Meal 96: Liberia

This little slice of West Africa, internationally infamous for its brutal civil war and more recent Ebola crisis, has an unique origin story: it was founded by freed slaves who returned from the US.  (Note: A Liberian comments that this is the wrong way to portray it. To clarify I should say that the nation in its current political form was founded by those free slaves; indeed there were many people living there prior.) From what I can tell most of the cuisine is based on the locally available foods — which, unlike most of the rest of Africa but similarly to its immediate neighbors, is based on rice as a staple — but there are hints of the American legacy, particularly in the desserts.

Thanks to Jeff, Mark, and Heather, all folks who've worked in Liberia, for advice that translated directly into my choice of dishes. (Sorry none of you could make it!) And to Mama Pauline's, the African market that's a short bike ride away, for having everything I needed and plenty of friendly advice!

This was our first-ever meal where we didn't know any of the guests, and it was a great success! We met an astrophysicist, a Portland Police detective, and a caterer from Hood River, among other fascinating characters. Thanks to Jia, Daniel, Katie, Mary, Dave, Courtney, Emily, Brynden, Bonni, and Geo for coming, and for donating generously!

Kanyah | Peanut snack | Recipe

A really simple treat made from just peanuts, rice, and sugar. To avoid turning it into peanut butter, I crushed the peanuts by hand in my big mortar and pestle, which was easy enough. (You could use a Ziploc and a rolling pin to similar effect.) But crushing toasted rice grains by hand was getting mighty tedious, so I just threw them into the food processor. The resulting mix of the three ingredients is like slightly wet sand and hence quite crumbly; I used a measuring cup to create the forms. It’s reminiscent of halva or those other crumbly sweets from the heart of the Near East.

Palm butter Recipe and some advice

The rich sauce extracted from palm nuts can be found all along the coast of West Africa, and it’s typically prepared in the same way, as a stew. When we’ve cooked this dish for other countries, it has one type of meat, if any at all. But Liberians seem to revel in tossing in whatever treasures of land and sea they manage to come across, hence why the recipe calls for [[CRAB??]], shrimp, chicken, beef, and smoked turkey. (Of course if you don’t have them all on hand, just use what you’ve got!) Given that these palms are native to this part of the continent, it’s little wonder that this is considered a very important dish, one that a woman is traditionally expected to be able to make before she’s considered marriageable.

I messed up in one big way. As the name implies, this dish is supposed to be cooked down until it’s thick and rich. But I started with a bunch of water to boil the meats, and then added more to thin the palm sauce, and even after an hour and a half of boiling it was too thin. Alas, it was time to eat, so we ended up with more of a soup. It was definitely tasty (though I found the shrimp to be quite overcooked — my preference would have been to add them at the very end!), but if you’re going to make this, make sure to err on the side of less water as you can always add more. Alas, doesn’t look like I’m quite cut out to be a Liberian housewife yet.

Sweet potato greens | Recipe

Add these to the list of foods I’m surprised we don’t see more often in American markets. They’re tasty, nutritious, easy to cook, and we’re already producing them everywhere we grow sweet potatoes. (My guess is they’re being fed to pigs.) Fortunately, Mama Pauline’s had them frozen in a big lump imported from Cameroon, and they cooked up quite like frozen spinach would. As with the palm butter, it’s a stew with a jumble of meats, though with a fresher and less heavy flavor. This was the clear crowd favorite!

Check rice Recipe

I couldn’t figure out where the name comes from, does anyone know? The special ingredient is jute, which is known as molokhiya in the Arab world, an astonishingly mucilaginous green that until now I’d only encountered as a really goopy soup. Fortunately I find it goes a lot better when mixed in judicious quantities with rice.

Speaking of rice, it’s the main grain of this corner of Africa, and is typically made these days from the parboiled (aka converted) variety. Despite the bad rap that Uncle Ben gets for his converted rice, it turns out to actually be healthier than plain white rice, because the parboiling process forces vitamins from the germ into the heart of the grain.

Hot fried pepper Recipe

If the intense spice of the peppers doesn't get you, then the pungency of the smoked fish will! Be sure to open the windows and turn on the vent when preparing and frying up this intense condiment, which brings an unmistakably West African flavor to the table. I scaled down the recipe by 2/3 and still had way too much left over!

Pineapple beer Recipe

“Beer” is a misnomer, as there’s no yeast or brewing or alcohol involved. But it wouldn’t be right to call it “juice” either, since instead this is more of an extract made by boiling pineapple and leaving it to sit overnight, then straining the solids from the flavored water. I’m not quite sure why this is considered a better technique than simply juicing a pineapple and adding a weak simple syrup, it’s certainly more labor-intensive! But I guess you can do it with nothing more specialized than a knife and a strainer (or a substitute like an old, clean t-shirt), rather than something to press juice with.

Ricebread Recipe

While much of Liberian food is quite similar to that of the surrounding countries, one distinctive aspect is a tradition of baking that returned feed slaves brought back from the US. This recipe’s understated name leaves out an important part, it’s full of plantains along with broken rice. It’s rich and hearty, though not too sweet, a nice gluten-free breakfast option that we happened to eat for dessert.

Meal 69: Guinea-Bissau

If you know anything about Guinea-Bissau, chances are it's the dubious media-granted title of "the world's first narco-state" and the ensuing coup. Conveniently located just a few days' boating from South America, the small former Portuguese colony has become a waystation for drugs en route to Europe. The army not only consents but participates, increasingly so since last year's coup. Not surprisingly, the money hasn't reached the people; Guinea-Bissau is among the least-developed countries in the world. While the country is poor, it does offer some rich culinary opportunities. Not surprisingly, given its coastal location, much of the dishes are fish and seafood based. Due to scheduling confusion and illness, half our guests couldn't make it, so we had an intimate crowd of Karen, Ryan, and Sarah-Doe.

Cashew rum

Did you know that the cashew is actually the seed of a fruit? It's known as the cashew apple, and looks like this:

The Portuguese found cashews in Brazil, and as far as I can tell, wherever the Portuguese colonized, they brought cashews with them. In fact, the economy of Guinea-Bissau has become so dependent on cashew farming that a recent price dip has been wreaking havoc on an already fragile economy.

While cashews are a cash crop traded around the world, the fruit -- which is tasty and tangy and packed with vitamins -- bruises easily and doesn't transport well. But one thing that could transport, but for some reason we don't see in temperate climes, is cashew rum, the brandy made from fermenting and distilling the fruit. We found some in Goa on our trip to India in January, they call it feni there, and it has a distinctive and almost cloying tropical-fruit aroma. We brought some back, and had no clue what we'd do with it, until I read in a travel guide that cashew rum is popular in Guinea-Bissau. So I whipped up some hibiscus drink, poured in some rum, and it was a great combo, the tartness really cut through the strength of the rum to just be all around satisfying.

Bolinhos de mancarra com peixe | Fish and peanut balls | Recipe at end of post

A large portion of the recipes I found were for fried fish balls, so for the first time in months I pulled out the deep fryer. Oh boy, was it worth it. The unlikely combination of fishiness and nuttiness works so well. And the texture was an extra bonus: a dense and moist inside with a crisp outside, and just enough grease to make you want to take a sip of your drink and eat another! As you'll see from the recipe below, it's a fair amount of work, but I don't regret it a bit.

Pitche-patche de ostras | Oyster stew | Recipe

Oysters in Africa? Apparently so! If you happen to have a bunch of oysters laying around, and you don't feel like eating them raw, it's hard to think of a simpler way to prepare them in a tasty way. This is, naturally, a pretty soft and filling food: pale, mushy oyster and plump, white rice in a clear broth. But the chili and smattering of veggies give it just enough color and bite to make for a surprisingly satisfying soup.

Frango com bagique | Chicken with spinach | Recipe

A pretty simple dish, essentially chicken gently simmered in red palm oil with greens. (I did quite a bunch of sleuthing which led me to come to the not-firm conclusion that bagique is sorrel leaves, but since I couldn't find any sorrel, I just followed the recipe and went with spinach.) I marinated the chicken in the oil and onion mixture for a while, maybe it helped a bit. If you don't want to do all that pounding you could save yourself some effort and grind it in a food processor. The cooking time is an underestimate, I probably needed an extra 20 minutes, which you could probably cut out if you put a lid on the pot. A decent dish, and a fine introduction to African cooking that requires only one specialty ingredient.

Mandioca assada com xarope de cana | Grilled cassava with cane syrup | Recipe

When life gives you sugar cane and a bland, mealy root vegetable, I guess you should heat up the former and roast the latter and mix them. I dunno, this didn't do it for me, baked is so flavorless that even with the syrup on top I kinda felt like I was eating a whole lot of nothing.

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As promised, here's the recipe for the deep-fried goodness!

Bolinhos de mancarra com peixe

Fish and peanut balls

Recipe adapted from Cuisines of Portuguese Encounters by Cherie Hamilton

1 cup shelled roasted peanuts (or a few cups in the shell) 2.5 pounds mackerel fillets (for me, that was three medium-small fish) Juice of 1 lemon 1 teaspoon salt 1/4 teaspoon pepper 1/2 onion, sliced thin 1 tablespoon vegetable oil 2 medium onions, grated A few sprigs parsley, chopped 1 teaspoon salt 1 egg Vegetable oil for frying

Grind peanuts in a food processor and set aside. Stop a bit short of making peanut butter.

Mix lemon juice, salt, pepper, and onion in a wide dish, add the fillets, flip the fillets to coat them, and let marinate for at least 30 minutes. Heat the tablespoon of oil in a skillet or frying pan (a non-stick one would be convenient), and fry the fillets until brown on both sides; discard the marinade. Don't despair if the fillets break up. Remove the fillets to a paper-towel-lined plate; once they're cool enough to handle, flake the fish into a bowl. Start heating up your frying oil; I went for about 350 degrees in a deep fryer. (Note: this is a great article about deep frying, it focuses on how many times you can re-use oil but contains many great tips.)

Add onions, parsley, salt, and the egg to the bowl, along with the peanuts you've ground. Mix everything together with your hands. Form into ping-pong size balls, paying a bit of care to pack the mass and smooth the edges. You should get about 30. In my small home fryer I cooked four or five at a time, jostling halfway through to ensure even browning. (If the balls break up partway through, do something to help the balls stay together more: maybe another egg, or cornstarch. All is not lost, you can take the broken fried bits and re-combine them in with the rest of the mixture to start afresh and extra-crispy.) Remove to a paper towel. It's your choice whether to serve hot or cold; it's obligatory to serve with a drink!

Meal 42: Croatia

Thanks to its unique location, Croatia straddles several opposing forces of history and geography, and of course this is reflected in the food. It features a unique shape, a comically long and thin Mediterranean coastline with a big bulb at the north stretching inland toward the heart of the Balkans. Parts or all of it have been subject in turn to Venetian, Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires, which have lent such influences as pasta, lamb, and strudel. And of course it's a matter of geography, with the Adriatic providing for seafood, citrus, olives and other Mediterranean abundance, and the inland favoring heartier, roasted affairs. And through it all, the Croatians have very much enjoyed their drink, taking advantage of abundant  fruit-growing climates to make marvelous wines and all manner of brandies.

To craft this meal I had excellent guidance from Janet, the wife of a longtime family friend, who maintains strong connections to her relatives in Croatia. If I'd followed all her recommendations I'd have made a meal for fifty, so I picked and chose and still ended up spending all day in the kitchen! Frankly, without her I'd have been kinda lost and throwing darts at a cuisine that at first glance feels a bit random, and plus it's always a pleasure to learn about (and recreate!) family traditions. Thanks also to Zack, a friend of frequent nosher Caro, whose thoughts from several years of living there helped me clarify things.

Since a storm was blowing through we had to eat indoors, which was more than a bit warm what with the oven running pretty much all afternoon and evening. (Too bad 'cause it would have been fun to make the lamb in a "bell" on the barbecue as suggested.) Our guests were Colin, Kirsty, Sophie, Luisa, Christen, Sam, and Eleanor.

Pršut, Paški sir i masline | Prosciutto, Pag cheese and olives

I love how when words jump between languages, they tend to conform to the familiar sounds and patterns of the tongues of those who pronounce them. Never one to pass up an opportunity to explore a culinary angle, I wrote a paper for phonology class in college called "Holy Guacamole" about American English pronunciation of Mexican Spanish food names. Well, the morphing of the Italian prosciutto into the Croatian pršut is a textbook example: just as the word comes roughly from the Latin for "that which has had the moisture expunged," so have the Croatians compressed things by halving the number of letters and removing a syllable. Perhaps if I ever tackle the same topic again, I'll name the paper "In Pršut of Happiness."

Anyway. Along with the lovely slices of dry-cured ham, we nibbled on olives, but the star of this appetizer show was truly the cheese. Paški sir comes from the isle of Pag, where a salty dry wind stunts the growth of all but the hardiest of little shrubs, and the sheep that nibble on them make some sort of awesome milk that becomes this excellent cheese. Its texture is somewhere between aged cheddar and parmesan, and the flavor is delightfully rich. It ain't cheap, but if you see it at your cheesemonger it's a worthwhile indulgence.

Pogača | Rich hearth bread | Recipe

This is the first bread I've ever made that a friend has offered to pay me to bake again, so you don't have to take my word that it turned out fantastically. It's a pretty rich one, with milk, sour cream, butter, and egg, all baked in a dutch oven. The soft sweetness was a great foil for the salty and dense appetizers. If we had any left I'd love to try making French toast or bread pudding with it, but alas, it's all gone. (Note that if you make it, the dough will be rather goopy when you're done mixing. Resist the urge to add more flour, 'cause it turned out great.)

Vino i rakije | Wine and brandies

"How do you say cheers?" "Živeli!" "Do we sip it?" "No, take the whole shot!" And with that short conversation, we learned the basics of Croatian drinking from Christen, who's spent some time there. Unfortunately we couldn't find the travarica herbal liqueur that Janet recommended. However, we had plenty of brandy on hand from our cascading drinking around the Balkans: the šljivovica (plum) and rakija (grape) brandies were left over from the Bosnian meal, and we bought some extra šljivovica from Czech Republic anticipating (correctly) that we'd have some left over for that upcoming meal. We also enjoyed plenty of Croatian wines; the white mixed with seltzer to make what's known as gemist, while we enjoyed the red on its own — turns out that the main grape of Croatia is almost identical to Zinfandel!

Pečena janjetina | Roast lamb | Recipe

The recipe calls for cooking this dish under a bell-like lid that holds coals, but I just didn't have one of those, although Janet suggested we could use a terra cotta pot. But since it was storming, I went the easier way, re-using the dutch oven from the bread and cooking the lamb. The pot wasn't big enough for the whole leg so I cut it into pieces, and with it added potatoes, tomatoes, apples, onions, rosemary, and wine. I mighta overcooked it a bit, but it was sure tasty.

Mlinci |(what I call) Brothcrackers | Recipe 

Why you don't see this genius dish in more cuisines is beyond me. It's so simple, cheap, efficient, and tasty. You make dough from flour, water and a little bit of egg, roll it out, bake it into crackers, soak it in a bit of water, and then bake it in the juices from whatever meat you just cooked. It's kind of like the tastiest napkin imaginable. Heck, I could even see scrambling up the leftovers with eggs like matzo brei or migas. Mmm.

Salata od hobotnice | Octopus salad | Recipe

There were very clear pro- and anti-octopus factions at the table, so rather than mix these adorable/horrifying creatures straight into the salad, we made it separate and guests were free to add the octopus if they wished. The recipe does call for big rather than baby, but this is what the fishmonger in Astoria had so I rolled with it. Probably took about an hour and a half of simmering, which is less than a big thick guy would have taken. I love the taste and texture, you may not.

Blitva | Chard and potatoes | Recipe

Simple, tasty, healthy. Really nothing more than potatoes and chard boiled in seasoned water and drizzled with quality olive oil. Especially tasty with veggies straight from the farmer's market. Will probably make again!

Štrudla s jabukama | Apple strudel | Recipe at end

 
I have eaten my share of turnovers, tartes tatin, and other apple pastries, and I declare without hesitation that this is the best I've tasted. Is it the unseasonably early apples from the farmers market, or the lovingly preserved family recipe (read below!), or Kirsty's careful preparation, or the even heating thanks to the pizza stone in the bottom of the oven and the Silpat mat under the pastry? Probably all of the above, and what a wonderful result. The novelty for me in this recipe was the layers of breadcrumbs between the sheets of filo, which I'm guessing serves to keep the layers a bit more separate and help them crisp up all the more. This was just great.

Macerated cherries

This is, quite literally, the cherry on top, where it all comes full circle. In the reversal of naming of the ham, it turns out that what we know as the maraschino cherry, by way of Italian, actually comes from Croatia, where it's called maraska and is actually a small sour cherry. Today's fake sugary red confection is a far cry from the original, which was steeped in liquor. Well, I couldn't find sour cherries easily, but I did get my hands on a few pounds of Bings and a bottle of kirschwasser cherry liqueur. I pretty much just mixed the two, plus well over a cup of sugar, shook it daily for the first few days, and waited. After a week it wasn't great, but two more weeks and wowza. Sweet enough for dessert, subtle enough to merit eating many, and definitely boozy enough to be fun! If you enjoy making cocktails, I recommend you macerate some cherries of your own.

We enjoyed the meal to the surprisingly diverse sounds of Croatian music, from traditional ballads to hip-hop to straight up punk pop. And with that, we're taking a wee break from the pattern, and next week we've got a bit of an Olympic surprise!

Photos by Laura Hadden, who broke her rule of openmindedness and refused to try the octopus.

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Apple Strudel Recipe from Janet Garvin 

This recipe is one of our family’s most highly treasured, since it was made often by my grandmother. Strudel displays the influence of the Austrian Empire on Croatia. Traditionally, the dough for this strudel is homemade—an eggy, elastic dough that is gradually stretched out on top of a white tablecloth until it covers the entire surface of a dining table about four feet across, and is translucent. This takes time. I did it once with my mother, and the results were worth it. On every other occasion I have made strudel, however, I have used packaged filo dough, which works well. This is my grandmother’s recipe, and the results are light, flavorful, exquisite when served at room temperature:

1 lb. filo dough 4 cups thinly sliced apples—my mom wrote in her copy of the recipe that you can use almost any kind—she recommends Granny Smith 1 cup sugar ½ cup raising—I like golden ½ cup toasted bread crumbs 1 tsp. cinnamon ½ tsp. nutmeg lemon zest—as much as you like (it is a very good addition) 1 cup of chopped almonds or walnuts—we prefer walnuts 1 small table cloth or large tea towel

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Melt butter and keep warm. Mix apples, raisins, lemon zest, nuts, cinnamon and nutneg. Remove 3 sheets of filo dough, one at a time. Cover remaining filo with a damp cloth. Place one dough square on the table cloth, being careful not to break or introduce holes.. Brush butter over the surface and sprinkle with bread crumbs. Repeat with the other 2 sheets, arranging exactly on top of the previous sheet.

Take one cup of fruit mixture and arrange evenly along the width of and edge of the stacked dough squares nearest you, to within 2 inches of each end. Raise one end of the cloth, causing the dough to roll up and over the fruit. Continue raising the cloth, causing the dough to foll over and around the fruit, jelly-roll fashion. When a complete roll is achieved, crimp the ends of the roll to prevent the fruit from falling out. Using the cloth to support the roll during transfer, place it on a greased cookie sheet. (Note: When I make this I use Silpat silicone baking sheet liners, which work beautifully. The strudel browns and nothing sticks.) Cover the roll with a damp towel. Repeat process. About 4 rolls will be created. Remove the damp cloth, bruch the outsides of rolls with melted butter, and bak for 20 to 30 minutes or until golden brown. It is best not to overcook. Let cool until the strudel can be more easily handled. It is best eaten freshly baked but may be frozen for a short period prior to serving. On my copy of the recipe I noted a variation I created when I made the strudel in December 2010: Add diced dried apricots to the apples: steep the apricots and golden raisins in a little warmed limoncello, then add everything to the apple mixture.

Meal 38: Comoros

As a small cluster of islands between Madagascar and Mozambique, Comoros offers a cuisine that's about as exotic as you'd imagine. It's situated off of Africa, but heavily influenced by the Arab, Indian, and more recently French culinary histories. This means seafood, stews, coconuts, and lots of spices in combinations that are totally trippy to Western tastebuds!

Huge thanks to Evin, Zoe, and Kayla for hosting us at their beautiful home (and well equipped kitchen!) in Oakland, CA. We had a number of old and new friends in attendance: Scott, Sylvia, Raph, Margaret, Alicia, John, Jessica, Katie, Carrie, Cass, and Graeme. We also enjoyed the company of our youngest nosher to date, Lulu, who was a very brave two year old in trying most of the food!

Langouste à la vanille | Lobster with vanilla sauce | Recipe: French, English translation

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought of combining vanilla with seafood. But, by golly, it's pretty darn amazing.

Cooking the lobster was quite the feat to begin with. First off, the recipe leaves out the very important first step of steaming the lobster; in my naïveté I had somehow figured you just cut the thing open while still alive. Anyway, we boiled them just enough to, uh, prevent them from squirming on the cutting board, and then Scott split them in two. Sylvia stuffed them with chopped-up vanilla beans, salt, and pepper, and then we cooked them in pans until done. The splitting was good not only for getting the flavors inside, but also let us check the flesh for done-ness, so we cooked them not a moment longer than necessary.

But let's be honest, the best part of this all was the sauce. Rare is the moment in a cooking enthusiast's life when simple, well-known ingredients in novel combinations come together for a mindbendingly new creation, and that's what happened here. Melt a stick of butter, add in a few chopped-up vanilla beans, fry five minutes, remove from heat, add salt and pepper, and stir in a container of crème fraîche. It was meant for the lobster, but quite frankly was tasty on just about everything.

(A note on the beans: normally they're pretty pricy, at least $1 apiece, but Xanath Ice Cream on Valencia in San Francisco happens to sell them for less than half that: a 1/4 pound package has about 25 and retails for $10.)

M'tsolola | Green plantains with fish in coconut milk | Recipe: French, English translation

I was surprised at how tough it was to find green plantains in Berkeley. Ripe ones were no problem, but the recipe was adamant that they needed to be as green as possible. (I also could have made a mistaken assumption in the translation, but I'm pretty sure that when they call for "banane verte" they want plantains.) We had to go to four stores, and it wasn't until the Korean market on Telegraph that we found ones green enough to work.

Anyway, this dish was loaded with plantains, layered with fish and nominal vegetables. For the fish I chose tuna since it seemed to be a common one there, and rather than frying as specified, I seared it in a bit of oil. The whole mess simmered in coconut milk we made ourselves, see lower down for that process. All in all, I think this dish was OK, though I probably should have cooked the plantains longer in the beginning, they were still pretty starchy. Also, the recipe is way too much, this serves more like 20 and not the "4 to 6" the recipe says.

Ambrevades au curry | Pigeon pea curry | Recipe: French, English translation

Pigeon peas is one of those things you can find very easily in Brooklyn thanks to our large Caribbean population, but is scarce in California. As a substitute we used frozen black eyed peas, and as far as I can tell it turned out just fine. This curry is pretty darn tasty, and makes for a substantial vegan treat. Love the cardamom in there!

Achard aux legumes | Blanched vegetable salad | Recipe (scroll on page): French, English translation

In India, achar is the name for those intense little pickled things you have on the side of your meal. The concept kind of made it to Comoros, except that it's more of a tangy salad sort of thing and definitely not pickled for any length of time. There seem to be all sorts of ways to make this and ingredients to throw in. I'm pretty fond of green mango and green papaya, so we left out the cabbage in favor of these. The dressing of sauteed ginger was pretty nice!

Riz coco | Coconut rice

   
Sure, we could have bought cans of coconut milk, but what's the fun in that? Homemade coconut milk is much lighter and more delicately flavorful. And a hell of a lot more work.

First Zoe pounded them with a hammer to crack them in two, then a whole team took at them with a butterknife to painstakingly extract the fruit from the shell. I then ground the flesh up in a food processor and put it in a strainer. Then we extracted the milk by pouring hot water over them, much like making coffee, and poured it back over a few more times to make it thicker.

That's the hard part. Making the rice is, well, just like making rice, except you use this freshly extracted elixir in place of water.

Poutou | Hot sauce | Recipe: French, English translation

Couldn't be simpler. One habanero or scotch bonnet pepper, one tomato, half an onion, half a lemon, salt. I perhaps willfully misinterpreted the recipe by putting in the whole lemon instead of just its juice, but if anything the extra substance did it well. Made for a fantastic salsa of medium consistency, medium spice, and maximum flavor and happiness.

Ladu | Ground rice dessert | Recipe

After the Cameroon meal, we made a rule of not deep-frying in other people's houses, so we couldn't make the classic Comoran dessert of donass, which is how they pronounce "donuts." All else I could find was ladu, which is based off an Indian dessert. I'm not sure where things went wrong — maybe I didn't grind the rice enough, or maybe the recipe should have mentioned when to put in liquid — but this clearly wasn't what was intended. But we added plenty of coconut water to this ghee-fried broken rice, formed it into balls with powdered sugar, cardamom, and pepper, and then baked it off once all the balls were crumbling, all in an effort to salvage it. And you know what, they tasted astonishingly like popcorn, and while I wouldn't recommend this recipe, it wasn't a failure either.

As we were finishing up the meal, I just happened to check my phone, and noticed several dozen emails. I'd had the great fortune of being chosen to send an email to The Listserve, a worldwide list of tens of thousands where one member a day gets to send an email, and mine got sent during the meal! It was Laura's great idea to ask people to help us with their own country's meals as we trundle through the alphabet, and the response so far has been phenomenal! From Iceland to Peru to the Philippines, many of our upcoming meals will have the benefit of our new farflung network's contributions.

Next week, we'll be up in Anderson Island, Washington, where we hope to catch our trout for a Costa Rican meal!

Meal 36: China

When asked over the past year which upcoming meal intimidated me the most, I'd answer "China." The most populated country in the world covers a huge variety of cuisines, virtually uncountable ingredients and cooking techniques, and tremendous extremes: it has 9,100 miles of coastline and also the point on Earth farthest from any ocean. China is a telling example of the imperfection of using the United Nations member list as a proxy for the world's cuisines. But here we are.

Thanks to the thorough consultation and guidance of Chrys Wu, who gave generously of her time and knowledge to compile the menu (and then jumped in to help with the cooking!), I think we did about as well as we could have in a single meal in terms of variety on several dimensions: pork, duck, fish, seafood, tofu; steaming, pan-frying, roasting; rice, wheat, bean noodles; and heck, we even managed to include yogurt. A huge shout-out as well to Oliver, for making the trip from DC to shop and cook and enjoy, and bringing back memories of cooking Chinese food together in high school.

Our other guests were Sam, Jenny, Ben, and Caroline. Thankfully this on-again, off-again rain gave us a respite, and we enjoyed the meal outside — which is a good thing since the house got seriously smoky when we reheated the Peking duck!

Cha | Tea

Chrys brought over some gorgeous white needle tea. It was just a bit hot out to enjoy the tea warm, so we iced it. Good decision! It was crisp but not too bitter, a nice contrast to the rich flavors we encountered throughout the meal.

Shanghai: Xiao long bao | Soup dumplings | Recipe

This is probably my single favorite dish in all of Chinese food, and so of all the dishes in the pantheon of Shanghainese cuisine, I insisted we make this one despite all the work. The day before, I made the broth, extracting the flavor from two pounds of chicken and a pound and a half of pork belly, boiling it down to a cup and a half of super-rich stock, and mixing it with gelatin. The next day, we mixed this gelled aspic with a rich, aromatic, pork-based filling, stuffed it into wheat-based dumpling skins, and steamed them until the skins got rich and glossy, and the aspic magically melted into soup. Eaten in one bite with a little splash rich Chinkiang vinegar (I like to call it the Balsamic of China due to its complexity), this explosion of textures and flavors is a fantastic appetizer.

Hong Kong: Yee mein | Pan-fried noodles with shrimp and scallops | Recipe

"Should I use the same marinade for the shrimp and the scallops?" I asked Chrys. "Oh no, then everything would taste the same," she cautioned. Thus I learned an important aspect of Chinese cuisine: even if everything is ending up in the same dish, keeping flavors separate allows the individual elements to carry their own identity. What a tasty and easy-to-prepare dish: provided you've got the right sauces and noodles on hand, you can make this with pretty much any land- or sea-based protein in a matter of minutes. Tasted arguably better as leftovers the next day!

Guangzhou/Canton: Hoi sam | Sea cucumber stuffed with pork and shrimp | Recipe

Whenever I hear the term "flavorless, gelatinous delicacy," I grow skeptical. And as you can see, these sea-lubbers ain't exactly lookers, nor are they cheap. But you know what, this dish turned out well. If you think of the pork-and-shrimp filling as a hotdog, this salad-of-the-sea made for a nicely chewy but not at all tough bun of sorts.

Sichuan: La zi yu | Fish with chilies and sichuan pepper | Recipe

Though drenched in chilies and Szechuan peppercorns, this dish was somehow really pleasant and well-balanced. We started with some sea bass that I bought live in Chinatown, and filleted using the knife and the skills I picked up at Brooklyn Kitchen's Knife Skills 201 class. Oliver made the spicy base and the even spicier oil for on top, while I sliced the fish into chunks and boiled it in water, before we put it all together. Why boil the fish rather than fry it in that spicy oil? Maybe that's why the heat is manageable. Also, if you've never had a Szechuan peppercorn experience, this dish is a first-class way to experience the tangy, tingly, numby, intense flavors of this mysterious spice.

Beijing: Kao ya | Peking duck | Recipe

   
Unlike fortune cookies and chow mein and General Tso's Chicken, dishes thought of as Chinese but made popular in the States, Peking Duck really is famous in China too. That said, I'm pretty sure the classic recipe isn't exactly like this one we used, which calls for — get this — using a bicycle pump to inflate the skin! Check out the video. Apparently this makes the skin looser, so that when it goes in the fridge after being scorched with a soy sauce/sherry/honey mixture, it dries out more.

Since I don't have a vertical roaster, and I avoid buying cooking equipment for single uses, we had to get creative, and Oliver had the great idea of using skewers to keep the duck propped upright. And it worked! You can see how beautifully bronzed our duck turned out. The only problem we ran into was in the reheating right before service: we had the oven up too high, and it filled the house with smoke. (Oh, and the pancakes we bought that are traditionally used as little fluffy tacos were moldy and so we tossed them. Oh well!) While we got surprisingly little meat from this five-pound bird, it was sure tasty.

Luo han zhai | Buddha's delight | Recipe

To represent the Buddhist traditions of the southern highlands, and also to insert some veggies into the meal, we made what's known in English as Buddha's Delight, a vegetarian stir-fried dish that's traditionally eaten for the new year. Taking cues from various recipes around the internet, we went a bit nuts with the varieties of fungus, including wood ear and bamboo fungus, and so it had quite the earthy flavor. We're also not positive the romaine lettuce is entirely authentic. But it was definitely flavorful and abundant.

Xinjiang: Durap | Sweetened yogurt

I'll be honest, I'm not a big fan of typical Chinese desserts. So I jumped on the opportunity to acknowledge the Uyghurs of far Western China, and make this dish of yogurt sweetened with honey and lemon juice and thinned with shaved ice. We couldn't find a recipe for durap, only descriptions, so we had to wing it. And I think it was pretty good!

I'm happy to say we ended up with surprisingly few leftovers given the abundance of this feast — our guests were eatin' champs! And now our attention turns to Colombia, where with the bandeja paisa they've managed to create that treasure that's rare and highly appreciated here in Noshlandia: a single dish that incorporates the essence of the country's cuisine. See you next week!