Queque de platano y manjar.

El queque  bizcocho es utilizado en todas las cocinas a nivel mundial…  Es tan amable al paladar y nos indica que fácilmente puede haber un profundo goce en la simplicidad. Esta es la receta para el queque base: Uno de vainilla. - Para los de otro sabor se siguen los mismos pasos, pero se le agrega lo que quieras en su momento…

Ingredientes

-          1 taza de azúcar - (No importa el tamaño de la taza, pero la misma tiene que ser aplicada en toda la receta. Lo siguiente va para una taza normal de 250 ml.)

-          2 cucharadas grandes (colmadas) de mantequilla. 1 tercio del pan de mantequilla normal.

-           2 huevos

-          2 tazas de harina con polvos de hornear, la misma que se usó para el azúcar.

-          2 cucharaditas de  polvos de hornear, aunque no es estrictamente necesario.

-          1 taza de leche (descremada, semi o entera, dependiendo del gusto)

-          Extracto de vainilla a gusto

Preparación:

1       Mezclar el azúcar con la mantequilla en una fuente. Debe quedar la mezcla uniforme y pastosa.      

2      Agregar  los huevos y batir arduamente, que quede todo bien mezclado otra vez. Mientras más se bate, mas “amerengada” – tipo merengue, queda la mezcla, por lo tanto más aire entra al bizcocho, así es ideal.

3      Agregar 2  plátanos maduros

4     Agregar la harina cernida, la leche, los polvos de hornear y la vainilla. Mezclar nuevamente para que quede todo muy homogéneo.

4       Verter en un molde previamente untado en mantequilla o aceite

5       Agregar 3 cucharadas colmadas de manjar por sobre la masa vertida en el molde y esparcir de manera ondulante.

5       Poner al horno fuego medio por 30 minutos.

6    Cuando esté dorado en la cubierta, generalmente está listo.

Happy baking!

Mezcla anes de ir al horno

Looking back.

My children at a very tender age.

Although it could be subjective and debatable, I think those growing up in the decade of the ‘70s probably had one of the last opportunities to live childhood in all its glory, a stereotypical one that old books describe. One enjoys to look back with nostalgia at the walked path.

TV was limited by the number of channels and the hours of broadcasting which gave children a great possibility to explore the world around them and gave them the freedom to be anything they wanted, using inspiration, imagination and creativity. They could indulge in a good book, paint, create their own games, ride a bike until midnight in summer, and learn empirically how to live life to the full. Appreciate real friendship by knocking on their mate’s door and say ‘Do you want to play?’  Face to face conversations, interaction with the community or even improve their writing skills with a pen pal in Palestine!

Children in the past played outside freely, in the street or the woods, which gave them an innate common sense from a very early age, something that is being lost today. They could sort the vicissitudes and inconvenient much more cleverly.  They were aware of their surroundings and danger. In psychology it has been said that a child that was able to play with ‘mud’ in their childhood was more likely to have had a happier one. It permits the contact with nature, improves motor skills and through imagination and role play, children absorb more, understanding social skills and structures.

I feel we have lost a magical, unique moment. Nowadays children in the West are a clean cut of a surgery ward. They have grown up in a super safe, antibacterial, pristine, healthy environment padded away from awkward circumstances, protected to the point that they do not know life as we knew it, with the good and the bad. Some parents seem to have fallen in to the denial world of excuses, turning their children into absent-minded subjects, disconnected to the world around them.

The loss of the sense of community has contributed for the formation of self-contained little bubbles, isolated and detached from what is happening next door, electronic devices are taking over our lives or transforming some to virtual lives.  Unless children are building software, most likely they are consuming, therefore having everything done for them.  Some marvellous aspects of childhood are killed in this endless hours of “e-consumption”: curiosity and necessity that could be converted into creation, inventions, and solutions.

Internet, instant communication, electronic devices have made our life simpler in many ways and in others have created dependency, emptiness and frustration. There is no excuse, for example, for parents to say that their child would not stop using the iPad. Who is the parent and who is the child? Who is in charge? I often ask myself.

A good idea would be restrict the hours spent on computers, regulate the time for playing computer games on the weekends, provide children with extra curriculum clubs and music lessons, turn the TV off when it has exceeded the agreed time. Maybe by forcing them to get bored, children would start thinking, grabbing the pen and planning, drawing, writing, kicking the ball, reading, playing their instrument or just watching the clouds pass by. 

Receta de sopa de lentejas rojas.

No es mi foto favorita, pero en estas fechas mi hora de coina es en oscuridad. :( Sabe mucho más delicioso de lo que se ve!

Este guiso o sopa de lentejas es una simple delicia que no puede faltar en los hogares. Es un plato muy fácil, rápido y  altamente nutritivo, puntos en perfecta comunión.

Ingredientes.

- 1 taza de lentejas rojas

- 5 zanahorias

- papas medianas

- 2 cebollas grandes

- 1 ajo

- Un puñado de arroz arborio (para risotto)

-  1 caldo de vegetales

- 3 cucharadas de crema espesa

- Sal y aceite a gusto

- Cilantro para finalizar

En una olla mediana se echan a hervir por 20 minutos las zanahorias y las papas con 1 litro de agua aprox. y el caldo vegetal.

En una olla aparte, se ponen a cocer las lentejas con el puñado de arroz, tapadas de agua y dos dedos más.  Dejar 15 minutos a fuego lento.

En un sartén aceitado, sofreír las cebollas y ajo previamente picados.

5 minutos antes de que termine la cocción de la zanahorias, incorporar la cebolla y dejar cumplir los el tiempo.

Licuar solamente el caldo con todo el contenido del cocido de zanahorias, cebollas y papas. Luego a esa misma olla, incorporar el arroz y lentejas que se cocinaron por separado, más las cucharadas de crema. Esto hará que el licuado quede con textura, que a mi parecer parece más apetitoso que licuar todo de una vez. Una fobia personal a las comidas de bebé.

Servir con cilantro picado!

Una delicia!

Carousel by the sea

Sweet strawberry and bubble-gum candy floss aromas filled the air. The twilight was dyeing the sand and the sea orange. The vibrant, high pitched fairground music was loud and powerful, attracting children and adults like bees to flowers. People were arriving from all directions creating a dense and protective circle around the carousel – undoubtedly, the fair’s main attraction. Majestic explosion of sparkling colours emanated from the intermittent bulbs.  

As they waited, the prospect that soon it would be their turn to ride in a magic transportation filled them with anticipation. Sitting in those rigid, shiny and immortal horses, they would become knights and princesses galloping free across an oneiric field. 

The expected moment arrived! Up they went holding the pole strongly, feeling the breeze of the seaside caressing their skin and playing with their hair whilst seating up right waiting to be rocked by the fluctuating movements. 

A little girl, refusing to put her lolly pop down (already having her teddy in her the other hand), was holding on to the pole with great difficulty. Determined, she regained control with one finger and managed stubbornly to stay put. Dizzy with laughter and excitement, up and down she went, round and round, gaining a speed that appeared to transform the carousel into a flying saucer. 

“I do like to be beside the seaside”, a red haired woman was singing at the top of her voice, moving her right arm as if she was conducting an imaginary orchestra. The little boy in her lap, who was overwhelmed with happiness, burst out laughing as the platform continued to rotate. She kissed his petite ginger head and kept singing along on the carousel by the sea.  

The bursting sky. Guy Fawkes Night.

By Lorena Villegas-Cid 

‘Bang, bang!’ thundered a luminous glittery powder falling from the sky like a cascade. For minutes, the explosions were brightening up the street, revealing the procession of hundreds of souls walking cheerfully towards the big Guy Fawkes Night on the hill.

People were carrying seats, umbrellas and torches. Wrapped up warmly underneath four, or even six layer of garments, they were ready to weather the low temperatures of November. Woolly hats, gloves and scarf could be seen almost all around. Colourful Wellington boots protected everyone from the sticky, muddy field, which did not seem to bother any of them.

Once on the hill, the firework show was transforming the night into day. Full of excitement, a couple were pointing at the sky. “Look Lizzy, look!” They tried to persuade their daughter. However, refusing to watch, the little girl stood uninterested with her hands in her ears, trying to block all the noises.

Near the almost extinct bonfire and sitting down comfortably on a deck chair, an old man with a shawl over his legs enjoyed a tea from a big, old fashioned flask. The steam emanating from the cup was thick and clearly defined, slowly disappearing every time he blew onto it to take a sip.

“Wow!” the crowd gasped when the firmament turned utterly green. The fizzles and whistles were resonating in stereo, followed by a big round of applause.  Almost immediately after the Red Serpentine graced the sky; leaving long and random colourful trails of fireworks for everybody to admire.

The smell of gunpowder was strong and unavoidable, mixing at times with the distinctive aroma of the hotdog van, strategically positioned in a busy corner. The sizzle and the crackle of the sausages played like a melody, enchanting everyone around. Right at the back, as if in a parallel universe, the funfair was throwing a loud, bright party in a self-contained little world. Carnival music, a wheel of fortune and a carousel were offering rides and adventures, seemingly indifferent to the bursting sky.

Suddenly, next to an ancient oak tree, a tearful and confused little girl was shouting ‘mama, mama’. A long yellow mac was covering her entire body, properly dressed for the drizzle that fell intermittently. Her eyes were fallowing every single person passing next to her.  Hopeless, she failed to recognise anyone in the obscurity of the hill, so she started to sob inconsolably. The crowd was moving capriciously in all directions so the girl could be seen only at times. From the tumult appeared a woman running towards her at last. “Mama!” the child exclaimed.  Both mother and daughter hugged each other tightly, relieved to have found one another. 

The temperature started to descend, a dense fog gradually began to cover the field and the drizzle was turning into a copious rain. The final act was still to come, so everybody stood stoically with heads up to the sky waiting for one more pyrotechnical act. Regardless the inconvenience, the night was still not over.

The autumn playground

The timid sunshine was partially illuminating the sky. The end of the summer was near.  The level of light and position of the earth started to change, soon to meet the autumn equinox.  Already a handful of brown leaves had fallen prematurely from the trees, building a velvety, patchy carpet on the deep, green grass.

The park benches were perfectly located looking south. Some people, like the lizards on the rocks, were resting there perfectly static trying to catch the last bits of sunrays left from the season.

Protected by a low multicolour metal fence, the almost brand-new Ely playground offered the most gracious and traditional rides. A couple of big boys could not get enough of the merry-go-round. Faster and faster they went, that their feet could not catch up with the velocity of the platform and inevitably one of them ended up on the padded, rubbery ground, unharmed and doubled-over with laughter.

A blond little toddler was rocking with such expertise on the frog spring ride, that many were could not help themselves but admire her perfect curls dancing away with the backwards and forwards movements, sustained for several minutes with no vacillation. At one point, it looked like she was about to fall, but she fooled everyone. 

 On the opposite side of the park, the swings were taking two skinny teenage girls higher and higher. They wanted the reach the sky every time they bended their long legs to gain momentum. A squeaky noise was accompanying the act like a background song, and was ticking perfectly in time like the beat of a metronome.

The slide was reserved just for the experts. Fifteen steps to the majestic summit from which the view was unique and infrequently seen by the youngsters. The way down was a path of a shiny metal, so smoothly and evenly crafted, that it guaranteed a fast and unique journey.  A young boy took the risk and with the help of his father climbed to the top to see the world from a different point of view. He spent few minutes there before summoning the strength to slide down. He landed magnificently on his feet, like an expert Olympic gymnast. He even opened his arms and greeted everybody who could take notice of his heroic act.

After a while, a big, bulky, nimbus cloud covered the sky gradually. The air turned cold, the light became grey and dull whilst the wind began to sway the leaves. Threat of rain was suddenly clear.  Nonetheless, the children continued to enjoy the park.
Rapidly, the smell of food was easily perceived… possibly a curry? The fried onions were clearly detected and inevitably inviting.
The clock struck 5 and a mother shouted impatiently from the distance to her offspring, “Time to go home for tea!” 
“Yes mum,” her boys replied, assuming they could not extend their time at the park, kicking some small stones as they were leaving the playground with long, sad faces.

Algo del verano 2015!

Independence day

London

Ayer y hoy

Brighton

London

Nottingham

Lincoln

Nottingham

Nottingham

Lincoln

Quince Paste 2015 - Dulce de membrillo Receta.

Foto de mi tercera temporada de dulce de membrillo. Perfecto!

Adivinen lo que he comido hoy al desayuno! 100% orgánico! Quedó como carne/queso en consistencia y se corta como mantequilla! Mis hijos lo han probado y dijeron que era mucho mejor que el de la tienda -en este país se vende en potes de 100 gramos en la sección de delicatesen. 

Mi dulce es casi pura carne, pues rebajé la cantidad de azúcar y luego quité parte de excedente de jugo, que naturalmente se desarrolla al dejar macerando. Por lo tanto, es menos empalagoso, más frutal y menos prohibitivo para efectos 'dieta'. <3

-

100% Organic Quince meat/paste.

Receta fácil de Dulce de membrillo ~ Quince Jelly

Si tienen la fortuna de tener un árbol de membrillos como en mi caso, un buen verano, con un rico sol dan como resultado muchos frutos-  lo que a la larga puede ser casi una condena  (broma). Y si la vida te ha dado membrillos, pues haz DULCE!!!!

Esta receta es difícilmente aplicable en Chile, donde el dulce de membrillo se compra baratísimo por kilo. Sin embargo, en la experiencias de mis últimos viajes, la calidad del membrillo industrial ha decantado muchísimo! Lamentablemente. Creo y aseguro  que hacerlo uno mismo es la mejor opción.

Pues bien. Pelar al menos un kilo de membrillos, sacar las pepas y el corazón, que es la parte dura y cortar en trozos.

El mismo equivalente del peso de los membrillos ya cortados, agregar en azúcar; es decir 1 kilo de frutos = 1 kilo de azúcar. SIN AGREGAR AGUA.

*Aquí también se puede usar la mitad de su peso en azúcar. Muchas personas lo encontrarán algo empalagoso y deciden quitar la mitad. Es decir: 1 kilo de frutos = ½ de azúcar. (Yo lo he hecho de las dos formas y la verdad el sabor no se altera).

ES más!!!  En mi tercer año de producción, le he agregado por kilo de los membrillos, medio kilo de azúcar, y una vez hervidos el tiempo necesario, he sacado parcialmente el jugo gelatinoso de  almíbar. Esto significa que hemos disminuido el azúcar, dejando más carne que nada. Por lo mismo, mucho más sano!

Dejar macerando por 20 horas y verás que el membrillo comienza a desprender su propio jugo y crea un almíbar  con sabor. 

Poner a fuego  hasta que hierva y luego dejar en cocción lenta  (sin tapar) hasta que haya reducido el jugo; algo de una hora. Todo depende de la cocina que tengas.  Siempre darle una mirada e ir revolviendo cada 5 o 10 minutos.

Luego triturar la fruta hasta convertirlo en pasta suave y homogénea.

Finalmente verter en moldes y al enfriar guardar en el refrigerador.

Dónde más fácil!

Observación.

Opcional: En mi tercer año de producción, le he agregado por kilo de los membrillos, medio kilo de azúcar, y una vez hervidos el tiempo necesario, he sacado parcialmente el jugo gelatinoso de  almíbar. Esto significa que hemos disminuido el azúcar, dejando más carne que nada. Por lo mismo, mucho más sano!

Mi primera vez: Me ha quedado el dulce pastoso, tipo Pâté,  ausencia de la característica de cortar un queso duro, que es  cómo estamos acostumbrados a comernos el dulce, pero en el fondo, el sabor es el mismo que hemos disfrutado por generaciones. 

Sedunada vez: Con consistencia. 

Tercera vez: Perfecto! 

The Brighton carousel

Sweet strawberry and bubble-gum candy floss aromas filled the air. The twilight was dyeing the sand and the sea orange. The vibrant, high pitched fairground music was loud and powerful, attracting children and adults like bees to flowers. People were arriving from all directions creating a dense and protective circle around the carousel – undoubtedly, the fair’s main attraction. Majestic explosion of sparkling colours emanated from the intermittent bulbs.  

As they waited, the prospect that soon it would be their turn to ride in a magic transportation filled them with anticipation. Sitting in those rigid, shiny and immortal horses, they would become knights and princesses galloping free across an oneiric field. 

The expected moment arrived! Up they went holding the pole strongly, feeling the breeze of the seaside caressing their skin and playing with their hair whilst seating up right waiting to be rocked by the fluctuating movements. 

A little girl, refusing to put her lolly pop down (already having her teddy in her the other hand), was holding on to the pole with great difficulty. Determined, she regained control with one finger and managed stubbornly to stay put. Dizzy with laughter and excitement, up and down she went, round and round, gaining a speed that appeared to transform the carousel into a flying saucer. 

“I do like to be beside the seaside”, a red haired woman was singing at the top of her voice, moving her right arm as if she was conducting an imaginary orchestra. The little boy in her lap, who was overwhelmed with happiness, burst out laughing as the platform continued to rotate. She kissed his petite ginger head and kept singing along on the carousel by the sea.