Ranchos - Almendras tostadas, Toasted Almonds, a Pinedo recipe

Almonds are used often throughout Miss Pinedo's book and this is not surprising because she lived in Santa Clara county, which is known for its agriculture, including almonds.

UC Davis published "Almond Production in California" by Geisseler and Horwath which states:

Almonds were planted in California as early as 1853. The varieties used were of European origin.

...

In the 1880s, local varieties, more adapted to the climatic conditions, became available and allowed for profitable production of high quality almonds.

...

With adapted varieties available, almond production increased steadily. While the statewide production was about 250 tons in 1888, it averaged 2250 tons between 1910 and 1914 and 4600 tons between 1915 and 1919.

This recipe, on page 28, caught my attention and amused me greatly because of one phrase:  "When the almonds squeak, they are removed from the fire."

I really wanted to try it to see if the almonds would squeak or not.

My translation

My Redaction (first attempt)

1 pound raw almonds, already shelled

1 pound granulated sugar

4 ounces water

1/4  to 1/2 teaspoon lemon extract (see both attempts for comments)

Lightly butter a flat pan or cookie sheet.  Turn oven on to warm or about 170 degrees F.

Put the almonds in a heavy saucepan; add the water and sugar.  Stir well.

Put over medium heat and bring to a boil.  Adjust heat downward as needed to keep the mixture for boiling over.  Do not stir.

When the almonds start to smell toasted, remove from the heat.  Add the extract and stir very well.

Put back over the heat and cook again without stirring until the sugar becomes brown.

Pour the mixture into the buttered pan and quickly spread it so the nuts are a single layer.  Put pan into the oven for about 15 minutes.

Remove from oven and allow to cool.  Break into pieces.

My Notes

I interpreted the instructions to peel and open the almonds as meaning to remove their shells.  My almonds were already shelled so I used them as they came.  Later I came to realize that then instructions probably meant to blanch them and remove their skins ("peel"), then to open the halves.  This is why I did a second attempt.

Really this is an almond brittle.  You don't want to stir the sugar and nut mixture while it is boiling because this might cause it to crystalize instead of turning to a caramel.  This would make it more like candied (sugared) nuts and not a brittle.

Alas, I never heard the almonds squeak.  I kept waiting and then I noticed the lovely toasted almond scent just before I started smelling a scorched odor.  This is when I took the pan off the heat.  So take the pan off as soon as the almonds smell toasted.

I had to guess the amount of lemon extract.  I've had nut brittle with lemon flavoring before (though not from extract) so I knew it would be good; I just didn't want to over- or under-do it.

I didn't need to cook it long the second time to get the caramel color on the sugar.  

After pouring the mixture on the buttered pan, I very quickly spread it to a one-almond thickness.

I'm not sure if the oven drying process contributes anything but I did it anyway.

Here are pictures of the process along the way:

Boiled, not stirred

After the lemon was added.

Poured and spread

A little scorching occurred (see dark spots)

After breaking up

The Verdict  (for the first attempt)

It was very tasty!  The lemon was a nice touch as it kept the flavor from being too sweet.  The caramelization was just right - a good flavor and not sticky (so no risk to my teeth).  The almonds gave it a toasty, nutty flavor.  The scorched areas did not make anything taste bad.

It was at this point I realized I should have skinned and split the nuts.  They were a bit big for each bite, although I didn't have a problem with it.  I also thought that the white almond look would be better, more intriguing, due to the contrast with the brown syrup.  

The Second Attempt

Before following the directions given in the first attempt, pour boiling water over the almonds.  Allow them to sit until cool enough to handle, then remove skins and split the halves or cut the nuts into pieces.

Or just buy blanched, chopped almonds.

My Notes

Some of the nuts had skins that slipped off easily.  Others were stubborn and I had to scrape them off with a fingernail or the edge of a spoon.  This was not easy.  

Also, at first I was trying to separate the halves with my fingers, but this got my fingers sore very quickly.  This is when I started just cutting the nuts into big chunks (two or three per nut).  

Frankly, after doing this for about 4 ounces of almonds, I stopped.  My hands hurt and I hadn't gotten very far.  This is why I recommend buying blanched, chopped almonds.  

Four ounces and the reduced amount of sugar and water cooked too quickly.  Maybe my pan was too big.  When I smelled the slight toasted smell, I removed it from the heat but the mixture started to sugar up.  I added some hot water to dissolve the crystals and to recook it.  It started to sugar again so I added the extract, stirred it, then poured it out on the buttered pan without waiting for the syrup to caramel.

I put in 1/8 teaspoon of extract, so twice what I put in for the first attempt (to match it would have required 1/16 teaspoon for 1/4 the recipe).  Then into the oven.

So I didn't get the color contrast I had hoped for but at least it was a sort of a brittle.

The Verdict (the second attempt)

This was also tasty.  You can see that there was some toasting of the almonds (light brown spots).  If the sugaring hadn't happened, I might have gotten more toasting.

The lemon flavor was more noticeable but still very good.  It is a surprising flavor and compliments the almond and sugar well.  You can choose your preference on this and expect it to be good.

Ranchos - Milk and Pineapple Cajeta, a Pinedo recipe

What is a cajeta, really?  When you look at modern recipes, you will find a caramel sauce made from milk (usually goat's milk), sugar, and typically vanilla, cinnamon, salt, and baking soda.  Some of the fancier ones have alcohol added for flavor.  Outside of Mexico, this is often called "Dulce de Leche".  

But what I found in Miss Pinedo's 1898 book, El cocinero español (The Spanish Cook),was something very different.  She included a category for cajetas without an explanation of what they were - something authors do when they expect their readers to already know what they are referencing.

To improve my understanding, I turned to Nuevo cocinero mejicano, en forma de diccionario (The New Mexican Cook, in the form of a dictionary, abbreviated NCM).  Miss Pinedo got some of her recipes from this book, which was published many times in the 1800s.  The edition I used was published in 1858.

Printed in both Paris and Mexico

This book is over 1000 pages, filled with recipes formatted in two columns per page.  The recipes are very compact!  What I found was a description of cajetas and the advantage you get from making them (page 114):

Con este nombre se designa una multitude de dulces, en que mesclándose con el almíbar la mayor parte de las frutas conocidas, y otras muchas sustancias, se hace subri el grado de cocimiento hasta el punto que pueda vaciarse la pasta en cajitas de madera, donde so guarda y conserva el dulce mucho tiempo sin echarse á perder, pudiéndose proveer la despensa para todo el año en la estacion propia de cada fruta.

Con la lectura do los artículos siguientes, quedará cualquiera habilitado para confeccionar á su arbitrio una innumerable variedad de dulces de esta clase, inventando mezclas, ó refinando el gusto de las aquí explicadas, ó empleando otras frutas ó sustancias que no se expresan en este Diccionario por no abultarlo demasiado.

 

This name designates a multitude of sweets, in which, by mixing with the syrup of most of the known fruits, and many other substances, the degree of cooking is increased to the point that the paste can be emptied into wooden boxes, where the sweet is stored and conserved for a long time without spoiling, being able to provide the pantry for the whole year in the season of each fruit.

With the reading of the following articles, anyone will be empowered to make an innumerable variety of sweets of this kind at their discretion, inventing mixtures, or refining the taste of those explained here, or using other fruits or substances that are not expressed in this Dictionary for not bulging it too much.

So before cajeta came to mean a caramel sauce made from goat's milk and sugar, it was a way to preserve the flavor of fruit without refrigeration for an entire year.  Some of Miss Pinedo's recipes specify using a cajeta as a filling for other desserts, which makes sense.  Notice, too, that NCM says you are not limited to the cajetas they list -- make your own or improve on theirs.  The idea is to cook the fruit (or eggs or nuts or sweet potatoes or...) with enough sugar and to reduce it to a thick paste so it can be stored in a box on a shelf.

I chose to make a milk and pineapple juice cajeta.  It is found on page 84 in Miss Pinedo's book.

The challenge was determining what a "kettle cup" (una taza caldera) was.  I have not been able to find out any sort of reference to its volume.  I did study the recipes where she is using it, and came to the conclusion that it was about a pint, or 2 cups.  This was primarily from a custard recipe where she mentioned how many kettle cups of milk to eggs and I compared that to a modern recipe.  

Cooking it to "the point of cajeta" was easy to determine -- in other recipes she specifies that the mixture is thick enough to detach from the sides of the pan.

The starch she specifies, almidón, could be made from corn or wheat, and I chose cornstarch.

My Redaction, the first attempt

I didn't want to use eight quarts of milk, so I reduced everything down by about 1/8th.

1 quart whole milk

1/2 pound sugar

1 ounce (by weight) cornstarch

1/4 cup pineapple juice

Mix all ingredients well while still cold in a heavy saucepan.  Set over medium high heat and bring to a boil, then turn the temperature down to low.  Stir often to keep it from sticking to the pan.  Use a simmer mat under the pan to moderate the heat as needed.

Cook until very thick.  This can take several hours.

My Notes

Here are the ingredients:

Yes, that is much more pineapple juice than is needed!

Mixing the ingredients cold nearly filled this saucepan.

Then bringing it to a boil nearly overflowed it.

Fortunately I got the heat turned down in time.  

It took me a while to realize that I should use a simmer mat -- even though I stirred it regularly (but not continuously), there was some sticking to the bottom of the pan, as evidenced by little, dark brown bits that started showing up in the mixture.  

After standing nearby for more than two and a half hours, stirring regularly, I noticed the mixture was very thick but not detaching from the sides of the pan.  

Coating the spoon and piling on top of itself in the pan.

To be honest, I was very tired of being near it and stirring it.  It was a good thing I had a lot of paperwork to do while the mixture cooked, but there came a point where I was just done with it all.  I decided that was as close to the point of cajeta as I could get it.

I poured it into two containers, one that was lined with waxed paper and one that was lightly greased.  They were left on the counter to set up for the night.

When I tipped the mixture out of the container, I found a cajeta that was thick enough to hold its shape, even when scooped with a spoon.

The Verdict

I ate it right off the spoon.  It was thick, sweet, smooth, creamy, and tasty!  It was not too sweet and had a cooked milk flavor that I appreciated.  The only thing it was missing was the taste of pineapple.  I wondered about when I was reducing the recipe -- not every ingredient reduces down to a good amount, and I tasted the mixture before it went over the heat.  There was no pineapple flavor in it that I could discern.

This made me want to make it again with more pineapple juice.  After all, the idea of the cajeta was to preserve the flavor of the fruit.

I also wanted to make it without getting the little brown flecks and maybe even cook it to where it detaches from the pan.

My Redaction, the second attempt

All the ingredients above except use 1 cup pineapple juice.

Instead of bringing the mixture to a boil, heat it over the medium high heat stirring constantly until you feel it thicken slightly.  Then turn the heat down to low and put the simmer mat in place.

If you can wait, let it cook over the low heat until very thick, stirring regularly.

My Notes

The cold mixture truly tasted like pineapple this time.

Turning the heat down before it foamed meant I didn't risk it overflowing the pan.  The heat was just low enough that the mixture steamed but didn't bubble or scorch.

I stirred it every 15 minutes (I used a timer) until it was reduced and getting thick, then I stirred it every 10 minutes.  

After three hours, I took the pan off the simmer mat and brought it to a boil over medium high heat while stirring constantly.  I made sure to scrape the sides of the pan as well as the bottom to avoid scorching.

After 20 minutes, this process reduced the mixture to near half of the original volume.  It was thick, coated the spoon, and piled on itself when it dripped back into the pan.  I did not get it to detach from the sides of the pan.

It went into a glass baking dish that was lightly buttered and left on the counter to cool overnight.

The Verdict

It was firm on top but very soft underneath, unlike the first attempt.  It was more brown in color than the first attempt, which makes me think the sugar was more caramelized.  There were no brown flecks, so I succeeded in avoiding scorching.  

The part on the bottom of the pan is on top here.

The flavor was good, although I really had to work on tasting any pineapple flavor at all.  It was sweet but not too sweet, which my guest taster and I liked.  It was smooth and creamy, with a cooked sweet milk flavor (similar to sweetened condensed milk but very mild) and something that wasn't just sugar and milk but not really defined as pineapple.

I'm not sure I would trust it to stay safe without refrigeration.  The first attempt eventually went into the refrigerator with a cover on it.  I noticed that some liquid built up on the bottom of its container.  It tasted good to the end and the liquid did not seem to change the flavor or the texture.  But to give it a try, I put some of the second attempt into a container (labeled!) to be stored in the cupboard for a few months.  UPDATE:  I checked it after three weeks and it was moldy.  Not surprising!

I also made an impromptu dessert:  small cups made from pie crust (cooked and cooled) with a layer of cajeta; a layer of blueberries cooked in water, lime juice, sugar, and cornstarch; and topped with some unsweetened shredded coconut.  It was simple but nice!

It is hard to differentiate the tan cajeta from the tan crust, but it is there.

My choice of cornstarch might be making a difference here.  The better choice is probably wheat starch, which stands up better to the long cooking.  

Perhaps I should have used a bigger saucepan, one that is wider, giving more surface area for evaporation.  Then it might not take so long to cook.  Some of the modern cajeta recipes suggest it to be cooked in a slow cooker with the lid off.  I think this would be beneficial -- you probably wouldn't have to stir it as often and you could let it cook all day to get it thick.  Maybe even to the point of detaching from the pan!

Native American - Acorns (part 4 of 4)

This is a continuation of what I have learned about acorn preparation. 
Also see part 1, part 2, and part 3.

Pomo boiling basket, stones, and tools

Acorn (Quercus sp.)

Part 4:  Cooking

The Yosemite Miwok/Paiute Indians cooked the one layer into a mush called nuppa.  When working with the fine layer, they made akiva (soup), and with the coarse layer, they made nuppa or water biscuits, uhlley.  The traditional cooking method involved baskets and hot stones.  The thick layer of acorn that sometimes stuck to the stones when they were removed from the cooking basket made a special treat for the children, called acorn chips.  These were made when the acorn had cooled and hardened, and was then peeled off the stones.  (Ortiz, 116-117)

The baskets were soaked for several hours, then sealed even further by rubbing some of the flour on the basket’s inside surface.  Then the rest of the flour and water was added.  “The volume of water varies according to the age of the acorns.  Acorns stored for ten years don’t thicken as readily as younger acorns, so less water is used.  Less water is also used with ‘green’ acorn, which thickens readily.”  (Ortiz, 110)

The cooking stones, often made of basalt or soapstone, were heated in a fire, often taking 30 minutes or longer to become red-hot.  One at a time, they were lifted from the fire with sticks and quickly dipped into water twice to remove ash from their surface.  Then they were gently placed in the cooking basket and rolled around.  “Within minutes, the mush begins to bubble, boil, blurp, and steam, filling the air with a nutty scent.  Finally, four to six or more rocks later, the meal is completely cooked to the desired soup or mush consistency.”  (Ortiz, 114)

The Eastern Mono, Southern Diegueño, Luiseño, and Kamia boiled their acorn in ceramic pots.  The Gabrielino used steatite vessels.  But the use of baskets and stones was a customary practice in the central and northwestern regions.  (Heizer and Whipple, 304)

When it is fully cooked, acorn has a subtle, delicate, nutty flavor.  It is rarely seasoned, except by the use of one last cooking stone, which is removed from the fire, rinsed, then lowered to the surface of the acorn and moved over the top of the food to “scorch” it.  (Ortiz, 116)

The Paiute sometimes seasoned their acorn by pounding it with clean incense cedar leaves.  (Ortiz, 116)  The Yurok slightly parched their acorns before pounding; the Shasta roasted the moistened meal; the Pomo, Lake Miwok, and Central Wintun mixed red earth with the meal; and the Plains and Northern Miwok sometimes mixed ashes of Quercus douglasii bark with it.  (Heizer and Whipple, 304)

Cooked acorn jells readily in cold water, which is a test for beginners to learn when to stop cooking it.  The uhlley water biscuits utilized this property:  once the nuppa was cooked, it was dropped into a tub of cold water from a wet bowl, forming a “pretty shell-like shape, somewhat curved in on itself.”  (Ortiz, 117)  The tub also contained incense cedar branches, the oils from which gave the uhlley a “refreshing, foresty taste.”  (Ortiz, 118)

Another way the acorn was prepared was to form acorn cakes, small round patties which were placed on a hot stone to cook.  The flat stone had previously had a fire built on it, which was removed when the stone was hot, and the surface was swept clean.  (Ortiz, 116)  The Ohlone made this, too, by “boiling the mush longer and then placed the batter into an earthen oven or on top of a hot slab of rock.”  Acorn bread was described as “deliciously rich and oily” by early explorers.  (Margolin, 44)  Also, some Western Mono women cooked the flour and allowed it to congeal overnight before serving.  (Ortiz, 116)

Whether served as a thin soup, a thick mush, or a biscuit, cake, or bread, acorn was utilized as a primary staple by California Indians because it was highly nutritious as compared to wheat or maize (Heizer and Whipple, 305), did not require farming practices like tilling or irrigation (Margolin, 44), and was extremely plentiful throughout most of the state.  In fact, “while the preparation of acorn flour might have been a lengthy and tedious process, the total labor involved was probably much less than for a cereal crop.”  (Margolin, 44)

Looped stirrers used for handling hot cooking stones

Here is a good introductory teaching packet regarding Native American food.

___________________________

I am trying to acquire freshly gathered acorns.  If successful, I will try my hand at processing and cooking them,

Native American - Acorns (part 3 of 4)

 This is a continuation of what I have learned about acorn preparation.  Also see part 1 and part 2.

Image credit: Goddard, P. E. 1903. "Life and Culture of the Hupa."

Acorn (Quercus sp.)

Part 3:  Preparation - Leaching 

The leaching container varied between groups:

Leaching in a sandy shallow depression or basin seems characteristic of the northwestern Californian culture area and most of the central Californian culture area.  The Luiseño and Cahuilla were the only southerners reported to employ this method, but they also employed the southern method of leaching in a basket.  The Coastanoan and Sierra Miwok of central California also employed both methods.   …  Beals reports leaching on bare hard ground for the Southern Maidu … The Shasta employed a device which seems to have been sort of a compromise between the sand-basin leacher and the basket leacher.  (Heizer and Whipple, 303)

However, the process was fairly uniform.  The sand was loosened to allow an easy flow of water.  After it was patted into a saucer-shape, the sand surface was leveled so the leaching water flowed evenly across it.  (Ortiz, 95-96)   The people of Yosemite Valley either laid the acorn flour directly on top of the sand or used pine needles to line it, until the late 1800s when they began to use a damp, thin cloth as a liner. (Ortiz, 98)  “The Kamia used a sand basin covered with a layer of foliage.  Some Eastern Mono lined the leaching basin with bark.”  (Heizer and Whipple, 303)  The Ohlone lined the basin with fern leaves.  (Margolin, 44)

Once completed, the basin should accommodate a layer of flour less than one-half inch deep, ideally one-eighth to one-quarter inch.  If the flour is any deeper, it will take too long to leach – the thinner the layer, the faster it will leach, and if it is too deep, the water will hardly go through at all.  A bed about 24 inches across and 10 or more inches deep with about a 2-inch lip will accommodate 4 handfuls of sifted flour.  The higher the sand pile, the quicker the water will go through.  (Ortiz, 97-98)

The acorn flour was mixed with water and swirled to suspend it.  Once poured into the basin, the coarse particles settled to the bottom while the fine particles floated until the water drained out, creating two layers that could be separated later.  Any lumps were pressed out to ensure they were leached completely.  After the water drained and the flour was packed down and nearly dry, it was ready for more leaching.  A waterbreak, often a pine branch, was used to avoid disturbing the flour by helping to gently spread the clear water across the entire surface.  The water was not allowed to drain completely; more water was added to keep the leaching going until the flour tasted sweet.  Then the water was drained until the flour was firm.  (Ortiz, 100-105)

Next came the removal of the now sweet and edible acorn flour from the basin.

A thin layer of acorn, like the skin on whole milk, sits on top of the flour once thoroughly drained.  This skin catches any dust or dirt which may have settled on the acorn during leaching, and is carefully scraped away with fingertips, then returned to the earth as an offering with a respectful, silent thank you.  (Ortiz, 105)

The part that is to be eaten can be removed as one complete layer or two layers, one of fine texture and the other of coarser flour.  (Ortiz, 105)

Native American - Acorns (part 2 of 4)

This is a continuation of what I have learned about acorn preparation.  See part one for more details on the references.

Image credit: Bella Vista Ranch, "Bedrock Mortars for Grinding Acorns"

Acorn (Quercus sp.)

Part 2:  Preparation - Pounding 

To be used, the acorn must be cracked and shelled.  Much of the description that follows is how the Yosemite Miwok/Paiute Indians prepared acorn, as found in Beverly Ortiz’s detailed book, It Will Live Forever.

One by one, each acorn is held between the thumb and the index finger with its pointy end stabilized against a flat, rough stone.  The stone provides a firm foundation for cracking, while its rough surface provides a place to secure the pointed end.

The flat end of the acorn, which was once attached to the oak tree, is then struck with the end of a small, elongated rock (hammerstone) to crack its shell.  (Ortiz, 49)

The acorn was cracked by tapping it gently two or three times, using a light, downward pressure.  When the shell split, a quiet popping sound was heard.  The shell was removed and the kernel was inspected for mold, mildew, or insect damage.  If any was found, the kernel was “returned to the earth” if extensive, or cut away if minimal.  Small black spots, possibly from incomplete drying, were accepted, but completely black kernels were not.  (Ortiz, 49-51)

The kernels have a skin that is rust-colored and bitter, and must be removed completely.  Some oak species have acorns with several grooves in the kernel, making it harder to remove the skin.  These grooves were opened with a knife.  Often the kernels were rubbed together by hand and rolled against the basket to help loosen the skins.  Then they were tossed into the air from a basket to allow the skins to blow away on the breeze.  Any kernels with stubborn skins were put back out to dry and then winnowed again. (Ortiz, 53-58)

The pounding process had specific techniques.  Some people used hoppers, bottomless baskets that were glued to a rock mortar to help contain the acorns as they were crushed.  Others pounded in shallow depressions in the rock, piling up the powdered acorn as a cushion between the pounding stone and the mortar.  The rocks used to crush the acorn were either “one-handed” or “two-handed”, depending on their length (6 to 12 inches) and weight (four to fourteen pounds).  (Ortiz, 66-68)

Beginners need about six handfuls of whole, freshly winnowed nuts to start.  A palm-sized, one-hand pestle is balanced upright in the mortar depression (even a slight, natural depression on a bedrock will do) so it stands by itself, then one handful of nuts placed around it.  Grasped by the right hand, the pestle is lifted, causing the nuts to fall into the depression.  They’re now in place to be crushed with several light, downward blows of the pestle.

These light blows are designed to prevent the nuts from bouncing around the mortar.  Once mashed, another handful of nuts is added and gently crushed using the same technique, although this time the pestle is balanced inside a small, bowl-shaped pile of crushed nutmeats.  The process is repeated until four handfuls of winnowed nuts are well crushed.  (Ortiz, 68-69)

Once a quantity of acorn meal had been produced, it was used as a cushion between the mortar and pestle, keeping the rocks from striking each other and producing unwanted grit.  Adding more nutmeats to that pile gave several benefits:  one is that the meal kept the nuts from bouncing around while being pounded; the other is that the nuts kept the natural oil in the meal from making it pasty.  “Whole kernels absorb the oil, preventing stickiness.  … If it is too sticky, the acorn flour will form little, beaded clumps during sifting, and it will not dissolve in water at leaching time.” (Ortiz, 69-70)

This process was repeated until the amount of acorn meal desired was created.  The next step was sifting the meal to insure its evenness. “You don’t want to have coarse and fine.  You want to have fine flour.  That’s the right way to make it.  … So fine it blows away with the wind.” (Ortiz, 85)  The coarse flour was either returned for more pounding or kept as a starter for the next day’s pounding. (Ortiz, 92-93)

Native American - Acorns (part 1 of 4)

I want to document what I have learned about the consumption of acorns in California.  This is a four-part series.

Image credit:  Dave's Garden, "Harvesting and Preparing Acorns"

Acorn (Quercus sp.)

Part 1:  The Gathering

Everyone ate acorn.  E. W. Gifford, “California Balanophagy” in R. F. Heizer and M. A. Whipple, eds., The California Indians - A Source Book, 2nd ed; rev. ed. (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1971), 301.  Acorn was a staple food everywhere it was found in abundance and was replaced with piñon nuts or mesquite as a staple only in the desert regions where oak trees were scarce.  (Heizer and Whipple, 81)

Acorns contain tannin and phytic acid, both compounds that function as antinutrition, binding to minerals and interfering with the enzymes needed to digest food, thus preventing their absorption.  These phytochemicals make the acorns bitter and toxic. Some acorns contain more of the compounds than others but all need to be leached to make them edible and safe when consumed in quantity or with any regularity.  California Indians processed their acorns and in doing so, “obtained as much as 50% of their yearly calories from acorns, without experiencing harm” and showing “acorns can be part of a healthful, nutrient-dense diet, - but not in their raw form.” Arthur Haines,  "Do Sweet Acorns Still Need To Be Leached?", Bulletin of Primitive Technology, 47 (Spring 2014), 74-75.

The method of processing varied depending on the region, but many of the steps were similar.  The general approach was to:  dry the acorn, remove the hull, pound the kernel to a powder, use water to remove the toxins, cook, and eat. 

Leaching was the technique of choice for the majority of the people. (Heizer and Whipple, 302)  But before leaching could occur, other steps needed to be performed. 

When the leaves turn yellow, …, it’s acorn gathering time.  Acorns fall from the trees twice each season.  The first fall consists of unhealthy, worm- and insect-infested acorns, and it is left alone.

Winds bring the others down later, in late September or early October depending on the weather.  These good, healthy acorns are heavier than the others, a quality that is felt for as they are gathered off the ground.  Each acorn is also inspected by sight and felt for any bumps or holes.  The flawed acorns are left on the ground to return to the earth or be eaten by squirrels or birds.  Beverly R. Ortiz, It Will Live Forever: Traditional Yosemite Indian Acorn Preparation, as told by Julia F. Parker, 2nd ed. (Berkeley, CA: Heyday Books, 1996), 41.

The caps were removed and the gathered acorns were dried before storage or use.  (Miller, 87)  They were spread in single layers in the sun and checked regularly for insect damage.  Drying kept stored acorn from mildewing, hardened the shell to make it easier to crack open, and made it easier to pound the kernels into a powder.  Sometimes the drying was hastened by cracking the shell with a hammerstone or cutting it with a knife, if the acorn was to be eaten right away. (Ortiz, 45-47)

Created for long-term storage of dried acorns

Image credit:  

Handbook of Indians of California (1919), by A. L. Kroeber (1919)

An excellent source for a detailed description and photos is:

Miwok Material Culture: Indian Life of the Yosemite Region (1933)
by S. A. Barrett and E. W. Gifford

Be sure to click on the Plate links.

Ranchos - Pescado salmón asado á las parrillas, a Pinedo recipe

I am nearly finished translating Encarnación Pinedo's cookbook, El cocinero español.

What caught my attention recently was this rather simple-looking set of instructions.  You can find it on page 197:

My Translation:

I love salmon and my grill was clean and ready to play, so it seemed like the right time to try it.

My Redaction

10 ounces of salmon fillets

olive oil (fine, of course!)

salt and pepper to taste

two pieces of parchment paper, each big enough to wrap around both fillets

a preheated grill

I poured some olive oil in the bottom of a container big enough to hold the fillets and spread it around to cover the entire bottom.  The salmon went on top and then more oil was poured over it.  I pushed the fish around in the oil to make sure all surfaces were generously coated.  The container went into the refrigerator.

Pre-cold

My intent was to marinate the fish for about an hour, but a scheduling glitch meant I had to wait a day before I could cook them.  In total, they were in the oil for about 26 hours.  I think this did not make a big difference because the oil became solid.  

Post-cold

As the grill preheated, I put two layers of parchment paper on the counter and spread the top surface with some of the olive oil from the fish.  I then sprinkled some salt and pepper on the oil.  This wasn't measured -- I just sprinkled what looked like a good amount without feeling like I was putting on too much.

I pushed the pepper around with my fingers to get a better distribution.

Then I put the salmon on top and sprinkled it with more salt and pepper.

I reversed the thin and the thick sides.

Finally, I wrapped the paper around the fish, making a neat little package and tying it with a string.  The paper ends were both folded to the same side, putting more paper on that side than the other.

Two layers on top, ten on the bottom

The grill's temperature was 400 degrees F when I opened the lid, which I don't consider a very moderate heat, so I turned the flames down to their lowest setting.  The packet went onto the grill rack (bow side up!) over the two active flames, and I left the lid open while it cooked.  I could hold my hand over the heat for about 5 seconds before it became too warm to continue.

It took just a few minutes before I heard sizzling.  After ten minutes, I could feel that the upper surface was no longer refrigerator cold, so I turned the packet over.

I let it cook another five minutes and declared it was ready (and hoped I guessed right).

Here is the result when the packet was opened:

Notice the moisture and oil around it.  It smelled great, it looked great. 

 The Verdict

I served each filet sliced, on top of a Caesar salad that also had Romaine lettuce, fresh avocado, Parmesan cheese, croutons, and a Caesar dressing.

Dressing was added after the picture was taken

I tasted the salmon by itself first.  It was ... marvelous.  Moist, tender, flavorful.  The salt, pepper, and oil combination seemed to enhance the flavor of the fish without shifting it away from tasting like salmon.  Not too salty, not too anything.  I wanted to eat the entire filet right then after having the first bite.

My guest taster liked it, too.  He prefers his salmon to be very rare, so I was concerned I would overcook it with my timing.

It was not very rare, but it didn't matter to him.  He enjoyed it all the same because it was so moist and flavorful.  You can see in this close-up that the fish was cooked thoroughly, but it did not get dry at all.

The entire salad was excellent, too.  The salmon went well with the Caesar combination.

I loved this cooking method and would gladly do it again.  It was nice to know that I could cook it without overcooking it, that it would stay moist and flavorful.  A simple olive oil, salt, and pepper seasoning was just perfect.

It occurred to me that wrapping the fish in paper would be good for a party or gathering.  You could prepare the packets in advance, then cook them at the event, giving your guests their own packets of hot fish.