Looking out my Backdoor: Sometimes we just gotta make do!

We get used to using particular products in our daily living so when those items are not available on store shelves, what is a person to do?

Ha! I have the answer. We make do!

Generally I’m not too fussy and don’t get into a flap about bare shelves. And I don’t play the blame game. That’s futile. Pandemic? Climate disasters? Politics? Maybe they all play a part. But that doesn’t change my challenge, to live as simply and comfortably as possible with what’s on hand, right?

But my particular quandary at present might have you at least lift an eyebrow. Let me give you the back story.

I live in Jalisco, Mexico, in a small farming community. We are surrounded by fields of sugar cane, one of the chief agricultural products of Jalisco. There is a cane processing plant in Tala, a forty minute drive toward Guadalajara. They make molasses. For cattle feed.

For the past year or so, I’ve had a hankering to make ginger snaps. Ginger snaps require molasses. Search as I might and do, I find no molasses on the shelves of any tienda in Etzatlan or the big stores in Guadalajara.

When I walk the lanes, I often see huge tanker trucks on the highway carrying melazza, or molasses, for cattle feed. Some of that molasses is delivered to the corn processing plant in our town to make, you guessed it, yummy feed for animals.

In desperation, I’ve considered going to the plant with a jar and asking for a fill up. Further thought reminds me of open vats, rat and bird droppings, which scotches that brilliant idea.

However, shortly after moving to Mexico, I began using piloncillo cones in my cooking, especially in beans, soups, and some drinks. Piloncillo, made from cane, is not molasses.

In a vastly simplified explanation, sugar cane is boiled into juice which is reduced to a syrup which is poured into molds and dried to make piloncillos. Though not molasses, it has a slight molasses flavor and scent. Slight. Further processing of the cane syrup yields white sugar and the remaining liquid is molasses.

So why do Mexican cooks not use molasses? Best answer I get is a shrug, “It’s for animals.” Pity, that.

I asked Leo, my gardener who does a lot of my shopping, if he thought the health food store in town might just have molasses, maybe in an unmarked jar on a back shelf?

He said, “Try Amazon. They have everything. Better quality.”

Well, of course. Why didn’t I think of that! I tried to buy every single kind of molasses Amazon carried. I tried to buy the usual brands I’m familiar with, snooty brands I’ve never heard of because I’m not a special person, sizes of incredible complexity, prices that raised my eyebrows. The responses were two, across the board, two. One: that product is not available. Two: we don’t ship that product to Mexico. End of.

What if? What if I scrape the piloncillo cones on a grater and substitute piloncillo for molasses? I’m really, really hungry for ginger cookies. The worst that can happen is I have to throw away a batch of cookie dough. Right?

Deep breath. I give it a try.

The only thing I changed in the recipe was to substitute grated piloncillo, pressed into the measuring cup, for the same amount of molasses.

My ginger cookies sans molasses look like ginger cookies, the same crackly top, crisp on the outside and chewy on the inside. Interestingly, to me, they are not as sweet as the usual ginger cookie. They lack a bit of molasses flavor. I like them.

Leo (who thinks I should have a man), while munching a modified ginger cookie, suggested I order a man on Amazon, even though Amazon wouldn’t send me molasses. He insists, “They have everything. Better quality.”

On my Amazon site I specified, “Must be age appropriate, a good man with a kind heart.”

In reply I got, “Out of stock. This item cannot be shipped to Mexico.”

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Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].