By Natasha Samuels
Callaloo comes in as many varieties as there are islands in the Caribbean. Callaloo, however, has one constant - that it’s a green leafy vegetable, traditionally belonging to the Amaranth, Taro or Xanthosoma family.
In my native Jamaica, callaloo refers to the Amaranth and is typically paired with salted codfish and served with ground provisions as a Saturday or Sunday brunch dish. The leaf can also be served without meat sautéed with oil or butter, tomato and onion.
Disappearing are the days when you would walk the common or the rim of the tropical lush forest to pick wild callaloo leaves. The vegetable is now being farmed and is proving to be an emerging cash crop suitable for export from the Caribbean. In Jamaica, where the callaloo market is valued at $175 million (JMD), the Jamaican Ministry of Agriculture trained and certified farmers and exporters as well as developed traceable programs and mandatory monitoring of callaloo farms and packing houses in order to establish the export market to North America.
According to Jamaica’s Rural Agricultural Development Authority, 30% of the callaloo grown on the island is sold to exporters, which is exported fresh during the high demand season that runs from November through July. 50% of callaloo grown on the island is sold to processors for canning. 95% of the canned products are exported. The remaining is sold to local consumers for consumption on the island.
Here are two recipes that you can try at home using callaloo. The first is callaloo rice and the second is callaloo soup. I was introduced to callaloo rice during one of my pilgrimages home. It’s a delicious and healthy alternative to our rice dishes and can be served with chicken, pork or beef. I’ve never personally tried the callaloo soup recipe, but the reviews all state that this is certainly a dish that man, woman and child will enjoy.
Callaloo Rice
1 cup of chopped callaloo
1 tbsp margarine
1 small finely chopped onion
1 sprig scallion chopped
2 ½ cups of water
1 lb rice
1 clove chopped garlic
Saute onion, scallion and garlic in heated margarine.
Add chopped callaloo and allow to steam until tender.
Add water and bring to a boil
Add rice. Cover and allow to cook for about 20 minutes or until rice is tender.
Callaloo Soup
1 lb callaloo leaves chopped
6 cups chicken stock
1 onion, chopped
½ pound salt beef
½ teaspoon black pepper
1 tsp. garlic (minced)
½ tsp all purpose seasoning
¼ teaspoon thyme
1 green chile pepper, whole
1 cup okra
½ pound crabmeat
Add chicken stock and callaloo leaves to a sauce pan.
Add, onion, salt beef, dried seasoning, chili and crab meat.
Cover, and simmer for 35 minutes, or until meat is tender.
Add the okra and cook for 8 minutes, or until tender
Remove the chili pepper, puree the soup in a blender of food processor.
Reheat and adjust seasonings if necessary.
Showing posts with label WE Food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WE Food. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
WE FOOD - STEW PEAS with pig’s tail
By Natasha G. Samuels
Like most kids, I was not a fan of red peas. Peas were an even greater woe to those of us who grew up on farms where peas was one of the main crops. As we consumed what we grew, peas was not only guaranteed to show up on Sundays with rice, but it also showed up during the week as peas soup or stew peas.
To me, peas were bland, nasty and served no purpose, especially given the long and mundane process that came with reaping them. The low tech method was to pick the pods from the vine by hand before they were dried on tarpaulin. Once the pods were dry, they were wrapped in the tarpaulin and the tarpaulin was then pounded with a stick to separate the peas from the pod. The peas would fall to the bottom of the tarpaulin leaving the trash from the pods on top. The older women would put a sizable amount of the peas in a large sift and with a skillful and quick upward flip of the wrist, the peas were hoisted in the air momentarily to allow the wind to sort out the remaining trash before falling back into the sift. The naked peas were then measured, bagged and brought to market for sale.
My malice with peas continued into my adult life until a sold out menu and hunger forced me to order the only remaining item, stew peas with pig’s tail. Perhaps, it was the hunger or my maturing palate but the salted pigs tail gave life and flavor to the legume.
Here is a recipe that you can try at home using a slow cooker.
Ingredients
½ lb salted pig’s tail (cut up)
½ cup of red peas
1 sprig thyme
1 clove garlic minced
2 stalks scallion
Hot pepper (whole with stem in or hot pepper sauce)
Black pepper
Flour spinners (optional)
Method
Soak the pig’s tail and beans in cold water for at least 1-hour.
Boil the peas on the stovetop for at least 10 minutes to help break down the toxic compound – lectin phytohaemagglutinin, which is concentrated in red and white kidney beans. This toxin is known to cause severe gastric upset. Transfer the peas to a slow cooker and add the meat and enough water to cover the meat and peas. Cook on high for 4 to 5 hours or until the meat is tender and the peas is almost disintegrating. When the meat and peas is tender, add the thyme, garlic, scallion, pepper, black pepper and spinners (optional).
Serve with white rice. Serves 2 – 3 people.
Like most kids, I was not a fan of red peas. Peas were an even greater woe to those of us who grew up on farms where peas was one of the main crops. As we consumed what we grew, peas was not only guaranteed to show up on Sundays with rice, but it also showed up during the week as peas soup or stew peas.
To me, peas were bland, nasty and served no purpose, especially given the long and mundane process that came with reaping them. The low tech method was to pick the pods from the vine by hand before they were dried on tarpaulin. Once the pods were dry, they were wrapped in the tarpaulin and the tarpaulin was then pounded with a stick to separate the peas from the pod. The peas would fall to the bottom of the tarpaulin leaving the trash from the pods on top. The older women would put a sizable amount of the peas in a large sift and with a skillful and quick upward flip of the wrist, the peas were hoisted in the air momentarily to allow the wind to sort out the remaining trash before falling back into the sift. The naked peas were then measured, bagged and brought to market for sale.
My malice with peas continued into my adult life until a sold out menu and hunger forced me to order the only remaining item, stew peas with pig’s tail. Perhaps, it was the hunger or my maturing palate but the salted pigs tail gave life and flavor to the legume.
Here is a recipe that you can try at home using a slow cooker.
Ingredients
½ lb salted pig’s tail (cut up)
½ cup of red peas
1 sprig thyme
1 clove garlic minced
2 stalks scallion
Hot pepper (whole with stem in or hot pepper sauce)
Black pepper
Flour spinners (optional)
Method
Soak the pig’s tail and beans in cold water for at least 1-hour.
Boil the peas on the stovetop for at least 10 minutes to help break down the toxic compound – lectin phytohaemagglutinin, which is concentrated in red and white kidney beans. This toxin is known to cause severe gastric upset. Transfer the peas to a slow cooker and add the meat and enough water to cover the meat and peas. Cook on high for 4 to 5 hours or until the meat is tender and the peas is almost disintegrating. When the meat and peas is tender, add the thyme, garlic, scallion, pepper, black pepper and spinners (optional).
Serve with white rice. Serves 2 – 3 people.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
WE Food - June Plum
By Natasha G. Samuels
I was introduced to June Plum (Golden Apple if you are from Barbados; Pommecythere if you are from Trinidad and Spondias Dulcis for you science buffs who care to know what the actual botanical name is,) during one of my many trips back to Jamaica. I wasn’t very fond of the fruit then, with its sour skin and jooky big rhaatid seed. It’s amazing though how homesickness will inspire us to eat any and everything that we can get our hands on while abroad even if it was never a favorite of ours when we were back home. As such, although it wasn’t my favorite, I didn’t hesitate to shell out the $5.00 (USD) for four of the green plums when I saw them arranged in a small box at the end of the cashier line in my neighborhood’s one stop West Indian Food store.
As soon as my four little guys were ripe (I put them in a brown paper bag to speed the process), I would peel and eat them in one setting. However, June Plum is edible green. In its un-ripened stage, June Plum can be used in chutneys, pepper sauces, pickles or salsas. The flesh has a crisp, acidic taste and is described by many as having a pineapple-like fragrance and taste. In its ripened stage (which I prefer), the fruit is golden yellow, sweet and less acidic and can be used in salads, juices and deserts. When stewed with sugar and cinnamon, the flesh of the June Plum yields a product, which is like a traditional applesauce but one that is richer in flavor.
Of course as children of the Caribbean, after a challenging climb or for those of you who were less adventurous with exploring the upper limbs of the June plum tree, (like me) would pick the June Plum from off the ground (or wait for it to come from market) and peel the skin of the ripened fruit with a knife or with our teeth and eat as much of the fleshy parts before reaching its prickly core. Another edible part of the June Plum is the leaf of the tree itself. In Southeast Asia the leaves are consumed raw. In Indonesia the leaves are steamed and eaten as a vegetable with salted fish and rice.
A native of the South Pacific, June Plum is another fruit brought to the islands by the infamous Captain Bligh. The fruit is cultivated in Cuba, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Trinidad, Venezuela and Surinam. The oblong shaped fruit is considered to be a good source of vitamin C and iron. It is said to be useful in relieving ailments such as diabetes, heart conditions, high blood pressure and urinary troubles.
June Plum is a popular fruit drink in Guyana. In Jamaica, Tru-Juice bottles and sells June Plum juice to the masses. Here is a juice recipe that you can try at home with ripened June Plums.
June plum juice (one serving)
6 June plums – peeled with the prickly seed removed
½ cup of water
1 tablespoon of honey or brown sugar
½ tablespoon of grated ginger
Place all ingredients in blender with ice. Blend, strain and pour into tall glass.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
WE FOOD - Give WE our blackcake!
by Natasha Samuels
Mention fruitcake (aka blackcake, rum cake, Christmas cake) to an American, and you are sure to get the yucky face along with a laundry list of suggestions of what else should be done with it other than eating it.
For the record, 1) I will not use it as a doorstop; 2) I will not suggest to the town councilors to try using fruitcake as an alternative material for patching potholes; and 3) I do not plan on attending your annual fruitcake toss.
Americans also fear fruitcake because of its ability to err… persevere. It’s not uncommon to hear stories of fruitcakes that were gifted to a family and then re-gifted to the giver the following year and so on.
In Waukesha, Wisconsin a man discovered a fruitcake, originally sent to him in 1962 by his aunt while he was stationed in Alaska. Apparently, the fruitcake was shipped home with his belongings where they sat in an attic until it was found in April of 2006. No word on if he tried a slice or if he placed it back into storage.
The most unbelievable fruitcake story broke in 2003 when Jay Leno of NBC’s Tonight Show tasted a 125-year-old fruitcake after which he exclaimed, “it needs more time!”
While Americans scoff at fruitcake, the holidays just wouldn’t be the holidays to West Indian people without it.
Like the American version, ours, which we call blackcake (well, blackcake if you are from the other islands and Christmas cake if you are from Jamaica) is also chock full of raisins, citron and candied fruits.
In our version, we blend out those un-aesthetically pleasing to the eye fruits and we add a key and very important ingredient, rum. In our version, the blended fruits soak for months in the rum bath until its time to make the cake.
Perhaps it is this not so subtle over proof ingredient courtesy of Jay Wray and his nephews, or uncle Appleton V/X which makes our version cherished and not scoffed at.
As a result, you would be hard pressed to find any jokes about fruitcakes amongst West Indian people and it will be highly unlikely to find one of those glossy flyers advertising something like a St. Elizabeth reunion and blackcake toss.
And we love the fact that it…ahm, perseveres. Just douse it with your favorite rum or wine and it’s good as new.
Caribbean Fruit and Rum Cake recipe
INGREDIENTS
2 cups currants
3 cups raisins
1 cup prunes, pitted
2/3 cup mixed citrus peel
2 ¼ cup dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
6 tablespoons rum, (add more if needed)
1 ¼ cup sherry, (add more if needed)
1 lb/2 cups softened butter
10 eggs, beaten
1 lb/4 cups self-rising flour
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 10-inch round baking pan
METHOD
1) Wash the currants, raisins, prunes and mixed peel, then pat dry. Place in a food processor and process until finely chopped. Transfer to a large jar, add ¾ cup of sugar, the mixed spice, rum and sherry. Mix well and then cover with a lid and set aside for 2 weeks to 3 months.
2) Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Grease and line a 10-inch round cake pan with wax paper.
3) Sift the flour, and set aside. Cream together the butter and remaining sugar and beat in the eggs until the mixture is smooth and creamy.
4) Add the fruit mixture, then gradually stir in the flour and vanilla extract. Mix well, adding 1-2 tablespoons of sherry if the mixture is too stiff.
5) Spoon the mixture into the 10-inch pan, cover loosely with foil and bake for about 2½ hours until the cake is firm and springy.
6) Allow to cool overnight. Sprinkle the cake with more rum if it is not to be used immediately. Wrap the cake in foil to keep it moist.
Recipe by Rosamund Grant, Taste of the Caribbean (New York: Smithmark Publishers Inc. 1995) pg. 82
Mention fruitcake (aka blackcake, rum cake, Christmas cake) to an American, and you are sure to get the yucky face along with a laundry list of suggestions of what else should be done with it other than eating it.
For the record, 1) I will not use it as a doorstop; 2) I will not suggest to the town councilors to try using fruitcake as an alternative material for patching potholes; and 3) I do not plan on attending your annual fruitcake toss.
Americans also fear fruitcake because of its ability to err… persevere. It’s not uncommon to hear stories of fruitcakes that were gifted to a family and then re-gifted to the giver the following year and so on.
In Waukesha, Wisconsin a man discovered a fruitcake, originally sent to him in 1962 by his aunt while he was stationed in Alaska. Apparently, the fruitcake was shipped home with his belongings where they sat in an attic until it was found in April of 2006. No word on if he tried a slice or if he placed it back into storage.
The most unbelievable fruitcake story broke in 2003 when Jay Leno of NBC’s Tonight Show tasted a 125-year-old fruitcake after which he exclaimed, “it needs more time!”
While Americans scoff at fruitcake, the holidays just wouldn’t be the holidays to West Indian people without it.
Like the American version, ours, which we call blackcake (well, blackcake if you are from the other islands and Christmas cake if you are from Jamaica) is also chock full of raisins, citron and candied fruits.
In our version, we blend out those un-aesthetically pleasing to the eye fruits and we add a key and very important ingredient, rum. In our version, the blended fruits soak for months in the rum bath until its time to make the cake.
Perhaps it is this not so subtle over proof ingredient courtesy of Jay Wray and his nephews, or uncle Appleton V/X which makes our version cherished and not scoffed at.
As a result, you would be hard pressed to find any jokes about fruitcakes amongst West Indian people and it will be highly unlikely to find one of those glossy flyers advertising something like a St. Elizabeth reunion and blackcake toss.
And we love the fact that it…ahm, perseveres. Just douse it with your favorite rum or wine and it’s good as new.
Caribbean Fruit and Rum Cake recipe
INGREDIENTS
2 cups currants
3 cups raisins
1 cup prunes, pitted
2/3 cup mixed citrus peel
2 ¼ cup dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
6 tablespoons rum, (add more if needed)
1 ¼ cup sherry, (add more if needed)
1 lb/2 cups softened butter
10 eggs, beaten
1 lb/4 cups self-rising flour
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 10-inch round baking pan
METHOD
1) Wash the currants, raisins, prunes and mixed peel, then pat dry. Place in a food processor and process until finely chopped. Transfer to a large jar, add ¾ cup of sugar, the mixed spice, rum and sherry. Mix well and then cover with a lid and set aside for 2 weeks to 3 months.
2) Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Grease and line a 10-inch round cake pan with wax paper.
3) Sift the flour, and set aside. Cream together the butter and remaining sugar and beat in the eggs until the mixture is smooth and creamy.
4) Add the fruit mixture, then gradually stir in the flour and vanilla extract. Mix well, adding 1-2 tablespoons of sherry if the mixture is too stiff.
5) Spoon the mixture into the 10-inch pan, cover loosely with foil and bake for about 2½ hours until the cake is firm and springy.
6) Allow to cool overnight. Sprinkle the cake with more rum if it is not to be used immediately. Wrap the cake in foil to keep it moist.
Recipe by Rosamund Grant, Taste of the Caribbean (New York: Smithmark Publishers Inc. 1995) pg. 82
WE FOOD - 'Bring Drinks'
Here's a few holiday beverage favorites to add to your Christmas menu. Each drink featured below goes well with some black cake, pastelles or ham. Yum!
SORREL
Made from the sepals of the sorrel flower, this delightful Trinidadian Christmas drink becomes even more heavenly with the addition of some rum.
Ingredients:
3 - 4 lbs fresh sorrel
1 gallon water
2 lbs sugar
1 tablespoon
Angostura Bitters
Method:
Discard the sorrel seeds.
Rinse the sorrel and place in a large deep pot.
Cover with water and bring to a slow rolling boil.
Turn off heat and allow sorrel to cool overnight.
Remove the sorrel and strain the liquid
Add sugar and Angostura bitters.
PUNCH-A-CREME
The Trinidadian version of egg-nog, with the addition of some 150 proof rum!
Ingredients:
2 cans (7 oz. each) evaporated milk
3 eggs
1/2 can (7 oz.) evaporated milk
1 can (12 oz.) condensed milk
1 glass puncheon rum
1 piece of orange or lime rindgrated nutmeg
1 tsp. bitters
Method:
Beat eggs well with the rind.
Remove rind.
Add milk.
Stir well.
Add rum, nutmeg and bitters and mix thoroughly.
Sweeten with condensed milk.
Chill and serve with crushed ice.
GINGER BEER
Try this powerful ginger flavoured drink, popular in Jamaica and some parts of Africa. Real ginger beer is actually a fermented drink made with yeast (just like regular beer), but you can also make a quicker version if you are looking for something with a little less hassle.
Ingredients:
1 pound ginger
8 tablespoons of brown sugar
2 1/2 quarts water
Method:
Puree ginger and water in blender.
Let mixture sit (covered) at room temperature for 24 hours
Add sugar & mix
Best served with crushed ice.
Serves 6-8.
SORREL
Made from the sepals of the sorrel flower, this delightful Trinidadian Christmas drink becomes even more heavenly with the addition of some rum.
Ingredients:
3 - 4 lbs fresh sorrel
1 gallon water
2 lbs sugar
1 tablespoon
Angostura Bitters
Method:
Discard the sorrel seeds.
Rinse the sorrel and place in a large deep pot.
Cover with water and bring to a slow rolling boil.
Turn off heat and allow sorrel to cool overnight.
Remove the sorrel and strain the liquid
Add sugar and Angostura bitters.
PUNCH-A-CREME
The Trinidadian version of egg-nog, with the addition of some 150 proof rum!
Ingredients:
2 cans (7 oz. each) evaporated milk
3 eggs
1/2 can (7 oz.) evaporated milk
1 can (12 oz.) condensed milk
1 glass puncheon rum
1 piece of orange or lime rindgrated nutmeg
1 tsp. bitters
Method:
Beat eggs well with the rind.
Remove rind.
Add milk.
Stir well.
Add rum, nutmeg and bitters and mix thoroughly.
Sweeten with condensed milk.
Chill and serve with crushed ice.
GINGER BEER
Try this powerful ginger flavoured drink, popular in Jamaica and some parts of Africa. Real ginger beer is actually a fermented drink made with yeast (just like regular beer), but you can also make a quicker version if you are looking for something with a little less hassle.
Ingredients:
1 pound ginger
8 tablespoons of brown sugar
2 1/2 quarts water
Method:
Puree ginger and water in blender.
Let mixture sit (covered) at room temperature for 24 hours
Add sugar & mix
Best served with crushed ice.
Serves 6-8.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
WE FOOD - Ode to Pelau - How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
By Antoinette Ifill
No food is synonymous with our Carnival more than pelau, and it is quite fitting that a one pot mélange of ingredients and flavors would represent a festival that embraces one and all into one big melting pot of colour, spectacle and merriment.
Pelau to Carnival is like coconut milk to pelau; you might get away without using it but the end result will never be the same! Nothing to me is more the food of Panorama than a plate of beef Pelau with some mango chutney on the side; I think more Pelau is consumed at Panorama semi finals in the North Stand than any other day in the year. And there are so many varieties that you can sample from your neighbor’s pot and have a dish that does not remotely resemble yours.
Some people love pelau with plenty meat, while others like lots of peas, some swear by pumpkin and carrots, while others add corn, some use black eye peas while other use beef, chicken, pig tail or even crab! Just as there are many ways to enjoy pelau so too are there diverse side dishes that complete the meal. One of the most popular compliments to pelau is cole slaw, while zaboca (avocado) is what does it for me; I have been known to bubble a pot of pelau simply because someone gave me a zaboca! My girl friend’s sister makes mean mango chutney that goes oh so well with her beef pelau, you know, the kind where the cubes of beef melt in your mouth! A simple watercress and tomato salad is perfect for pelau as well, see pelau is a humble dish, you will not find it on the menus on those gourmet restaurants, but it is the one dish that every Trinidadian can identify with.
I can’t tell you how many times I have had pelau on a Carnival Monday or Tuesday, those were the days before the all-inclusive lunch fare of fancy Arabian dishes and wraps. I remember never having a bad pelau, even though it might have been a bit too dry or skimpy on the meat it was always satisfying! My earliest memories of going to the Savannah to view “pretty” mas, was of my mother packing a picnic basket with the essentials of the day, which of course included pelau. Pelau is that one food for Carnival that can be served up all fancy at an all-inclusive party or straight from someone’s cooler, at Calypso Fiesta in Skinner Park on a paper plate.
My first foray into cooking pelau was somewhat of a disaster as I forgot the most important ingredient, coconut milk! So after many, many tries and phone calls to my mother I can boast that my pelau is simply divine. I now keep my recipe secret since my perfection came after lots of hard work, but the following is a very good recipe for pelau. Enjoy!
PELAU
Ingredients:
2 cups Rice
2 lbs chicken or beef (marinated)
2 tablespoons vegetable oil or margarine
1 tablespoon soy sauce
Salt and pepper to taste
4 ½ cups water
1 tablespoon of sugar or 1 tablespoon caramel browning
¼ cup minced onions
1 clove garlic (finely chopped)
¼ cup celery stalks
¼ cup chopped tomatoes
1 hot pepper (green)
Method:
1. Heat oil - Add sugar, and heat until black, (or use caramel browning).
2. Add chicken or beef.
3. Stir and cook for 10 minutes in covered saucepan over low heat.
4. Add onions, celery, finely chopped garlic, tomatoes and rice. Stir.
5. Add water, soy sauce and hot pepper (whole). Bring to a boil.
6. Covered saucepan for leave to cook, about forty minutes.
7. Serve with chutney, pepper sauce and other condiments.
No food is synonymous with our Carnival more than pelau, and it is quite fitting that a one pot mélange of ingredients and flavors would represent a festival that embraces one and all into one big melting pot of colour, spectacle and merriment.
Pelau to Carnival is like coconut milk to pelau; you might get away without using it but the end result will never be the same! Nothing to me is more the food of Panorama than a plate of beef Pelau with some mango chutney on the side; I think more Pelau is consumed at Panorama semi finals in the North Stand than any other day in the year. And there are so many varieties that you can sample from your neighbor’s pot and have a dish that does not remotely resemble yours.
Some people love pelau with plenty meat, while others like lots of peas, some swear by pumpkin and carrots, while others add corn, some use black eye peas while other use beef, chicken, pig tail or even crab! Just as there are many ways to enjoy pelau so too are there diverse side dishes that complete the meal. One of the most popular compliments to pelau is cole slaw, while zaboca (avocado) is what does it for me; I have been known to bubble a pot of pelau simply because someone gave me a zaboca! My girl friend’s sister makes mean mango chutney that goes oh so well with her beef pelau, you know, the kind where the cubes of beef melt in your mouth! A simple watercress and tomato salad is perfect for pelau as well, see pelau is a humble dish, you will not find it on the menus on those gourmet restaurants, but it is the one dish that every Trinidadian can identify with.
I can’t tell you how many times I have had pelau on a Carnival Monday or Tuesday, those were the days before the all-inclusive lunch fare of fancy Arabian dishes and wraps. I remember never having a bad pelau, even though it might have been a bit too dry or skimpy on the meat it was always satisfying! My earliest memories of going to the Savannah to view “pretty” mas, was of my mother packing a picnic basket with the essentials of the day, which of course included pelau. Pelau is that one food for Carnival that can be served up all fancy at an all-inclusive party or straight from someone’s cooler, at Calypso Fiesta in Skinner Park on a paper plate.
My first foray into cooking pelau was somewhat of a disaster as I forgot the most important ingredient, coconut milk! So after many, many tries and phone calls to my mother I can boast that my pelau is simply divine. I now keep my recipe secret since my perfection came after lots of hard work, but the following is a very good recipe for pelau. Enjoy!
PELAU
Ingredients:
2 cups Rice
2 lbs chicken or beef (marinated)
2 tablespoons vegetable oil or margarine
1 tablespoon soy sauce
Salt and pepper to taste
4 ½ cups water
1 tablespoon of sugar or 1 tablespoon caramel browning
¼ cup minced onions
1 clove garlic (finely chopped)
¼ cup celery stalks
¼ cup chopped tomatoes
1 hot pepper (green)
Method:
1. Heat oil - Add sugar, and heat until black, (or use caramel browning).
2. Add chicken or beef.
3. Stir and cook for 10 minutes in covered saucepan over low heat.
4. Add onions, celery, finely chopped garlic, tomatoes and rice. Stir.
5. Add water, soy sauce and hot pepper (whole). Bring to a boil.
6. Covered saucepan for leave to cook, about forty minutes.
7. Serve with chutney, pepper sauce and other condiments.
WE FOOD - Foreign Pattie
by Natasha Samuels
A Jamaican patty or pattie is a beef filled turnover that contains various fillings and spices baked inside a flaky shell.
As its name suggests, it is commonly found in Jamaica where it is a popular snack food among skoolaz and adults. It is also eaten in other areas of the Caribbean and is growing in popularity in the West Indian enclaves of North America.
However, not all patties are created equal. This is especially true for these foreign made patty clones which look like the real thing, but tastes far from it.
Wray Williams, a Jamaican ex-patriot living in Scarborough, Canada agrees. “The patties here are horrible,” he said. You know what good food tastes like, he said and these foreign made turnovers just nuh mek it.
Recently, after spending days sampling the Cuban dishes on Florida’s South Beach art deco community, I was more than ready for anything Jamaican.
Images of oxtail and stew peas with pigs tail danced through my head as the Tri-Rail commuter train winded its way northbound from Miami to Ft. Lauderdale. It was mid-day and I knew a patty, with co-co bread and a cream soda would be just the thing that would hold me over until my evening meal.
At the Ft. Lauderdale stop, I piled my rolling suitcase and knapsack onto the back seat of the little SUV. I hopped into the front seat and announced that I was starving.
We turned into a Plaza in Lauderhill, or little Jamaica as they call it, and my eyes glazed over when I saw the line of people in front of the bakery waiting to get inside. I thought for sure with a line like that the patties must really be good.
I stretched my neck around the line to get a glimpse of the menu that awaited me. The menu looked slim, but there was no mistaking the little orange mounds that laid in waiting behind the heated glass encased displays.
My stomach roared in anticipation and I did a little jiggy dance, licked my lips and wondered which one of the established patty franchises these patties would emulate.
Would it taste like Jukie Chin’s, Juici Patties which as far as I was concerned was the best patties that I had ever tasted? Pity that no retail stores are present in Canada or the States, even with the presence of their North American based manufacturing plant in Ontario. Jamaicans wanting a taste of Juici beef have to pick up a frozen package from their local supermarket chains or convenience stores and reheat it at home.
Would it taste anything at all like the Hawthorne’s Golden Krust, whose franchisor unleashed the patty formula and freed Jamaicans in the States from foreign patties?
Would it taste like Randy’s or Allen’s who some people in Toronto swear are the best patties north of the border?
Surely in a community called little Jamaica the patties would be extraordinary. I was imagining that I would be boasting for days of the lightness of the crust and the savory meat whose flavored seasonings would dance across my tongue.
We inched our way towards the counter where I was finally able to order one patty, hot, not mild and of course the co-co bread and cream soda.
After paying, I skipped to the SUV with a smile on my face that was broader than a pig in…well you know. I laid the patty down on the co-co bread, took my first bite and stopped in mid chew. I squeezed the meat into the bag and ate the crust alone. Foreign patty!
A Jamaican patty or pattie is a beef filled turnover that contains various fillings and spices baked inside a flaky shell.
As its name suggests, it is commonly found in Jamaica where it is a popular snack food among skoolaz and adults. It is also eaten in other areas of the Caribbean and is growing in popularity in the West Indian enclaves of North America.
However, not all patties are created equal. This is especially true for these foreign made patty clones which look like the real thing, but tastes far from it.
Wray Williams, a Jamaican ex-patriot living in Scarborough, Canada agrees. “The patties here are horrible,” he said. You know what good food tastes like, he said and these foreign made turnovers just nuh mek it.
Recently, after spending days sampling the Cuban dishes on Florida’s South Beach art deco community, I was more than ready for anything Jamaican.
Images of oxtail and stew peas with pigs tail danced through my head as the Tri-Rail commuter train winded its way northbound from Miami to Ft. Lauderdale. It was mid-day and I knew a patty, with co-co bread and a cream soda would be just the thing that would hold me over until my evening meal.
At the Ft. Lauderdale stop, I piled my rolling suitcase and knapsack onto the back seat of the little SUV. I hopped into the front seat and announced that I was starving.
We turned into a Plaza in Lauderhill, or little Jamaica as they call it, and my eyes glazed over when I saw the line of people in front of the bakery waiting to get inside. I thought for sure with a line like that the patties must really be good.
I stretched my neck around the line to get a glimpse of the menu that awaited me. The menu looked slim, but there was no mistaking the little orange mounds that laid in waiting behind the heated glass encased displays.
My stomach roared in anticipation and I did a little jiggy dance, licked my lips and wondered which one of the established patty franchises these patties would emulate.
Would it taste like Jukie Chin’s, Juici Patties which as far as I was concerned was the best patties that I had ever tasted? Pity that no retail stores are present in Canada or the States, even with the presence of their North American based manufacturing plant in Ontario. Jamaicans wanting a taste of Juici beef have to pick up a frozen package from their local supermarket chains or convenience stores and reheat it at home.
Would it taste anything at all like the Hawthorne’s Golden Krust, whose franchisor unleashed the patty formula and freed Jamaicans in the States from foreign patties?
Would it taste like Randy’s or Allen’s who some people in Toronto swear are the best patties north of the border?
Surely in a community called little Jamaica the patties would be extraordinary. I was imagining that I would be boasting for days of the lightness of the crust and the savory meat whose flavored seasonings would dance across my tongue.
We inched our way towards the counter where I was finally able to order one patty, hot, not mild and of course the co-co bread and cream soda.
After paying, I skipped to the SUV with a smile on my face that was broader than a pig in…well you know. I laid the patty down on the co-co bread, took my first bite and stopped in mid chew. I squeezed the meat into the bag and ate the crust alone. Foreign patty!
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
WE Food - Mangoes really can make you feel better
Revered not only for their exotic sweetness and juicy quality, mangoes are known for their many health blessings. Beyond being delicious and rich in vitamins, minerals and anti-oxidants, mangos contain an enzyme similar to papain in papayas, which acts as a soothing digestive aid and are very effective in breaking down protein. The enzyme list continues with magneferin, katechol oxidase, and lactase that not only protect the mango from insects, but help humans by stimulating metabolism and purifying the intestinal tract and are an ideal antidote for all toxic effects inside the body. They also provide sufficient resistance to fight any germs and afflictions.
Research has shown that dietary fibre has a protective effect against degenerative diseases, especially with regards to the heart; may help prevent certain types of cancer, as well as lowering blood cholesterol levels. An average sized mango can contain up to 40% of your daily fibre requirement. For those of you who are physically active, mangoes are a great way to replenish lost potassium. Deliciously rich in anti-oxidants, potassium and fibre - the mango is the perfect fruit!
In India mangoes are used as blood builders. Because of their high iron content they are suggested for treatment of anaemia and are beneficial to women during pregnancy and menstruation. People who suffer from muscle cramps, stress, and heart problems can benefit from the high potassium and magnesium content that also helps those with acidosis.
One lab test turned up rather startling results when mango juice was poured into a test tube that contained viruses. Shortly, the viruses were destroyed.
Health Benefits of Mangoes:
- High in antioxidant and low in carbohydrates.
- Valuable in combating acidity and poor digestion.
- Effective in relieving clogged pores of the skin.
- Reduces risk of colon and cervical cancer.
Nutritional Benefits of Mangoes:
- High in fibre (3.7g) but low in calories (135) and sodium (4mg).
- Contains no cholesterol or saturated fat and contain only about .6 grams of total fat.
- Contains phenols and has powerful antioxidant and anticancer abilities.
- Rich source of vitamin A (beta-carotene) (8061 IU), E and Selenium which help to protect against heart disease and other ailments.
- Has good amounts of vitamins B1, B2, B3, B6 and C (57mg) as well as Potassium (322mg), Calcium (20mg), Iron (.27mg) and Magnesium (18mg).
Although the above numbers will vary with the different varieties and sizes, there is little doubt that the mango is an exceptional fruit, not only for its high-ranking nutrients, but also for its delightful flavour that just may taste like paradise itself.
How much mango should you eat?An average mango weighs about 150g. They can be eaten just as is, mixed into fruit salads, made into marinades, even top some of your favourite dishes like a ‘Bake & Shark’. And don’t forget the all time favourite, ‘Mango Chow’
For more facts about the mango and the largest on-line mango recipe guide, visit http://www.freshmangos.com/.
Friday, September 7, 2007
WE Food - Eating my way around Jamaica
By Natasha G. Samuels
The stress of life that is America had taken its toll. Longing for the picturesque views and slow pace of island life I secured a ticket, shopped, packed and jetted home to catch up with relatives, sleep and most of all good food.
I emerged from the Sangster International Airport into the arms of my nephew and my sister with two overstuffed suitcases, and an orange and white box of Junior’s cheesecake, which would be consumed later with ginger tea over conversations of hard life and broken promises.
I quickly settled into island life oblivious to the poverty and the dangers that the international press warns about by cruising with the locals at fast food “cookshops” like Juici Beef, Mothers and Island Grill.
I stopped to sample the menu at the Pork Pit on Montego Bay’s famous Hip Strip where they serve authentic Jerk –roasted on an open pit over pimento wood.
From there we hugged the coastline, driving past the loudly colored but humble wooden houses perched on stilts in Hanover, then to the tourists Mecca that is Negril. There, after window shopping, we sampled Italian Ice treats flavored in ginger, coconut and banana before settling at Sweet Spice Restaurant for fish tea, curried fish, tripe and bean.
It was on to Ricks Café in Negril’s west end to watch the rum and sun-drunk tourists cliff dive, and to view the devouring of the sun by the sea while we downed bottles of Red Stripe.
The next morning, we ventured into the cool hills of Manchester, to our old farm house, stopping along the way to collect sugar cane, naseberry, mango, sweetsop and guinnep from the roadside stalls.
Later, we gathered in Mandeville to celebrate the marriage of a relative over cups of manish water and plates of curried goat with white rice. Servings of ackee and saltfish with cornmeal dumpling, green bananas and plaintain greeted us for breakfast the next morning. We ate on the verandah in silence listening to the distant hum of a tractor and the conversations, carried by the wind, of farmers as they weeded their fields.
I walked along the road that was still as bad as the days when I walked them in my blue school uniform, past the bamboo trees and the old standpipe, over to my neighbors to pick up the promised sweet potato pudding and coconut drops.
Later, we packed into the little hatchback and ventured down the winding path of Spur Tree Hill past fields of thyme, watermelon and scallions to the fishing village of Alligator Pond where the Little Ochi Restaurant can be found. The hoisted fishing boats with their thatched covered roofs were far more plentiful than my last visit 10-years before, but the charm of the venue was still there.
We handpicked our fish and then it was fried to perfection and served with sides of festival, steamed bammy and roasted breadfruit washed down with cherry juice and reggae medley punch. It was on the road again to Kingston for another family meal and than back to Montego Bay to the Tortuga factory to sample their famous rum cakes before reluctantly boarding my flight for my return trip home.
The stress of life that is America had taken its toll. Longing for the picturesque views and slow pace of island life I secured a ticket, shopped, packed and jetted home to catch up with relatives, sleep and most of all good food.
I emerged from the Sangster International Airport into the arms of my nephew and my sister with two overstuffed suitcases, and an orange and white box of Junior’s cheesecake, which would be consumed later with ginger tea over conversations of hard life and broken promises.
I quickly settled into island life oblivious to the poverty and the dangers that the international press warns about by cruising with the locals at fast food “cookshops” like Juici Beef, Mothers and Island Grill.
I stopped to sample the menu at the Pork Pit on Montego Bay’s famous Hip Strip where they serve authentic Jerk –roasted on an open pit over pimento wood.
From there we hugged the coastline, driving past the loudly colored but humble wooden houses perched on stilts in Hanover, then to the tourists Mecca that is Negril. There, after window shopping, we sampled Italian Ice treats flavored in ginger, coconut and banana before settling at Sweet Spice Restaurant for fish tea, curried fish, tripe and bean.
It was on to Ricks Café in Negril’s west end to watch the rum and sun-drunk tourists cliff dive, and to view the devouring of the sun by the sea while we downed bottles of Red Stripe.
The next morning, we ventured into the cool hills of Manchester, to our old farm house, stopping along the way to collect sugar cane, naseberry, mango, sweetsop and guinnep from the roadside stalls.
Later, we gathered in Mandeville to celebrate the marriage of a relative over cups of manish water and plates of curried goat with white rice. Servings of ackee and saltfish with cornmeal dumpling, green bananas and plaintain greeted us for breakfast the next morning. We ate on the verandah in silence listening to the distant hum of a tractor and the conversations, carried by the wind, of farmers as they weeded their fields.
I walked along the road that was still as bad as the days when I walked them in my blue school uniform, past the bamboo trees and the old standpipe, over to my neighbors to pick up the promised sweet potato pudding and coconut drops.
Later, we packed into the little hatchback and ventured down the winding path of Spur Tree Hill past fields of thyme, watermelon and scallions to the fishing village of Alligator Pond where the Little Ochi Restaurant can be found. The hoisted fishing boats with their thatched covered roofs were far more plentiful than my last visit 10-years before, but the charm of the venue was still there.
We handpicked our fish and then it was fried to perfection and served with sides of festival, steamed bammy and roasted breadfruit washed down with cherry juice and reggae medley punch. It was on the road again to Kingston for another family meal and than back to Montego Bay to the Tortuga factory to sample their famous rum cakes before reluctantly boarding my flight for my return trip home.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
WE Food - OXTAIL
By Natasha G. Samuels
Hands down, the very best oxtails I have ever tasted came from my mother’s kitchen.
Oxtail is the bony gelatinous meat part that is from the tail of a cow and not the tail of an Ox as most believe. It is quite popular in the Caribbean and is a traditional dish in the American South and China.
If the oxtails is coming from the hands of an inexperienced chef, pray that you wont be served a tasteless batch of bones that has been drenched in browning and finished off in a pressure cooker.
While the dish has certainly become popular in our local Caribbean restaurants, the dishes are obviously hurried and for those of us who are in the know, know that oxtails is not a hurry come up dish to prepare.
Because of the long prep time, it was a weekend dish in my child hood home. The long prep time started on Friday nights when my Mom would season the meat allowing the season to “soak” until Sunday morning when she got up, threw a Jimmy Swaggart record on the turntable and began the long process of cooking the meat.
The smell of the meat would nudge me out of my Sunday morning slumber and I would lie in bed listening to the clanging of the metal spoon scraping against the side of the dutch pot as my Mom turned the searing meat which sealed in the flavor of the dry seasoning.
I don’t remember her using browning to stain the meat or a pressure cooker to hurry the meat along. Instead, once the meat had reached its natural brown, she would add boiling water to the batch and allow it to boil the meat until it dried out to the point where the sizzling searing sound would ring through the kitchen. More water was boiled (she never used cold water or warm tap water) and the process was repeated for several hours until eventually the meat started to fall off the bones.
At this point, after tasting the gravy, she would adjust the dry seasoning and add in onion, garlic, scallion and spinner dumplings. My step father and I would wait in anticipation for the addition of the butter beans and string beans which signaled to us that the stew was ready.
We would then be invited to the table, our stomachs roaring loudly, almost in chorus, in anticipation of the meal. Stinginess with food is a sin in my family and as a result, our plates were heaped with oxtails and rice drenched in oxtail gravy. This was a meal eaten in silence and the only sounds that could be heard from the table along with the clinging of the silverware against the plate was the ravenous wolfing down of the oxtails followed by the sucking sounds as we tried to get every last drop of the meat and gravy from off of the bones.
Hands down, the very best oxtails I have ever tasted came from my mother’s kitchen.
Oxtail is the bony gelatinous meat part that is from the tail of a cow and not the tail of an Ox as most believe. It is quite popular in the Caribbean and is a traditional dish in the American South and China.
If the oxtails is coming from the hands of an inexperienced chef, pray that you wont be served a tasteless batch of bones that has been drenched in browning and finished off in a pressure cooker.
While the dish has certainly become popular in our local Caribbean restaurants, the dishes are obviously hurried and for those of us who are in the know, know that oxtails is not a hurry come up dish to prepare.
Because of the long prep time, it was a weekend dish in my child hood home. The long prep time started on Friday nights when my Mom would season the meat allowing the season to “soak” until Sunday morning when she got up, threw a Jimmy Swaggart record on the turntable and began the long process of cooking the meat.
The smell of the meat would nudge me out of my Sunday morning slumber and I would lie in bed listening to the clanging of the metal spoon scraping against the side of the dutch pot as my Mom turned the searing meat which sealed in the flavor of the dry seasoning.
I don’t remember her using browning to stain the meat or a pressure cooker to hurry the meat along. Instead, once the meat had reached its natural brown, she would add boiling water to the batch and allow it to boil the meat until it dried out to the point where the sizzling searing sound would ring through the kitchen. More water was boiled (she never used cold water or warm tap water) and the process was repeated for several hours until eventually the meat started to fall off the bones.
At this point, after tasting the gravy, she would adjust the dry seasoning and add in onion, garlic, scallion and spinner dumplings. My step father and I would wait in anticipation for the addition of the butter beans and string beans which signaled to us that the stew was ready.
We would then be invited to the table, our stomachs roaring loudly, almost in chorus, in anticipation of the meal. Stinginess with food is a sin in my family and as a result, our plates were heaped with oxtails and rice drenched in oxtail gravy. This was a meal eaten in silence and the only sounds that could be heard from the table along with the clinging of the silverware against the plate was the ravenous wolfing down of the oxtails followed by the sucking sounds as we tried to get every last drop of the meat and gravy from off of the bones.
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