Chapter XXV - Mexilhoes com Molho de Coco and Why Bras Cubas Can Confess His Sins So Freely

"Frankness is the prime virtue of a dead man."

Book:  The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas by Joaquim Maria
Recipes:  The Brazilian Kitchen by Leticia Moreinos Shwartz

Mexilhoes com Molho de Coco

(Mussels in Coconut Cream Sauce)

1 lb mussels
2 tbsp oil
1/4 each onion, green, red, and yellow bell peppers
3 cloves garlic, pressed
1 cup dry white wine
1 1/2 cups coconut milk
Salt and pepper to taste
1 plum tomato, peeled, seeded and diced
2 tbsp chopped cilantro for garnish (optional)


Rinse and scrub the mussels, debeard and discard any shells that are cracked or will not close.

In a large pan, saute the vegetables in the oil over medium heat until just tender, about 3 minutes.  Add the garlic and saute another minute.  Add the mussels and wine, cover and simmer until all the shells open (about 5 minutes).  Discard any shells that have not opened.  Remove the mussels and keep warm in a covered bowl.  Bring the remaining sauce to a boil and add the coconut milk and salt and pepper to taste.  Return the mussels to the pan, add the tomatoes, and heat through.  Serve with crusty bread for dipping.

I take no credit for this meal.  The only job I had was to scrub and debeard the mussels.  Jay took care of everything because I've been sick all weekend.  He even did the dishes while I fell asleep on the couch.  The soup was a great soup for a sicky because of the illusion of comfort food creaminess without the actual dairy.  Thank you, Jay!

About the book:

Bras Cubas has this to say about reflecting on your life after your death:  "The gaze of public opinion, that sharp and judgmental gaze, loses its virtue the moment we tread the territory of death. I’m not saying that it doesn’t reach here and examine and judge us, but we don’t care about the examination or the judgment. My dear living gentlemen and ladies, there’s nothing as incommensurable as the disdain of the deceased."  This is why he can be so blase about all his early profligacy.  More on that to follow, but right now, I'm still sick and my bed is calling to me. 

Chapter XXV - Marinated Hangar Steak, Manioc with Sauteed Onions, and Napoleon Makes a Belated Appearance to Seguee Between Russian and Brazilian Literature

"I went about those days with a new rapier my godfather had given me on Saint Anthony’s Day and, quite frankly, I was more interested in the rapier than in Bonaparte’s fall. I’ve never forgotten that. I’ve never stopped thinking to myself that my rapier has always been greater than Napoleon’s sword."

Book:  The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas by Joaquim Maria
Recipes: The Brazilian Table by Roberts and Roberts
             The Brazilian Kitchen by Leticia Moreinos Shwartz

Marinated Hangar Steak

1 medium onion, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, pressed
1 teaspoon tomato paste
1 tsp corriander
1 tbsp honey
1/4 cup Cachaça
1/2 cup olive oil
1 lb hangar steak
Salt and Pepper to taste


Marinate the steak for 1 to 2 days.  Grill for to preferred doneness.  

  
Manioc with Sauteed Onions

2 lbs Manioc (Yucca)
6 tbsp butter
2 cups julienned onion
Salt and pepper to taste
Chopped parsley for garnish (optional)

Peel the manioc and cut into cubes.  Boil in salted water until tender.  While the manioc is boiling, saute the onions in butter over medium low heat, do not let them brown.  Remove the manioc from the pan and drain, reserving 1 cup of the cooking liquid.  Mix the manioc with the onions to coat with butter.  Add the reserved liquid a little at a time until the mixture is moist.  Salt and pepper to taste.  

Here are some things that I learned about steak.  The Pathmark sometimes has hangar steaks, but not this time, so I picked the steak that looked closest to it, a "London Broil."  I bypassed the skirt steak thinking I would "do what the recipe says." According to Wikipedia, London Broil is not a "cut" of meat.  It's a method of cooking the meat.  Apparently, Pathmark isn't aware of this, or they are aware, and they are trying to get rid of some crappier cut of meat under the disguise of "London Broil."  Whatever cut I got, it was terribly tough.  And that after marinating it overnight (in rum, not Cachaca - still haven't found any - local liquor store man - "we're still out, but keep checking back!).  And there is no way that red, juicy meat was overcooked.  The lesson:  Always buy a skirt steak. 

At least the manioc was good, probably because kitchen helper Mindy made it.  And can you ever really go wrong with asparagus?   It's been on sale a lot around here, that's why it makes so many appearances.

I also made some Pao de Queijo, but I didn't get the right flour so they didn't come out that great.  Didn't stop us from devouring them, but I'm not going to include the recipe here until I've perfected it.

About the book:

Just when you thought "she's finished War and Peace!  At least we won't have to hear about Napoleon any more..."  And yet, here he is cropping up again as a symbol of class conflict.  A seven year old Bras Cubas is not impressed with Napoleon.  But his family is surely celebrating the great man's downfall (his first one).  Of course in a colonial city where the wealthy are profiting off the poor, the rich Cubas family would have to throw a grand affair of a dinner to celebrate Napoleon's defeat.  And of course, our young rapscallion is more interested in his rapier and his dessert than he is in politics. 

Chapter XXV - Big Pie, Goiano Style and The Child is Father to the Man

"Prudêncio, a black houseboy, was my horse every day. He’d get down on his hands and knees, take a cord in his mouth as a bridle, and I’d climb onto his back with a switch in my hand. I would whip him, make him do a thousand turns, left and right, and he would obey—sometimes moaning—but he would obey without saying a word or, at most, an—'Ouch, little master!'—to which I would retort, 'Shut your mouth, animal!'"

Book:  The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas by Joaquim Maria  

Recipes: The Brazilian Table by Roberts and Roberts

Big Pie, Goiano Style

For the filling:

 1 cup vegetable oil
1 lb boneless, skinless thigh meat
1/2 pork loin

2 hard boiled eggs, cubed
11/2 cup manchego cheese, cubed
1/2 cup olives
1 cup sliced hearts of palm

For the sauce:  


1 cup tomato puree
1/2 cup tomato paste
1/4 cup chopped scallions
1/4 cup parsley
1 small chili - deseeded, deveined, and minced (for Jay - who doesn't like things too spicy - otherwise, keep the seeds and veins for the heat)

2 tbsp flour


1 frozen pie crust (top and bottom)
1 egg yolk


In a frying pan, cook the bacon and remove.  Add the oil to the bacon grease and cook the chicken until it is browned, about 4 minutes on each side.  Set the chicken aside and cook the pork until it is browned, about 3-4 minutes on each side.  When the meats are cool enough, cut them into cubes keeping them in separate piles.  

Using the same frying pan, add the tomato puree over medium heat and deglaze the pan.  Add the tomato paste, scallions, parsley, chili, and 1 1/2 cups of water.  In a bowl, whisk the flour into the remaining half cup of water.  Gently add this to the sauce.  

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.  Follow the directions on the pie crust to assemble the bottom crust in a pie pan.  Layer the fillings in the following order:  chicken, bacon, pork, eggs, cheese, olives, and hearts of palm.  Top with a generous layer of sauce.  Then assemble the top of the pie crust.  Brush the pie with the beaten egg yolk.  Bake on the lower rack for 20 minutes, then move to the top rack for 10 minutes to brown the crust.  Let the pie cool for at least 10 minutes before serving.  

Of course, I omitted the olives and replaced them with capers.  I also added the bacon, which, coupled with the capers, pushed the limits of saltiness, but thankfully, not too far.  I also couldn't find Manchego cheese, so I substituted some fontina as a close approximation, and that tasted just fine to me.  While it seems at first glance to be a mishmash leftovers thrown into a pie crust, it was actually delicious.  We served it with some asparagus and a side dish of rushing since we were on our way to Jay's mother's day show.  The leftovers were even better than the first round. 

About the book:  


Perhaps I was just dragging my feet about the first few chapters.  The story has actually picked up quite remarkably since I last spoke about it.  There are some serious references to the colonial period, which lasted until 1822; and there are a lot of references to slaves and class issues.  At this point in the tale, our hero is the only son of an upjumped family of merchants and pirates trying to assume a place in society.  What better way to do that than to raise your son as a profligate brat?  As the above quote gives testament, young Bras Cubas wasn't shy about getting his own way.  He tells the story of making his slave boy his horse, he tells another tale of  how he "split open the head of a slave because she’d refused to give me a spoonful of the cocoanut confection she was making and, not content with that evil deed, I threw a handful of ashes into the bowl and, not satisfied with that mischief, I ran to tell my mother that the slave was the one who’d ruined the dish out of spite."  He is never punished for these offenses, nor do the slaves ever complain about it.   That might be because at this time, slavery wasn't going to be abolished in Brazil for about 73 years (1888).


That Bras Cubas starts out this tale of his abusive ways as a youth by alluding to Wordsworth makes me wonder just what kind of man he was...

Chapter VIII - Chicken from the Cerrado and a Clever Twist in the Narrative

"My delirium began in Virgília’s presence. Virgília was the great sin of my youth. There’s no youth without childhood, childhood presumes birth, and here is how we come, effortlessly, to that day of October 20, 1805, on which I was born. See?"

Book:  The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas by Joaquim Maria  

Recipes: The Brazilian Table by Roberts and Roberts

Chicken of the Cerarado

1 1/2 cups water
6 tbsp bacon cut into small cubes
Olive oil 
6 chicken thighs
1 cup diced onion
1 1/2 cups Cachaça
1 tbsp tomato paste
Bouquet Garni (1 sprig each parsley, scallion, and bay leaf tied with a string)
2 cups chicken broth
2 cups canned hearts of palm cut into 1 inch slices
4 tbsp butter 
3 tbsp flour
1 cup jarred onion confit


Bring the water to a boil and blanch the bacon (plunge it into the water for a few seconds and take it right back out) reserve the liquid.  Brown the bacon in a large sauce pan and set aside.  Saute the onions for 1 minute, remove and set aside.  Salt and pepper the chicken and then brown 3 pieces at a time in bacon grease and olive oil. Replace olive oil as necessary.  When all the chicken is cooked, return to the pan and douse with 1/2 cup warmed Cachaça.  Flambe immediately.  Add the bacon and onion to the pan. 

Add the tomato paste, mixing to coat the chicken pieces well.  Add 1 cup Cachaça, stir gently.  Add the bouquet garni, Cachaça, chicken broth, and cooking liquid from bacon; cover and simmer 30 minutes, then uncover and simmer 1 hour, stirring a few times.  Remove chicken to cool; when it is cool enough, separate the meat from the bones.  

Heat the butter in a skillet.  Add the hearts of palm, shaking the pan constantly and cook 20 minutes or until carmelized.  Add hearts of palm and chicken to the main pan.  Ladle out 1 1/2 cup of cooking sauce.  Whisk in flour to form a thick paste.  Fold the paste back into the pan and add onion confit and serve over rice.  

I still haven't found Cachaça.  I used rum again, which didn't flambe, so I cut the last 1 cup down to 1/2.  It was still very rummy.  All in all, it was good, but a bit complicated and I'm not sure I would really make it again.  A note about blanching bacon, I was a little concerned about the idea at first.  All I could think about was that scene from Better Off Dead when the father asks a question about some monstrous, flaccid, terrifying thing the mother is serving up and she says, "you said you don't like all the grease in fried bacon, so I boiled it!"  But, I checked it out online and apparently Julia Child blanched her bacon when she wanted a less cured flavor in her stews.  In fact, it turned out fine. 

About the book:

Apart from the leap of logic that took us from his death back to his childhood, I haven't read very much of it.  I'm not sure I really like this book; at least, I'm not that inspired to read it right now. 

Chapter VIII - Arroz de Pato and Some People Have Freaky Dreams

"So in that way life had the regularity of a calendar, history and civilization were being made, and man, naked and unarmed, armed himself and dressed; built hovel and palace, a crude village and Thebes of a Thousand Gates; created science that scrutinizes and art that elevates; made himself orator, mechanic, philosopher, covered the face of the globe; descended into the bowels of the Earth; climbed up to the sphere of the clouds, collaborating in that way in the mysterious work with which he mitigated the necessities of life and the melancholy of abandonment."

Book:  The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas by Joaquim Maria
Recipes:  The Brazilian Kitchen by Leticia Moreinos Shwartz

Arroz de Pato

(Duck Risotto)

2 portions of duck leg confit
3 tbsp olive oil
1 small, thin chorizo sausage
3 cups chicken stock
1/3 cup finely chopped onion
3 cloves garlic, minced
pinch of saffron threads
1/2 tsp paprika
1 plum tomato, peeled, seeded, and diced
Salt and pepper to taste
1/8 cup Kalamata olives, pitted and sliced


Preheat the oven to 375 degrees


Warm the duck legs and fat in a skillet over low heat, separate the legs from the fat, shred the meat (optionally, save the fat "for other purposes).


Heat 1 tbsp of oil in a saute pan and add the chorizo, cook until lightly browned, about 2 minutes, then remove to a bowl.  Heat the remaining oil in a large skillet, over medium heat.  Add the onion and garlic and cook until slightly golden.  Add saffron and paprika and cook for another minute.  Stir in tomatoes and cook until soft, about 2 minutes.  Add the rice and stir well to coat with oil.  add the stock and bring to a boil.  Season with salt and pepper.  


Add the duck and chorizo and stir just once.  Place the skillet in the oven and cook until the rice is al dente, about 8-10 minutes.  Mix in olives and serve hot. 


I really hate to boil any kind of meat, unless it's a true braising.  Plus, I don't like olives. I altered this recipe quite a bit.  The cookbook said that more traditional versions of this recipe are served as a risotto.  Since I had a duck carcass in my freezer just waiting to become duck stock, I decided risotto would be best for me too.  Kitchen helper  Mindy did almost all the work for this recipe, apart from making the stock.  It was her first cooking lesson.  We sauteed the same amount of onions in a skillet, added the rice and let it cook in the oil for a minute.  Then we tossed in a cup of wine and let that reduce completely. 

From there we started adding mugfulls of duck stock laced with saffron (I seem to have melted my ladle) and stirring and stirring and stirring until the rice was al dente.  At the last minute we added the duck meat I'd scavenged off the bones and the tomatoes.  I omitted the chorizo as well, it's hard to find the good stuff around here and the packaged stuff tastes like hotdogs to me.  

It was quite delicious.  Mindy is an excellent student.  

About the book:


Just as I had taken a brief hiatus from blogging, so has it been with my reading.  The book seems to be something quite profound hiding in the narrative of a pompous, insane old man.  It's a bit tiresome most of the time and then suddenly surprises you with a witty passage.  The allusions continue and I still haven't looked any of them up.  


Currently, he has just explained a delirium dream he had in which a sort of Mother Nature-Pandora figure (that allusion, I did understand) torments him about the short lives of humans and the hopes and destructions they bring upon themselves.  She says, "Yes, worm, you’re alive. Don’t worry about losing those rags that are your pride, you’re still going to taste the bread of pain and the wine of misery for a few hours. You’re alive. Right now while you’re going crazy, you’re alive, and if your consciousness gets an instant of wisdom, you’ll say you want to live."  This is a both a threat and a promise.  A threat of death and a promise of a few hours more of precious life.  All the while that she is talking to Bras Cubas, they are watching the pageant of history unfurl around them, "centuries that were still passing, swift and turbulent, the generations that were superimposed on generations, some sad like the Hebrews of the Captivity, others merry like Commodus’ profligates, and all of them punctual for the tomb."  Mostly, he saw the sad state of man thinking he had climbed some height, only to be cast back by death, "Then man, whipped and rebellious, ran ahead of the fatality of things after a nebulous and dodging figure made of remnants, one remnant of the impalpable, another of the improbable, another of the invisible, all sewn together with a precarious stitch by the needle of imagination. And that figure—nothing less than the chimera of happiness—either runs away from him perpetually or lets itself be caught by the hem, and man would clutch it to his breast, and then she would laugh, mockingly, and disappear like an illusion."  


This was all one of the more profound parts, but I have no idea what it has to do with the rest of the story.