House Spouse

Thank you Mark Bittman for reminding me that I don’t have to lug out the ice cream maker to make a cold treat.

I’m not sure why it never occurred to me to make paletas at home before they were featured on The Minimalist. I have a record of making somewhat adventurously flavored popsicles (i.e., flavors that go beyond fake strawberry, lemon, grape, etc.), but for some reason had never ventured into the ice-y treats con leche. There’s no time like the present, so I ventured away as soon as I got my hands on some fruit that would pair perfectly with one of the dried guajillos currently occupying a hefty space in my pantry.

If you do a search for paletas made with chiles, you’ll find that most of your results will be recipes for mango lime and chile paletas. I read a few to figure out what ingredients I’d need and set about to concocting my own.

Mango Lime and Chile Paletas

Ingredients
2 ripe, medium mangoes, peeled and cored
juice of 2-3 limes
sugar (start with less than 1/4 c; how much sugar you use will depend on the sweetness of your mangoes and your own taste)
1 dried guajillo chile, seeded and stemmed
1 tsp Mexican chile powder
approx. 1/2 c. water or milk

Combine ingredients in a blender and puree until smooth. Taste, adding sugar and liquid as needed. Pour into a popsicle mold and freeze.

As we sat in the grass biting into our hot-off-the-grill personal pizzas and looked out over the lake at the Chicago skyline, Andrew commented, “Why isn’t this a Chicago tradition? I mean, it has all these Chicago elements: pizza, the lake, summer grilling in the park…” I had no explanation. I couldn’t stop thinking about or congratulating myself for the chewy and crispy crust I was indulging in…or the fresh and delicious ingredients topping it.

I had a bunch of leftover items in the fridge and pantry that I considered throwing into a pasta: green garlic (I’d already roasted it), garlic scapes, bacon, half a tomato, and tarragon. When I saw how hot it would be yesterday, I immediately came up with an alternative that didn’t involve turning on the stove at 6 p.m., the time of day when our kitchen gets the hottest. So I began making a pizza dough and throwing ingredients into Gladware, then into a picnic basket, along with olive oil, salt and pepper, napkins, a plastic cutting board and a spatula, all with the intention of finally giving grilled pizza a try.

Top Left: Andrew getting the grill started; Top Right: The first crust to go on the grill! Bottom: Bacon, brie, garlic and arugula top the first two pizzas.

I wasn’t sure how it would work. I was slightly worried about the dough falling through the grill’s grates so I brought some aluminum foil just in case. My worry turned to joy and surprise when I learned that a hot grill begins cooking the crust so fast that it doesn’t have time to slip through! Also, this is why you get both the chewiness and gorgeous grilled-crunchiness.

Rather than wax on about how perfect these pizzas were (and only got better as we cooked more) and how there’s no need to go spend $13 on one tiny pizza at any of the trendy pizza spots and how I want to do this at least three times a week for the rest of summer experimenting with toppings, I’ll simply tell you the following:

I printed up my final paper Tuesday night around 6 p.m. and immediately began thinking about how I would make a key lime pie that evening. This pie had been on my mind for about a week. So, after a trip to the pub for a celebratory beer and burger, I embarked on my first key lime pie-making adventure. Slightly buzzed, totally enthralled with my temporary freedom from using vocabulary that involves Latin and Greek phrases. (Although my dreams that night were riddled with theological problems.)

The recipe is from the May 2003 Gourmet (there’s a printable version of it on Epicurious, so I am going to refrain from reprinting the recipe). I made some fresh whipped cream using a teaspoon of sugar, a 1/4 teaspoon of vanilla and 8 ounces of heavy whipping cream. It’s definitely worth serving the pie with a fresh bowl of this because the mellow, fluffy mouthfuls of cream nicely offset the tart custard.

Candying the limes is fun, too. Just slice up a lime into very thin slices and coat with sugar. Set the slices on a plate and in to the fridge overnight. Right before serving, cut halfway through the lime and twist to garnish.