The Tell Tale Sazon

Growing up on the Lower East Side of Manhattan afforded me great cultural exposure. Chinatown and Little Italy were nearby. I lived in a neighborhood that was largely African American, Asian and Latino. Just a stone’s throw away, was the famed Bargain District, peppered with Jewish merchants and low rise tenements.

When I was a little girl, the building that I lived in had seventeen floors, with ten apartments per floor. My biological grandparents lived in the south, but I was blessed with extra grandparents close to home. I had kindly older people in my life that were close enough to be considered family. This had advantages and disadvantages. The disadvantage, as I saw it back then, was that I had better not get caught stepping out of line. My parents had eyes everywhere. I was always amazed at how they seemed to know what I was doing, when they were nowhere to be seen. Parenthood was steeped in mysticism that I’d never understand. The advantage was that spending time with this surplus of grandmas and grandpas exposed me to their wisdom and knowledge. I grew up in a time where adults were still community oriented and youngsters minded their elders. People looked out for each others children and that concept was respected. 

One of my next-door neighbors was an elderly Puerto Rican woman named Vicky, whom I considered my honorary abuela. Sometimes when my mother had to work late, or had an appointment, I would go to Vicky’s after school. She always had Stella Doro pastry and Savarin or Bustelo coffee in her cabinet. Whenever I see either of those brands anywhere, a smile crosses my lips. While wonderful aromas wafted from the kitchen, I’d sit on her zip locked couch, my eyes glued to a Spanish soap opera on the Telemundo network. I tried to move as little as possible, so the plastic covering the couch wouldn’t crinkle in surround sound. I didn’t want to miss a single word or bitch slap in the story line. So what, that I didn’t know what they were saying? The bitch slap is universal, and transcends all language barriers.

When I wasn’t engrossed in a self-taught Spanish course via television, I’d go in the kitchen and watch Vicky cook. She’d work magic, with four burners going at once. My mother could throw down in the kitchen, but it never smelled like this. My mother’s southern cooking was one thing, but this was another affair entirely. There was always the fragrance of garlic, peppers, onions and tomatoes dancing vapors through the apartment. There were also scents of herbs and spices that I didn’t recognize by name, but were as familiar as home, because when I was at abuela’s, I was home. Vicky had a little wooden bowl that sat on a ledge above the sink. Inside it was something that looked like a miniature baseball bat. When I asked her what it was, she explained to me that the bowl was a mortar and the little bat was a pestle. She showed me how she used it to grind up her spices and mash her garlic to a pungent pulp.

I watched her make many dishes, but arroz con pollo, and red beans were my favorites. I figured anyone could duplicate this recipe. Well, maybe anyone armed with the right ingredients could, but I was still trying to piece together the puzzle.

At home, I was always around my mother in the kitchen. She would let me help her cook, giving me one task or another. She used garlic, peppers and onions too, but it didn’t smell like Vicky’s food. Whenever I was craving Spanish food, I’d make it my business to chop up the vegetables that I thought Vicky used for seasoning. No matter what I did, the end result was never the same. I was looking to get this Latin flare to my food, but no dice.

I was an adult before I learned how to make some of the basic staples in Latin food.

I’m the type of person that will go to a restaurant, order something and then analyze a dish to death until I’ve picked apart the ingredients. Then I’ll go home and make it, just because I can. It bothers me when I can’t figure out the ingredients. I feel like I’ve somehow failed as a cook. I’d been going to Spanish restaurants all my life and hadn’t nailed it yet. It was like The Tell Tale Sazon. It was keeping me up at night.

One day, I was watching a cooking show on PBS called Daisy Cooks, hosted by Latina chef extraordinaire, Daisy Martinez. This particular day, she made sofrito, which is the Holy Grail of Latin cooking. I learned how important herbs like cilantro and culantro are to the most basic dishes. I am not in the habit of measuring when I cook. The only time I adhere to strict measurements is when I’m baking. You really don’t want to eyeball baking soda or baking powder…not pretty, I can tell you. I blame this bad habit on my mother. I learned all my cooking basics from her. Whenever she made any of her best dishes, she’d just add ‘some of this, and some of that’, and it was always fabulous. I never saw this woman use a measuring spoon or a measuring cup, but her food always tasted the same. I can pretty much eyeball most ingredients and taste as I go along. I force myself to measure ingredients now, because I enjoy creating recipes. Once I get the perfect recipe, I write it down. I watched Daisy make sofrito once. I ran out to the market, got everything on the ingredients list. I came home and made a batch. Well, I had to test it out on something, so I decided on red beans and rice.

As my beans cooked, all the familiar smells from my childhood excursions in Vicky’s kitchen, wafted from that pot. It was a cloudy day. I can remember the clouds parting. As the skies cleared, a holy light shone down directly on my pot of beans. When I lifted the lid from the pot, the beans glowed. Okay…maybe not ALL of it happened that way. The East River might not have parted, but it wasn’t for lack of will on my part. Do you see though, what I’m saying about the importance of sofrito? It is a must have in your kitchen. I couldn’t believe how much of a difference sofrito made in a simple pot of beans. They actually tasted the way I remembered them as a kid. I had been using packaged sazon all along, but the sofrito was what had been missing. After that, I started learning how to make other staples like recaito, adobo and mojo. Once I learned to make these seasonings with fresh ingredients, I could immediately taste the difference in the food I cooked. No store bought sofrito for me honey. Blasphemy!

I am no guru of Latin food, but I’d make Vicky proud, as a student. I’ve made my own seasoned salt before, so getting the right measurements for a dry adobo wasn’t too difficult. I’ve also played around with different recipes for mojo until I found one that worked for me. Though it nearly killed me to break out the measuring utensils, I’ve measured out both recipes, so the uninitiated can try it at home. Both seasonings are great on meat, poultry and fish. The mojo makes an exceptional marinade on pork chops/loins and beef steaks. I’d like to think Vicky would give me a pat on the head, with a “good job mija” and a Stella Doro cookie for both of these recipes.

Dry Adobo

4 Tbsp salt

4 Tbsp garlic powder

4 Tbsp onion powder

2 Tbsp black pepper

2 Tbsp ground cumin

2 Tbsp dried oregano

1 Tbsp dried citrus zest

Combine ingredients thoroughly and store in a tightly sealed container. Keep in a cool, dry place for up to 3 months. Yields approximately 1 ¾ cups of seasoning.

*You can add 1 Tbsp of one or all of the following to personalize your recipe:

Dried cilantro, coriander, turmeric, and/or paprika.

Mojo

3 lemons, juiced

3 limes, juiced

2 large oranges, juiced

1 ½ heads of garlic, pressed or minced

2 Tbsp salt

1 Tbsp black pepper

1 Tbsp dried oregano

1 Tbsp ground cumin

¼ cup plus 2 Tbsp olive oil

To avoid the ingredients separating, mix in a blender or use a hand held immersion blender. This will emulsify the juice and oil. If you don’t have either, use a whisk. Be sure to give a stir just before using. Any leftover marinade can be refrigerated for up to a week. Yields approximately 2 cups of marinade.

*Taste as you go. 1 ½ heads of garlic may sound excessive. You can always alter the amount to suit your palate. For my taste, this amount of garlic is the perfect balance for the high level of acidity in this marinade.

You can also add the zest from the citrus fruit used in the recipe, for extra flavor.