Global Cuisine

There are just some things that instantly take me back to my childhood. Sopaipillas do that to me every time. Made by my grandmother, the tender warm pillows of fried dough were sprinkled with cinnamon sugar and drizzled with honey and always disappeared within minutes. She would encourage us to eat them immediately while they were still warm, but it was always said with a wink in her eye – she knew we couldn’t keep our hands off them until there was an empty plate of grease-laden cinnamon-scented crumbs.

My grandmother was the best cook I have ever known (next to my mom, of course!). She was in the kitchen every day and her way with food was astonishing, no matter what she prepared.  But unlike her rice and beans, sopaipillas were for special events (as were her bunuelos, too). It was usually Christmas or New Year’s Eve when she would make dough and fry it in her cast iron skillet, and I always wondered why we had to wait so long. To a child eleven months might as well be an eternity.

Traveling the world you’re bound to find various versions of hot-oil-meets-dough desserts, whether it be beignets, youtiao, malasadas, loukoumades or gulab jamun.  Unfortunately I adore every single one of them. But sopaipillas top my list, and not just because of their familial significance but also because they are among the most basic of all fried dough desserts. A very simple dough puffs up in the hot oil in a matter of minutes, and when drizzled with honey it’s pure nirvana.

For those who love Mexican food, there's nothing better than finding a good Mexican restaurant to frequent regularly. That's because foreign cuisine can seem tough to tackle at home, especially the unique Mexican. But sometimes the craving hits without notice and you want something more than salsa and chips. For me that's when I get the urge to make authentic Mexican food at home. I have yet to master the cuisine, but rather than hit the fast-food chain with the bell or an expensive restaurant, I make my favorite dish in my own kitchen. Chilaquiles is the dish I've found really easy and successful for a beginner in south-of-the-border cooking.

Chilaquiles, a Mexican dish purposely invented to repurpose day-old tortillas, is also the perfect dish for using leftover Thanksgiving turkey or chicken. Made up of fried tortillas, shredded chicken, tomatillo salsa, and cheese, it can resembles a lasagne when layered in a casserole dish. But for faster results, chilaquiles can also be put together in tortilla stacks and placed in a hot oven just to melt the cheese and warm it through. When I first tasted chilaquiles at a restaurant, it hit my comfort spot immediately. Once I found a recipe by Daisy Martinez, I knew I had to try making it for myself. It's a dish that can make a person or—if you're willing to share—an entire family very happy.

I think Mexican food is one of my all time favorites.  Growing up in Southern California, the availability of "good" Mexican food was not hard to find, it was everywhere.  I have so many old favorite places that served everything from Tex-Mex cuisine to more authentic regional Mexican cooking.  I do miss those places.  Badly.

This particular dish is a take on Huevos Rancheros (Ranch Eggs), a classic Mexican breakfast dish usually consisting of fried eggs served on top of corn tortillas with a chili-based salsa and avocado.  It's an awesome way to start the day!

But I have to say this salad also has many of my favorite ingredients...black beans, green salsa, chips and cheese.  The tomatillo or green salsa gives so much flavor.  I have always preferred a green salsa over red anyway.  The broiling of the chips also gives them that extra-toasty crunch which is just makes it all worth the trouble.

Stuffed and sated without the ability to eat even one more bite – or so I thought – we headed to Hwang Hu Sam Gye Tang restaurant to experience Samgyetang, a hot bowl of bubbling chicken soup made with one very important ingredient: ginseng.

Ushered upstairs to the second floor of this elegant and glistening airy restaurant, we were seated next to a vast window overlooking a rainy busy side street below. We passed walls that were lined with photographs of celebrity and everyday patrons, leaving the menu to appear even that much more sparse. Hwang Hu Sam Gye Tang doesn’t offer too many things other than chicken and ginseng soup, a fact I’d later forget about once the scorching hot liquid touched my tongue.

The chef and host suggested that they bring our food to the table before cooking purely for photographic purposes. “Please, do not go through any trouble” I said to our guide, watching my translated words make their way to the chef. The chef wouldn’t have it any other way, his face said everything I needed to know. Once a boiling hot soup is brought to our table I would see none of the ingredients; steam and bubbles would make sure of that. I acquiesced and like a good guest I let them set out bowls of food to photograph.