THE COOKBOOK TEST #0090: THE CUBAN TABLE

INSTALLMENT #0090 (FREE) / WARM FOOD IN A COLD CLIMATE / ROPA ISN'T ROPE / PRESIDENTIAL MISADVENTURES

Dear Readers,

Living in a northern state doesn't hit quite like it used to. Since I moved to Minnesota [1] about 18 years ago, the growing season has expanded by almost a month, and over the course of the last three years our famously brutal winter has crapped out on us twice. (In essence: we've had low snowfall, warm temperature "Kentucky" winters. It should also be said that the third of those years we got smashed with more snow than every year but one in recorded history.)

That said, I still have a cold winter survivor's love of tropical food and drink. Yes, soul food from equatorial countries tends to be objectively good, but Trinidadian or Jamaican or Mexican or Venezuelan food tastes almost magical in the depths of winter, and it also suits our summer season naturally and beautifully when it can be enjoyed in the backyard amid the birdsong and humidity.

Therefore I was excited to buy THE CUBAN TABLE and put some of its warm weather offerings into my dining room. Author Ana Sofía Peláez comes from a background that starts in Cuba, moves through Miami and ends up in New York, and her cooking and writing is both worldly and grounded - you can feel the firm connection to the island cuisine in the dishes she chooses and the way she presents them ready for modern kitchens but not overly adorned, and you can appreciate her sense of cosmopolitan grace in her economical and elegant use of language and the way the gorgeously documentary photos of Ellen Silverman display the foods that comprise the book.

This is the sort of book you pick up and immediately want to cook from. The only question is: Where do I start?

at your service,

James

THE CUBAN TABLE: A CELEBRATION OF FOOD, FLAVORS, AND HISTORY
BY ANA SOFÍA PELÁEZ AND ELLEN SILVERMAN
ST. MARTIN'S PRESS | 2014 | $37.50

The Cuban Table is a sprawling, if not comprehensive guide to one of the New World's liveliest little culinary cul-de-sacs. Ultimately, though, I skipped the dessert, bread, and appetizers and went for a nigh legendary main and a cocktail to boot.

WHERE THE ROPA ISN'T ROPE AND THE SOPA ISN'T SOAP

I was sort of vaguely familiar with Ropa Vieja before making this recipe, but I was not really on a particularly close basis with it. I'd probably bumped into it in a restaurant or two, possibly as part of a mixed platter, but it left little impression. I picked it out as this week's test because I wanted to know if there was more to be learned about one of Cuba's most famous recipes, and because after studying the recipe, I calculated that it would be perfect for a cabin weekend dinner.

The second part of that thought first: The first half of making Ropa Vieja is stewing beef for hours with a lot of delicious spices and aromatics and then pulling it apart. The second half is sautéing the pulled beef with onions and peppers and garlic and spices and white wine, and so forth, and then serving it over rice. I figured I'd stew and pull the beef at home, throw it into a cooler, and do the relatively quick 20 minutes stovetop at the cabin. I packed my rice cooker to execute the rice part of the equation, always a smarter move than trying to monkey around with cooking rice in a strange pot in a new kitchen.

Not to toot my own horn too hard here, but this plan turned out to be as brilliant as it looks. The half-completed Ropa Vieja was easy to pack, the pan portion of the recipe was easy to execute, the rice basically cooked itself, and the result was a remarkable, memorable meal: tender, delicious beef redolent of garlic and roasted red peppers, simultaneously hearty and healthy and tasty and freaking gorgeous to look at.

I will make this again, and I think this recipe is 100% worthy of whatever accolades people decide to throw at it. And The Cuban Table version was both complex enough to pack tremendous and complex flavor and simple enough to be able to execute cheerfully.

This is a great recipe. You should make it.

Photo by Karsten Steinhaeuser

ROPA VIEJA

For Braised Beef

2 pounds flank steak or brisket cut into 4 pieces
1 large yellow onion, quartered
1 large carrot, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
1/2 small red cabbage, quartered
1/2 small bunch fresh flat-leaf parsley, trimmed 1 inch above stems, tender leaves reserved for garnish
2 sprigs fresh spearmint
4 large garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
1 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp whole black peppercorns
1 tsp whole allspice berries
1/2 tsp whole cloves

Place all ingredients for braised beef in heavy 4-5 quart pot with 6 cups of water. Bring to boil and then reduce heat to maintain a low simmer and cook, covered, until beef is tender - 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

Remove pot from heat, and cool beef in broth. Drain and set aside 1/2 cup of the broth and reserve remaining broth for future use. Remove beef when cool enough to handle and shred by hand. Set shredded beef aside.

For Ropa Vieja

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 large yellow onion, thinly sliced
1 large green bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and thinly sliced
4 large garlic cloves, peeled
1 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1/2 tsp ground allspice
1 large pinch ground cloves
1/2 cup reserved broth from Braised Beef (from above)
1 1/2 cups canned tomato puree
1/4 cup dry white wine
Reserved Braised Beef (from above)
1 cup roasted red peppers, sliced
Fresh flat leaf parsley, leaves and tender stems, chopped

Mash garlic with salt, black pepper, allspice, and cloves to form a paste; use a mortar and pestle or cut finely and smash with a knife.

Heat oil in 10-inch skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and green pepper and saute until the onion is soft and translucent, 6-8 minutes. Add garlic paste to skillet and cook until fragrant, about 2 more minutes.

Add reserved broth, tomato puree, and wine, and return to a simmer. Stir in shredded beef, reduce heat to low, and cook covered for 15-20 minutes. Stir in the roasted red peppers and adjust seasonings to taste. Sprinkle with freshly chopped parlsey and serve over white rice.

PRESIDENTIAL MISADVENTURES

I ate my Ropa Vieja with El Presidente (a cocktail recipe sourced from The Cuban Table, not the person). Funny story about El Presidente. Here's the recipe:

2 ounces white rum
1 ounce dry French vermouth
Dash of grenadine
Slice of orange rind

Combine vermouth and rum in a mixing glass of ice, stir, strain, and serve in a chilled glass. Add dash of grenadine to taste. Garnish with orange rind.

I made this exactly as written except I shook it on ice instead of stirring it (oops!) and totally forgot the grenadine (double oops!)

It turned out terrific: strong and punchy and refreshing, a lot like a rum-based martini. It was a strong complement to the Ropa Vieja and I'd drink it again.

When I made it back to Minneapolis after the cabin weekend, I decided to atone for my mistakes and make the cocktail again, only this time with the grenadine. It was TERRIBLE. Grenadine is DISGUSTING. It's cloying and gross and belongs in the GARBAGE.

The cocktail was totally ruined, and I dumped my bottle of grenadine right down the sink, where it probably went and killed some poor defenseless sewer rats.

Up yours, grenadine!

So here's my recipe: El Vicepresidente: 2 oz. white rum, 1 oz. dry French vermouth, shake over ice, pour into chilled glass, garnish with orange rind. Delicious! Or should I say... El delicious!

THE CUBAN TABLE
(***BUY IT*** / BORROW IT / SKIP IT / SCRAP IT)

Look, this is a pretty by-the-books modern prestige cookbook... but it works! Intriguing family stories, detailed recipes that work, lovely high-end documentary photography... this thing isn't reinventing the format, but it provides an entrancing culinary window into Cuba, and the Ropa Vieja was enough to win me over.

FOOTNOTES

[1] From Massachusetts, and before that from New York, and before that from Massachusetts, and before that from Wisconsin. So I guess I've always lived in northern states, although some are more northern than others. I think the whole time I lived in New York City (about two years) I saw a serious snow just once. It was briefly very pretty and then it got super gross.