Strawberry

I serve this as a congealed salad at holiday meals.

Niño envuelto means “wrapped baby,” and it is basically a sponge cake filled with some kind of jam, cream, cajeta, or mousse, rolled up tightly, and covered with confectioner’s sugar, cream, coconut, almonds, chocolate, or meringue. It is served as a dessert, but you can also find it in panaderías sold in slices. Although I have always loved sweets, cake has never been my favorite dessert, and I think it’s because I really like crunchy things. The one exception to this rule is pastel de fresas con crema (vanilla cake filled and covered with whipped cream and strawberries). When I think about this cake, my mouth waters and I remember the Gran Via bakery, which has been making one of the best versions of this cake since the late 1960s. When the bakery first started, they sold only two things: this strawberry layered cake and huge meringues filled with whipped cream. So, when deciding what kind of niño envuelto to make, it seemed only natural to blend all of these flavors and textures into one. It is important that the eggs be at room temperature to ensure a spongy cake, so separate the eggs, cover them, and allow to come to room temperature for 30 minutes before whipping.

When we were little, my sister Yael and I would often hang out with our aunts Cucus (her real name is Lina, but I don’t think we knew that back then) and Alex. They liked to take us to the parque España, one of the few parks in Mexico City, and I always made sure to ask my mom whether she needed us to drop off or pick up anything from the dry cleaner, which was only a few blocks away from the park. I was such a good daughter. . . . Truth be told, there was an ulterior motive. Across the street was a wonderful bakery, and I would always get strawberry jelly–filled doughnuts with a sugary topping. Invariably, I would squirt jelly all over myself and get my aunts in trouble, because my mother warned them not to give us sweets too often. The bakery, unfortunately, no longer exists, but my memory of what those doughnuts tasted like still does—even though the last time I had them was almost two decades ago. They are a bit time-consuming to make but well worth the effort. You can substitute the jam for a store-bought kind, but if you happen to be making these during strawberry season, I highly suggest you give it a try because it is quite easy and absolutely delicious!

You can find all sorts of corn flour (masa harina) in Mexico, and their colors can seem almost fake. The best place to find them is the food mills, and they are commonly found near markets. Whenever I can, I like to make this dish with pink or blue corn because it enhances the color in a natural way and it somehow seems more fun.

The word atole comes from atl, “water,” and tlaoli, “ground corn.” These beverages have been consumed since pre-Hispanic times and the variations are countless. Made with water, milk, or a combination of the two, and commonly thickened with masa, the beverage is also made with ground toasted corn, fermented corn, rice, oatmeal, fresh corn, or mature corn cooked in ashes. It is sweetened with sugar and/or piloncillo and often mixed with fruit. This drink is enjoyed with sweet tamales early in the morning or at night. This atole is very popular in Michoacán, and I want to thank Ernesto Hernandez Doblas for the recipe.

PAT I guess you could say I developed a love of ice cream because of my grandmother. For her, only homemade would do, and her homemade was some of the very best. Her fresh strawberry ice cream was one of my favorites. It so happens that Father’s Day falls smack in the middle of strawberry season—and don’t you know it, Grandma, I’m taking a page from your playbook. There’s something about fresh strawberries and cream, and when you spoon out a mouthful of this ice cream, you’ll see what I mean. The best thing about this recipe is that you can make more and have some for the day after Father’s Day. The sweetened condensed milk makes this a creamy, very soft, and scoopable ice cream.

This simple panna cotta is all about the tangy flavor of creamy buttermilk topped with a sweet-tart spoonful or two of bright red balsamic-glazed strawberries.

This pretty cake was inspired by a jar of brown sugar–strawberry jam from Blackberry Farm (see Sources, page 377), a wonderful inn in the Tennessee mountains, and my grandmother’s old jam cake recipe. The combination of sweet fruit preserves, soft cream, and tender yellow cake makes me think of it as one part strawberry shortcake and two parts English trifle, in sliceable form. When we make it at Foster’s, we leave the sides unfrosted because it looks so homey when the frosting oozes from between the layers and down the sides of the cake. Note that the Buttermilk Crème Fraîche must be made at least two days ahead; if necessary, you can always substitute sour cream or store-bought crème fraîche.

Growing up, my sister, Judy, and I coveted one simple dish above all others for breakfast: hot biscuits topped with lightly mashed strawberries and lots of sweet butter. I use a dead-simple recipe for cream biscuits adapted here from the Times-Picayune of New Orleans.