Torta de Santiago Spanish Almond Cake

Torta de Santiago
Santiago is a contraction of
the Galician name for
St. James—Sant Iago

Natalia Salces, Mariana M. Prats’ youngest sister, makes this delicious and simple to prepare four-ingredient almond cake. It's like a marzipan that gets baked, making for a crispy crust with a soft center. 

Torta de Santiago is not only deliciously rich, but it has lineage. It is a version of a traditional Galician pastry also known as Tarta de Compostela, or outside of Spain as Spanish Almond Cake. To take it from just almond cake to an official Torta de Santiago, you must decorate it with the Cross of St. James using a stencil and powdered sugar. 

Once upon a time you would have to start with raw almonds, blanch them to soften their the brown skin, and rub it off each almond. Then you would need to grind the white almond meat into a grainy flour. Today you just buy a bag of blanched almond flour and save yourself a lot of time and trouble.

A stand mixer makes mixing much easier because the end result is a thick, sticky dough.

3 egg whites

1 tsp almond extract

3 cups powdered sugar

3 cups almond flour

Preheat the oven to 350°. Grease one 8 or 9 inch layer-cake pan with butter, then line the bottom with waxed paper, and finally, generously grease the waxed paper with more butter. Be thorough, or you’ll have trouble peeling it off later.

Start with the wire-whip beater to beat the egg whites to a soft peak. Reduce speed and add the almond extract, then slowly add the powdered sugar, mixing and scraping the sides of the bowl until it is all incorporated.

Change to the flat beater and slowly add the almond flour, scraping the sides of the bowl until you have a sticky wet dough.

If you want to be authentic, drop four to six raw almonds into the bottom of the cake pan, and turn out the batter on top of them. Cover with plastic wrap and use your fingers to press the dough evenly into the pan, then peel it off carefully.

Bake for 45 minutes.

Remove from oven and cool until you can handle the pan. Run a knife around the edge of the pan and invert onto a plate, bottom-side up. Peel off the wax paper. Place the stencil on the cake, dust with powdered sugar, and carefully remove the stencil.

Cut very small wedges when serving as it is very rich and sweet. Serves 8 to 12 people. It keeps for a week on the counter, covered, but it so tasty it will disappear before then.

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Click here to download a St. James Cross stencil.  Print it and cut out the outline.

Carnaval in CamagüeyAlso a Recipe: Ajiaco de Camagüey

The feasts of Saint John and Saint Peter are celebrated throughout Cuba, but the six-day Carnavales del San Juan—a summer festival held annually in Camaguey since 1725—was by mid 20th century the most important San Juan festival in Cuba and a significant annual event in the island nation, attracting tourists from throughout the nation and the world. It was so big it was named in plural: “The Carnivals of San Juan in Camaguey.”

A float at a 21st century
San Juan Festival parade in Camaguey 

Celebrations begin on Saint John the Baptist day (June 24) and end on Saint Peter the Disciple day (June 29). A traveling circus and menagerie sets up at the vast Casino Campestre park and amusement rides and their midways crowded the city. Daily scheduled events and parades co-existed with daily impromptu happenings beginning late afternoon and continuing late into the night. There were fireworks daily except for the last day. What began in joy ends on the 29th with a city-wide parade somberly celebrating the burial of Saint Peter, the disciple, first pope, and martyr.

In the 19th century equestrian events dominated, with riders arriving from all over the island to show their skills and their mounts at parades, contests and events. There were dancing horses!  In the 20th century, equestrian parades and events continued—after all, Camaguey is cowboy country—but they got more and more competition from fotingos (the Cuban word for antique automobiles) as the century progressed. 

The festival continues uninterrupted to this day. At the height of the festival’s popularity before Cuba descended to today’s poverty, and in a manner similar to New Orleans’ Mardi Gras traditions, like-minded individuals got together in clubs and brotherhoods months in advance to plan neighborhood block parties, parade floats (carrozas), marching bands, dancing bands, and, of course, fotingo shows and parades. Some also planned unofficial “spontaneous” parades and light-hearted disruptions. 

At “the San Juan,” as locals called the festival, the sacred mixed with the profane, and the multi-day festival engulfed just about every street and plaza in the city. A somber religious procession could be followed (after a decent, but very short interval) by a conga line led by musicians playing the drums that gave the conga its name. Not just congas but all types of dancing troupes paraded.  Spectators watching from the sidewalk were invited to join the parade and dance.

Music at the San Juan was non-stop, not only congas, but comparsas, rumbas, guarachas, son, and, in the 20th century, also big bands playing mambos, salsa and jazz could be heard day and night. The frenzied beat slowed down at times to allow for romantic and old traditional dances like danzón, contradanzas and habaneras as well as for música campesina (peasant music) and pop music. And of course zarzuelas, operas and classical music played in Camaguey’s theatres while brass bands played patriotic and marching music at plaza bandstands.

Beer and liquor was abundant at the San Juan and fueled the festival’s intensity. In a 2009 article of reminisces in the magazine El Camegueyano LIbre published in Miami, Víctor Romero Sóñora fondly recalls a brotherhood known as Los Sangrones (The Bleeders) who were known for humorous pranks like wheeling a urinal filled with beer and a single sausage down the street, offering cups to passersby. They were mock-offended and called you chicken if you did not partake. Many partook!  Others in the troup would infiltrate the onlookers and drop a five dollar bill tied to very thin almost invisible thread and then yank on the thread when someone tried to pick it up. Still others would “accidentally” splash fake blood made from Camaguey’s blood-red dirt on anyone wearing especially fine clothing.  It was all taken in good sport as I have been told that there were surprisingly few reports of violence at the annual San Juan.

 There is always plenty to eat at the San Juan. All types of street vendors could be found around event venues and accompanying the parades. But it’s the food at the many block parties held on the street that first-generation Cuban exiles remember most fondly. 

Old Camagueyans of the Cuban Diaspora—most of whom have now passed on—recalled the street parties and most specifically the party’s pot of soup, and my ancestors commemorated in the stories in this blog were no exception. You weren’t just welcome at your own street party, you were welcome at all, and almost without exception they all featured a communal ajiaco.  To your own street party you brought something for the pot, but to the others street parties you just brought along a bowl and a spoon so you could sample their ajiaco.

I never attended a San Juan. My family practically inaugurated Camaguey’s first suburban development so I lived outside of the festivities, and I was considered too young to attend other than the circus and an amusement ride or two before I left for the U.S. at age 9.  But I heard plenty of stories form my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles.  They always exclaimed the deliciousness of the different ajiacos you could smell from blocks away as you made your way around the festival.  

Ajiaco Soup
The color in this photograph is a bit off

An ajiaco-style soup, at least in Camaguey, has no set recipe. It is pot-luck in one pot. Some Americans know it as Stone Soup, where the hosts provide a pot full of water on a fire and the guests bring the ingredients to turn the water into soup.  For a communal ajiaco the host controls what and how much goes into the pot when, otherwise the soup or stew could get too salty, too spicy, or the ingredients could end up swimming in too much fat. Therefore an ajiaco, (pronounced ah-hiA-ko), is more a suggestion of how to prepare soup than an actual recipe.

At the San Juan festival in Camaguey, at each street party, someone would set up a large pot on a trivet over a charcoal fire. The pots were large, some made from the bottom half of 55 gallon metal drums. Initially the pot was filled with gallons of a thin broth started from a sofrito, but after contributions were added and started cooking, it quickly became a multi-course single-bowl meal that changed in flavor and texture as the party progressed and late-arriving ingredients were added.

Ajiaco Recipe.

This 30 gallon jambalaya pot
would make for a great ajiaco

Ajiaco soup would make a great main dish for a large gathering, whether cooked outside on coals or on propane, or in the kitchen in your largest canning pot for a winter get together. I’ve already confessed I never personally tasted a Carnival del San Juan Ajiaco, and there is no family recipe to fall back on because it is not something you needed to write one down. So all I can offer here is guidance from what I’ve been told and occasionally fed.

1. Depending on how many folks are coming to your party, tell them to bring half to a pound of meat or one to two pounds of vegetables. Coordinate it so there is a variety of ingredients. They’ll bring too much no matter what you tell them, so be sure to control what goes in the pot or you’ll run out of room and have to fish stuff out so you can add something different.
2. Borrow a 20 quart (or bigger) stock pot.
3. Fill the pot with 6 to 8 quarts of vegetable or chicken broth. You can also start with water but be sure to increase the salt if you do.
4. In hot skillet, fry up a sofrito and set it aside
5. Light the fire under the pot as folks begin arriving and mix in the sofrito.
6. Add ingredients to the pot as they arrive, making sure they are first cut into pieces that can be easily ladled up.  You may want to brown the meat first in a fry pan, with a little oil, before adding it to the pot, but it’s not necessary.
7. Skim off foam periodically when it forms.
8. Add water if the soup thickens too much. The soup should have a richly-flavored broth, not be a stew.
9. Cook until ready, reduce the fire, ladle some out, and then cook some more. Restock the pot with more ingredients periodically.

Suggestions for the sofrito:

2 or 3 tbs. vegetable oil (or use equivalent amount of bacon drippings)

1 large onion, finely chopped (or use a food processor)

1 green pepper, finely chopped (likewise)

4 or more large cloves of garlic, finely chopped; some folks use a whole knob.

1 small can tomato sauce, or for more tang, use 3 tablespoons of tomato paste instead.

Salt

 Below are some ingredients used to make authentic Cuban Ajiaco. Use any or all! Or use something not authentic, like mushrooms and carrots. After all, in its origin Ajiaco is a soup that uses scraps of whatever is laying around the kitchen that is reaching the end of its shelf life.

• Green or yellow plantain, cut in ¾ inch rounds. If you are using plantains, wait until you’ve added the plantains and then follow quickly with the lime juice (below) to keep the broth from darkening.
• * The juice of two limes. Add lime juice whether or not you use plantains.
• A tablespoon of cumin powder and/or oregano
• * Corn on the cob, cut into 2 inch pieces.
• * Two or more kinds of root vegetables
• Yucca root, peeled, deveined, and cut in chunks. You can find it already peeled in most grocery store frozen cases these days. Peeling yucca is not fun.
• Cooking potatoes, cut into chunks (avoid baking potatoes, as they tend to disintegrate in the soup).
• Sweet potatoes and/or white-root yam (boniato)
• Other Caribbean root vegetables like malanga and taro.
• * At least one type of salted meat
• Beef jerky (tasajo) that has been soaked in plenty of water overnight. Discard the water and dice.
• Hand-cut bacon, cut in small cubes. Fry it first and render out as much fat as you can.
• Ham such as a ham steak, cut in large cubes
• * Chicken on the bone. Cut the breast up in multiple pieces.
• Chunks of beef stew meat and/or pork. Cut these into bite-size and put them in first so they get nice and tender.
• Optional: green vegetables like okra and string beans, but add them late in the cooking process so they don’t disintegrate
• Optional: an onion, chopped into large chunks

* The soup will still be tasty, but you can’t really call it ajiaco if you don’t include at least the items marked with the asterisks.  Also, it’s not an ajiaco if it has rice, noodles, beans, milk, cream or cheese in it.

 If the party is large enough, ajiaco soup continues to cook for the entire party. Early-arrivals will be eating a completely different soup than latecomers.  Serve smaller portions and encourage guests to come back for more, letting them know that it will taste different with each refill.

 Serve in broad soup bowls with crusty Cuban, French or Italian bread; and provide olive oil and vinegar cruets to be used as condiments. The only utensils needed are soup spoons.

 Unlike many other Latin-American cuisines, Cuban food is never spicy-hot food, but you could also set out an assortment of hot sauces for those who want a bit of spicy heat.  Be sure to put up a sign that says “this not Cuban” next to the hot sauces.

 This is a messy meal. The corn and chicken is eaten with fingers once it cools down a little bit, and the smaller chunks of meat and vegetables with a spoon. The broth is sopped up with bread. Juices will dribble down your chin and splash on your clothes. Hand out plenty of napkins and keep plastic lobster bibs on hand to hand out to finely-dressed folks. 

A twenty quart pot should feed 15 to 25 people.  More, if you keep restocking it.

 

 

 

Recipe: Panetela Borracha(Drunken Sponge Cake)

 Warning: this very rich sponge cake soaked in sugar syrup is addictive! You know from its weight on your plate that it is hundreds of calories per forkful, yet you always go back for seconds—and find the serving pan empty because everyone else has beat you to it. With ten eggs and five cups of sugar in the recipe, what’s not to like?

Panetela Borracha

Elia Rodríguez, Mariana M. Prats’ mother, made this crowd-pleaser for family get-togethers in Maryland and she called it “Panetela Dulce Maria.” Desert making is a Martínez tradition. dating back to Mariana’s great aunts, and Dulce Maria Martínez Álvarez—Mariana’s cousin,  friend and contemporary—lived nearby and had the run of the Martínez-Rodríguez house on República street in Camagüey, where the great aunts lorded over the kitchen. After Dulce Maria emigrated to California she wrote down this recipe and gave it to Elia.

We of the Maryland Prats Clan know it as Panetela Borracha, and versions with this name are island-wide Cuban pastry classics. After Elia’s death, her husband Ventura Martínez continued the tradition, bringing this and other of her deserts to Prats and López gatherings and parties. After his passing it was Mariana’s and her sisters’ turn.

For the sponge cake

10 whole eggs

pinch of salt

2 cups of sugar
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

2 cups of flour

3 teaspoons of Royal (baking powder)

¼ lbs (one stick) butter, melted

For the syrup

5 cups water

3 cups sugar

a long piece of lime peel

¼ teaspoon of lime juice

½ cinnamon stick (optional)
¼ cup of good rum (optional)

 Preheat oven to 325°. Butter a 10 x 14 x 2 aluminum baking pan. Stir or sift the Royal into the flour and set aside.

Beat the eggs with a pinch of salt until they whiten (about 15 minutes by hand, says  her recipe, but I would use an electric mixer), then mix in the sugar and vanilla extract.  Add the flour mixture little-by-little alternating with the melted butter. Pour into the greased pan and bake for 40 minutes, more or less. Let it bake until you see the deep golden color top you see in the photograph. 

While the cake is baking, make the syrup. Heat the water, sugar, lime peel, and cinnamon stick. Boil gently for a few minutes, stirring until the crystals dissolve and the syrup looks clear. Remove from heat, discard the peel and stick, and add the lime juice, and optionally the rum. Stir well and set aside.

Panetela Borracha
This cake was cut into 28 portions. Four instead of three
long cuts gets you 35 portions. 

Let cake cool until it can be cut easily. Do not unmold. Cut the cake into 2 x 2 inch serving portions in the pan and pour the syrup over it. Cool to room temperature then tightly seal with aluminum foil and refrigerate overnight for the syrup to complete wicking itself into the sponge.

Should serve 18 or more. If you cut the cake into 2 inch squares, you should have 35 portions. When serving, ask each person if they want one or two portions on their plate. Spoon up syrup from the bottom of the pan to add to each serving.

I will note that the liquor called for in the recipe always stayed optional at Prats family gatherings. The Martinez were for the most part teetotalers (by personal choice, not by zealotry) and our drunken spongecake was never found to be inebriated.

Recipe: Natilla de Mamá

Mariana M. Prats made a delicious cinnamon-infused vanilla pudding that was nothing like the vanilla puddings you are used to. It is both a thinner and at the same time a richer-tasting custard. Eat with a spoon like a pudding, use it as the base for a fruit tart, or use instead of jelly in a jelly roll. Delicious!

It was her maternal grandmother’s recipe, handed down to her (and to her sisters) by her mother, Elia Rodríguez Casas and titled “My Mother’s Custard.” She never wrote it down but her sister Natalia did and that is where I got it.

The dulcero — the desert-maker — tradition in the Maryland Prats Clan comes from Mariana’s paternal line. The Martinez great-aunts, Mimí, Panchita and Natalia, sold their desserts commercially in Camaguey in the 1910s to make ends meet after Mariana’s grandfather died while her father was still in law school. But this recipe comes from the Rodriguez side of the family, Mariana's maternal side. That’s what makes it unique.

It’s easy to make. All you have to do is mix, heat, and stir.

3 cups of whole milk

3 tablespoons of corn starch

¾ cup of sugar

3 egg yolks

1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

1 stick of cinnamon

powdered cinnamon or more sugar for garnish

In a mixing bowl, use some of the cold milk to fully dissolve the corn starch. Then add the rest of the milk, the sugar, egg yolks, and vanilla extract and mix with a spoon or whisk until fully combined. Transfer to a cold heavy-bottomed sauce pan, add the cinnamon stick, and set the burner to medium heat. Patiently and constantly stir the mixture with a flat-bottomed wooden spoon until the custard coats the spoon.

Mariana instructed and Natalia echoes: “stir the custard back and forth, not round-and-round” and “don’t hurry the custard or you’ll burn it.” I think the latter means to not start with a hot burner and to resist turning up the heat if it does not thicken fast enough for you. The stirring instruction, I've been told, is very very important.

When the custard thickens (coats the spoon), remove the cinnamon stick and fill seven to eight serving bowls, garnish with powdered cinnamon and set aside to cool. Mariana always refrigerated it and served it cold, but it is also delicious warm!

An alternative finish is to sprinkle each cup with sugar and then “iron” them just before serving. In the days of charcoal stoves in Camaguey a clothes iron was heated on the stove and the tip was held close to the  sugar to melt and caramelize it, like the top of a crème brûlée serving. Today your handy kitchen blow-torch will do the same job without fouling your electric clothes iron.

Recipe: Flan de Mariana

Mariana and her flan

Mariana Prats’ flan was celebrated in her social circles and at all family functions. She always brought one with her to any lunch or dinner she was invited to, and it was the centerpiece for dessert at Thanksgiving dinner and the Christmas buffet. 

New Years’ Eve party: Flan. Roast pork backyard barbecue: Flan. Baby shower: Flan. Birthday Party: Birthday cake and a flan. Her own birthday party: Flan. Neighborhood block party: Flan. Parish priest invited to dinner: Flan. Pot luck: Flan. Someone’s anniversary: Flan.   If she and Benito were invited to dinner, instead of a bottle of wine she brought flan.

Cuban flan is a firm sweet egg custard covered with a caramelized sugar sauce. Mariana’s was always smooth and creamy and outrageously delicious. You could not have enough of her flan. Lactose-intolerant people ignored their malady and enjoyed her flan.  Calorie counters stopped counting and went back for seconds. The problem was that you had to be quick or there would not be any left.

She always rationed her flan. If she didn’t folks would cut huge chunks and there would not be enough to go around. She would bring it to the party in its mold, along with large plate and unmold it after dinner. Immediately after unmolding it she would slice it into small wedges, no more than ¾ of an inch thick, and start loading up serving plates, finishing each with a teaspoon of the caramelized sauce that poured out of the mold when she unmolded it.

Flan in one of Mariana's flan molds
An extra-heavy 2-quart aluminum
pan 3 inches tall and 8½ inches
wide at the top

Her secret for a perfect flan: the pressure cooker.  When you do her recipe in the oven it does not come out as creamy and it's easy to overcook it. Her other unique twist that I think adds to the creaminess is to use a tall mold. These are hard to find.

This is from the recipe she typed up herself, on Benito’s computer using Microsoft Works in the late 1990s. That’s right, Works, not Word — Microsoft’s word processor for the home that has not been supported since the turn of the century. I had a devil of a time finding her recipe in my hard drive because Windows does not index Works documents anymore.  You’ll find an image of her original recipe below. She printed it and handed it out to anyone who asked.

1½ cups white sugar

6 whole eggs

Two 14-oz. cans Sweetened Condensed Milk

An equal measure of whole milk

1 tsp. of vanilla extract

The recipe she typed up.
Click on image to show full-size

Caramelize the mold. This means putting all the sugar in the mold and, with potholders, holding the mold over a flame or electric burner until the sugar melts and turns caramel-colored. You have to be very careful because if you get any melted sugar on you it will mean a trip to the emergency room. Away from the heat carefully rock and rotate the mold to bring the caramelized sugar up its sides.  Set the mold aside to cool.

Beat the eggs in a bowl with an electric mixer. In a larger bowl mix the sweetened condensed milk and an equal amount of whole milk. Use one of the cans to measure the whole milk. Add the well-beaten eggs. Add the vanilla. Mix. Pour the mixture into the caramelized mold.

Flan just out of the pressure cooker

Pressure cooker: Cover the mold with two layers of aluminum foil and tie with string under the lip of the mold to form a tight seal so water does not enter the mold. If your mold is a tight fit for the pot, use more string to make a pair of perpendicular lifting loops. Put 2 cups of water in the pressure cooker and carefully lower the mold into the water. If you use a tall mold, cook at medium pressure for 15 to 25 minutes. In her mold she cooked it for 22 minutes after pressure was achieved.  Release the pressure immediately by running cold water over the pressure cooker until the lid lock releases, and then carefully remove the hot mold from the pot. Resist unwrapping it right away. It will seem to be under-cooked if you do, but it will continue to cook and set all by itself in about an hour if you don't unwrap it. 

Oven: Preheat oven to 350° F. Do not cover the mold with foil. Prepare a bain-marie by filling a pan with hot water. Place pan of water on the center rack and lower the mold into it. Bake for 45 to 60 minutes or until a wood toothpick comes out clean. Carefully remove the mold. 

Let flan cool in the mold for a couple of hours, then refrigerate in the mold, covered, until it’s time to serve.

To unmold: Choose a lipped fountain plate large enough to contain the caramelized sauce that will come out of the mold. Uncover the mold and run a sharp knife around the edge. Place the plate on top of the mold and flip over quickly and smoothly, then lift off the mold slowly so you don't spill the sauce.

Serve at room temperature, although it is also delicious cold from the refrigerator. You can refrigerate the cooked flan overnight in its mold, covered with aluminum foil. Leftovers can be refrigerated for weeks, but there will probably not  be any left.

Serves 10 to 20.

Recipe: Platanos en Tentación (Plantain Temptation)

Mariana Prats selected twelve of her recipes and typed them into Microsoft Works (not Word) on their Windows 95 machine around 1996. That file has been used to print out one or another recipe over the years. Here is a translation of the second recipe in the file: baked plantains without that much fat. It’s dessert as a side dish!

3 very ripe* plantains
⅓ cup of white sugar
⅓  cup brown sugar
3 sticks of cinnamon, cut into one inch pieces
3 tbs dry white wine
⅛ tsp powdered cinnamon
3 tbs butter

Preheat oven to 375 F. Grease an 8 x 8 pan.

Peel the plantains and place them in the pan. Sprinkle half the white sugar and half the brown sugar over the plantains. Add the white wine and bury the cinnamon sticks into the plantains. Sprinkle the rest of the sugars over the plantains. Dot plantains with pieces of butter.

Bake for about one hour.

These are not ripe enough! Wait a few more days.
They need to be all black, and heading towards disgusting.

* the skin has gone black and may have spots of mold. Fruit flies think they are in heaven.

Recipe: Boniatos con Naranja (Sweet Potatoes with Orange Sauce)

This recipe is taken from a Woolworth composition book where Mariana M. Prats wrote down her recipes.

5 pounds of sweet potatoes (or 3 18-oz cans)

½ cup butter

1 small can (6 oz) frozen orange juice concentrate

Rounds cut from an orange

Peel and cut the sweet potatoes into ½ inch pieces. Spread in a single layer in an oven-safe casserole.  Heat the butter and orange juice over moderate heat. Stir to mix. Pour over sweet potato pieces. Bake until golden brown. Garnish with orange rounds.

This was added in pencil: If the casserole dish is not large enough, bake half [of  the sweet potatoes], then add the other half and return to oven.

My guess, since the sweet potatoes are supposed to bake until golden brown (hasta que se doren), is that it should be baked in a hot oven.

Recipe: Guacamole Camagüeyano (Avocado and Pineapple Salad)

Elia Rodriguez Casas used to make this avocado and pineapple salad as her contribution to pot-luck family gatherings in Maryland when she could find avocados at the market. She called it guacamole but its nothing like the guacamole you know. She brought the ingredients with her, except for the olive oil and vinegar because everyone had olive oil and white vinegar at home, and made it on the spot. It is easy to make and delicious.

1 cup light vinaigrette dressing
3 large ripe Caribbean avocados
1 ripe pineapple
1 red onion

Ignore the lettuce and cut the onion into rings instead

Caribbean avocados are the large ones with smooth skin that stay green when ripe. If Caribbean avocados are not available, use 4 or 5 Hass avocados — the rough black-skinned ones — and be real careful when tossing as they are not as firm and will turn to mush with heavy handling. 

Pineapples from Florida or the Caribbean are sweeter and pair better with the vinegar in the dressing than the more tart Hawaiian pineapples.

The idea is to use equal parts avocado and pineapple.

Before you start, prepare the vinaigrette if you are not going to use a bottled product. Elia brought a Good Seasons Italian Dressing packet mix with her and used good Spanish olive oil. If you use bottled Italian salad dressing, don't pick one that is too thick. It's got to stay behind in the bowl when you serve the salad with a slotted spoon.

1. Pour vinaigrette into the serving bowl.

2. Open, peel and cut the avocados into chunks about an inch square and add to the bowl of vinaigrette. Toss gently to ensure the chunks are well coated so they do not turn brown.

3. Peel, core and cut the pineapple into similar sized chunks and add to bowl.

4. Peel and slice the red onion into rings, separate the rings and add to bowl.

5. Toss gently one last time.

Set aside for 20 minutes or more so  flavors develop, or refrigerate if you will be serving later.

Serve at room temperature with a slotted spoon. If you want to get fancy, transfer to a shallow bowl lined with lettuce leaves for a picture-perfect presentation.

Serves 8 to 10.

Warning: Don't overthink it. Before you add tomatoes, lettuce, other vegetables, cubes of cheese, or chunks of meat, try it plain first. It's a very hearty, flavorful and colorful salad without the extras.