Rocio is a Swexican, or so she called herself all through middle school and high school—half Mexican and half Swedish. We've known each other for over a decade now. Wow, that is nearly half of my life.
We met in seventh grade, two awkward puberty stricken adolescence, brought together by the school choir. As our friendship grew our lives became more integrated, until before we knew it, we were almost inseparable.
I remember the first time I had Rocio's stuffed mushrooms. We were going to a pot luck at her church. Linda, Rocio's mother, made Swedish meatballs and tacos, a very fitting representation of the culture present in the family. We could not have been any older than 14 or 15, but Rocio was dead set on making her signature dish: stuffed mushrooms.
Rocio was born in the United States, and although she has family in Mexico and is fluent in spanish, her dad sacrificed his livelihood so Rocio could call herself an American. She only speaks Spanish with her father, and English with her mother. In high school, I can recall Rocio refusing Taco Bell when ever a fast food conversation would come up. She would protest that it was an insult to the Mexican culture, that she would never let something so vile touch her lips. That was until we got our drivers license, and in a span of about two years decided to try every fast food chain in a 50-mile radius.
When it comes to a dish that weaves itself into the diverse cultural blanket that is Rocio's family, Rocio's stuffed mushrooms is that perfect piece of American thread. Hollowed out button or portabella mushrooms stuffed with a gut wrenching combination of mayonnaise and bacon bits, all topped with a coating of melted cheese, basically a bite-sized heart attack.
I remember seeing Rocio's mise en place the first time I helped her make this dish. I surveyed the ingredients, this of course was before I really knew that mayonnaise and cheese and bacon were all bad for you. I remember thinking, "Mayo's good, bacon's good, and cheese is definitely good, they must be good together." As we spooned the mayonnaise mixture into each hollowed mushroom, Rocio laughed at the simplicity of the recipe, but warned me of the dramatic results it would yield.
She wasn't lying—something about melted cheese, and the mention of bacon really makes people weak. This is America, we are known for putting cheese on pie, we have doughnuts with a bacon glaze, and fry everything in oil, even Twinkies. But I won't lie, I could probably eat an entire cookie sheet of Rocio's stuffed mushrooms. Something about the oozing mixture, the salty bacon, and earthy mushrooms is just intoxicating.
Anytime the smell of mushrooms and cheese wafts under my nose, I am overtaken with the urge to make Rocio's stuffed mushrooms. I guess it's true what they say, you are what you eat, and I say it's okay to be American in moderation.
Rocio's stuffed mushrooms:
—1 bag of baby portabella mushrooms, stems removed
—1 cup of Miracle Whip or mayonnaise
—1 tablespoon fresh cracked pepper
—2 teaspoons of salt
—3/4 cup of bacon bits
—2 cups of shredded Colby Jack cheese
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. In a mixing bowl combine Miracle Whip, 1/2 bacon bits, salt and pepper.
3. Stuff the hollowed out center of the mushroom with 1-2 tablespoons of Miracle whip mixture.
4. Place stuffed mushrooms on cookie sheet and fully cover each mushroom with the shredded cheese.
5. Bake for 20 minutes until or cheese is melted and slightly brown.
