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My cooking uses local products, especially tart, sweet fruits and
funny tubers, and it depends on grilling so the kitchen doesn’t
heat up. It’s the way I cook at home - the way anyone can
cook at home - the way anyone can cook at home.
I’m not originally from the Miami area, but I’ve been
cooking here for more than 20 years. I grew up in Buffalo and relished
my grandmother’s Sicilian cooking. I’ve also worked in
Italy and France and traveled throughout the Caribbean.
I have managed to sort out all those influences. My food is basically
rooted here in Florida. I went to culinary school here, and when
I got out I started working in restaurants in Boca Raton and North
Miami. In 1988, I opened my first restaurants in Boca Raton and
North Miami. In 1988, I opened my first restaurant in North Miami.
That place closed, but I opened four other places, from West Palm
Beach south to Miami Beach.
No matter where my inspiration may start, what’s most important
to me is to create a layering of flavors. I want a subtle progression,
a kind of harmony, so that no one taste dominates.
My pork tenderloin gives you the idea. It’s an adaptation
of pork pibil, a pit-cooked whole pig seasoned with sour-orange
juice, cumin and annatto seeds. I had it in Yucatan many years
ago. With the pork, I serve a charred-tomato salsa made with poblano
chilies for a touch of heat that is never overwhelming. Also a
sweet plantain mash that is not ultra sweet, as it often is in
the islands. And black beans. They are made with smoky bacon, but
mostly you taste the richness of the beans, not the smoke. It’s
a nice dish for a light red wine, like a regular ’98 Rioja,
not a reserva.
I used to make this dish with pork loins, but they have gotten
too lean and dry. The tenderloins is more succulent, and besides,
it’s a pretty forgiving cut of meat: it’s hard to ruin.
I start with marinade of sour orange juice, toasted spices, olive
oil, garlic and shallots. Cumin gives it fragrance, and annatto
adds redish color and an earthy bitterness. You have to marinate
the pork overnight, so that some of the seasonings infuse the meat.
Then you grill it quickly - over charcoal or wood is best - so
that it takes on a nice charry flavor. The orange and spices come
through.
At the restaurant we wrap the sliced meat in an oiled banana leaf
and out it back on the grill for a few minutes; in Mexico, they
wrap the whole pig. If you can find banana leaves, go ahead and
do that.
I can get fresh sour oranges here - Seville oranges - but if you
cannot, try a combination of citrus to come up with a juice that’s
pretty tart. The sour oranges aren’t too consistent, and sometimes
we add vinegar, sometimes sugar, to balance the flavor. Regular
orange juice with lemon or lime juice would work, and blood-orange
juice, which isn’t as sweet as regular, would be even better.
I mix these ingredients with olive oil. I mostly use very good
Tuscan extra virgin oil, even in Caribbean dishes.
With the pork and the salsa, I also make pickled onions - just
thick slices of onion marinated in vinegar and some sugar with
coriander seeds, cloves and chili peppers. That is how they are
done in Yucatan.
My black beans are also Yucatan style. But they really are not
so different from my Tuscan white beans cooked in a clay pot. I
think slow baking in clay pot. I think slow baking in clay does
great things to the texture and flavor of the beans. You have to
watch them. They should be buttery tender when done, but still
a little soupy.
Then there are the plantains. You have to understand plantains.
They get sweeter as ripen. Green ones are very starchy. When the
skins turn black, they are at their sweetest, and that’s how
they are often used in the islands. For this mash, I like them
in between, yellow and streaked with black. The best way to peel
them is to cut through the skin from top to bottom and roll the
skin back to take out the fruit.
Green plantains are harder to peel, because the skin clings. The
pith has to be pared off after the skin is removed. You also have
to plunge the flesh into hot water for 30 seconds so it does not
darken.
Boil the plantains until they are soft in plenty of water with
butter, cinnamon sticks and sugar. We use a food mill to purée
the cooked plantains. A potato ricer works just as well. Just don’t
use a food processor, because that will make them like glue. I
like to add cooking water to the purée to loosen it and make it
smooth - it’s lighter than stock. A little dark rum goes in
at the end, so the purée has a suggestion of a kick.
The pork, the plantains, the beans, the tomato salsa and the onions
give a big, rich, colorful plate of food with touches of acidity,
sweetness, heat and starch. But everything has to be in balance.
I keep clean spoons all over my kitchen, and we tastes all the
time. As with the sour-orange juice, tasting as you go is the only
way you can be sure of what you are getting.
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