By Iditarod week. The dog teams parading down Fourth Avenue. A pediatric burn case Tuesday. I came home and made adobo and did not write a blog post.
Lourdes is 76. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one. Joseph and Suki sent photos of the kids this week.
I made lechon kawali Saturday. The pork belly, the brining, the deep fry, the crackle. The kitchen smelled of hot oil for two days.
A reader wrote me a long email this week about her grandmother's adobo, which differed from mine in every measurement. The differences were the conversation. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.
Angela came over Saturday with the kids. We cooked. We argued about pancit proportions — she uses more soy, I use more calamansi. We are both wrong, according to Lourdes.
I stood at the counter eating leftovers in my pajamas. The standing was the small luxury. The luxury was the having of leftovers at all.
The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.
The Anchorage sky was the Anchorage sky. The mountains were the mountains. The inlet was the inlet. The geography was the geography.
I checked email at the kitchen table while the rice cooked. There were one hundred and twenty unread messages. I closed the laptop. The unread can wait.
Auntie Norma called Sunday afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.
I had a long phone call with Dr. Reeves on Wednesday. We talked about pacing and rest and the way the body keeps a log of what it has carried. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The body remembers. The mind forgets. The cooking is the bridge." I wrote the line down. The line is now on a sticky note above the kitchen sink.
Angela texted me a photo of the kids. I texted back a heart. The exchange took thirty seconds. The thirty seconds was the keeping.
I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.
The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.
The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.
The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.
I took inventory of the freezer Sunday. The freezer had: twelve quarts of broth, eight pounds of adobo in vacuum bags, six pounds of sinigang base, fourteen lumpia trays at fifty rolls each, three pounds of marinated beef for caldereta, and a small bag of pandan leaves Tita Nening had sent me. The inventory was the proof of preparation. The preparation was the proof of love.
I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. I wiped the stove. I scrubbed the sink. I reorganized the spice cabinet. The cleaning was the small reset. The reset was the marker. The marker said: the week is over, the next week begins, the kitchen is ready.
The lechon kawali had already done the heavy lifting on Saturday — the crackle, the hot oil smell that lingered two days, the standing at the counter eating leftovers in pajamas. But Angela’s kids needed something with frosting, and after a week like this one, I needed something that asked very little of me and gave a lot back. Tres leches has always felt generous that way: you pour and it receives, and the coconut version tastes like every tita’s kitchen I have ever stood in. These cupcakes went fast. Lourdes would have approved, and then told me to use more coconut.
Coconut Tres Leches Cupcakes
Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 1 hr 45 min (includes soaking) | Servings: 24 cupcakes
Ingredients
- 1 box (15.25 oz) white or yellow cake mix
- 3 large eggs
- 1/3 cup vegetable oil
- 1 cup water
- 1 can (13.5 oz) full-fat coconut milk
- 1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk
- 1/2 cup evaporated milk
- 1 teaspoon coconut extract
- 1 1/2 cups heavy whipping cream, cold
- 3 tablespoons powdered sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1/2 cup sweetened shredded coconut, toasted, for garnish
Instructions
- Preheat and prep. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line two standard 12-cup muffin tins with paper liners and lightly spray liners with nonstick spray.
- Mix the batter. In a large bowl, combine cake mix, eggs, oil, and water. Beat with an electric mixer on medium speed for 2 minutes until smooth.
- Bake. Divide batter evenly among the 24 lined cups, filling each about 2/3 full. Bake 17–20 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let cool in the pan for 10 minutes.
- Make the tres leches soak. While cupcakes cool, whisk together the coconut milk, sweetened condensed milk, evaporated milk, and coconut extract in a medium bowl or large measuring cup until fully combined.
- Poke and soak. Use a skewer or toothpick to poke 8–10 holes in the top of each cupcake. Spoon 2–3 tablespoons of the milk mixture slowly over each cupcake, allowing it to absorb between spoonfuls. Do not remove from pan yet.
- Chill. Cover the pans loosely with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or up to overnight, so the cupcakes fully absorb the soak.
- Make the whipped cream topping. Just before serving, beat cold heavy cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract with an electric mixer on high speed until stiff peaks form, about 3–4 minutes.
- Top and garnish. Remove cupcakes from the pan. Pipe or spoon a generous dollop of whipped cream onto each cupcake. Sprinkle with toasted shredded coconut. Serve cold.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 265 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 185mg