Pleasure Notes

Portuguese In The Kitchen

Posted in eats on April 11th, 2010 by emmajames

I lived in Brazil when I was eighteen, as an exchange student. I spent many hours in the kitchen with the mother in my host family my Brazilian mom. I learned to speak Portuguese in that kitchen. I learned about the family. I learned about Brazilian culture. I shared hopes, fears and dreams with this amazing, tiny, feisty woman who had welcomed me into her home for a year. I watched as, every day, she cooked amazing mid-day and evening meals from scratch – no boxed mixes or frozen dinners or prepped salad fixings. When I had to return to the United States, I left a piece of my heart in that kitchen. And I took with me a book I’d started, of my favorite recipes.

the recipe book

I’ve kept this recipe book for 22 years, but I’ve never used it.

Until yesterday.

I have no idea why I was suddenly struck with the impulse to open it up and make my favorite Brazilian dessert.

Partly, I think it was because I have a book club meeting this afternoon and needed to bring a dish. I don’t normally make anything; I rely on Trader Joe’s to see me through the potluck experience while others in the group out-do themselves with culinary masterpieces. I’m getting a little irritated with my own status-quo, however. I no longer get any pleasure from the “non-cook” moniker. In fact, I secretly resent it now. Also, after not eating chocolate for three years, I’m letting it court me again. Then there’s the little issue of not having read the book we’re supposed to discuss today. Is it wrong to try to distract everyone from that tidbit of news with a coma-inducing sweet?

Or did I do it because I’m feeling nostalgic about my care-free, travel-heavy, debt-free youth?

I have been making an attempt to act on my impulsive, fleeting thoughts. Perhaps that is why I opened up the book – the idea entered my head. Could it really be as simple as that?

Regardless, I DID pull out the receitas and found the recipe I wanted:

YUM!

BRIGADEIRO. Little balls of sin.

(does ANYONE still not get the correlation between chocolate and sex?)

The recipe is written in Portuguese because that was the only language I was speaking by the end of my stay in Brazil. My handwriting reflects the exaggerated bubble print many teen girls adopted in the ’80s. The cooking instructions fail to mention the temperature at which everything should be cooked or the best way to create the finished product. The quantity of each ingredient is vague because my Brazilian mom didn’t measure anything.

Of course, you already know this is going to be a disaster, right?

the recipe

This is my translation of the recipe:

BRIGADEIRO

Ingredients: 3 soup spoons of chocolate powder, 2 soup spoons of butter, 1 can condensed milk.

Instructions: Put everything in a pan and mix it with a wooden spoon until you can see the bottom of the pan. Let cool. Roll it and pass it in granulated chocolate.

Um… Okay…

I have a pan. I have a wooden spoon. I have all the ingredients.

Except I think I put only two spoonfuls of chocolate powder in the pan instead of three, but I made them heaping because I wasn’t sure whether they were supposed to be measured or not and I’m not sure my soup spoons are the same size as the ones we used in that Brazilian kitchen 22 years ago.

I mix constantly but I can see the bottom of the pan from the very beginning so I have no idea when I’m supposed to stop stirring. I put it on medium heat because, well, it’s medium. I know I’m going to have to roll the stuff into little balls after it cools and I know what the finished product is supposed to look like but the chocolate liquid starts to boil and OH MY GOD CAN CHOCOLATE BURN?

I make a completely uneducated guess as to when to stop. I take the pot off the stove, even though the recipe doesn’t say that, because I’m thinking there’s a better chance it will cool that way and the recipe says to let it cool.

I wait half an hour.

I stick a spoon in the mixture to retrieve enough to roll into a ball and WOW IT’S STICKY. I realize the bottom of the pan is still hot. I stick it in the refrigerator. It then occurs to me that condensation might form which would make it MORE liquidy rather than less so. I pull it back out of the frig and stick it back on the counter.

I wait another hour.

I try to make a ball again from the mixture. I ignore the fact the it is the same consistency that it was an hour previously. I refuse to be defeated by the fact that the stuff seems to prefer to remain on my fingers than form a ball. I begin dumping blobs of it into a bowl of chocolate sprinkles.

Blobs are similar to balls, right? (do not even THINK about making a correlation between that question and how long it’s been since I’ve had sex!)

I use up FOUR BOTTLES of chocolate sprinkles in a vain attempt to give the substance some structure.

I end up with monstrosities.