal cooking rack over a sheet pan and place the slices on the rack.  (This will aid in the drying process.) 

Dry in the oven for 60 minutes.  Rotate the pan and place back in the oven for another 60 minutes, or until the slices are completely dry to the touch.  (This may take anywhere from 90 to 150 minutes depending on slight variances in oven temperature and slice thickness, so you may want to start checking occasionally after the first hour and a half to prevent over caramelization.)

for the habanero tequila and remaining prep

In a small container, place 6 ounces of tequila and the quartered habanero.  Cover and let the mixture steep for 1 to 2 hours.  (If you like things on the milder side, steep for closer to 1 hour but keep in mind this is still a habanero margarita and it will be spicy.)

While the tequila is steeping, juice your citrus and place in separate containers.  Take out 2 small plates.  On one plate, place a small amount of citrus juice, lime, grapefruit, etc. (a few teaspoons).  On a second plate place a couple tablespoons of salt.  (Better to err on the side of too much than too little.)

Set the rim of your cocktail glass into the juice and twist so that the entire rim is moistened.  Place the wet rim into the salt and rotate the glass, tipping it slightly as you go around, until evenly covered.  Repeat. (Doing this a little ahead of time will help set the salt, so it doesn’t easily slough off.)

When the tequila is spiced to your liking, strain out the habanero and set aside (it can be added to dinner or discarded).  You should be left with a peppery clear liquid.

for the cocktail (per drink)

In a cocktail shaker, place 3 or 4 ice cubes.  Place another 2 or 3 ice cubes into a glass with a salted rim.  To the shaker add 1½ ounces of habanero tequila, ½ ounce white tequila, 2½ ounces grapefruit juice, ½ ounce lime juice, and ½ ounce demerara simple syrup.  Shake vigorously and then strain into your prepared glass. Top with a dried lemon slice. Repeat with remaining cocktails.

Makes 4 cocktails (plus extra garnishes)

Notes:

1. Brett and I went through 5 different versions of this cocktail before settling on one—more or less.  In the end, I preferred the slightly more lime-forward version with ½ ounce of juice per drink.  Brett preferred the more grapefruit-forward (less “typical” margarita) version with ¼ ounce of lime juice per cocktail.  They both are good.
2. We ended up cutting the habanero tequila with a little of standard variety because the original 2 ounce version of habanero tequila made tasting the more subtle grapefruit nearly impossible.  It was still good, mind you. It was just harder to tell there was grapefruit in there.
3. We also tried pink and white grapefruit and both seemed to work fairly interchangeably.
4. Why the lemon slice?  In the end, it was prettier, bigger, and had better flavor than the dried lime slices.  If storing longer than a few days you may want to keep them in the fridge—it doesn’t affect the quality and will prolong their lifespan. Halved grapefruit slices might be cool too, but I haven’t attempted to dry them.

Gluten Free Peanut Butter Cookies, An Unconventional Valentine

There is a negative thirty-six degree wind chill in Boston today. It is Valentine’s Day.  In hopes of a nice meal, Brett and I have sacrificed three chickens for the preparation of a ramen broth from the sadistic souls at Momofuku.

In a peculiar development that speaks to the mental illness of my family, my brother—who lives in Virginia where it is a balmy fourteen degrees—is making the very same ramen.  Consequently, there was no discussion of our respective soup plans, nor was there collusion to use broth to fight the cold four hundred miles apart. 

We are simply cut from the same cloth of people who will spend, at minimum, ten ungodly hours hacking chickens and reducing steeped kombu.  Our lineage has the patience for such a task and the stupidity not to know better.

Momofuku ramen is a bitch, in the words of my brother. (Happy Valentine’s Day!)

Luckily, the people we attract—the depraved souls—find this activity somewhere along the spectrum of romance and gratuitous torment.

I do not have this recipe for you today.  You will never get the hours calculating the weight of deboned animal carcasses and rendered bacon fat back. One can only hope, for the good of humanity, there are but few humans capable of such idiocy outside the confines of a professional kitchen.

I do, however, have a very good cookie recipe for you, sane person.  One that should surprise and delight without bone cracking or blood or cursing, if done properly.

It uses only five ingredients and shamelessly declines flour, making the cookies needlessly—but deliciously—hip.  That they are gluten-free is not the point.  The point is that they are quite good and easy and suitable for your friends with celiac disease. 

The concept is fairly simple.  Take peanut butter (a winning beginning) and add brown sugar and eggs and three hundred and fifty degrees.  I thought about making them again and adding in cayenne and scraped vanilla bean seeds.  But I did not have the energy today.  You can imagine what babysitting a painfully slow simmering pot of chicken parts and pulverized mushrooms does to a person.

In essence, this recipe is about as far away as one can get from Momofuku ramen.  None of the ingredients require research, nor do you have to involve a calculator at any point in the process. (Odds are you probably have the necessary items in your pantry right now.)

There are, however, a few unifying factors worth mentioning.  Both recipes have New York origins—hailing from very popular city spaces—and are very good.

They are also both capable of heating up the joint.  Which is really the whole point on a day like today. 

Sea Salted Peanut Butter Cookies

Adapted from Smitten Kitchen and Ovenly: Sweet and Salty Recipes from New York’s Most Creative Bakery

Ingredients:

• 1¾ cups (335 grams) packed light brown sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1¾ cups (450 grams or one 16-ounce jar) of smooth peanut butter (see note)
• Sea salt, for garnish

Instructions:

In a medium bowl, whisk together the light brown sugar and eggs until smooth.  Whisk in the vanilla extract and the peanut butter until everything becomes fully combined and turns lighter in color.  It will not be as thick as regular cookie dough.

Chill the dough in the freezer for about 30 minutes. This will help the dough set and scoop well. 
Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

When ready, take out the cookie dough.  If the edges of the dough look like they have frozen a bit, stir the dough again briefly.  Scoop out about 2 heaping tablespoons of dough per cookie, setting the mounds a couple inches apart.  (Having a scooper is helpful.)  You should be able to fit about 10 to 12 cookies per sheet. Sprinkle each mound lightly with sea salt.

Place one sheet of cookies in the freezer for 15 minutes.  This is the first one you will bake.  Place the other sheet of cookies in the fridge.  Set the oven to 350 degrees.

After 15 minutes, place the freezer sheet into the oven and place the fridge sheet into the freezer.  Keeping the cookies very cold will help them keep their shape better.

Bake the cookies for 15 to 20 minutes, or until they turn golden at the edges.  The middles will still be slightly soft.  Let the cookies set for a minute or two on the hot sheet and then transfer to a wire rack to cool.  Repeat with remaining cookies. 

Let cool completely before eating.  This will help the cookies properly set so that their edges are crisp and their centers are chewy.

Makes about 20 cookies

Notes:

1. I only tried this with regular (not natural) peanut butter. Processed peanut butter is alleged to yield a better shape.
2. The longer you keep the scooped cookies chilled the longer their cooking time will be, so be flexible with their time in the oven, if necessary.
    

Gold's Banana Bread and Circumstance

Here is what I know about banana bread. It happens under two circumstances.

One is that you get a craving for it on a Tuesday and then wait for the bananas to become speckled and chestnut in spots.  Then you satisfy your needs on Friday. 

The other is that you buy more bananas than you, and anyone in close cohabitation, could humanly eat in a three or four day period. The decreasingly yellow fruits make their presence known through aspirations of breakfasts gone by. And you must dispose of them.

The trash is not an option.  Banana bread happens when becoming wholly-rotten-to-the-point-of-disbandment is not an option.  Or when waiting is the only option.  It is a wonderful, strange thing that occurs when either too much or too little planning takes place. 

And thus, it is accessible to many types.  This is one of the reasons, I think, why it is so appealing.  

It is likely the person who makes you banana bread is either a good planner or someone who often makes the best of a bad situation.  Both types are handy to have around.  Particularly with concurrent skills in the banana bread making department.

The last time I made a loaf was November, 2011.  I documented it on a trip with some friends to the mountains of New York.  (Banana bread is good on trips.)  A solid recipe for sure, but arguably a little too bedazzled when simplicity is what you require.  It also suffers from inaccessibility with the cardamom-haters that walk the earth.

Then, a few months ago, a classmate brought in two loaves of still-warm banana bread—one with chocolate chips—both served with honey butter. It was the best banana bread ever.  The recipe came from the back of a bag of Gold Medal flour. Which should be a lesson to all of us.

Perhaps we should pay more attention to our negligence and to the ordinary. After all, that’s the stuff really good banana bread is made of.

Gold’s Banana Bread

Adapted from the back of a Gold Medal Flour bag

Ingredients:

• 1¼ cups granulated sugar
• ½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
• 2 eggs
• 1½ cups mashed very ripe bananas (3 or 4 whole)
• ½ cup buttermilk
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 2½ cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp salt
• ½ tsp cinnamon
• 1 cup chopped walnuts

Instructions:

Set the oven to 350 degrees. Grease the bottom only of one 9 x 5-inch (or two 8 x 4-inch) loaf pan(s).

In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine the sugar and butter on medium-high speed until light and fluffy (about 2 minutes).  Add the eggs, bananas, buttermilk, and vanilla and mix on medium-high until fully combined and smooth. 

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon.  With the mixer running on low, add the flour mixture in three swift additions.  Stir in the walnuts with a rubber spatula until just combined (make sure bits of flour are no longer visible).

Bake for 60 to 70 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean when inserted into the center.  (Start checking around 55 minutes with the two smaller loaves.) Cool 10 minutes on a wire rack then, with a knife, loosen the sides of the bread from the pan.  Let cool one hour before slicing.

Makes one 9 x 5 loaf or two 8 x 4 loaves