These recipes never cease to amaze me. Great great great food - - but with a great great great amount of time invested. Believe it or not, this one took over 6 hours to make, over the span of two days.

Just when I thought prep work would save me - - along came this dish.

I had never had this dish before and when I read through the recipe for the first time and realized I had to actually make chicharrones (fried, crispy pork cracklings), I sat myself down with my pad and pencil and started to write down the steps.

I went through this process twice, because I really wanted to be ready for what was ahead. This recipe felt like everything would come at me, fast and furious, and it did. Brace yourselves, this one’s a winner.

On Saturday, my cousin, Jessica, came over to help me shop and prep. She had offered to help out because I was going to be making Sunday dinner for her house to celebrate two birthdays in the family. I quickly took her up on that offer and neither one of us knew what would be in store for us.

The trip to Publix was pretty quick – except for the part where we had to get ½ pound of carne de puerco (pork). Knowing Nitza as I’ve learned to know her, I knew that I had to cut the pork into 2" chunks and then I had to cut the fat off the chunks and cut those into very tiny little squares to fry up into chicharrones.

Nowadays, it doesn’t seem like pork and pork fat come together. They had lean pork to cut into the 2" chunks and they had the pork belly fat in different packages. The guy at the meat counter thought we were nuts when I kept reading the instructions to him and kept insisting they had to be in the same package. He finally convinced us to go modern and buy both packages and call it a day.

Once we got started, it was easy – pork into chunks, check;

fat into tiny squares, check;

chopped onion – check; chopped green pepper – check; minced garlic – er, check?

The recipe actually called for garlic cloves whole, but in my ambitious preparation mode, we minced the cloves and decided it would be ok.

We drained the pimientos morrones (pimentos) and the peas from their cans, but kept both liquids for later use. We also put half of the pimientos morrones into the food processor. We put aside the vino seco (dry white wine), canned tomato sauce, black pepper and rice.

After 3 hours of prep work (you can not imagine how tedious cutting pork belly fat into tiny squares can be with a sub-par knife), Jess was on her way and I sat down to rest.

Side note: As a birthday gift to my sister in law, Claudia, and my cousin (Jessica’s husband, Javi), I promised to make fritas.

They, too, were part of the Saturday prep and Sunday cooking repertoire, but I’ll link you to the recipe, which is still the same as when I first made it in the Keys a while back.

On Sunday morning, I woke to find a great smell in my fridge of garlic, onions and peppers – Ziploc bags don’t contain the smells in quite enough. Nonetheless, I was ready to begin.

I had warned my husband, kids and dog about the possible aerodynamics of the pork fat (I learned quickly after the white rice, a.k.a. Killer Rice, incident) and asked them to stay away from the kitchen.

With the extractor (stove ventilation fan) on high, I heated my pot and threw in the pork fat. I had decided to make two batches of the recipe, enough to feed 24, because I didn’t have a pot big enough to handle four times the original recipe. One of those paelleras (big paella pan) would have been perfect for this.

Once the pork fat started releasing the grease, I thought to myself of all the times I ignored the splatter guard thingy they sell at kitchen supply stores. My stove would have appreciated one of those right about at this point.

After a few minutes, the pork fat really did fry up into little chicharrones and I couldn’t believe it actually happened.

Then, what came next quickly made my chicharrones buzz go away. Here’s where the fast and furious comes straight at you.

In the hot fat that’s left behind, you throw in the garlic (here’s where I realized that minced was not the way to go). The minced garlic fried up so fast, the pieces burned quickly, but I kept going. Looking back, the cloves would have had a chance to actually turn golden, which probably would have been better. You quickly throw in the 2" pork chunks and let them all fry up together. When the pork chunks are nice and golden-to-reddish brown, throw in your chopped onion and green peppers.

After a few minutes of stirring (about 2-3, max), you add the tomato sauce, half of the food processed pimientos morrones, water from the pimentos, regular water, water from the peas, vino seco, salt and pepper.

Once everything begins to boil, and you’ve thanked your kitchen patron saints that you had everything ready, you calmly add the rice. Once everything begins to boil again, you lower the heat to low for 30 minutes.

While you wait for the rice to cook, you can continue to enjoy standing as you cut your pimientos morrones into decorative strips. Because, after all, what would a good Cuban dish be without the beautiful presentation of pimentos and green peas?  And, as an added bonus, this one had chicharrones to use as decoration as well.

Once I was done with both cooking sessions and had prepped three baking dishes with beautiful preparation, I covered them in foil and thought of the rice lady my friends and family order from for special occasions, Flor.

I think Flor would laugh herself silly if she read the process I went through to make one simple dish for 24 guests. She cranks out orders for 50 – 75 people in no time. Of course, she has years of practice and her dishes are amazing. My favorite Flor dish is one she calls the navideño. It has beef, congri, mojo and yucca. She adds these amazing onions to the mojo that totally make you an addict to the dish.

I think I’ll leave the navideño to Flor. Pulling off a party, baptism, first communion or other big event is huge enough as it is. I’m not going to be volunteering to make my own main course for those occasions.

But, somehow our grandmothers did it. Yes, they had help in the kitchen, but they did it. And they pulled it off effortlessly. But, it wasn’t because of proper planning. That myth I tackled with this recipe.

You could plan and prep till the cows come home. It’s experience with your recipes that makes the difference. That’s the result I’m looking for after all is said and done. I know I’ll get there going through this process – the question is, how many hours of standing, chopping and bagging will it take?

Three months later, I’m still working at it. Every time I look at the number I have ahead of me (590), I put that number out of my head and pick my next recipe. There’s no time limit to how long The Project will take me. I just hope my experience gets stronger and the cooking time on these marathon recipes turn into sprints.

About the blog

Inspired by Julie & Julia, I've embarked on my own project: to celebrate the Cuban kitchen -- the food, the abuelas who prepared it, and the family that gathered around the table to enjoy every bite.  For my generation -- and for my kids' generation -- I'm cooking my way through Nitza Villapol's Cocina al Minuto.  With each recipe, I'm taken back to what those housewives of my grandmother's and mother's generation must have been thinking as they tried to follow Nitza's instructions, from her books or TV program.  I hope this project moves you to learn how to cook, simply, and to bring the joy (and sofrito smell -- the smell of home frying) back into your home.  Click here to read previous posts.  Click here to read The Miami Herald article on my journey. ¡Buen Provecho!