Panaderia Canadiense

Something really simple here - cheese sandwich and sliced Guaytambo Abridor. The fruit deserves a mention; just as people from Georgia are sometimes called "peaches" and NYC is The Big Apple, people from Tungurahua are sometimes called Guaytambos, and Ambato city is El Guaytambo Grande. So what's a Guaytambo? It's a specific type of clingstone peach that has green skin and almost orange flesh when ripe, and that is only grown in this province. They're in season right now - yummy!

OK, for better or worse, this is my Aparador; I actually have a second one that I keep dishes and extraneous pots and pans in.

Hmmm. That's a good question. My thought would be that Ceviche is a separate category. It's basically a raw fish dish, but the acids-lemon or lime juice-have the effect of quickly breaking down the proteins, or "cooking" the fish. I suppose you could say that it is "quick-cured," but it seems as though the basic goal of Ceviche is to take very fresh fish and add some additional ingredients and then quickly eat it. In my mind that takes it out of our realm of Cured, Brined, Smoked and Salted Fish. I'd actually contest that, since good Ceviche de Pulpo, for example, is a 5-day preparation (anything less and it's horrid and rubbery). However since most Ceviches are quick-cures, you're probably right in the broadest sense... I'll have to rehabilitate my friend's antique smoker, then, and go catch some trout!

Canario or Isleño has a lot in common with Latin American Castellano as it's spoken in Ecuador, actually. It has to do with a large number of Canarios emigrating here when the whole colony was still just the Real Audiencia de Perú. Incidentally, they're also the ones who brought bananas to Latin America....

New house, limited counter space here (and limited cupboard space as well). The only things that live permanently on the counter are the coffeemaker and grinder, and the spice chest. For everything else, I have a piece of furniture called an Aparador, which is similar to a china cabinet on top, and a mobile cabinet on the bottom (the whole thing's on casters). My stand mixer, hand mixer, scale, rice cooker, blender, all of my mixing bowls, measuring cups, and all baking vessels, live there. If you'd like, I can take a picture of this thing; it lives in my dining room near the pass-through to the kitchen.

David, would you consider Ceviches to fall under the brined/preserved category? Or are they a thing all to themselves?

Sort of. The same way that Americans sort of speak English and Quebecois sort of speak French. (Which is why that's bracketed in my earlier post.) What South Americans speak is sort of a somewhat corrupted form of Castellano from about 100 years before the distinción (soft C pronounced as TH) was introduced to the language. Hence, while somebody from Castille would say "thervesa" we say "servesa" for cerveza (the first example of the distinción that occurs to me at this late hour), and the words casa and caza are homophones. This is particularly evident in the Ecuadorian province of Loja, where the language has been preserved almost exactly as the conquistadores are thought to have spoken it - the Real Academia has actually done studies on this. In addition to the ceceo, most forms of Latin American Castellano also incorporate words from the precolumbian languages of their areas; hence, Ecuadorian Castellano is distinct from, say, Colombian in that Ecuadorian includes a great number of Quichua and Shuara words into the general lexicon, while Colombian tends more towards Muisca and Tairona words, and the Peruvian and Bolivian Castellano that also include Quichua will include different words from those of Ecuador, simply because the Quichua spoken in Peru and Bolivia is quite different from that spoken in Ecuador. And so on. If that's confusing, consider that only an Ecuadorian will use the word "Chuchaqui" to describe being hung over - the rest of Latin America uses "resacado." Also consider that in Ecuador and Colombia, an avocado is an Aguacate, while in Peru and Bolivia it's a Palta. Also consider the regional differences in the pronunciation of the letter LL - in some countries, most notably in Chile and Argentina, it's arrastrado (pronounced sort of like sh or zh), while in others, like Ecuador and parts of northern Peru, it's elido (pronounced l'y) and still others it's pronounced more like z (Colombia and Venezuela are like this). So, it's sort of Castellano. It's got the same grammar and structure, and shares a basic vocabulary. But really it has as much in common as Quebecois does to Parisian. Oh, and it's also worth noting that Latin Americans make merciless fun of Spaniards for the perception of lisping that goes with the distinción. Nobody down here would be caught dead ordering a thervesa - it's considered to be a very effeminate way to speak and if you're a Latino man that's the last thing you want anybody to think of you.... ETA - and when it comes to Carpaccio, most Latin Americans will look at it and pronounce it "Carpaxio" with the x sound being closest to ks. Those who have a bit more culinary education will pronounce it "Carpachio" (and it's often spelt this way on menus in places that offer it.) The changed spelling is actually quite common with words that would have an awkward pronunciaiton otherwise - focaccia becomes focachia, etc.

I'm with you on self-rising flour. Also, cake mixes, premade empanadas, and watermelon-flavoured aguardiente.

I'm astounded. Those trapunto alpaca children's sweaters, along iwth the gloves and socks, are made here in Ecuador, in the town of Otavalo!

Wow, huaraches.... Down here we'd use that with intensely spiced carne adobado, sort of as a trencher (although I'm unsure whether this is the Mexican use as well). Once they've absorbed a bunch of the sauce from the meat, they're spread with crumbled cheese and eaten by slices.

Yup, Cardamine concatenata. Root about a bit with your penknife and you'll find the rhizomes.

Those are from my lawn. No they are not chives. I had found out that they are edible a few years back, but have since forgotten the name. The flowers open during the day and close during the night. May be someone can tell the name. dcarch Check out Oxalis, aka Shamrock plants. They're a common garden weed over much of the western hemisphere, and have edible flowers that look just like those. No, the flowers look the same, but the leaves are different. I will take a picture tomorrow. dcarch Cardamine, then. I was weighing between the two, and I figured that Oxalis is more pernicious. But if you've got Cardamine, you can also dig the rhizomes and use them in salads - they're sort of spicy radishy in quite a pleasant way.

It's at times like this I wish you Americans would find another word for the language you use and abuse. "Au jus" is not an English word (or even a word) it's a phrase... Well, to be fair, the tendency to misuse/mispronounce foreign lanaguage terms isn't unique, or even most pronounced in the US, it's prevalent the world over (e.g. upthread, I mentioned the use of the word 'grape' for 'grapefruit' in Denmark; I could also mention 'expresso' pronounced as 'exPRAHso', and heaps of other misuses and mispronunciations... and don't get me started on the things that happen to foreign language terms in Italy). But for better or worse, the American language is still English. I'm in total agreement with MJX. Anybody who's ever travelled or lived in Latin America will be astounded when they discover that a SAN-doo-che (spelt Sanduche) is not a sandwich they're familiar with (those would be tostados mixtos), and that they can get a BOOR-gwair (burguer, properly an hamburguesa but even that term is disappearing!) There are many other charming things happening to English down here (I'll see if I can find a picture of our local Soon Burguer, House Chicken, or the Sunglass Hat). For better or worse, our language down here is Castellano (sort of), the same way that the American language is English (sort of.) It's the nature of language to change, shift, and appropriate terms - heck, English wouldn't even be a language without the appropriations.... Feh, mucho ruido, pocas nueces. Even so, and even if the dictionaries list it as a correct plural, I still think it sounds like nails on a chalkboard when somebody says "shrimps" and isn't referring to verb for the process of fishing said critters (ie "Manolo shrimps for a living," but never "Manolo is eating shrimps for dinner.")

So what would you call other grains or starches prepared using the same technique (I mean, other than using the air quotes)? Creamy quinua?

Sandwiches aren't pie - they're a completely separate food group.... (For the record, the food groups I'm referring to are: sandwiches, fried things, pies/tarts, and malt beverages. Everything else is extraneous. ) --- Nich - Going back to what you're saying, though, a pizza is a tart because it has no upper crust, yes? By the same logic, is a pecan pie also a tart then? Hassouni - how do you react to people who use the term "quinua risotto" then? I thought that risotto, unlike pilaf, was a cooking technique rather than the rice itself (which is riso).

Stuart, what do you cross your buns with? They look fantastic!

Everybody's food looks so so tasty and elegant! I'm almost ashamed to post my humble Valencia orange and ginger soup with turkey and veggies.... ETA - apologies for the picture; the light I had over me burned out seconds before I took the snap, so it's come out looking like a bad scan of an old film pic.

Those are from my lawn. No they are not chives. I had found out that they are edible a few years back, but have since forgotten the name. The flowers open during the day and close during the night. May be someone can tell the name. dcarch Check out Oxalis, aka Shamrock plants. They're a common garden weed over much of the western hemisphere, and have edible flowers that look just like those.

You are evil; but in a good way Ah, well, a life without fat isn't worth living, is it? I've always maintained that the vehicle we're given for this life isn't meant to be returned in good shape.

Cold smoking and finishing by frying for a short time in a pressure cooker, ala KFC, would probably also get you the crispy skin you're looking for (a local restaurant here does exactly that, and it works wonderfully.) Then you've got the option of possibly even battering the skin....

Kim, I'm still swooning over your lamb... (pause to wipe drool from keyboard....) And I love Romanesco, it's my favourite alien vegetable ever.

Down here, chinchis are dusted after frying if they're going to be flavoured at all - usually a blend of cumin and aji powder for those who like a bit of spice.

Are you sure that the Mote in your peach drink is barley? In most other Latin American countries, it's a type of small-kerneled corn....

I've got no problem with that whatsoever. It shows a bit of consideration for the shopowner for having maintained their loo in good condition, and for providing it in the first place. I also can't tell you the number of times I've walked into a local ice-creamery, ordered a cone, used the facilities while it's being scooped (they'll hold the cone for me), and come out to collect my order. To me, making the order before using the loo is common courtesy, and I'd only do it the other way round if it was a dire emergency, which shopkeepers here seem to respect. Ecuador's also a bit more open about laughing about bathroom emergencies, rather than getting all uptight about it - if I have to skip ordering in order to speed to the loo, I'll generally make a light joke about it (gosh, you saved my life there!) when I'm out and placing my order. Then again, Ecuador's laws clearly state that a) all shops larger than 10 square meters, and b) all food establishements regardless of size, must have at least one washroom, and that c) said washroom is for patrons of said establishments. This is generally understood by the public. We've also got pay washrooms in all public parks (10-15 cents per), so it's a mark of terrible planning if you get caught with a need for a toilet and can't find one. Facilities here are maintained sparkling clean, because inspections are at complete random whim, and you can lose your operation licence if your bathroom is even slightly disreputable. I've been in much more skeevy restaurant loos in Canada than I've found here, where even at the most humble, dirt-floor establishements the wc is tiled and scrubbed to within an inch of its life.

This recipe comes to me from Fidelina Ledesma, one of my adoptive grannies. She's from Cuenca, where Quimbolitos supposedly originated. The recipe may be made with either corn or quinua flour; I prefer quinua simply because the flavour is fuller. INGREDIENTS 2 lbs Fine white corn flour or fine gold quinua flour 12 Eggs, separated ¾ lb Sweet butter, no other ¾ lb Lard, no other 1 lb White sugar 6 oz Wheat flour, white is best or golden pea flour (for the gluten intolerant) 1 TBSP Baking powder 1 oz Anise liqueur ¾ lb Fresh white cheese, shredded Seedless raisins (optional) Dessert bananas (optional) 50 Entire canna leaves, scrubbed. METHOD Push the corn flour (if that's what you're using; with quinua this isn't necessary) through a canvas sieve, until what remains in the sieve is the grits. These can be discarded or reserved for other meals, but they should not be part of the Quimbolitos. Separate the eggs, reserving the yolks. Beat the butter and lard together, adding the sugar bit by bit. Once the mixture is homogenous, add the egg yolks, cheese, and the liqueur. Sift the wheat flour with the baking powder, then fold both flours into the wet mixture and stir until homogenous. Add raisins at this point if you wish. Beat the egg whites to the point of stiffness, and fold these in to the batter. Scrub the canna leaves gently to remove any traces of dirt. Pat dry with paper towels, then crack the spines of the leaves with a rolling pin. Drop two tablespoons of batter onto the back of a leaf. If you are adding a slice of banana to the quimbolitos, now is the time. Fold the edges of the leaf inwards. Finally, fold the top and bottom of the leaf backwards. This forms the package in which the quimbolito will be steamed. Repeat until you run out of batter. Pack the quimbolitos into a large dumpling steamer (these are available in most Chinese markets) or tamale pot. Steam for about 30 minutes or until the packets on top are firm to the touch and the steam that comes off them does not feel sticky when grabbed. Peel back a wrapper to check the consistency of the bread inside - it should be firm and fluffy. Quimbolitos are best when eaten hot; those that aren't consumed at the first sitting keep well in the refrigerator and are easy to reheat in either the steamer or the microwave. They make a great, fast breakfast.