Caribbean

This heirloom family recipe has the distinctive allspice aroma of the cooking of my hometown, Santiago de Cuba, the only part of Cuba where this complex spice is used in a pork marinade. The combination of cumin and allspice is especially characteristic of my family's cooking. Originally a Christmas dish, cerdo brujo is now one of the most popular dishes at my restaurant Zafra, where we celebrate Christmas every day.

The Christmas season in Puerto Rico is blessed with balmy weather and clear skies. There is nothing like dining under the shade of a gourd tree on Christmas Eve, savoring every morsel of the earthy tamales called pasteles and adobo-flavored pork while looking at the sea. Puerto Rican women get together with their families to prepare pasteles by the hundred, freezing them until needed for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, family reunions, the Fiesta de Reyes, and the religious season called octavas that follows the Feast of the Epiphany. It is the blend of the tiny pepper ají dulce and broad-leaf culantro in the fragrant sofrito (cooking sauce) that gives an unmistakable Puerto Rican identity to these earthy tamales. A dash of vinegar lends the sofrito just the right amount of tang against the mild dough of malanga and plantain tinted orange-yellow with achiote-infused lard. I learned to make these in the traditional kitchen of the Puerto Rican side of my family. While one person took care of trimming the plantain leaves, others were busy grating the vegetables and making the sofrito. There the vegetables are grated by hand, though you can find machines designed specially for this purpose in any market or use a food processor. Puerto Ricans are extremely fussy about the wrapping—it has to be perfect and watertight because pasteles are normally boiled. But I prefer to steam them.

A sensuous variation on the theme of bread and chocolate is a silky ganache flavored with a garlicky Cuban-style olive oil mojo, smeared over slices of Cuban bread. Because the ingredients are so few and basic, it is important to use a not-too-bitter premium chocolate. I also like the effect of a mellow Spanish extra-virgin olive oil made with Arbequina olives, with their slight accent of apple peel. Sea salt sprinkled on the bread right at the moment of serving brings out all the flavors.

Editor's note: Use this with Maricel Presilla's Boiled Yuca (Yuca Hervida) . Ajilimójili (ah-hee-lee-MOH-hee-lee) is the wonderful whimsical name for this Puerto Rican–inspired sauce. How to translate this tongue-twister? It seems that it is a composite of the words ajo (garlic) and moje (sauce), but much more can be drawn from it. In Cuba and the Mexican state of Tabasco, ajilimójili is a colloquialism for the Castilian Spanish intríngulis, a hidden reason that is suddenly revealed, or the workings necessary to pull something off, or the key to making a difficult feat look simple. Why was this sauce called ajilimójili? Perhaps because it has its own ajilimójili—the "inner workings" to make any food it touches splendid. Serve with Puerto Rican Pasteles .

This garlicky sauce is the traditional accompaniment to the starchy root vegetables of the Hispanic Caribbean, especially Cuba. The acidic medium is usually Seville, or bitter, orange juice, though lime juice or white vinegar can be substituted. The mojo is at its best spooned or brushed over piping-hot boiled yuca, plantains, or other starchy tropical vegetables.

Watercress is the green of choice in Cuba, its peppery taste a perfect foil for the avocado and the sweet pineapple in this classic Cuban salad. I serve it with shrimp in a spicy tomato sauce called enchilado de camarones. In Cuba, the pineapple is never roasted, but this technique adds another dimension of flavor I find very appealing.

If you want a real taste of Cuba, you have to start with a mojito. Rum, lime juice, mint…you've got the drink of Hemingway in your hands. For a delicious spin on the classic, try this version. Sweet, tart, and bursting with fruity flavor, blackberries are an outstanding addition.

A homemade chicken stock spiced with a Scotch bonnet or habanero chile lays the foundation for this tropical dish. Coconut powder and sweet potatoes add to the island feel. “It’s a sweet soup and is more appropriate as an appetizer than an entrée, though I have to admit I’ve indulged in several bowls for dinner,” Epicurious member JTucci says. Although Tucci calls it a soup, the coconut chicken broth will be scant—just enough to cover the chicken and cabbage at the bottom of the bowl.

Chef Kris Wessel of Florida Cookery in Miami Beach, Florida, shared this recipe as part of a Palm Tree Christmas menu he created exclusively for Epicurious. At Wessel family Christmases at Grandmother Esther's house in Miami Beach, the main courses were Florida-centric, but the desserts were not. This particular rum cake was often served by one of Wessel's aunts. "I think all the Irish side of our family loved it because it was loaded with rum," he says, joking that they'd often add more to the glaze than the recipe called for. The alcohol will burn off, but you can also omit the rum glaze and just serve with ice cream.

A sprinkle of cayenne pepper offers a bit of heat to complement the sweetness of the roasted fruit. Because they are petite, Solo papayas work best for halving into single servings; if you use Mexican papayas, quarter them instead.

Achiote paste is a distinctive staple marinade of the Yucatán peninsula that infuses food with a brick-red hue, a part bitter–part acidic flavor, and an earthy intensity that lingers on the palate. It’s usually combined with the bitter orange of the Yucatán and the fierce, tropical habanero chile. This recipe has a distinctly Caribbean flair, evoking personal memories of the early market in Merida, capital of the Yucatan and famous for its beaches. There, you’ll find wonderful whole fish marinated in achiote paste and cooked on fires on the beach over coconut husks. Or chicken tamales with achiote paste wrapped in banana leaves steamed, then finished over an open fire. These tacos are traditionally served with black beans, rice, and a heaping side of fried plantains (see page 140). You can make your own pickled onions for the garnish: Slice red onions into thin half-moons, sprinkle with oregano, and marinate in the juice from a jar of pickled jalapeños for about 20 minutes.

You will need sweet, fully ripened plantains (plátanos maduros, in Spanish) for this Cuban-inspired side dish. They are soft, with peels that are mostly brown or black, and are available in Latin-American markets and many grocery stores.

This island staple is also known as “Jamaican coat of arms.” Some people add chiles to make it spicy, but we like it mild and slightly sweet to complement the heat of jerk chicken. For this dish, there’s no need to soak the kidney beans before cooking.

Enjoy a delicious island meal by making your own fragrant jerk seasoning to flavor grilled or broiled pork chops.

This dish got me hooked on the La Caja China box roaster, which was introduced to me by Tom Romano, who along with his wife, Linda Gilbert, owns Broadway Catering in Sonoma, California. They use the La Caja a lot at home and for catered events. The guests are always awestruck with this mysterious box roaster and its fabulous results. The sauce is Tom’s nod to the flavors of the Caribbean, where the La Caja is from.

Part of the fun of Nashville is the occasional encounter with the music community—Martina at the supermarket, Keith at the sushi bar, Kenny at the gym, Wynonna doing lunch, or Mr. Prine waiting in the school car line. Nashville is good about giving Grammy winners, hit songwriters, and all who keep the music playing plenty of space for living their regular lives. Over at Min’s, we enjoy the occasional drop-in visit by the Malo posse, the charming sons of velvet-voiced Raul Malo. We shoot the breeze about Dad’s latest album, fast cars, and food. No luck getting any Cuban secret family recipes, but the boys have kindly offered Dad’s autograph on our Mavericks and Raul Malo CDs. Listening to Raul gets us hungry for Cuban Fingers, Miami’s favorite crusty pressed sandwiches. We fill them with Ultimate Cheater Pork Loin, or sometimes leftover cheater brisket or beef round roast. Cuban bread is extra crisp on the outside and very tender on the inside, so it’s easy to flatten. Cut the sandwiches into neat fingers for parties.

Barbecue gets along with any bean cooked with a little onion and garlic, including black beans. Cuban Black Beans with a touch of sherry are especially well suited for Cuban Fingers (page 176) with Ultimate Cheater Pork Loin (page 80). Serve the beans over rice or add some water or broth and turn them into a soup dressed with fresh parsley, chopped onion, chopped hard-cooked egg, and a dollop of yogurt or sour cream.

One of our top five cheater recipes was inspired by a summer cookout at the Nashville hideout of songwriter/producer Desmond Child, the genius behind scores of hit songs, including “Dude Looks Like a Lady,” “Livin’ on a Prayer,” and “Livin’ La Vida Loca.” Margarita, a member of Desmond’s Miami posse, is an excellent cook and veteran cheater. The chart-topping single of the incredible Cuban feast was Bar-B-Cuban Chicken. After marinating chicken legs and thighs overnight, she cheated big-time by cooking them in the oven before the party. In a matter of minutes, the precooked chicken was effortlessly seared on the grill in a showy haze before a live audience. Garlic and tangy lemon not only filled the air, they had penetrated deep into the meat (and our clothes). Margarita admitted, “I don’t measure and I always use too much garlic. I say, it’s good? No. More.” “How much garlic do you use, Margarita?” “Too much,” she said. This is our cover of Margarita’s smash hit.

About fifteen years ago R. B. thought his next-door neighbor, who was out grilling some chicken, called him a jerk. Back then, R. B. hadn’t heard of jerk seasoning, and his neighbor seemed like a nice, quiet fellow who pretty much kept to himself. When R. B. turned down the Bob Marley, everything got straightened out, and the chicken was delicious. A jerk dry rub requires allspice, thyme, and some heat. The Scotch bonnet pepper is the traditional choice, but that’s too many Scoville heat units for us. We keep the heat out of the rub, then sprinkle on cayenne to customize the chicken to suit everyone.

Crunchy coconut biscuits are a Jamaican specialty and are crispest the day they’re baked. To toast coconut, preheat the oven to 325°F. Spread the coconut in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet and toast, stirring occasionally, until light golden and fragrant, about 10 minutes.

For years I carted cases of this citrus-flavored Cuban marinade back from Miami, til we started making it in the restaurant. The real thing is all tarted up with the juice of bitter oranges—nearly impossible to find. So we add a touch of lime juice to freshly squeezed orange juice to give it the right kick. It’s one of the most versatile pantry ingredients you can make. Use it as a marinade for pork and chicken, pour it over cooked veggies or potatoes, or toss it with salad greens.

Serve up these deeply flavored Cuban-style beans with a pile of perfectly cooked white rice. Add a salad or some veggies and you’ve got the Dinosaur vegetarian platter.

Home cooking doesn’t get any easier than this. So if you’re serious about getting maximum flavor for a minimum amount of effort, this Cuban way of preparing chicken is for you. The onions and Mojito Marinade melt together into a tasty sauce that mingles well with some of our Perfect Rice.