Atole! My favorite food beverage.
Celebrating my parents during the holidays
When I think about the Christmas, I usually think about my mother's way of celebrating it with us. Presents and all the "hoofla" is just the icing on the cake. But having a warm cup of atole is incredibly memorable. Anytime I feel distant and lost, all I need is this wonderful beverage to bring me some sense of comfort and ease. I suppose you can call this a comfort food. Yes, by all means, it is comfort. It's what I felt I needed when I wasn't feeling very assured of myself. I mean mamma made the best atole ever! Usually it is made with masa harina (corn flour), but mama made it with flour (harina), when when we were young and living at home. Yes, she thought to develop her own traditions, I'm sure. I say this because when we would visit Mexico, her tierra (land), others made it with corn flour and it was unsweetened. It was a quick filler, like an oatmeal or porridge. Either way it was delicious during those cold days.
Mamma was always ripping and running trying to make sure we had everything we needed. I felt sorry for her most times. Talk about being exhausted. It was crazy. It was like as soon as she got home from work, she had to keep up with food, clothes, cleaning; household chores, and my father's commands of citizenship. Yep, she had to go to school like everyone else. (I'm smiling). Oh she was proud alright, when she became a citizen, but she never left her roots. She was also very adamant about staying true to her culture; the way she did things around the house to take care of family. My father was pretty tough. I suppose it was his way of making sure things got done correctly. But I never saw him cook. Prep, maybe, and rarely with his "compadres", but never in the kitchen. It was for women, and my mother did not mind at all. But I could see it wearing on her. Still, when she was in her kitchen it was her solitude moment and no one was to take that away. So I simply watched her for the most part, to learn and help out if allowed, or at times made to help as I got older.
When it came to the holidays, you would always find her in the kitchen, no matter where she traveled.
At times I felt her anxiety. I think about how much she worked very hard to stay here in the Untied States and it brings tears to my eyes. One never asks to be born, but when they are born, it's like a miracle. But I could see the tiredness in my mother's eyes, which we all took advantage of many times, simply because she was mom. I wanted her so much to remain home and to just care for us, but she would not. It was as though she embraced that bit of independence until she retired at a later age. Still my father helped her in some ways,especially becoming an American citizen and by taking on her traditions.
With me, she would sneak and share so much of her culture. She taught me how to read and write Spanish. She taught me to pray in Spanish, and she taught me how to cook, while all the time not getting in her way. Still, it wasn't enough for me. I always felt something was missing in my life. It could of been the security of a father, but I won't blame that. There where times that I wanted my mother to be home, because even going to the store or school would cause me to have stress. It wasn't easy being the youngest. You were simply not heard and had to remain like a mouse or something bad would happen was my fear. I suppose it came with my father's rulings. He was quit strict. Mamma didn't always know what went on the house while she or/and our father were away. But I couldn't help but not blame her, as an adult, simply because every person needs a break from their children, as much as they are loved. When she and our father were gone, which was almost always, we babysat each other. It was how we were raised, and if something happened, no one was to blame, It was just part of our structure and survivor-ship. The family never trusted outside of it. It was how it was.
When our mother was in the kitchen, it was our solitude that things would be alright, somehow and someway, food became our comfort. And atole was something more then just a drink, it was a meal in itself. I could drink all day and the day after. It was an incredibly delicious hot drink that would comfort every tissue in my body. So I share this beautiful drink so that maybe you may have the same experience of having such a well known Mexican tradition. Enjoy!!
Atole! Part 1
Step by step instructions:
Use a large stainless steel pot and add 2 quarts of water. Cover with a lid and begin to heat up to a rolling boil.
Meanwhile make a slurry, by adding 1 cup of flour to 2 cups of water. If you are making a non-gluten drink, substitute the flour for rice, tapioca, or even corn flour, adjusting the amounts to make the same consistency.
Mix thoroughly with a whisk!
Strain "slurry" through a sieve.
Pour it slowly in boiling water, while stirring
Stir, stir, stir! You want to make sure it doesn't "ball-up"! And turn your heat down to a low-medium.
Add your favorite milk. I use canned milk, just like my mother did. You can also use a coconut milk for a no gluten recipe. (1 can to approximately 2 quarts). You may have to adjust the slurry depending on how thick you would like to make your atole. Add your favorite sweetener. I use granulated sugar, or a combination of organic sugars and stevia.
Use a wooden spoon for stirring.
Add a couple of cinnamon sticks. The best way to get that unique cinnamon flavor is to break them in half, on the bias. (I learned thin in my culinary program).
Add some vanilla flavoring. Be careful not to add too much. Usually about 1 tablespoon should do.
Make sure you are stirring until you have incorporated all ingredients thoroughly. Sometimes the flour from the bottom of the pot will stick to the spoon, and it's a warning before the mixture burns. It means that the pot is getting too hot and it's not properly cooking the mixture. The heat needs to temp the flour and the liquid together, and that takes some time. Immediately lower the heat when this happens. Remember this is a slow cooking procedure, like meditating. But not too long.
Check your temperature. This means your flour is cooking!
A good way to check, which was taught by my mother is taking the tip of your spoon and skimming the top layer. Now that's a great sign that it's almost or is done and ready to serve!!
Another way of cooking is using the "nape" technique. using your finger, run it down the middle on the back of the wooden spoon, while making sure the liquid does not come together at all, as you see in the photo. If it's a soft gravy consistency, then it is pretty much ready to serve. The whole process should only take 40 minutes, not including the gathering of all ingredients. (Mis-en-place).
Remove the sticks and the ladle into a cup. Enjoy!!
Please note: You can use other spices, such as, star anise, cloves, cardamon, using them whole, and using them sparingly. Place the spices 10 minutes int he mixture while it's cooking. Before serving, immediately remove them.
Tamales and Atole!!
I really enjoyed sharing this food memory with you, and the stories that make the recipes just a little bit personable. Cooking has been a past passion since I've known and what felt right while living with my parents and raising my own children. It has brought me so much joy to share the traditions from my mother. This she made sure that we always remember what it was like to has a warm comforting meal during the cold season.
Our trips to Mexico!
My beautiful kitchen for 24 years!
May my parents always rest in peace.
