EnnaEel Cooks

August 10th, 2009

You date a girl and find out later she smells just like a percolater.

Posted by LA in Barista Stories, Mexican, Recipes, Rice


Tilapia and sweet corn tamales with Mexican rice. I don’t know why I decide to begin all of my most time-consuming food projects after 10:00 pm. Because this generally means not eating until 1:00 am.

Masa
1 c. maseca
1 c. lukewarm chicken stock
1 t. baking powder
1 t. paprika
1 t. garlic powder
2 t. chipotle chili powder
1/2 t. salt
1/3 c. vegetable shortening

  • Blend maseca, baking powder, paprika, garlic, chili, and salt in a small bowl.
  • With your hands, slowly work the broth into the dry mixture.
  • Beat shortening into mixture until dough has a spongey texture.

    Tamales
    Prepared masa
    1 large fresh ear of corn
    1 T. maseca
    1 t. kosher salt
    2 (8 ounce) tilapia fillets
    1 T. unsweetened cocoa powder
    1 t. ancho chili powder
    1/2 t. ground cinnamon
    6 corn husks

  • Soak corn husks in room temperature water for 30 minutes before preparing tamales.
  • Lay corn on work surface and cut off kernels. Coarsely chop kernels and mix with maseca and salt. Set aside.
  • Cut tilapia fillets into strips. In a small, flat dish, mix cocoa, ancho chili, and cinnamon. Coat tilapia in dry mixture and set aside.
  • Shake the water off of the corn husks and set on a towel while you roll your tamales.
  • Lay the shuck across your hand, with the small end toward your fingers. Spread about a half-cup of masa on the shuck with a spatula. Leave the right and bottom third of the shuck uncovered so that you can roll it later.
  • Place a strip of tilapia in the center of the masa, and cover with about a T. of the corn mixture.
  • Starting on the part of the shuck where the masa goes all the way to the edge, roll all the way to the opposite edge. Now fold the empty end of the shuck up, and set aside. Repeat until you run out of shucks.
  • Steam the tamales in a large pot on low for an hour, with the tamales closely packed and upright so that they don’t unfold.
  • Remove one tamale and let cool for 5 minutes. Unwrap and check to see that the masa is cooked through.
  • Serve with rice, beans and a few warm corn tortillas.

    Mexican rice
    1 c. long grain white rice
    1 T. vegetable oil
    1 1/2 c. chicken broth
    1/2 onion, finely chopped
    1/2 green bell pepper, finely chopped
    1 fresh jalapeno pepper, chopped
    1 T. ketchup
    1 tomato, seeded and chopped
    salt and pepper to taste
    1/2 t. ground cumin
    1/2 c. chopped fresh cilantro
    1 clove garlic, halved

  • In a medium sauce pan, cook rice in oil over medium heat for about 3 minutes. Pour in chicken broth, and bring to a boil.
  • Stir in onion, green pepper, jalapeno, ketchup, and diced tomato. Season with salt and pepper, cumin, cilantro, and garlic. Bring to a boil, cover, and reduce heat to low. Cook for 20 minutes.

    This turned out surprisingly well. I usually don’t have such high hopes for something that requires so much assembly – there are so many steps where something can go wrong. But this recipe came off without a hitch, and was extremely tasty to boot. True story. (I have witnesses.)
    Score one for surprise cooking instincts attributed to my Mexican ancestry.
    I actually didn’t have a pot large enough to steam the tamales upright, so instead I used my wok and bamboo steamers. It actually worked out really well. Here’s hoping that my next batch of dim sum doesn’t taste like corn.

    It’s been so incredibly busy at work these past couple of weeks. And this has exponentially increased the likelihood of the sort of interactions with customers that can only be responded to with a “Bwuh?”
    And for your reading pleasure, my two most recent favorites:

    Dear Customer: Do you make your mocha with chocolate syrup or chocolate milk?
    Friendly Neighborhood Barista: *raises eyebrow* I, well… what?
    DC: Do you make your mocha with chocolate syrup or chocolate milk?
    FNB: *considering whether both could be true* Well, we make a mocha with chocolate syrup, milk, and shots of espresso.
    DC: *looking disappointed* Then I’ll have a latte.
    FNB: Would you like us to make that hot or iced?
    DC: Iced.
    FNB: *picks up plastic cup*
    DC: You’re going to put it in that? Can I have it in a paper cup?
    FNB: You’d like your iced drink in a hot cup?
    DC: Yea, I’d like it hot.

    Bwuh?

    Friendly Neighborhood Barista: Evenin’ miss, what can we ge–
    Dear Customer: *really quickly and barely discernible* I need something sweet, and hazelnut, and South American, with cream, and mixed with ice. With coffee. You know? Like, a coffee thing. And just, mixed up with ice.

    I’m still tripping on the ‘South American’ bit.

    • Listening to:: Frank Sinatra - The Coffee Song
    • Reading:: Blackest Night
    August 29th, 2008

    Often talking’s like heiroglyphics. How can love be so specific?

    Posted by LA in Barista Stories, Relationships

    I’ve been cut off. Today, a doctor let me know that the amount of caffeine I’ve become accustomed to consuming for the past year has actually caused me a considerable amount of bodily harm.
    Lame.
    A barista who can’t drink coffee? That’s just cruel. I suppose it’s just soy honey steamers for the foreseeable future.

    In mostly unrelated news, I have two functioning thumbs.
    Before you sit back and say ‘pfft, you and the pandas, big deal,’ let me tell you, a month ago two thumbs was like something from my dreams. Along with marrying Seth Rogan and opening my own bakery and calling it ‘Sugarbuns.’
    I lost use of thumb in a sad lemon-slicing accident. I’ll spare the gory writhing in pain on the floor of the back-room details, but suffice it to say, one bleeds out of their thumb a lot more than one might expect.
    Thumbs are really useful. And you don’t think about it until you can’t use it anymore. Tying shoes, opening bottles, turning pages, texting, typing, you name it.
    ‘Okay, but what’s your point?’
    So, for the first week or so, I couldn’t remember having an intact thumb. Have you ever done that? When you’re really sick, or really stuck in the middle of something bad, and you just can’t remember what it was like to not be sick or stuck. And while you may know better, it still seems as if the way things are at the time is the way they’re always going to be.
    Of course, it slowly got better.
    And now, I have this miraculous fixed thumb. And in between bouts of being ridiculously astonished at the amazing (dude, we are so amazing) healing powers of my own body, I try to remind myself of the way I felt in the beginning.

    It was bad. This garish wound that was made even more inconvenient at a job where I serve drinks all day.
    And I waited. Now it’s all pink and new and a lot more sensitive to touch than my other thumb.

    So.
    Just thought the whole thing was worth remembering.

    • Listening to:: Kite Flying Society - Thick as Thieves
    • Watching:: Pushing Daisies
    July 15th, 2008

    And it’s bigger than everything I have ever done before.

    Posted by LA in Barista Stories

    I have not had time to cook lately. Or to even go grocery-shopping. Or eat. Or sleep. Or really do much else besides be at work.
    So, this means no fun food or comic book updates, but I do have the following gem to share.

    Friendly Neighborhood Barista: G’morning. How are you doing today?
    Customer: I need a flat latte. With an extra shot. I learned that here. The flat part.
    FNB: Ok. Would you li-
    C: And I’d like it with less milk.
    FNB: *looking puzzled* Well, if we make it flat, that means there will be no foam and more milk.
    C: Yes, but I’d like it dark. Make it dark.
    FNB: *again, looking puzzled*
    C: Just make it with more water.
    FNB: Well, there’s actually no water in your latte. It’s made with shots of espressso, steamed milk, and usually, a little bit of fo-
    C: Ok then, just make it with mostly espresso.
    FNB: You’ve included 2 shots so far, would you like to add -
    C: No. No more. Just make it stronger.
    FNB: Well, I –
    C: Just give me an americano. What is an americano?
    FNB: That would be shots of espresso in hot water.
    C: Then do that. And make it strong. With no foam.
    FNB: There will be no steamed milk, and therefore no foam in your americano. Would you like us to add steamed milk?
    C: *pretty aggravated* Sure. Just make it strong.

    This exchange was almost as fun as the time I had a small discussion with a male customer who insisted that espresso drinks were a newfangled invention. I mentioned that they’ve been around in Europe since the early 20th century, nearly as long as drip coffee which has only been popular in the United States since the War of 1812. He claimed he just wanted an “American cup of coffee.” I mentioned that the origins of coffee-drinking are traced back to Ethiopia and the Middle East – I didn’t mention the fact that a pope once tried to ban it because it was thought to be a “Muslim drink.”

    People are funny.

    • Listening to:: Suburban Kids with Biblical Names - Loop Duplicate My Heart
    • Status:: Really, very, exceptionally caffeinated
    April 28th, 2008

    I don’t know what I’m living for, but I know that I just want to live some more.

    Posted by LA in Barista Stories

    I work at a small coffee shop, which for the purposes of this blog shall be re-named the Coffee Cafe. (The silliest pseudonym I could come up with. Apologies to the owners of any real-life “Coffee Cafe.”)

    Over the course of nearly every shift I’ve ever had at the Coffee Cafe, I can’t recall a time where I didn’t wish for a place to record the bizarre, and interesting, and sometimes downright maddening behavior of our various customers.

    What better place than the vast internets?

    What better exchange to start with than the bafflingly unobservant customer?

    Customer 1: (pointing at a cup of ice water) Is this my pomegranate lemonade?
    Friendly Neighborhood Barista: No, that’s an ice water.

    Customer 2: So, you don’t serve things to eat here?
    FNB: (raises eyebrows and glances sideways at the various candies, pastries, and sandwiches on display)

    Customer 3: (sipping from a mango smoothie) Is this my latte?

    And all you can think is “Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh.”
    You had every right to snatch up the first drink I serve, because of course it’s yours! You ordered a nonfat vanilla latte and this is a decaf americano. What does it matter, you got there first!

    • Listening to:: Brendan Benson - What I'm Looking For