In honor of Mother's Day, I've got a recipe that's great for bringing all of the special women in your life -- both seasoned cooks and beginners -- into the kitchen. In my family, celebrating with food is one of the ultimate ways to show love and appreciation, and I can thank the ladies in my family for helping me cultivate my passion for food.
I often say my Abuela {grandma} taught me how to cook. But just recently, as I was standing at my kitchen sink measuring out water for a simple pot of rice, I realized that my claim is not entirely true.
I remember the exact moment I first asked Abuela how to make rice as I had watched her do so many times before. "Oh, it's easy," she told me in Spanish. "You just heat a splash of oil in a pot, then toss in your rice. Give it a good mix, and when it sizzles a little, add your liquid. Bring it to a boil, then lower the heat and let it simmer until it's cooked."
I paused for a moment and reflected thoughtfully on the information I felt I might be missing. "A splash of oil, you say? But how much is that?"
She lifted her hand up as if she were holding an invisible bottle of oil, tilted the bottle for a second -- just enough to measure out the correct amount needed as if she were counting beats of music in her head -- then pulled it upright again with a flourish.
I gave her a look. "Okay...but the water? How much?"
As patient as she always was with me, I could tell she was starting to grow slightly annoyed at my pestering over seemingly unimportant {to her} details when she had already given me a satisfactory answer to my initial question.
"Well... It depends on the amount of rice. But if you're making this much," she gestured with her hands to hold an imaginary pile of rice, "then I'd say about a cup and two fingers."
Wait a minute. I had heard of lot of measurements -- a pinch, a pat, a scant amount -- but I had never heard of measuring any ingredient in fingers. Well, except a stiff whiskey drink, and Abuela had never been a drinker.
I laughed at her directions, and she defended herself. "You asked me how I do it. And that's how I do it."
Accurate, perhaps, but hardly helpful for a novice in the kitchen. Regardless of my cluelessness and armed with meaningless measurements, I forged ahead and added rice to the (very short) list of items I "knew" how to make... in theory, anyway. Because the fact is that I had more attempts at making what my husband calls "Abuela Rice" than any individual who considers herself somewhat intelligent should.
We had sticky rice. Crunchy rice. Black-bottomed rice. Toasty rice, and rice masquerading as soup.
Each time, I'd do my best to channel Abuela, and each time I'd pretty much fail.
Until one day... I didn't. The day finally came when I lifted the lid off the pot, fluffed up the rice with a fork, and thought to myself, "Now this looks like something I recognize."
In my kitchen, "a cup and two fingers" of water (which translates by measurement into roughly 1 1/4 cups, in case you were wondering) will always be the rule of thumb... though that's not the finger I use for measuring! That's how my Abuela "taught" me to make it, even though most of the learning happened on my own. Maybe that's what she had intended from the beginning.
Since then, she's retired from her family cooking duties {she is 91 years old and only recently lost much of her mobility}, but she's entrusted me with other recipes that are special to my family and even given her seal of approval on my renditions, which she kindly passes off as delicious.
But I don't kid myself. No one can cook like Abuela. Some of us learn to cook while others are born with the ability to take food and create a little magic like Abuela always has.
Luckily, this recipe for Spaghetti with Chicken & Spicy Tomato Sauce requires way less precision than Abuela's rice thanks to Barilla® Spaghetti. Chicken simmers away in a savory sauce with just a hint of spiciness, creating a tender-but-hearty addition to spaghetti. Easy to find at your local Walmart and even easier to cook, it's a pantry staple for fast family meals. Just a quick boil and you have delicious, al dente pasta that's perfect for pairing with seafood, veggies or chicken, as it is in this dish.
Celebrate togetherness this weekend gathered around the table!
This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of Barilla. The opinions and text are all mine.
Barilla Spaghetti with Chicken & Spicy Tomato Sauce
Recipe provided by Barilla®
1 box Barilla® Spaghetti
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
4 chicken thighs, boneless diced into ½-inch pieces
1 tablespoon fresh oregano leaves only, divided
1 jalapeño pepper, or to taste, sliced
½ cup white wine, dry (optional)
2 pounds plum tomatoes, crushed
Salt to taste
½ cup Cotija cheese, grated
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Meanwhile, in a skillet, brown the chicken thighs with ½ of the olive oil. Add ½ tablespoon oregano and jalapeño pepper; after one minute, stir in white wine (optional); reduce to half. Add tomatoes, one cup of water, season with salt and bring to a boil. Meanwhile, cook pasta according to package directions. Drain pasta and toss with sauce. Stir in remaining olive oil and cheese. Garnish with remaining oregano before serving.
