There’s nothing like a drunk elephant to get my attention.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. It’ s a little early for that kind of talk.
Let me back up a moment.
Amarula Coffee is a South African favorite – a breezy concoction that includes your favorite coffee, some brown sugar (the sweetener of choice in South Africa), a shot or two of Amarula, and whipped cream.
It’s very much like an Irish Coffee.
Why?
The Amarula.
You can find this creamy concoction at most liquor stores in the United States, next to the Bailey’s. The flavors are quite similar, which makes this drink the perfect nod to Saint Patrick’s Day, South Africa-style.
Amaurula is made from Marula fruit.
Which brings me full circle, back to the drunk elephants.
I’m not sure I can do it justice… so watch for yourself what happens when the elephants (and other animals) feast on the fruit of this treat.
Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.
(The hungover orangutan is too funny)
Ingredients:
3 parts brewed coffee
1 part Amarula
brown sugar, to taste
whipped cream, to taste
garnish with cinnamon, if desired
Method:
Um. Brew. Mix. Sweeten. Dollop.
Seriously – that’s it.
To be more specific… Brew the coffee, mix the Amarula in, sweeten with brown sugar and dollop with a happy spoonful of whipped cream.
So enjoy, or “Smaaklike ete!” (Afrikaans for “Bon Appetit”)
Yum, yum.
South African Amarula Coffee
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Amarula Coffee is a South African favorite - a breezy concoction that includes your favorite coffee, some brown sugar (the sweetener of choice in South Africa), a shot or two of Amarula, and whipped cream.
Amarula Coffee is a South African favorite - a breezy concoction that includes your favorite coffee, some brown sugar (the sweetener of choice in South Africa), a shot or two of Amarula, and whipped cream.
South Africa’s Bobotie (ba-boor-tea) reminds me of when I was a little girl, playing in the kitchen next to mom. I’d dump every possible ingredient into my little inventions, hoping they’d come out amazing. While chopped apples and pickles didn’t pan out when I was a kid, bobotie most decidedly does.
But don’t worry – there’s no apple or pickle in it.
So what is in it?
Landscape scenery in Kruger National Park, South Africa. Photo by Nicolas Raymond.
Some people call Bobotie South African Moussaka, but I’m not convinced that gives the dish enough credit. My friend Janine says Bobotie is from the Cape Malay region and belies much more Indian influence.
At her most basic, Bobotie is a spiced meat casserole topped with egg custard and a few bay leaves. Inside, you’ll find everything from rich curry power, to garlic, ginger, lemon juice, raisins, and almonds. There’s even a scoop of chutney.
While this all sounds incredibly overwhelming, the ingredients mellow as they cook. Still not sure? Trust years of history: there’s a reason South Africans love this dish so much.
Traditionally, the meat is cooked over a charcoal grill, then placed in an underground oven to bake out the custard.
Like this:
Now a days, bobotie is more often made in regular ovens.
Either way, it tastes like happiness. Times a hundred.
Fills one cast iron pan or small casserole
Ingredients:
1 slice white bread
1 cup milk
2 eggs
1 small onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, crushed
1 tsp freshly grated ginger
2 Tbsp butter
1 lb ground beef
1 Tbsp curry powder
1 lemon, juiced & zested
1/4 cup raisins, soaked in a little warm water
1/4 cup slivered almonds
1 spoonful mango chutney (in a pinch, apricot jam may be substituted)
salt & pepper
First find a gorgeous vista to cook by. Let it be your muse.
Chapman’s Peak is a mountain and famous drive on the western side of the Cape Peninsula, 15 km south of Cape Town, South Africa. Photo by Hein Waschefort.
Then, preheat the oven to 350F.
Soak the bread in milk. Set it aside.
Meanwhile, fry onion, ginger and garlic in butter until softened and beginning to brown.
Now you have a choice to make.
You can just keep adding ingredients to the pan, frying and cooking and stirring until it’s a happy mess…
… or do what I did, and treat it like meatloaf.
It’s a little unconventional (a.k.a. not traditional), but I tried it both ways and found the flavors got into the meat better with this method (and it makes the almonds a bit softer).
It’s really easy… In a large bowl, mix beef, curry, lemon juice, zest, raisins, almonds, chutney, salt, pepper, and the soaked bread (squeeze it dry first and be sure to reserve the milk). You can add in the cooled onion mixture, too.
Use your hands to really mash it around, until everything is evenly distributed.
Now fry it up in a hot pan, using more butter as needed. Give it a taste and adjust seasonings. I added a little extra chutney… just because.
Once you’re happy with the flavor, prepare the custard. Simply whisk the eggs into the reserved milk with a bit of turmeric, salt,and pepper. Pour over the meat mixture.
Dot with bay leaves …
Bake about 20 minutes, or until the egg is set.
Meanwhile, take a stroll in your garden (or any garden) and listen to the birds.
They might have a secret to tell you.
Let cool for about 15 minutes, then slice and serve with yellow rice and a smile.
Yum, yum.
Fan-curry-tastic.
Have you ever made anything like bobotie? What did you think of it? If not, do you see yourself making this in the future? Why or why not?
South Africa's Bobotie
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Some people call Bobotie South African Moussaka, but I’m not convinced that gives the dish enough credit. My friend Janine says Bobotie is from the Cape Malay region and belies much more Indian influence.
At her most basic, Bobotie is a spiced meat casserole topped with egg custard and a few bay leaves. Inside, you’ll find everything from rich curry power, to garlic, ginger, lemon juice, raisins, and almonds. There’s even a scoop of chutney.
Some people call Bobotie South African Moussaka, but I’m not convinced that gives the dish enough credit. My friend Janine says Bobotie is from the Cape Malay region and belies much more Indian influence.
At her most basic, Bobotie is a spiced meat casserole topped with egg custard and a few bay leaves. Inside, you’ll find everything from rich curry power, to garlic, ginger, lemon juice, raisins, and almonds. There’s even a scoop of chutney.
Soak the bread in milk. Set it aside. Meanwhile, fry onion, ginger and garlic in butter until softened and beginning to brown.
You can just keep adding ingredients to the pan, frying and cooking and stirring until it’s a happy mess…or do what I did, and treat it like meatloaf. It’s a little unconventional (a.k.a. not traditional), but I tried it both ways and found the flavors got into the meat better with this method (and it makes the almonds a bit softer).
It’s really easy: In a large bowl, mix beef, curry, lemon juice, zest, raisins, almonds, chutney, salt, pepper, and the soaked bread (squeeze it dry first and be sure to reserve the milk). You can add in the cooled onion mixture, too. Combine well.
Now fry it up in a hot pan, using more butter as needed. Give it a taste and adjust seasonings. I added a little extra chutney… just because.
Once you’re happy with the flavor, prepare the custard. Simply whisk the eggs into the reserved milk with a bit of turmeric, salt,and pepper. Pour over the meat mixture.
Dot with bay leaves and bake about 20 minutes, or until the egg is set. Let cool for about 15 minutes, then slice and serve with yellow rice.
“We begin with the meal before the water is boiling.”
– South African Proverb
Wow. There is truth to these words.
Mighty truth.
Sure, preparation goes into everything we do, this South African menu is no exception. But that’s not what this proverb is really about.
This simple line draws attention to the work that goes into our meals before we ever set out to cook.
Yes, we must go to the market. But even before that, someone had to grow our food and get it to the market.
Heck, the Amarula in this week’s menu comes straight from South Africa, but can be found in most any liquor store.
So when my hand touches that bottle, my hand touches South Africa.
Little things like this bring me the most pleasure. And gratitude.
Have you felt gratitude today?
All recipes and meal review will be available throughout the week.
Bobotie [Recipe] A traditional Cape Malay dish casserole… made with a festival of ingredients. There’s beef, curry, raisins, almonds, and a custard topping. Some call it South African moussaka, though from where I stand, it’s just a few eggs short of frittata. Yum, yum.
Yellow Rice | Geelrys [Recipe] This is the most common way to eat rice in South Africa, and is the traditional accompaniment to Bobotie. You’ll find turmeric, raisins, and brown sugar in this lovely, fluffy rice.
Amarula Coffee [Recipe] Oh, boy. Think Irish Coffee, but South African style. The timing couldn’t be better. (I can’t wait to show you a video my friend shared with me about this drink – stay tuned for the recipe!)
Chapman’s Peak is a mountain and famous drive on the western side of the Cape Peninsula, 15 km south of Cape Town, South Africa. Photo by Hein Waschefort.
Ah, South Africa.
Almost since the beginning of this Adventure I’ve been looking forward to our week in South Africa. I’m not sure why – certainly the fairy tale mountains that tower above the white-capped ocean is one part of it.
As is the bustling city centers and even the dry interior.
Chapman’s Peak is the name of a mountain on the western side of the Cape Peninsula, about 15 kilometres south of Cape Town, South Africa. Photo by Harvey Barrison.
Blyde River bei Burke´s Luck Potholes. Photo by Bgabel.
Landscape scenery in Kruger National Park, South Africa. Photo by Nicolas Raymond.
But another is that my dear friend Janine is from South Africa.
Whenever Janine speaks of her homeland, she gets a dreamy, lost sort of look about her face.
She only goes back every 5-10 years, so South Africa remains a palatable slice of her childhood… representing her former youth and vigor, all wrapped up in memory… often more dream than reality.
View of a dried out river bank in the Sabi Sabi Game reserve. Photo by Bruce Salamon.
Janine tells me the food is heavy on the meats, especially grilled meats. Considering she’s a vegan, I was surprised when she asserted that I couldn’t “visit” South Africa without having tried some form of their meat. She said “they love their meat” and that almost every meal includes some, particularly in the cities.
The funny thing is, while they certainly love their kabobs and steaks, they cook just about anything on the grill, from the famed bobotie casserole [Recipe], to grilled rolls called Roosterkoek, often served with anchovy butter (how fun is that?), to entire heads of cabbage stuffed with cheddar cheese and bacon (not exactly something I’d pictured in South Africa, but something that has me hankering for a warm day so I could try it out).
Outdoor cooking is simply a way of South African life.
Wide-angle scenery from the top of Table Mountain in Cape Town, South Africa. Photo by Nicolas Raymond.
Most dishes go swimmingly with yellow rice [Recipe], seasoned with turmeric and sweetened with dots of raisins throughout. From the recipes Janine shared with me, Indian spices are throughout South African cooking. Ginger, garlic, curry, coriander… and so on. Also similar is their love for chutneys, especially apricot or even mango, as we made for our Namibian Global Table [recipe].
More traditional dishes include Melkkos, which is a cinnamon and flour porridge made with milk. Janine said it’s popular any time of day, but especially breakfast. Then there’s Miele Pap, a porridge made with cornmeal and water and served with chopped tomato and onion relish.
Many African dances involve jumping including ritual dances of the Zulu. In the background are the typical traditional Zulu huts and vegitation (aloes) of the higher regions of Kwazulu Natal, South Africa. Photo by Hein waschefort.
The desserts are simple, yet divine. There’s the fingerlickin’ braided ‘donuts’ which get dipped in an orange syrup – you can find these ‘koeksisters’ in nearly any bakery. Then there’s milk tart, made with milk, eggs, and sometimes a crust. Puddings are an eternal treat, including Malva pudding made with apricot jam and vinegar. It’s quite the flavor blast when combined with a spoonful of custard cream.
The most interesting by far, however, are the drinks. Just as with Lesotho, they enjoy their Rooibos [recipe]. And then there’s this other drink… that makes elephants all kinds of drunk [Recipe].
Really.
You’ll have to come back later this week to learn more about that.
City Hall, Market Square, Port Elizabeth. Photo by Leo za1.
South African maps & flag, courtesy of the CIA World Factbook.
So, friends, I’m curious. What’s the closest you’ve been to this beautiful country?
Keith falls asleep quicker than I can slip under the comforter and lay my head on the pillow. Most nights, I find myself staring out the window – watching the moon arc across the sky – while Keith snores next to me.
I don’t know how he does it.
My mind rarely clicks off… each night my head hosts a cluttered, clamoring PARTY of thoughts. Just as with the most ruckus of house guests, I’m lucky if I can control one out of ten of these thoughts.
There’s no peace in my mind. There is just swirling, swirling, swirling.
Worry, insecurity, negativity, hope, joy… it’s all bundled up in their, tied up and tangled in the confetti of my life.
And yet, the Somali people say:
This beautiful proverb made me question what I am doing at night to keep myself from this kind of soul-satisfying slumber.
I asked myself:
What is my personal roadblock to attaining inner peace?
I sat with this question for a long time.
I thought about it while dicing vegetables for the Beef Suqaar.
I thought about it as the thin sauce simmered down into a thick gravy.
I thought about it when my daughter ate the yellow corn without a second’s thought as to how much yellow sauce she was getting on her face.
She could care less. And when I wiped her face, she also didn’t mind.
She was in the moment.
And that’s when it hit me.
She’s always in the moment.
And so is Keith. If he feels like laughing, he laughs.
If he’s tired, he sleeps. That minute.
He doesn’t give space to thoughts that have no bearing on what matters in the moment… sleep.
Maybe I need to be more like Ava and Keith.
Dive into life – live it for living’s sake – and don’t worry so much about all the if, and’s and butt’s. Maybe I need to let myself get messy when messiness happens. Maybe I need to clean up when it feels right. Sleep when it’s time to sleep.
And other than that?
Maybe I need to let the chips fall where they may.
Give a little control back to the Universe, so to speak.
If you have any tips for obtaining inner peace, I’d love to hear them. Do you struggle like this? Do you have coping mechanisms, or do you live with the rattling mind? I can use all the help I can get.
I didn’t expect suqaar to blow me away. There are no exotic spices in the mix. There isn’t much in the way of complicated cooking technique, either. Turns out my hesitation was misguided: I couldn’t stop eating it. Something about the gently simmered beef with garlic, onion, and vegetables was incredibly comforting. The fact that it pulled together with minimal effort was a definite bonus. Ava and Mr Picky both ate this right up.
The key is to season the dish with a good sprinkling of salt and to let the liquid reduce out, so that the flavor concentrates around the meat… instead of a loose sauce. Many recipes use precooked meat to ensure the most tender meat, so leftover rotisserie could be a fun option for this, especially on a weeknight.
What I loved least about this dish:
Nothing. I’d like to try it with lamb and chicken in the future.
This is such a fun side dish. Aside from serving the corn aside a heaping plate of suqaar, the spiced coconut milk corn would be great with grilled meats. I could hardly keep Ava from chowing down on this… she loved it and ate two pieces in one sitting.
What I loved least about this dish:
There is no denying it – the turmeric, which stains the sauce a lovely golden hue, gets everywhere. The key is to provide plenty of napkins and let go of that “control” thing. Mr Picky hates getting dirty, so he had a bit more trouble with this than the rest of us. Ava was not bothered at all.
When it comes to the onion, it takes a while to soften. Just be patient and rotate that corn every once in a while. It’ll all come together.
When I was a little girl, I’d sit on the back porch and shuck long ears of corn, the silk wrapping around my fingers, clinging to my dress, and falling onto my shoes. Similar scenes can be found throughout southern Somalia, where men, women, and children pull together to harvest their corn.
To shuck the corn.
And, eventually, to grind it in wide, stone bowls, to make porridge.
If the kernels don’t get ground, the whole cobs might be dressed up in curried coconut milk in a dish called Galey iyo Qumbo.
It seemed to me, with the edge of winter still upon us, that whole corn, richly coated in spiced coconut milk, would be just the trick to get our family out of our vegetable slump. There’s just not that much that looks good at the market – the brussel sprouts are on their way out and the artichokes don’t quite look right. Not yet.
So corn. With coconut milk. From Somalia.
In this recipe, ears of corn simmer in a bubbling mixture of salted coconut milk, tomato sauce (just enough for a bit of acidity), sweet onion, and turmeric. The result is creamy and exotic, but not spicy. For those brave souls, a punch of heat could easily be injected with a couple of thai bird chilies, chopped and strewn into the golden sauce.
By the way, the tomato sauce is a reflection of the Italian influence in Somalia… such fun!
And speaking of the sauce, get out your napkins. Everything about this sauce is finger-lickin’. If you’re lucky, the bright, yellow marks on your skin will come off easily.
P.S. It occurs to me that this recipe just might be amazing in a crockpot. Nothing gets browned or fried. Just cook until those onions are tender. I’ve not tried it myself, so who knows… but surely one of you is a whiz at the crock pot and can let us know your thoughts?
1 15 oz coconut milk
1/4 cup tomato sauce
1 small onion, chopped
1 tsp turmeric
salt, to taste
Garnish
Torn cilantro leaves
Method:
Take a walk through Somalia and find a sunny spot to make dinner. Take a deep breath as you listen to the water’s murmurings.
Once settled in, peel and cut your corn into desired serving sizes.
Add the golden hunks to a pot with coconut milk, chopped onion, tomato sauce, turmeric, and salt.
Cover and simmer for about thirty minutes, or until the onion and corn are cooked through. Be sure to stir frequently to get all the corn submerged in the spiced coconut milk.
Serve hot with a bit of the sauce.
Nibble with a napkin, an appetite, and a smiling friend.
(Preferably someone who doesn’t mind getting messy)
P.S. If you enjoyed this, you might enjoy these other delicious corn dishes:
In this recipe, ears of corn simmer in a bubbling mixture of salted coconut milk, tomato sauce (just enough for a bit of acidity), sweet onion, and turmeric. The result is creamy and exotic, but not spicy. For those brave souls, a punch of heat could easily be injected with a couple of thai bird chilies, chopped and strewn into the golden sauce.
In this recipe, ears of corn simmer in a bubbling mixture of salted coconut milk, tomato sauce (just enough for a bit of acidity), sweet onion, and turmeric. The result is creamy and exotic, but not spicy. For those brave souls, a punch of heat could easily be injected with a couple of thai bird chilies, chopped and strewn into the golden sauce.
Add the the coren to a pot with coconut milk, chopped onion, tomato sauce, turmeric, and salt.
Cover and simmer for about thirty minutes, or until the onion and corn are cooked through. Be sure to stir frequently to get all the corn submerged in the spiced coconut milk.
Serve hot.
Recipe Notes
It occurs to me that this recipe just might be amazing in a crockpot. Nothing gets browned or fried. Just cook until those onions are tender.
Sometimes we need a meal that can fill every corner of our heart, one that can bump out those rough and tumble emotions that bog us down… the ones that keep us from being happy.
Carefree.
Enter Suqaar, from Somalia.
Suqaar (pronounced sooh-car) is one of Somalia’s most beloved dishes and can be made with any meat, from lamb, to chicken, to beef. Generally the meat is cut into very small pieces, about 1/2″ cube or smaller. The meal is then rounded out with an assortment of veggies – usually carrots, bell pepper, onion, and -sometimes – potato.
There are no complex spices.
There are no convoluted cooking techniques.
Just good food, hot and happy.
While some like to add cumin, most recipes omit any spice but salt.
The flavors are simple and reflect the Italian influence on Somali food (hello, garlic and onion!). The meat and vegetable juices reduce to form a luscious gravy … and a delicate, controlled flurry of cilantro adds the finishing touch.
Suqaar can be scooped up with flatbreads, but it is most commonly served with rice.
And, speaking of rice, have you heard this beautiful Somali proverb?
Little by little, we heal.
May it be so.
Serves 4 (with rice)
Ingredients:
1 small onion, sliced in half moons
3 cloves garlic, crushed
1 green bell pepper, chopped
vegetable oil
1 1/2 lbs cubed beef
1 cup beef broth, moreas needed
3 carrots, peeled and sliced
2 yellow potatoes, cubed
chili pepper, for heat (optional)
handful cilantro, chopped or torn
Method:
Find a lovely corner of Somalia to cook in.
Perhaps with a little sunshine. And a tower.
Photo of the ancient mosque of Zeila in Somali. -Walter Callens
Once you find such a spot, fry the onion, garlic, and bell pepper in vegetable oil until soft and the house smells like glory.
Then (and only then!) add the beef, broth, carrots, and potatoes. Finally, splash in the broth.
Simmer until tender, about 30 minutes. The mixture will start out thin and soupy, but gradually thicken into more of a gravy.
Stir frequently, especially as the mixture begins to dry out.
Here’s what you’re looking for:
If the meat is tough, add some more liquid and keep cooking until it’s completely tender.
Garnish with a handful of chopped cilantro and a smile.
The double carbs with potatoes and rice is just perfect.
Suqaar (pronounced sooh-car) is one of Somalia’s most beloved dishes and can be made with any meat, from lamb, to chicken, to beef. Generally the meat is cut into very small pieces, about 1/2″ cube or smaller. The meal is then rounded out with an assortment of veggies – usually carrots, bell pepper, onion, and -sometimes – potato.
Suqaar (pronounced sooh-car) is one of Somalia’s most beloved dishes and can be made with any meat, from lamb, to chicken, to beef. Generally the meat is cut into very small pieces, about 1/2″ cube or smaller. The meal is then rounded out with an assortment of veggies – usually carrots, bell pepper, onion, and -sometimes – potato.
Fry the onion, garlic, and bell pepper in vegetable oil until soft and the house smells like glory. Then (and only then!) add the beef, broth, carrots, and potatoes. Finally, splash in the broth.
Simmer until tender, about 30 minutes. The mixture will start out thin and soupy, but gradually thicken into more of a gravy. Stir frequently, especially as the mixture begins to dry out.
If the meat is tough, add some more liquid and keep cooking until it’s completely tender. Garnish with a handful of chopped cilantro and a smile.
Somalia quite the melting pot, and this week’s menu shows it. The food is peppered with a little bit of Italy (hello, tomato sauce & garlic!), a lot of east Africa (howdy, stewed meat with veggies!) and a smidgen of India (hey there, yellow, yellow turmeric!).
I made this menu while Ava was home from school, so I purposefully chose recipes that were easy to make. That way I’d have more time to wiggle and spin my way through a toddler dance party.
Priorities.
Even with such simplicity, I think you’ll be pleasantly be surprised by these recipes. They’re just unusual enough for a dinner party, but easy enough for a week night.
My kind of food.
All recipes and the meal review will be posted throughout the week.
Beef Suqaar [Recipe]
If there was ever any comfort to be found in slowly simmered meat, this is it. A cozy combination of beef, carrots, peppers, onions, and potatoes. The flavor comes from the very Italian addition of garlic and onion. If you want to spice things up, a hot chili pepper is grand, too.
Coconut Curried Corn | Galey iyo Qumbo [Recipe]
The sauciest corn you’ve ever had. Simmered with coconut milk, onion, tomato sauce, and turmeric. Creamy, yet vegan.
Photo of the ancient mosque of Zeila in Somali. Photo by Walter Callens
On the easternmost edge of Africa, next to the Indian Ocean, lies Somalia. This long, lean country is shaped rather fortuitously like the lucky number 7. Or a boomerang.
Somalian map and flag courtesy of the CIA World Factbook.
The arid land is a haven for wanderers – rugged nomads who trace trails through the shifting sands and savannas until they can find a suitable spot to set up home for yet another night.
Date-dotted mountains line the northern reaches of Somalia, while the south is known for farming treats like corn, sugar cane, sorghum, citrus, and bananas. Thanks to her lengthy coastline, fishing is a major source of food and income.
Boats on the beach in Merca, Somalia. Photo by Tahir Turk
The food reminds me both of our Ethiopian Global Table and our Djiboutian Global Table (her immediate neighbors), where spongy flat breads like lahooh start the day off right, perhaps with a drizzle of honey, or a soaking of tea, or even some egg and cheese… (see the Djiboutian recipe called laxoox). Other breads include chapati [recipe] and muufo (a bread baked in a clay oven). The chapati is a mainstay from the days Somalia was the center of trade between countries to the east, like India, and those to the west, in the Mediterranean.
Having been a center of trade, makes Somalia one of the original melting pots.
Speaking of the Mediterranean, there’s a decided Italian influence in Somalia. I noticed many recipes include some form of tomato sauce, rosemary, or basil. There’s even baked pastas and the much adored Somali Spaghetti, which is simply spaghetti served with spicy tomato sauce and a sprinkling of cilantro.
Not exactly what I expected to find in eastern Africa.
A scenic photograph of a tree near Kismayo, Somalia. Photo by SGT. G.D. ROBINSON
The tomato sauce makes its way into spiced chickpeas, corn [Recipe] and other veggies. While the food can be incredibly spicy, there’s also many mild dishes, like the ever popular suqaar, which is meat (chicken, beef, or lamb) cooked with vegetables and a sprinkling of cilantro [Recipe]. Lentils are everywhere.
Sambusa, or fried meat pies, are one of the staple and I saw a video of one Somalian woman in the united states who missed them so much, she substituted Mexican tortillas for the impossible-t0-find dough.
Who knew.
I have to admit, I’ve love to try the fusion food of Somalia… in one of those houses by the fishing boats.
Map of Somalia courtesy of the CIA World Factbook.
Ava’s been saying something disturbing lately. If a toy breaks, she says “let’s buy a new one.” If fruit sits too long in the basket and gets mushy, she says “let’s go to the grocery store.”
She says these things, even with a father who shows her how to build and repair her toys in the garage … Even with a mother who teaches her how to make apple pies with bruised apples. Maybe she says it less than some children, but I’m still concerned, and I’m at a loss with how to handle it.
Our week cooking the Solomon Islands brought the issue into clear relief.
In the Solomon Islands, food is incredibly difficult to grow. There’s mountains. Monsoons. On the remote islands, locals might have to row to another island just to get to the grocery store.
You get the drift.
Solomon Dugout Canoe from below. Photo by mjwinoz.
Food is not to be wasted. Families must make due with what they have.
This includes eating green papaya and grated cassava, wrapped up in banana leaves, some of the rare indigenous foods.
So, as I grated the cassava (which took a whopping two hours),* I spoke to Ava about the importance of using what we have. Even if it takes a little elbow grease to transform it into something edible.
Something usable.
She listened the way any three and a half year old does, with partial interest and a great deal of misinterpretation regarding the term “elbow grease.”
“What’s bewbow gwease, mama?”
Anyway, I’m hoping that the message of making due with what we have will sink in over time and become palatable, even desirable to her… It’s just another variation on the important lesson my mother taught me:
“Waste not, want not.”
The question I struggle with is how to teach Ava this lesson, when we are surrounded by stuff, stuff, stuff… all available nearly instantly and without much hardship. For example, we were at a birthday party recently where the child’s presents could have filled half an aisle of the toy store.
While green papaya is no show stopper on it’s own (she’s watery and a tad bitter, like any green vegetable worth its salt), I couldn’t put my spoon down once she was mixed with curry and coconut milk. I ate so much I rather wished I was in my sweatpants. Thankfully, papaya is super healthy and mostly water… so it’s a little like eating a salad… lots of fluff without much actual rib-sticking going on. Mr Picky was surprised by how much he liked it, as was I.
Since the papaya we get in Tulsa aren’t the greatest, this turns out to be a great way to use them if they’re bland.
What I loved least about this dish:
I made the mistake of giving Ava big pieces of the papaya, which threw her off. I should have cut them very small, so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the texture. She didn’t quite get the fruity squish with the savory sauce, although she ate quite a bit of the rice soaked with curry (so she’s at least acquiring a taste for curry).
Cassava Pudding is dense and comforting, as with all carbs. The difference here are the flavors. By cooking the food in banana leaves, a most wonderful flavor emerges, a little like artichokes… when combined with the coconut milk, the result is hard to put down. I ate three pieces one morning before I’d even realized it. My favorite part has to be the browned edges… yum, yum. Keith liked this one as well, remarking on the coconut taste.
What I loved least about this dish:
Considering my history with cassava (a.k.a. yucca), I expected this to be a complete flop. When it came out of the oven wet and gooey after three and a half hours cooking I was sure I’d failed. Turns out I just needed to let the cassava cool before trying to slice it. This can be done on the counter or the refrigerator.
That being said… grating cassava and sweet potato for two hours was not my idea of the greatest of times. Turns out, there’s a reason cooking is a social activity in the Solomon Islands – traditional recipes take a long time to prep and bake, leaving ample opportunity for chatter, singing, and even dancing.
*I thought of another way to do this: peel and remove the central fibers from the cassava, then run the remaining cassava through the grater on a food processor. Then, run the grated cassava through the regular blade of the food processor. I have no idea if it will work, but in the off chance that it does, it’ll save you 2 hours. The other option is to do this with friends and family – make a fun activity out of it.
It’s just as important to be frugal in times of plenty as it is in times of hardship. As my mom likes to say “Waste not, want not.”
In the Solomon Islands, when Papaya trees hang heavy with more fruit than locals know what to do with, they don’t let it rot and fall to the ground. They don’t let the monsoons sweep the fruit away, either.
Oh, no.
Instead, they make use of the papaya at every stage of growth… ripe or unripe… which is how PawPaw Curry makes its way onto the dinner table. While the sweet flesh of ripe papaya is grand (perhaps baked with sweet coconut cream?), pawpaw curry is made with the mild, firm flesh of an unripe papaya.
A green papaya.
Unlike the deep orange interiors of their ripe sisters, green papayas are pastel on the inside, just barely dawning with orange. The flesh is mild in flavor and takes on the personality of whatever ingredients they are cooked with. In this case, curry and coconut milk makes for an excellent accompaniment, especially when served over rice.
It’s creamy and smooth, a bit spicy, and all kinds of wonderful.
If you’re looking to enjoy a meal that represents perseverance, appreciating every stage of life, then look to the papaya. This humble curry exemplifies the wonder that comes from tapping unrealized potential.
NOTE: Pregnant women are advised not to eat green papaya.
Serves 4
Serve over rice
Ingredients:
2 lbs/6 cups green papaya (unripe)
vegetable oil
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1-2 Thai bird chili peppers, for heat (optional)
1 Tbsp homemade curry powder
1 15 oz can coconut milk
Salt
Method:
Set up your kitchen near Solomon Islands’ sparkling waves, perhaps overlooking a mighty volcano in the deep blue yonder.
The view will get into your food and make it taste like love.
Looking towards the Great Reef from Fenualoa, Reef Islands, Solomon Islands. Active volcano Tinakula across the waters. Photo by Pohopetch.
Holding the papaya on the narrow end, slice off the skin (be sure to leave a bit at the top unpeeled, so you can grip it without slipping). Then, slice the papaya in half and scoop out the seeds. Cube it up.
In a large pan over medium heat, add the oil, onion, garlic and, if using, the Thai bird chili. The chili can be slit with a knife to release some heat or sliced into rings for lots of heat. They can also be completely omitted for a mild curry.
Either way, cook until the onion is soft.
Add the curry powder, papaya, coconut milk, and salt.
Cover and simmer until the papaya is tender (this is to taste – mine took about 15 minutes).
Enjoy with a heaping bowl of rice.
And the satisfaction that you used up a green papaya.
It’s just as important to be frugal in times of plenty as it is in times of hardship. As my mom likes to say “Waste not, want not.” In the Solomon Islands, when Papaya trees hang heavy with more fruit than locals know what to do with, they don’t let it rot and fall to the ground. They don’t let the monsoons sweep the fruit away, either. Oh, no. Instead, they make use of the papaya at every stage of growth… ripe or unripe… which is how PawPaw Curry makes its way onto the dinner table. While the sweet flesh of ripe papaya is grand (perhaps baked with sweet coconut cream?), pawpaw curry is made with the mild, firm flesh of an unripe papaya. Serve with rice.
It’s just as important to be frugal in times of plenty as it is in times of hardship. As my mom likes to say “Waste not, want not.” In the Solomon Islands, when Papaya trees hang heavy with more fruit than locals know what to do with, they don’t let it rot and fall to the ground. They don’t let the monsoons sweep the fruit away, either. Oh, no. Instead, they make use of the papaya at every stage of growth… ripe or unripe… which is how PawPaw Curry makes its way onto the dinner table. While the sweet flesh of ripe papaya is grand (perhaps baked with sweet coconut cream?), pawpaw curry is made with the mild, firm flesh of an unripe papaya. Serve with rice.
Holding the papaya on the narrow end, slice off the skin (be sure to leave a bit at the top unpeeled, so you can grip it without slipping). Then, slice the papaya in half and scoop out the seeds. Cube it up.
In a large pan over medium heat, add the oil, onion, garlic and, if using, the Thai bird chili. The chili can be slit with a knife to release some heat or sliced into rings for lots of heat. They can also be completely omitted for a mild curry.
Either way, cook until the onion is soft.
Add the curry powder, papaya, coconut milk, and salt.
Cover and simmer until the papaya is tender (this is to taste – mine took about 15 minutes). Enjoy with a heaping bowl of rice.
Recipe Notes
NOTE: Pregnant women are advised not to eat green papaya.
I can’t get over how many unique and occasion-worthy recipes can be found all around the world that only have three ingredients (not counting water, of course). There is no limit, it would seem, to creativity in the kitchen.
With just three ingredients, our global neighbors can offer something sweet or savory, simple or complicated. These easy recipes can take our imaginations to any continent.
Once I assembled the list, I realized something rather amazing…
[dropshadowbox align=”none” effect=”lifted-both” width=”570px” height=”” background_color=”#ffffff” border_width=”1″ border_color=”#dddddd” ]All of these recipes are vegetarian (V) or vegan (V+) and most are gluten free (GF).[/dropshadowbox]
Bonus.
So, now the question is, which recipe will you make?
NOTE: Country listed indicates when we cooked the dish in our Global Table Adventure. In many cases the recipes may be available and beloved by other countries as well.
Yum, yum.
