Cradock – Themed parties are not my thing, generally, although we used to have Rocky Horror parties years ago and the guy opening the front door in full Frank N Furter regalia was me.
But dressing up is not the preserve of shy types, and I’d sooner swim with piranhas than dress as one.
Not that April was necessarily the right time for a Mexican Day of the Dead theme. The celebration happens on November 1 and 2. But hey, your birthday (and in this case, my daughter’s 30th birthday) is when it is.
Bianca Capazorio, said daughter’s bestie who, if ever she tires of journalism, could have a brilliant career as a confectioner, had a more appropriate way of getting into the Mexican tradition of making brightly decorated sugar skulls for the two days of honouring deceased loved ones. She made a four-layer cake topped with a spectacular iced sugar skull, for which nobody had to die. I think.
Not being given to sugary creations, I’d decided to choose a more savoury path in my quest to find a way to respond to the theme without arriving painted head to toe in paisley swirls in dayglo colours. When I saw, later, how younger guests had responded to the challenge, I was glad of having taken the easy way out. It was like being at a Viennese ball without the gowns and handheld masks. Gory creatures with hideous faces kept engaging me in conversation. At one point we had chatted to one such nightmare vision for half an hour before we realised who he was.
Later, a giant with a great black beard reared up in front of me, causing me to spill my drink, but it turned put to be photographer Willem Law in perilously high heels and a wig somewhere between Ozzy Osbourne and the drummer from Kiss. I retreated to the kitchen to regroup for the next assault, which happily turned out to be a tequila.
Mexican food has never really done it for me. I like meat, I like spices, I like beans, and don’t dislike the way Mexicans put it all together, but it’s never excited my palate.
So I decided instead to cook a big pot of what Americans call “chilli” even if the hot herb is only one ingredient of a stew which has a thousand recipes. I also made guacamole, and had bought some boxes of food kits for fajitas, burritos and the like. Much like the cake-in-a-box idea but with wraps that need heating in a microwave before being layered with sauce (found in a packet in the box) and cheese (which you have to buy separately). This reminded me of the time I bought a sachet of “avocado dip” only to read the small print later, “Just add avocado.”
Neither of these could even begin to compete with Bianca’s magnificent cake which, when you sliced into it, revealed four layers in bold colours. Even better than the Ryan Gosling cake she made a few months earlier. Long story.
My guacamole was not too shabby in the colour stakes either. I don’t doubt there are as many recipes for guacamole as there are beans in an Acapulco kitchen cupboard, but here is how I make it:
GUACAMOLE
3 avocados, just ripe but not too soft
1 small red onion, minced
2 or 3 cloves garlic
1 x 400g can chopped tomatoes, preferably Italian for full flavour
A dozen ripe baby tomatoes, quartered
2 or 3 red chillies, chopped
Juice of 1 ripe lemon
Peel the avocados, cut around from top to bottom with a small, sharp knife, and ease into two halves while causing as little damage as possible to the fruit. Remove and discard the stone.
Place each half flat side down and cut into small dice.
Place in a bowl and squeeze over the lemon juice.
Mince the onion or grate into the bowl, and add the crushed and chopped garlic.
Add the quartered baby tomatoes and finely chopped chillies.
Season with salt and pepper and toss gently to combine.
For hot chilli mince, saute chopped onions and garlic in olive oil with finely chopped red, green and yellow bell peppers. Simmer, stirring, for five or six minutes, then add chopped tomatoes, a glass of dry red wine, a good dollop of any hot chilli sauce you have to hand, more chillies if you’re feeling brave, a squeeze of lemon juice and any ground spices you fancy. Season to taste, add beef or other mince, the quantities entirely up to you.
Taste all along the way until you’ve fallen in love with it, and be sure to simmer for a good 30 to 40 minutes. Down a tequila and tuck in.
Weekend Argus