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I didn’t really I consider myself a mixed person. I don’t make smoothies, and I don’t make nut butter. If my local bar survives the plague, I can go there if I want a fifth margarita.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m missing out. I am a sucker on a well-equipped machine and I still remember encountering a Vitamix blender in the dining room that I had already cooked. Usually, on the back of an electronic device there is a name where you find the certificates, volts, hertz, and amps. But the mark on this machine had it horsepower. It was a very clever throw with a small weapon, like a tank that plows into whatever you threw. I was shocked.
I wanted to be a mixed person, I didn’t want to mix old seeds with chia.
Unfortunately, this caught me at the end of the season called The Time We used to Travel, and I had just returned a month from Oaxaca, a mole country. I would like to have a cookbook, Oaxaca: Our Cooking From the Heart of Mexico, By Bricia Lopez and Javier Cabral. It’s a beautiful companion to Lopez’s restaurant Guelaguetza in Los Angeles.
When I returned home to Seattle, I checked out the cookbook and stopped cooking black mole when I see the word “in blender.” Along with three types of fried and wet chiles, in the blender came the seeds of herbs, herbs, spices, almonds, avocado leaves, blueberries and apples, many of which had long been browned in my skillet.
Now this, I think, and my type of smoothie.
In the search, I requested a PDF copy from the publisher, cut out the “blender” in the search box and saw the hits rising in the photo booths as if I had just won the prizes. Then, I called a Vitamix 5200, a $ 450-type blender aficionados worldwide.
High Speed
During most cooking, the blender feels like a player. In most cases, if you have a food processor and a water spray (also called a “blender blender”), you will be fine without one. In the file of Oaxaca the book though, is the star of the show.
I walked down the street to Abarrotes El Oaxaqueno to buy some, and I had some chiles and avocado leaves, and I started working, starting with pasta de frijol negro, black bean porridge and chile leaves, garlic, onion, and pear. It’s a kind of layer of Oaxaca’s most authentic dish, and while it wasn’t that difficult for the final blender, it’s something that would go well with the dishes I make in the coming days.
I moved to the Oaxacan adobo paste, where, as they write in the cookbook, you “just collect whatever meat you choose” and then cook it. I also made chileajo – small pieces of vegetables in a paste made of guajillo chiles that you can use as a spread of bread or tostada. Both recipes have an Oaxacan method of cornerstone (probably) enlarging, and then dipping the chiles before adding them.
I was amazed by the straightforward operation of this blender; you tell them what to do, and they do it. Bean porridge? Of course. Fruits from the bottom of the refrigerator? Obviously! No sound of a car in trouble, no noise of very hot parts. Instead, it is surprisingly quiet. You switch the switch and exactly what you want to happen — as long as this is supposed to do and plus — happens.
Speaking of these changes, God bless the Vitamix-stubby-switch-and-one-dial steering team, which immediately reminded me of a comment made by a friend over 20 years ago when he got into my old Saab 900 and looked ahead.
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