I had planned on making ollalieberry jam for my Christmas goodie bags but wanted to kick it up the proverbial notch from a sweet jelly to something a little more spicy and elegant, and I literally woke up one morning thinking, I know! I’ll add pear! and cardamom! It will be great!

I did, and it was. It’s plenty sweet, even with half as much sugar as I found in other recipes, and the fruit pairs really well with cardamom’s heady, spicy-sweet taste. Here it is for you to try, my improvised recipe for ollalieberry-pear jam.

Ollalie-peary jam

• 7 cups frozen ollalieberries, thawed
• 5 cups peeled, cored, and chopped pears
• 3 cups water
• 1 tsp cardamom
• 1 package pectin

While berries are thawing, peel, core, and cube the pears. I made the mistake of simmering them in water thinking they would soften sufficiently; the best thing to do at this step is to puree them if you’d like a smooth jam or chop them into smaller chunks if you’d like your jam a bit chunkier. I opted for smooth jam.

Place your berries, pears, and water into a Dutch oven. Bring to a boil. I added the sugar, cooked at a full boil, stirring often, until it was dissolved – about 5 minutes – and then added the package of pectin and finished as per package directions. I ladled into clean 4-oz Mason jars and canned as per the National Center for Home Food Preservation guidelines. This made 16 4-oz container. Lots of jam. Quite yummy.

It’s not a tourist-oriented designer restaurant, which makes it perfect and endearing. A thatch-roofed cantina takes up the left rear corner, with a couple of small tables in front and a television on the wall. The entire left side of the space, between the front door and the bar, is inexplicably taken up by an amazing sculpture – an enormous, elaborate, painstakingly beaded – shark.

Here is a detail, from our island of the dolphins:

The wall above the shark is lined with sun-bleached skulls; those from several cows and one from an antlered moose. A handwritten sign beneath it is written in English and reads: “The last moose taken on the Baja. Nov. 98. ‘Denny Dahl’. Both rifle and shooter were loaded.”

The wall between the front door and the kitchen is decorated with a wildcat pelt, a painting of the Virgin Mother, multicolored sombreros, framed botanical illustrations of sea birds, potted plants, a ceramic watermelon, and a rack of cards for sale.

The kitchen is visible in the right rear corner, and one chef was in there cooking with a couple of guys hanging out talking to him. Two other people in there were messing around fixing some equipment. We pushed together two of the ten, mostly empty, tables, and almost as soon as we sat down the waiter brought us two plates of nachos, heaped with beans, cheese, and pico de gallo, and took our drink orders. We watched him make Kid Two’s enormous limonada to order with lemon juice, sugar syrup, and sparking water. He drank several of those over the course of the evening; enough for the waiter to tease him a bit, calling him “El Rey Limonada.”

It was all quite relaxed – sitting with our drinks, listening to Linda Ronstadt singing mariachi in the background, munching on the nachos, taking in the menu, and eventually deciding on a bit of everything. At these prices, we could certainly afford to order at our whim; 60 pesos for guacamole and chips translated into $4.50; it was the same serving size as the 7.95 order at Palapas here in Aptos. And the food was superb – not in a foodie/haute cuisine sort of way, but in a spicy salsa/fresh tortilla/local clams/chunky guacamole sort of way.

The flavors of all the dishes were fairly mild, and tacos are plain tortillas with filling. It’s up to you to choose from one of the two salsas – hot or super-hot – and guacamole to add heat and tang. Their guacamole, as I said, was chunky, with chopped onion, tomato, cilantro, and jalapeño. It disappeared from the table quickly. LL ordered clams, served hot in a bowl of garlic butter, and piled them in a fresh flour tortilla, adding dollops of hot salsa and guacamole. Wonderful.

The queso fundido was melty and mild, with chorizo crumbled into small bits at the bottom of the bowl:

It was great as a topping to carne asada tacos, just chunks of meat, moist and lean, simmered in a flavorful oniony/peppery marinade, and spooned into super-thin, fresh flour tortillas and finished with the extra-hot salsa. Perfection.

Mija liked her carne asada fajitas; they were salty, not spicy, with bacon, roasted green bell pepper, and onion, and were served with a scoop of white rice and a side of creamy refried beans. Kid One dubbed his chicken enchilada authentic(!), mild,  and corny – although he could just as well have been describing himself. Kid Two, I noticed on this trip, faced with unfamiliar menu items almost always ordered a soup. Not soups he’s ever eaten, either – I think he tries lots of new soups at his Buddy’s house and just thought it was a good and safe place to start. So he ordered what was his first tortilla soup – velvety and richly tomato-y but super spicy. He was hungry after a day on the water, though, and masterfully worked his way through enough to fill him up.

The food and experience of Mexico Lindo y Que Rico were just perfect for the day – a hot and windy Sunday that kicked off with dolphins and frigate birds and segued to strolls past sleeping chickens on the way to shop for souvenirs.  I loved that it felt so . . . local. I don’t – and can’t – know if it’s just like any another local Loreto joint. Based on our experiences this trip, though, the friendliness was very typical. It’s just a great place, and highly recommended. Bring pesos and a big appetite.

There’s also great information on basic home food storage – you  may think you’ve got it down pat, but I guarantee you probably know someone just moving out of their childhood home who will benefit from knowing that an opened bottle of mustard will only last for 6 – 8 months, and opened peanut butter only 2 – 3 months.

Check it out, and pass it along to your friends:

National Center for Home Food Preservation.

I first learned about the amazing and inspiring Diana Kennedy at her keynote presentation during Monterey Bay Aquarium’s first Cooking for Solutions event. She told us of arriving in Mexico in 1957 with her husband Paul, a foreign correspondent for the New York Times. In short order, she fell in love with the cuisine and the people and started on what has become her life’s work, traveling, studying, and recording all aspects of Mexican cooking. In her soft-spoken, deliberate manner, she lovingly described her ecologically sustainable adobe on a compound in Michoacán that serves as a research facility where she grows native herbs and vegetables. I left thinking – wow! What an amazing woman, and how had I not ever heard about her before? You should really click on this blog post I found online about a visit with her; it’s a quick lovely read and will give you an excellent sense of her charm, wit, and graciousness. She is a pioneer in both sustainable living and in the ethnography of Mexican food.

The recipe I have for you today comes straight from her cookbook My Mexico: A Culinary Odyssey With More Than 300 Recipes. My Mexico serves as a travel diary as much as a cookbook; each chapter begins with a journey to a destination and a description of a place in time. here is her first memory of entering the Michoacán town of Zitácuaro:

When I first came to Mexico in 1957, I remember passing through what was then a quiet little town. The paved highway stopped as it entered the town and started again at the other side, Avenida Revolución, which ran through it, was unpaved but divided by a line of old shady trees. The local houses, typical of the region, were of adobe brick with gently sloping roofs of thick tiles. Many of them still had their solares, a plot of land at the back covering a square block planted with fruit trees, vegetables, and herbs, with hens pecking around and often a cow grazing contentedly.

In Zitácuaro, Kennedy met several women who shared their family recipes with her. Señora Elvira Frutis Rivas was one of them.

Sra. Elvira is in charge of the large parking lot where I park my truck on the days that I go into town. She is a plump, pretty little woman, she widow of a laconic, pessimistic little man who recently died of a sudden heart attack at a relatively early age, leaving her with two of the children still to educate and bring up. She lives in a compact and immaculately clean little house at the back of the lot and makes the most delicious hand-patted tortillas on an improvised wood-burning stove next to the cars. … Almost daily she prepared the main meal of the day for herself and the family, her brother, and his two children – eight or sometimes nine in all.

One of the meals Sra. Elvira prepares is steamed tacos; freshly made corn tortillas filled with a large spoonful of various mixtures, doubled over, placed in overlapping layers in the top of a steamer, cooked for about 5 minutes, and served hot. Do them in a single layer if you’re worried about them sticking together.

I’ve tried all of Sra. Elvira’s filling, and by far the best is her potato filling. Rustic, luscious, and perfect with the fresh corn tortilla. Serve with your favorite salsa. Here is her recipe, from the pen of Diana Kennedy:

Papas guisadas para tacos sudados
Potato filling for steamed tacos

makes 1-1/2 cups (375 ml)

• 1 pound (450 g) waxy potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch (13-mm) cubes
• salt to taste
• approximately 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 2 tablespoon finely chopped white onion
• 3 chilacas or poblano chilies, charred, peeled, veins and seeds removed, and torn or cut into narrow strips.
• about 6 ounces (180 g) tomatoes, finely chopped, about 1 cup (250 ml)

Barely cover the potatoes with water, add salt, and cook over medium heat for about 10 minutes – they should be half cooked. Drain and set aside.

Heat the oil in a heavy skillet, add the drained potatoes, and fry, turning them over so that they brown evenly. Add the onion and chiles and continue frying for 1 minute more. Add the tomatoes and continue cooking until the mixture is well seasoned and fairly dry – about 5 minutes.

That’s it! One note – I use poblanos and char them directly over the gas burner with the stem and seeds removed. Cover your hands with plastic bags – this is a great way to recycle your empty bread wrappers – before you cut and de-seed the chiles. (If you do have to do this bare-handed, please don’t do anything foolish like scratching your eye until the capsaicin has worn off!!)

The recipe is basically a Mexican-flavored hash, and I really was surprised at how perfect it tastes. We’ve had them several times now, and it’s been great each time. I like mine best with pickled red onions, Tapatio, and a tiny bit of Monterey jack cheese. I also make more than what we need; the leftover hash is good the next morning with a poached egg on top.

I you’re looking to take a culinary journey this year, you won’t go wrong by visiting Diana Kennedy’s Mexico. Try the tacos; if you like them treat yourself to the book!

If you’re a grrrrl on the go, you may know FUD to stand for Female Urinary Device, a nifty contraption that lets you stand up to pee just like the guys do.

If you’re familiar with Scottish English, you probably refrain from saying the word, since it has used in a way roughly equivalent to the 4-letter word that starts with “c” and rhymes with “punt.”

But here’s a new FUD to me. I actually laughed when I saw it in the cold case at Loreto’s Supermercado El Pescador while I was browsing around for an island picnic lunch the day of our dolphin adventure:

It turns out FUD, pronounced “food,” also stands for Fino, Unico y Delicioso, or, refined, unique, and delicious – a noble aim for processed lunchmeat. It’s a major brand name of ham, bologna, and bacon – think Oscar Mayer of Latin America. FUD, as the name stands, would be a tough sell in the U.S.  I sometimes read stories about product names being lost in translation. This would be one of those, as it appears to rhyme with “dud.” And “cud.”

We skipped the FUD. It wasn’t just the name; I just really didn’t want to go to Mexico to eat bologna, and the street tacos were just much more fresh and delicious-looking.

The dolphins dove and herded in packs. I was lucky enough to catch one's face in this shot.

Francisco told us he named his boat Pajaro because his father used to say that being out on the water made him feel free as a bird.

Look to the left - the dolphins were directly under our boat, and the water was clear enough to make out their outlines. You can even this this one's white belly.

The dolphins sounded like Darth Vader as they breathed hard before slapping the sea with powerful tails to herd their prey, then diving deep for a mouthful.

A pair of bottle nose dolphins dive in unison for their Sunday brunch.

Kid One, caught up in the spectacle of the moment, asked the Captain’s permission to jump overboard and join them. He was very brave; the water was about 65 degrees and the dolphins outnumbered him by about 300 to 1.

I'm impressed to have raised a child with a strong sense of carpe diem, but am mostly relieved he had the upper body strength to pull himself back on the boat!

A true once-in-a-lifetime experience, and a rare opportunity to be humbled by the majesty of the world around us.

The menu is quite extensive if you’re still hungry; it’s very old-school steakhouse with a Mexican flair and as much heat as you can handle. LL’s fresh halibut Veracruz, packed with chocolate clams, shrimp, olives, onion, and pepper in a zesty tomato sauce topped with a scoop of rice, was also quite tasty. Sadly, the photo doesn’t do it much justice:

Mita Gourmet, like most of the restaurants in Loreto, does not take credit cards. No worries, though; there is an ATM on the opposite side of the square where you can get pesos from your credit or debit card.

Snow covered berries
Heat two cups of sugar and two cups water till sugar melts.
Stir.
Put in one bag of cranberries. Stir. Cover, put in fridge for 24 hours. Drain.
Let dry for about an hour.
Roll in superfine sugar. That’s it!

Usually stormy winter months offer up smoothly worn pebbles, spring’s tides bring driftwood, and summer’s flatter seas offer up mounds of kelp. Beach glass and sand dollars are rare and coveted.

Once we found the beach littered with velella velella, by-the wind-sailors, free-floating creatures that nosh on plankton as trade winds  blow them around the world:

Today it was bits and pieces of purple-striped jellyfish, chrysaora colorata. The pup was was quite interested in the fishy-smelling blobs; if he had a little peanut butter, he may have been more tempted to take a nibble. Or maybe not.