El otro artículo censurado por El Norte...

O sea, la crítica sí vale, pero la alabanza no. Por eso estamos como estamos. Un Rorschach para el país, por favor....

CONTRASTE

Es un orgullo para Nuevo León la pujanza económica que, bajo la tutela del Ing. Alejandro Paéz Aragón, promueve la Secretaría de Desarrollo Económico. Desde el desarrollo de clusters hasta los estudios necesarios para determinar áreas de oportunidad, la Secretaría cuenta con estrategias y proyectos de primer mundo. El Ing. Paéz dio una visión general de los proyectos estatales en un foro sobre la actual crisis financiera mundial patrocinado por la EGADE el martes de esta semana.
“Migrar hacia una economía del conocimiento”, como lo plantea la estrategia, es el futuro, y sus implicaciones son enormes tanto para la economía como para lo que representa esta estrategia para la educación y el entorno social. Las tácticas dirigidas a realizar la estrategia son demasiadas para mencionar aquí, pero existen datos impactantes que vale la pena mencionar.
Una comparación de la tasa de crecimiento anual del producto interno bruto entre Nuevo Léon, Estados Unidos, y México entre 2003-2008 (este último un pronóstico) muestra que Nuevo León supera a las otras dos entidades cada año. Nuevo León crea más empleos que Jalisco y el Estado de México, el ingreso promedio mensual es mayor que el del resto del país, y el Estado está cumpliendo diez años sin un emplazamiento a huelga.
Estos logros se apuntalan en una colaboración múltiple: gobierno, universidades, iniciativa privada, y fuerza de trabajo. Uno de los resultados que se observan a nivel de la calle es el influjo de migrantes centroamericanos que optan por quedarse en Nuevo León en vez de aventurarse hacia la frontera con EU, con todos los peligros que ello conlleva. Para los migrantes que han probado suerte en EU, Nuevo León se vuelve un destino igual o más atractivo que aquel país.
Un dato interesante es el descubrimiento de que la inversión extranjera en Nuevo León (u otros sitios) no depende de las incentivas que se otorgan sino de factores como la localización y la cercanía de mercados, lo cual coloca a Nuevo León en una situación privilegiada.
En contraste con la jauja de nuestros hospitales privados, que reciben a extranjeros en busca de una excelente calidad médica con menores costos, tenemos las condiciones que prevalecen en los hospitales públicos: insuficiencia de medicamentos, de equipo, de camas, con deficiencias en la limpieza. Pero las deficiencias están a nivel humano, y eso es peor.
Un amigo cercano me comentó que la semana pasada visitó a una amiga que moría de cáncer terminal en cuidados intensivos de la Clínica 25 del Seguro Social. El acompañamiento que hicieron los miembros de la iglesia de la enferma fue un acto de gran cariño y humanidad. Pero estos amigos y los parientes de la enferma, que venían de fuera del estado, tuvieron que soportar lo más ruin del comportamiento humano ante la muerte.
El personal de limpieza entraba durante la noche, silbando felizmente, poniendo su radio a todo lo que daba. No le importaba ni la enfermedad ni la presencia de la muerte. El vigilante de “seguridad” se hacía presente para pedirles a los amigos y parientes una “co-operacha” para la soda para que los “permitiera” permanecer al lado de la mujer que moría.
La falta de recursos azota los hospitales y clínicas públicos y hace sufrir a nuestra gente. Pero la falta de humanidad, de respeto, de la más elemental consideración y sensibilización, eso no es asunto de recursos económicos. Es una grave falta de la administración hospitalaria y de una nula supervisión. Es un contraste atroz.

El Jinete sin Cabeza....

Bueno, sólo la cabeza, el resto del cuerpo se fue a una fiesta de Halloween...

Salsa de cacahuate para stir-fry o verduras y pollo a la parrilla

Esta salsa es absolutamente adictiva, y de plano aumenta el consumo de verduras al cuáduple!

2 cucharaditas azúcar
2 dientes de ajo macerados
3 cucharadas de crema de cacahuate cremosa (yo prefiero la que contiene pedazos de cacahuate)
1 cucharada agua
1 1/2 cucharadita de vinagre de arroz
2 cucharadas salsa de soya baja en sodio

Mezclar muy bien, agregue un poco de agua si queda muy espesa la salsa. Usar como dip para verduras y pollo o res en stir-fry o a la parrilla.

Chiles anchos rellenos

Ingredientes

Chiles anchos secos
grano de elote amarillo dulce
queso Chihuahua rallado
crema
jitomate
consomé de pollo

Se hierven los chiles en agua salada para hincharlos y suavizarlos, y con cuidado se abren a lo largo para quitar las semillas.

Se hierven dos o tres elotes amarillos dulces, se desgranan.

Se licúa un jitomate con suficiente crema para producir una mezcla apenas color de rosa. Se agrega consomé de pollo en polvo para salar la mezcla.

Se rellenan los chiles con los granos de elote y el queso, se colocan en un refractario, y se agregan granos de elote y queso sobrantes. Se baña con la mezcla de crema y se hornea a unos 190 grados C hasta que se funda el queso y la crema se comience a dorar un poco.

Goodbye, Wyoming, Until Next Year....

My cowboy hat proudly wears the Jay Box Dot brand of Wagons West, in the form of a little pin. The survivors were given the pin so that we can recognize each other any where in the world...

The two Percherons pulling the wagon are named Black Jack and Zorro.

Of Cowboys and Farriers

One of the wranglers, Craig, was notable in that he did not sport world-class facial hair. This may be because during the autumn and winter he is a teacher. The rest of the boys, well, a picture is worth a thousand words. Col. Sanders is on the right, Craig across from him, and Paul, the head wrangler, between me and Craig. Out of the shot is Jack, a cook and wagon master, who also had a mustache that a cossack would envy. Some of the hats seemed to date from the 19th century. Though mine was the most stylish (stressed leather Stetson), it would take me the rest of my life to sweat on it in order to match the cowboy hats on display at Wagons West.

The farrier's equipment had to be seen to be believed. His pickup towed a small trailer and what looked like a long table. The "table" was mounted on hydraulic lifts. A horse was lined up parallel to the table, a gate swung shut to make sure the horse stayed put, and big leather straps were slung under the horse and under the head. Then the platform gently tilted until the horse was off the ground and the hooves were secured by leather straps. The farrier went into action then: off with the old shoes, the hooves were trimmed by hand, then an electric sander would smooth down the bottom of the hoof, the shoes were fitted by shaping cold shoes on an anvil (a nightmarish procedure for the uninitiated who try it for the first time), and the shoes were then nailed into place. Only the outside wall of the hoof is dead tissue, a kind of protein; it is lined with living tissue and the bottom internal portion of the hoof is also living tissue, called the frog, which is essential for adequate circulation of blood through the leg. The nails are angled in such a way that they do not penetrate living tissue, although such accidents do occur from time to time and require medication. After the shoe is on, the hoof is sanded again to make sure the hoof is smoothly in contact with the shoe. The platform then slowly comes back to verticle and the horse is deposited on its feet.

These horses have undergone this procedure for years. Some lie quietly and patiently, but others are never going to get used to it, and the head wrangler or Kay, the Wagons West main honcho, has to comfort the horse by stroking its face and head. Fat lot of good it does, too.

The Trail Ride From Hell

By day four, most of us were finding insect bites we didn't know we had and bruises that seemed to spring from nowhere. Mary had developed a huge blister (fortunately she had been a nurse and knew what to do) and decided to stay in camp for a day. That morning I caught a glimpse of myself in the bottom of my coffee cup as I upended it to get the last dregs, and it was shocking enough to make me glad we had no mirrors.

After our usual monstrous breakfast, we headed out. I was glad to be on Rooster again. The day before, he had been returned to camp to be shod, and I had ridden Dodo, a less than wonderful experience. He was big and fat and I couldn't get a leg on him since my legs sort of stuck out at right angles to his fat belly. The saddle was listing to starboard too and I couldn't get it straightened out. Then as we traveled along a tiny path on the edge of a long, long drop, the amateurs at the back of the Indian file somehow managed to get their horses all pushed up against one another while they gawked at the wonderful view, and one horse tried to kick another one. His hoof landed on a lady's shin, and she howled out. It scared both me and Dodo, who shied violently. I managed to keep him away from the edge of the path and I let Craig, one of the cowboys, know I was having trouble with him. He helped me with Dodo while another wrangler checked out the situation at the back of the line. Then at another point as we crossed a small muddy stream, Dodo seemed to act like he didn't want to put his feet in the water. Before I could begin to handle him, though, he decided to cross and all was well during the rest of the ride except for the blasted saddle.

All was wonderful up to lunchtime. While we were out, the camp was packed up in record time, the chuckwagon folded and stowed, and "The Ladies" was emptied and transported to the new camp. God help whoever had to do that little job. If you are just dying to know about it, it seems that the tray is pulled out from under the potty seats, covered with a metal lid, and left in situ until it can be taken out and cleaned by a service that does that kind of thing. I asked Jack who got that particular duty, and he said whoever ran the slowest. Pick-up trucks pulled the chuchwagon and storage wagons to the next camp site, which was set up and ready to go by the time we got there after the post-lunch ride--tents and all, plus of course a clean "The Ladies".

During the afternoon ride, three people who had never ridden until then were hoisted onto their mounts: a little kid on Hammer, the fat mule everyone adored, a tall adolescent, and an overweight kid that Paul, the head wrangler, had his eye on for what can only be described as remedial activities. Paul made him help taking down the posts that held the chuckwagon awnings (that in itself deserves a blog!), corrected him every time he did something inconsiderate, and put him behind the Col.'s horse as we started out after lunch. These characters--the young people and Hammer--were responsible for the ensuing chaos.

The Kid, as he will be known from this point on, could do nothing with his horse. If it decided to wander over to the side of the path to snack, if it wanted to stop and poop or scratch, that's what happened. Each time the Kid's gentle mount came to a quiet halt, the Kid was helpless. He was holding the reins at the very end, for one thing. While others shouted instructions at him and his mother got desperate, the Col. would have to stop, ride over to the Kid, and get the horse back on the path and moving.

At first this didn't bother me or Karina, who was riding with us on her horse Cinder to the new camp. Cinder was huge, black, and gorgeous, a draft-horse cross-bred. The scenery was simply magnificent as we took a road along a rushing, icy stream that ran through wild flower fields and rock formations. At one point, the road was right up against the stream, and Hammer the mule, deciding that he was thirsty, wandered off for a drink. The little kid on him, brother of the Kid, panicked. I'm sure that Hammer seemed to him some kind of uncontrollable monster. The little boy pulled back on the reins, but he too had them by the very end and all he did was slowly slip back and sideways off the mule in a rather undramatic fall. As he reached the ground, he hit his head on one of Hammer's back hooves. The boy was not injured, but of course this brought the entire group to a halt as the boy was attended to, Hammer was pulled back from the stream, and the child was talked into getting back on him--which he did for a little while. The event seemed to strike panic into the heart of the adolescent, and he announced his intention of dismounting and walking to camp. Nothing his parents could say talked him out of it, so Paul asked me to hold his horse while he straightened the situation out. We now had one unridden mount.

A few yards more and the little boy on Hammer went into panic again as Hammer stopped to snack, and he had his feet out of the stirrups and was leaning back in the same position that caused his fall. I yelled at him to put his feet in the stirrups, which he did, but he simply refused to ride any longer. Paul had to ride ahead of us into camp in order to bring the van for the people on foot and a wrangler to take back the riderless mounts. By this time, we were hot, tired, sore, sunburned, and ready for the ride to end.

On we went for what seemed like forever. You can only walk on these trail rides because a trot or jog would get all the horses going and the inexperienced riders would be in jeopardy. John, who was behind me, kept saying that just around the next bend we would find the camp. At one point he said, "It's just up ahead, Karen!" "Do you promise?" I asked him. "Yes", he replied, so I told him that was a verbal contract and if it wasn't true I was going to sue him.

Fortunately he was right, even if only by accident. Karina and I would have liked to stay a night at the new camp. It was on a small field close to the stream, which ran through a gorge of wonderful rock formations. Not only that, but supper was under way and it was Tex Mex food. But Karina and I had to say goodbye to our dear cowboys, the cooking crew, and to Mary, who broke into tears. We looked forward to getting to our motel in Jackson Hole and having a shower, but once we were clean we could easily have gone straight back to the camp.

Darrel drove us into town in a van, and the family of the adolescent who chickened out was also in the vehicle, as were John and Pat. Several people were so sore it was painful getting out of the van.

Our bags and clothes were covered in dust, and it was a toss-up what the motel receptionist thought of us--jeans, hats, chaps, and we may have smelled in spite of layer upon layer of antiperspirant!!

But the Kid had stuck it out to the end, the one person we thought would throw in the towel immediately. Who knows what dose of self-esteem he gained by helping the crew to pack up the chuckwagon, by being the kid to persist to the end of the Trail Ride From Hell while a much older boy copped out. Some people are natural psychologists, and I suspect Paul is one of those.

Wolves III

Nights were spent in a tent. Karina and I had taken sleeping bags and two small pillows. The sleeping bags occupied the entire floor of the tent, but we were lucky enough to have an extra tent set up for us that we used as a closet. That's where we put our duffle bag and two other bags. Wagons West provided pallets so we had some cushioning.

The altitude made for heat during the day, but at night it got below freezing. We would get up in the morning to find frost on the ground and on the tables and benches where we ate. In the afternoon after resting up from supper, Paul would play the guitar and sing or recite his own cowboy poetry, Col. Sanders would do tricks with a whip, but a lot of us wanted to go to bed early--well, okay, Karina, me and Mary. The night sky was unbelievable: we saw shooting stars, the Milky Way (which I hadn't seen since I lived in Michigan), and a moon so bright you didn't really need your flashlight as long as it was above the horizon.

After supper the horses were let loose. They had cowbells around their necks so that in case one or more failed to return, the cowboys would be able to locate them. It made for a surreal and beautiful experience: the horses would mill around close to camp for quite a while, cowbells tinkling, and then as it got later they would all go off far enough so that we couldn't hear them. Then, very early in the morning before sunrise, they would return. All of us waited for that moment. The sound of the bells was crystal clear in the icy air, and the horses would walk right through where our tents were set up, so we heard not just the bells but the thud of their hooves as they went past the tents. We all fell in love with the sound of the horses returning.

One night we heard the yipping of coyotes, and then shortly after that, the howling of wolves. The wolves had been very close, barely a hill away from us. They are not the Rocky Mountain wolves that are native to the region, but huge Canadian gray wolves weighing in at some 200 pounds, brought in by some government idiot who decided to even up the prey-predator situation. The result is that the Canadian wolves have almost eliminated the moose population and are making terrible inroads in the elk population too. They have killed off the native wolves or displaced them. The cowboys said they had lost only one horse to wolves in the time Wagons West has been operating (over thirty years), but the presence of wolves outside the unreachable mountain wilderness areas is disquieting. They may be getting hungrier and bolder.

The fires for cowboy coffee would be started around three-thirty in the morning. Karina and I decided the stuff is addictive. Mary and I were the first up, and we would hang out around the cooking fire and drink the brew while Mary warmed her feet near the flames and I managed to get two cups down. During the rest of the day, we were asked to always have our canteens with us in the wagons or on rides because insufficient hydration could lead to altitude sickness. As a result, Karina and I drank water until we were ready to pop, and our urine became so diluted that it was like water itself. This I know because on our first Dixie cup expedition into the woods, I managed to douse myself with most of the contents of my Dixie cup when I tripped trying to get my riding pants back up. By the time we left, I had the whole operation down to a science, but it was a considerable relief not to have to ride back to camp that afternoon smelling like pee!

On Wednesday night the talent show was held. Everyone had to participate, talented or not, and the cowboy crew did a great skit for us. Karina took the event by storm when she read her ideas for a new Wagons West brochure, that included the attractions of bathing in three ounces of water and experiencing terminal butt fatigue. It was so funny that Mary wanted it, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if you find it included in the next Wagons West publicity info on Internet.

Next on the blog, the Trail Ride From Hell.

Wolves II

Karina and I were picked up in Jackson Hole by Col. Sanders. His real name is Paul, but since the head wrangler is also Paul, most people identify the Col. by his mustache, beard, and hair. After almost two hours we got to the camp. All in all there were 22 guests on the day we arrived, and we were immediately matched to our horses or assigned our wagon for a trip into the countryside. I had a full-time horse named Rooster, a young horse; most of the horses were older, but they were all sure-footed and sound. And it's a good thing, because we went up steep slopes, down steep slopes, through the woods, and along the edge of huge drop-offs where I opted to keep my eyes on Rooster's ears. Each day we rode out of camp and along a new route through the countryside. We rested at noon at some idyllic spot where we ate our lunch, then back we rode to camp by yet another route. People in the wagons sometimes fell asleep because the ride was so smooth and the scenery so soothing. That's because they didn't teeter on the edge of cliffs, get smacked in the face by branches that the greenhorn in front of you allowed to swing free, didn't have the horses try to stop to snack every couple of minutes, nor did they arrive at the camp having to be hauled bodily out of the wagon the way some of the riders had to be lowered off their mounts.

There were people of all ages. There were children and elderly folks, and almost every one of them rode at least once a day. Our dear Mary (in the picture with Karina), a lady of some 71 summers, was there for six days and she rode every day but one. John and Pat, in their late 60s, were full-time riders. John had had a heart attack (though not during a ride...) and open heart surgery. He had to be put on his horse by three cowboys and lowered down the same way, but this was the fourth trip for John and Pat to Wagons West.

And the food! We were fed into a coma. At breakfast, the girls fired up the dutch ovens and the grills under the chuckwagon awning, and cowboy coffee was ready from around six in the morning. The recipe for cowboy coffee is simple:

3 huge coffee pots and a wood fire

water

a large amount of coffee

socks from the day before

Place all ingredients together and boil until the liquid in the coffee pots is totally opaque. Serve into a cup, preferibly stainless steel which can hold up to the coffee. You can either consume the coffee with knife and fork, or simply strain it through your teeth.

There was no such thing as a single-egg serving at breakfast. Eggs were poured onto the grill in batches of two. There were rolls and toast, biscuits and gravy, bacon, saugage, fruit, and pancakes. For lunch, we made our own and put it into a cooler that was taken in the wagon to our mid-day resting spot. Supper could have been anything from pot roast or turkey with vegetables and stuffing and rolls to giant burritos smothered in cheese. For dessert you could have spice cake and other good stuff. There seemed no way you could eat everything piled onto your tray, but we managed to do it. I ate things I wouldn't have touched with a barge pole because of their calorie content, such as biscuits and gravy, yet we always felt like the mountain air and the altitude (over 8,000 feet) were sucking the calories out of us. Whatever the reason, we were always hungry enough to clean our trays. We didn't lick them 'cause other people were watching. You could go back for seconds but shame kept us from eating another batch.

In the next blog, our sleeping quarters and the nights in the Grand Teton mountain range.

The Wolves Howled Outside Our Tent...

Karina and I have returned from our fantastic adventure with Wagons West, and let's get your most burning questions out of the way here at the outset: no, there were no showers. Your washing options were a tin basin you filled with cold water, then warmed by adding hot water that was boiling over the wood fire. A wagon with four fold-down wooden shelves on the outside served as your washing-up area, and on one of the shelves a hand-held mirror had been propped. Karina and I avoided that like the plague. We really didn't want to know how we looked.

The other option was the creek, or "crick", as it is pronounced in them thar parts. The waters in this creek were about 42°F. One of our companions, Mary (more about her later), said she just wanted to see what it was like to wash her face in water that cold. One of the cowboys, probably Jack (one of the cooks), said you could find out easily enough by getting ice out of your freezer and rubbing it on your face. On our second day at the camp, several people jumped into the van that would take them to the creek; two of the Wagons West crew went along and actually bathed, at least partially, in the creek. They looked a little blue when they returned, but

on the other hand, if you, like the cowboys, have spent days and days in the wilderness, the cold was probably better than having to smell yourself.

The potty facilities were of course more important than the bathing amenities. Here you have them: "The Ladies". "The Men" was on the other side of the wagon. The chemical toilets were fine, but there were indeed nuances. You needed a flashlight to find the potty wagon at night, and it was cold as all get-out. At least it seemed that way until you sat down on that seat inside "The Ladies", when the term "cold" somehow did not quite cover the experience. It is a miracle our butts didn't stick to the seat, forcing others to pry us off like a tongue stuck to a popsicle.

Another problem was the fact that we didn't change our campsite on the third day, as was scheduled, because the farrier showed up to shoe the 30-odd horses we had with us. By day four "The Ladies" was being studiously avoided by most of us, unless the urgency of the situation made it impossible not to visit the place. Let me put this as euphemistically as possible: there are certain natural functions the products of which one would wish to remain at a distance, and the greater the distance the better. By day four, "The Ladies" had cut that distance down to an alarming extent, and several people chose Imodium over relief just in order to avoid the experience.

As for the trail rides, well, let's just say that Karina and I became experts at Dixie cup facilities and even began to prefer them over "The Ladies" by day four.

In our next blog, more pictures and comment on the adventure itself.

Sugerencias para Navidad, familia...

No sufran. Acá les van mis sugerencias para regalarme en Navidad.

"Waking Ned Devine", DVD
"El Nervio del Volcán", Caifanes
Una barra de chocolate para repostería, marca Callebaut (entre todos, es muy caro)
"The Criminal Personality" de Yochelson, coautor.
Cualquier CD de música árabe, africana, o de la India.
Cualquier libro de cocina de comida hindú.
Un contrato por un año para que Bobby Flay me haga la comida al mediodía.

El artículo censurado por EL NORTE...

GALÓN DE MÉRITO...

Con lujo de bombo y platillo, en gran ceremonia realizada al pie de la Escalera de Quetzalcóatl en Chichén Itzá, el Partido de la Revolución De a De Veras condecoró a varios miembros con flamantes galones de recién creación y novedoso diseño, abriendo una nueva página en la larga historia de los uniformes y medallas militares.
La ceremonia, que tomó lugar a la medianoche bajo el centelleo de decenas de antorchas remojadas con petróleo, fue amenizada con bailables y cantos huicholes tocados por la Orquesta Sinfónica de Las Vegas.
No obstante la solemnidad de la ocasión, no faltaron las protestas. El Frente Popular Pro Mozart intentó bloquear el acceso al evento a los músicos de la sinfónica, alegando que los temas musicales elegidos no representaban los verdaderos intereses indígenas, y que sólo un compositor universalmente reconocido como, pues, universal, podría abarcar a todos los pueblos de todos los tiempos. En el acto, el FPPM condecoró a su líder con el medallón de “Acá Mis Chicharrones, Amadeus”, pero ante la dificultad de ubicar al líder entre la multitud, decidieron colgar la presea en un maniquí inflable que alguien, con impresionante previsión, había traído al evento.
Hubo una protesta anti-protesta, de mucho menor escala, organizada en un autobús de pasajeros por los partidarios de Bach, pero no llegó a mayores porque un subgrupo entre los aficionados Bachistas objetó a que alguien trajo un saxofón a bordo del camión e inhabilitó el aparato que abre la puerta. Los Bachistas se tuvieron que limitar a la quema de los asientos. No hubo lesionados de gravedad y elementos de Protección Civil lograron rescatar a los pasajeros Bachistas, rompiendo las ventanas del transporte público y utilizando las Mandíbulas de la Vida en la puerta de dicho vehículo.
Ante el estruendoso aplauso de los invitados, el Presidente del PRDDV colocó los galones, dando un beso en cada mejilla al mejor estilo francés. Portaba un elegante pasamontañas para proteger su identidad, ya que nadie sabe quién es el Presidente hasta la fecha; los votos de elección interna del PRDDV son secretos inclusive para los encargados del conteo.
En un detalle de originalidad que hizo rugir al público, los condecorados también portaron pasamontañas.
El Presidente del partido otorgó el “Galón del Legítimo” a sí mismo. Si no fuera por el hecho de que la prensa y los fotógrafos lograron captar el mágico momento, nadie habría creído que el funcionario del partido fuera capaz de besarse a sí mismo en las dos mejillas.
Hubo de nuevo una discordia cuando llegó el momento de colocar los galones de “Los Legales”. Surgieron conatos de violencia, con empujones y codazos, entre los condecorados, primero por la desilusión de no ser los legítimos, y luego por la lucha de ser los más legales de entre los legales, por más segundón que fuera el galón.
Fue necesario el uso de la fuerza pública a la hora de premiar a “Los Espurios”. Al saber que el galón se esfuma con todo y condecorado 10 segundos después de colocado, hubo una estampida en el momento en que los candidatos se percataron de la presea que les iba a tocar. Se controló la huída, y entre los gritos y las patadas de los condecorados, el Presidente logró colocar los reconocimientos, ahorrando tiempo al usar una pistola para clavos.
Se clausuró el evento con “El Rey” de José Alfredo Jiménez, y el público rugió de nuevo cuando cantó el Presidente.
“Lo adoro,” sollozó una mujer extasiada, “ahora si sólo supiera quién es!”

Pozole bajo en calorías

No hay cantidades porque depende del número de personas. Para diez personas, se usa un paquete de chile pasilla y unas ocho pechugas, medio kilo de maíz pozolero. Es una de esas recetas tradicionales que realmente cada quien desarrolla según sus gustos.

Para agregar al plato de pozole: lechuga finamente rebanada, ruedas de rábanos, limones en mitades para exprimir dentro del pozole, cebolla finamente picada, orégano fresco picado, comino tostado y molido, y chile piquín seco para los que gozan de sufrir...

Para acompañar: Tostadas con frijol refrito, jitomate y tomate picado, y crema.

Para el pozole:
Pechugas de pollo
cebolla entera
ajo rebanado
puré de jitomate
chile pasilla
consomé de pollo en polvo
maíz para pozole
comino tostado y molido
pimienta negra molida
orégano molido
hojas de laurel (NO usar el laurel del jardín, es venenoso!)

Se cocina el maíz pozolero con abundante agua hasta que comience apenas a reventar el grano.
En otro recipiente se cocina el pollo con los condimentos, excepto el chile y el puré de jitomate, hasta que apenas esté la carne. Se cuela el líquido y se guarda. Se corta el pollo en pedazos de buen tamaño.
Se cuecen los chiles en agua hasta que se suavicen. Se les quitan las semillas y los tallos, y se licúan con el puré de jitomate. Se fríe esta mezcla en un poco de aceite vegetal hasta que se ponga perfumado. Se agrega el maíz con su líquido, el caldo del pollo, más orégano, laurel, y comino, y la pechuga. Se agrega más consomé de pollo si hace falta. Se cocina apenas hasta que se mezcle bien, y se sirve con los vegetales encima y las tostadas como acompañamiento.
El pozole es más rico al día siguiente; hay que evitar hervir demasiado porque las pechugas comiencen a desmenuzarse.

Maangai Pal Paysam

Este postre es una delicia increíble. A pesar de usar leche entera, la receta es de "Cooking Light". Se puede hacer la mitad de la receta fácilmente.

Para ocho:
6 tazas leche entera
1/3 taza arroz basmati o arroz mexicano NO precocido
1/2 taza leche azucarada condensada libre de grasa
cardamomo molido
una pizca de sal
2 mangos cortados en cubitos

Se combinan la leche y el arroz y se cocina sobre fuego medio-alto, removiendo contínuamente, hasta que hierva. Reducir el fuego a medio y hervir suavemente unos 40 minutos para reducir la leche y que se espese. Agregar la leche condensada, el cardamomo, y la sal. Cocinar 5 minutos sin dejar de mover. Servir en copas para postre, colocar cubos de mango encima. Una variación es agregar el cardamomo ligeramente espolvoreado encima del postre.

Helado casero de SlimFast

4 tazas de leche light (usé Lala light adicionada de calcio)
un plátano
una medida generosa de SlimFast de vainilla
azúcar necesaria (se prueba el batido y se agrega sólo suficiente azúcar para endulzar, tomando en cuenta que los productos fríos necesitan más azúcar que los calientes)
unas gotas de esencia de coco
media cucharadita de esencia de vainilla
un poco de nuez picada no muy finamente

Se mezcla todo muy bien en la licuadora, se coloca en la máquina de helado y se procesa hasta congelar. Se coloca en un recipiente y se termina de endurecer en el congelador. Como este helado no tiene grasa, saldrá más "arenosa" que los helados con crema (o sea, con pequeñísimos pedazos de hielo) pero es sabrosísimo, muy nutritivo, y libre de culpa!

Panqué de amaretto y ron

Este pastel es materialmente libre de grasa, y como una pluma. Está delicioso!
Pam para rociar en el molde
1 taza de harina cernida para pasteles
1 cucharadita bicarbonato polvo
1/2 cucharadita polvo para hornear
6 claras de huevo, o 3/4 taza de clara pasteurizada, a temperatura ambiente
1 1/4 tazas azúcar glass cernida
1 cucharadita vainilla

Jarabe de manzana, amaretto, y ron
1 lata de concentrado de manzana congelado
1/2 taza de ron
2 cucharadas de amaretto
1 cucharada jugo de limón
1 cucharadita semilla de cilantro

Rociar un molde para pan con el Pam y enharinar levemente. Caliente el horno a 300°F. Mezclar la harina, bicarbonato y polvo para hornear. En otro recipiente, bata las claras hasta que estén espumosas. Agregar el azúcar glass poco a poco y batir hasta que las claras apenas sostienen picos suaves. Agregar vainilla. Extender la mezcla en el molde y hornear hasta que esté levemente dorado y las orillas apenas comienzan a recogerse de los lados del molde, unos 40 minutos.

Con una espátula delgada, soltar los lados del pastel del molde y voltear el molde sobre una rejilla para sacar el pastel.

Vierta 1/4 de taza del jarabe en el fondo del molde y vuelva a colocar el pastel dentro del molde sobre el jarabe. Con un palo muy delgado (picahielo o algo semejante) perfore el pastel hasta el fondo cada dos centímetros de distancia. Lentamente vierta 6 o 7 cucharadas del jarabe sobre el pastel y permita que se penetre. El jarabe restante se sirve en una pequeña jarra a la hora de comer.

Para hacer el jarabe: En una olla, combine el concentrado de manzana, los licores, el jugo de limón y la semilla de cilantro. Ponga a hervir hasta que se reduzca a una taza. Se puede usar caliente o frío.

Servir acompañado de fresas o frambuesas frescas.

Helado de piña

500 gramos de piña fresca, finamente picada
150 gramos de azúcar
una taza de crema pesada
unas gotas de esencia de coco (opcional)

Congele la piña cuando menos dos horas o hasta que esté bien congelada. Luego licúe con la crema, el azúcar, y las gotas de esencia de coco. Vierta en la máquina para hacer helado y procesar hasta que tenga la consistencia de helado suave. Coloque en un recipiente y poner en el congelador.

Este helado es una delicia!

Buñuelos de viento

1 cucharada de azúcar
150 gms de harina
1 huevo
1 taza de leche
1 cucharadita de polvo para hornear
1 cucharadita ralladura de naranja
un pizca de sal
2 yemas de huevo
_____________
Aceite para freír
Azúcar rubia al gusto

Coloque todos los ingredientes arriba de la línea, excepto la harina, en una procesadora o licuadora de buena calidad y procesar unos segundos, agregando poco a poco la harina durante el proceso. Deja que la masa repose unas tres horas.

Una vez reposada la masa, sumerja un molde en la masa, teniendo cuidado de no cubrirlo todo (para que se pueda desprender el buñuelo) y freír hasta que se despeque la masa. Retire el buñuelo dorado y escurra sobre una toalla de papel. Espolvoree los buñuelos con azúcar rubia.

Nota: Si sus moldes son metálicos sin recubrimiento especial que impida que se pequen los buñuelos, engráselo con aceite antes de empezar y luego periódicamente si es necesario durante la cocción. Los moldes con recubrimiento especial son disponibles en EU bajo el nombre de "rosette molds" en tiendas como Williams-Sonoma y Sur La Table. No son baratos, pero son infinitamente mejores que los de fierro delgado que se consiguen en México. Si Ud tiene moldes para buñuelos de viento al estilo antigüo, los gruesos y buenos, consérvelos como la niña de sus ojos!

Gelato a la vainilla

2 tazas leche entera
3/4 taza azúcar
pedazo de vaina de vainilla de 5 pulgadas, o 2 cucharaditas de esencia de vainilla
4 yemas de huevo grandes
1 taza crema

Caliente la leche, 1/4 taza de azúcar, y las semillitas de vainilla junto con la vaina. Cocine hasta que la leche alcance 80 grados C o 175 F. No calentar más allá de esta temperatura.

En lo que se calienta la leche, bata las yemas de huevo con el azúcar restante hasta que las yemas se tornen un amarillo muy pálido, unos dos minutos con batidora eléctrica y 4 minutos a mano. A esto, usando un globo (whisk), agregue 1/2 taza de la mezcla caliente de leche. Luego agregar la mezcla de las yemas a la olla con la leche y caliente a 82 grados C o 180F.

Cuele la mezcla y desechar la vaina de vainilla. Agregar la crema y refrigerar hasta que esté bien fría la mezlca.

Colocar en una máquina para hacer helado y transferir a un recipiente cuando alcance la consistencia de helado suave. Congelar.

Ensalada boba, pero deliciosa

Paquete de hojas de lechugas bebés, variadas
Aderezo Hellman's vinagreta a la italiana
Pimiento negro
Queso parmesano reggianito rallado

Colocar las hojas de lechuga en un recipiente, agregar un poco de pimienta, el aderezo, y espolvorear generosamente con el queso rallado.

Se pueden agregar otros ingredientes como crotones, cebolla, jitomate, etc. Asegúrese de usar un buen queso parmesano, no el de bote. A mí me gusta más en la versión simple, ya que las hojas variadas proporcionan muchas vitaminas diferentes.

Tiramisu, la versión light...

1 1/4 tazas queso ricotta parcialmente descremado
1 caja queso crema light (8 onzas)
1/2 taza azúcar
24 soletas
1/2 taza Kahlúa
1 cucharada cocoa sin endulzar

Procesar el queso ricotta, el queso crema y el azúcar en la licuadora hasta que esté bien mezlcado.
Arregle las soletas en una capa de 12 y moje con 1/4 taza de Kahlúa. Dejar reposar 5 minutos.
Colocar la mitad de la mezcla de quesos parejamente sobre la cama de soletas.
Colocar las demás soletas, Kahlúa, y queso. Espolvorear con la cocoa. Enfriar o servir de inmediato. 10 porciones.