The Mighty T. Mex Cooks, Part the Dos

The second phase of my Mexican cooking indoctrination involved pastel de tres leches. My main sponsor for Mexicanism and BFF insisted (I believe there were some threats involving knives at one point but that's how we roll. I'll kick him in the teeth and he knows it.) I make this and was adamant that I'd like it.

I did more research for a recipe for this cake since there are so many variations. The choices for the cake part seemed to be a basic sponge cake, angel food type cake or a more sturdy version of the sponge cake. I went with the sturdy cake because I didn't want soggy, gross cake. All of the recipes I looked at used evaporated milk and sweetened condensed milk (Pet milk and Eagle brand, respectively, for my Alabama readers) and either whole milk or heavy cream for the third. I opted for heavy cream since I was making a whipped cream topping. I also looked at recipes that used a cooked Italian meringue topping and one with cream cheese in it. Making whipped cream is one of my favorite things to do so that was the topping of choice.

Okay, time to cook! I read over the directions and got a little intimidated. My typical cake baking technique is to dump all the ingredients in one bowl and mix it up, regardless of what the directions may call for. This is an effective method 99% of the time. However, I wanted to do JB proud (even though he wouldn't even get to have a single bite) so I resolved to follow the recipe to the letter. Holy Cheezus, this was going to require a bunch of dirty dishes and effort.

First I had to go all racist and separate the eggs.

Separate but equal, my foot. Tell that to my broken yolks.

Then the whites were beaten until stiff peaks formed and the sugar was incorporated.

Stiff peaks, don't give me limp peaks.

 Next, the yolks had to beaten separately until they lost their color (more racism?) and gently folded in to the whites, so that no volume is lost. Although my recipes typically involve instructions like "mush, smash and crockpot the hell out of," I do know how to utilize proper terms and techniques.

Gently fold the yolks to incorporate them in to the whites, bitches.

After gently re-introducing the egg components to one another, flour was gently added to the mix, a culinary   menage a trois of sorts.

Gently fold in the flour to the white and yolk mixture.

Into to oven for twenty minutes or so, then on the counter to cool completely. Then the poor cake had to be stabbed repeatedly to allow the milks to permeate (HA! another fancified cooking term) all the way through and not just sit in the bottom of the pan and get yucky. Luckily, I had an assistant to do this for me...

Mr. Stabbity, Le Cordon Bleu Class of 2009

This is the part that I messed up a little. The recipe called for a can of evaporated milk but did not specify what size. I went with the 5 oz can instead of the 12 oz and the cake was a little dry. Live and learn. I mixed the leches, uno, dos, tres and made a lovely milk syrup.

Yeah, not much happening here.

Poured the milk over the cake and then popped it in the fridge for a bit to set. While that was happening, the metal mixing bowl and beaters hung out in the freezer for an hour or so to help combat the Fourth of July heat in my kitchen. Through much trial and error, I've learned that an icy cold bowl and beaters make for a better whipped cream. The key to the topping I wanted to make was to beat the cream hard and fast to get it past the Cool Whip stage and more of a frosting consistency.

You know you thought it.

 Right before that stage was reached (it's an intuitive process, I can't tell you how to do it.), I mixed in a little powdered sugar for an oomph of sweetness. Perfect! 

I've edited this 8 times, just turn your head.

As I mentioned earlier, the cake was a little dry in the middle because I didn't use enough evaporated milk. However, I was very pleased with the texture of the cake. Also, the cake was not overly sweet so the milks were not too syrupy. My cake lounged in the fridge for almost a week and retained its integrity (i.e. did not turn in to soggy slime) and flavor. I will definitely be making this again. I saw one variation called pastel borracho (Google translate hehehe) that I really want to try at some point. I didn't take a picture of me trying it but I give it two thumbs up.


Chente agrees with me.



The Mighty T. Mex Cooks

I haven't blogged in quite some time but I think all of you know that I am now a probationary Mexican (I may get around to telling that story one day.) working on full Latina status. My two mentors got in to a heated debate over what was the better dessert, flan or pastel de tres leches. I agreed to try them both and thought I'd make them myself because, why not? Flan got chosen first because I had everything I needed for it at home except ramekins and I needed to run to the store to get some cash back while I was out and about. After a fun night out with a friend that I had not seen in years, I decide to tackle the flan at 11:22 PM.

The recipe I chose seemed to be very simple and straight forward, sugar, eggs, milk, vanilla. Easy peasy. This was going to be a slam dunk. The first step said to brown two cups of sugar in a saucepan for 5-8 minutes for the caramel topping. See, 5-8 minutes.

Right there, in black and white.

In goes the sugar, and I stir. I wonder if I have time to watch a movie when I'm done. And I stir the beautiful, white sugar.

Sugar

As that is heating, I go ahead and prepare the rest of the sugar, eggs and vanilla so that everything can be assembled efficiently. And I stir the sugar. Ten minutes later, this is what I have....

I swear, it's not the same picture

Hmm, is the eye on? Yep. Is it hot? Yep. Crap. Let's stir some more. Half an hour (and 6 pictures) later, still the same thing. It is now midnight. My boiled milk has cooled, my eggs and sugar have collapsed in to a gross mess of yuck and I still have nothing but lily white sugar. You know what would make the sugar caramelize faster? Margaritas! What an excellent idea...My Drunk Kitchen, Alabama Edition. I don't even take responsibility for this decision, I blame James Marsters. He was staring at me the whole time, using subliminal messages to make me want a margarita.

Spike, Jose and Bethany, a winning combination

After hanging out with Spike and Jose, taking a picture of the sugar every two minutes seemed like a stellar plan, judging by the photos I uploaded. I will spare you the riveting sight of an entire album of two cups of sugar in my saucepan. After 73 minutes, achievement caramel was unlocked. There was much rejoicing in the kitchen, but careful rejoicing because melted sugar is hot!

Rejoice, dammit.

The bottom of the ramekins were coated with the molten sugar, in went the rest of the goop.

Goop

Somehow I even managed to correctly prepare a water bath to bake the flan (which was now flan de cafe since I added coffee to the milk while stirring the sugar.) without making a mess. By now it 12:45 and I know I will fall asleep while the flan is baking. My friend Fernando says flan is to die for but I don't think he means it literally so I set my alarm to wake me up 40 minutes later. Fast forward 40 minutes later, and my alarm goes off. Have I mentioned my alarm is the intro to Slayer's Raining Blood? Guaranteed to wake you up but still stops my heart for a half second every time.

Rise and shine, beautiful.

I run to the kitchen, still mostly asleep and not totally convinced Satan is not chasing me...Did I succeed? Will I be one step closer to taking the training wheels off my black eyeliner? BINGO! Flanny goodness has been achieved. The flan was a perfect creamy color, the jiggly factor was somewhere between cheesecake and jello, the aroma was heavenly caramel coffee. By Jorge, I think I did it. However, I had to wait until the next day to taste the fruits of my efforts to give the flan time to chill and set.

Just chillin'

The flan was easier to dislodge than I thought it would be. It plopped right down on the plate and retained its shape. I was very disappointed when I saw how much of the caramel remained in the ramekin. Seriously? I stirred sugar for 73 minutes for 90% of it to be trashed? Not cool at all.

Flan.

Now for the moment of truth. Would I find this to be the slice of heaven I was promised? Would it feel like a cold loogie as I feared?

Loogie. You guessed loogie, right?

Overall, this was much too sweet and the texture was as disgusting as I feared it would be. My cooking fiend Denise has assured me she has a recipe with a much improved texture and I am willing to try it eventually.

Mexican 1UP

Big Changes A-Comin'

See this baby? This sweet, bald, melon headed baby?

I swear that picture was taken last week, it had to have been. Surely fourteen years haven't flown by. Is this the same sweet thing?

As if turning fourteen on me wasn't treacherous enough, Annabeth has gone and gotten herself accepted in to the Alabama School of Fine Arts. She submitted a hefty application that included a portfolio of recent writings and some essays about herself and why she wanted to attend ASFA. Out of 65 applicants to the creative writing department, she was one of 21 invited to audition. She received her acceptance letter during her birthday party Saturday. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, what do you think this one is saying?