China Poblano

Restaurant reviews are by far the rarest form of post on this blog. Since 2011, I have only done five (5) restaurant reviews. Each of those restaurants had something that stood out, and, usually it was everything about the meal.  The last review I did was back in 2021, which was for the restaurant Owamni, owned and led by Chef Sean Sherman, whose goal was to educate people about Native American foodways.

Another chef with a desire to educate people is Jose Andres. I have been to many of his restaurants: China Chilcano, Jaleo, Oyamel, Spanish Diner, and Zatinya. While all of them are amazing, one truly stands out for me. It is China Poblano. 

I often refer to China Poblano as my happy place. It is located in Las Vegas, Nevada, where I often go for work and almost never for pleasure. Every time I have to go to Las Vegas for work, I inevitably sit at one of the two bars in this particular restaurant, and have a meal that almost always is the culinary highlight of the trip, and, sometimes, the best part of the trip. 

The reason is simple: it's the food. China Poblano represents a fusion of sorts, bringing together Chinese food and Mexican food. The restaurant has two kitchens, one focuses on each cuisine. It also has two bars, where people can watch experts prepare fresh tortillas for various Mexican dishes or fresh noodles for the Chinese dishes.  Some of the dishes are traditional ones from each cuisine. Others are often an interpretation or creative take on a dish. I can still remember taking colleagues to China Poblano in 2011, where I ordered El Silencio and they watched as I ate a taco stuffed with braised duck tongues. (Needless to say, they were as grossed out as those who have watched me eat on multiple occasions the Chapulines taco at Oyamel.)

A view of the bars, from the Mexican one to the Chinese one. (Source: TripAdvisor)

I have made my way through the menu over the years. Every time I eat at China Poblano, I say to myself that I need to do a restaurant review. Every time it never happens, usually due to work or other pressing matters of life. 

This time, it is different. I decided to order two dishes from each side of the menu. Those four dishes would be the basis for this review. 

 

The first dish is a solitary carnitas taco. This single taco embraces five ingredients within a corn tortilla -- braised pork, onions, cilantro, chicharron, and salsa verde cruda. Yet, every bite brings together the rich, fattiness of the braised pork, the crispness of the chicharron, the freshness of the cilantro and salsa. This little taco represents everything that is good about pork. It is one of my favorite tacos on the menu, which usually makes it the first thing I order on the menu.

The second course is another solitary taco, which is a very close second to the carnitas taco. This tack presents itself in a completely different corn tortilla. Perhaps it should be my favorite, as it takes only four ingredients to get perfection here: grilled octopus, avocado, roast corn salsa macha and radish. I have always been a fan of grilled octopus, but the chewy texture of the octopus combined with the crisp radish and soft avocado make this taco shine. 

The last two dishes move to the Chinese kitchen. The first is a noodle bowl called Road to Xi-an.  The name derives its inspiration from the spice road, which ran through this city. Xi-An, which sits in Shaanxi province is also known for its noodle dishes. This particular dish combines shredded lamb, cumin, star anise, and beach mushrooms. The vinegar used with the mushrooms, along with the cumin and the lamb, make this a stellar dish. 

The final dish is Dan Dan Mian, which is Jose Andres' nod to a Sichuan street food. He uses hand cut wheat noodles, which are served with a spicy sauce (whose piquancy comes from pequin chiles) and roasted peanuts. Although from Sichuan, this dish was slightly less spicy than the Road to Xi-an. Nevertheless, the combination of the flavors in the sauce with the roasted peanuts was near perfection.  It was the perfect way to end the meal. 

I had actually planned on having a fifth dish, but I was so full from these four dishes that I had to pass. If you happen to get to China Poblano and have a bigger appetite than me, I would also suggest you try the Kao Lao Lao, which is a dish consisting of individually rolled oat noodles arranged in a honeycomb shape, steamed and served with a delicious sauce. 

My present travel plans do not have me returning to Las Vegas anytime soon. If that should change, then you will know where to find me. Until then ...

PEACE.

Lowcountry Brown Oyster Stew

This post about an oyster stew takes us to a very specific and incredibly important part of South Carolina's lowcountry. It is that part that overlaps with the Gullah-Geechee Corridor. The corridor itself runs from Jacksonville, Florida to Wilmington, North Carolina. However, as the corridor passes through South Carolina, it crosses islands, along with towns and cities, with the rich history of the Gullah-Geechee people. 

The Gullah-Geechee are descended from West Africans who were forcibly taken places ranging from modern day Senegal to Angola during the 18th century. The enslaved West Africans were brought to the United States to labor on rice plantations on the South Carolina's sea islands and along its Atlantic Coast. I had an opportunity to learn about this history and its profound impact upon our country as I prepared a dish of Carolina Crab Rice. (Hint: it was the knowledge and skills, along with the uncompensated hard labor, of those enslaved West Africans that created the infrastructure for, as well as enabled the successful production of, rice in South Carolina.)

The enslaved brought more than their knowledge and skills to this country, they also brought a variety of ingredients that were not part of the American-table at that time. This recipe captures some of those ingredients. For example, dawadawa or fermented locust beans. The fermenting of locust beans can be traced back to the 14th century, and its use in the preparation of food goes equally far back in time. Cooks in African countries like Nigeria, Benin and Ghana use dawadawa in many iconic dishes, like Jollof, as well as soups or stews like Fakoye. Locust beans are typically not cultivated, rather they are dispersed by people and animals. That brings us to the connection between Africa and the "New World." Slaves brought these locust beans with them as they were forcibly taken from Africa and transported to various places in North America, like the South Carolina coast, or the Caribbean. That may be one reason why one can find locust beans, as well as dawadawa, in Haiti. 

Dawadawa (Source: Slow Food)

Another interesting ingredient is the dried crayfish powder. As someone who has used dried shrimp when preparing dishes from Sri Lanka, I have a little familiarity with the umami-like scents and tastes that the ingredient can provide to a dish. The use of dried crayfish powder is used for that very purpose -- to add umami -- in dishes prepared along the African coastline of modern day Ghana and Benin. The technique of drying crayfish - which thrive in freshwater and some brackish water -- could have been brought with Africans so that they could preserve this source of protein for use in dishes.

Both dawadawa and dried crayfish powder are more than ingredients; they embody culinary techniques. A natural processing of ingredients from the land or the water to obtain something more. This particular recipe highlights that fact. The use of dawadawa and ground crayfish powder, along with the sundried tomato powder, served as a substitute for bacon or smoked pork. These ingredients provided elements that mimic smoked flavors, earthiness and richness that one would ordinarily get from using diced up bacon or smoked ham.  

Together, these ingredients helped to produce a stew that I have to say is far more complex and delicious than any oyster stew made with heavy cream. If I had my druthers, I would produce a huge batch of this stew and enter as a contestant in the next Oysterfest held by the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in October 2025. It probably would not win (as the winners are usually the heavy-cream based stews), but it would introduce a completely different, but equally authentic and historic, way to prepare this dish to an audience who would probably never have the opportunity to taste it. 

LOWCOUNTRY BROWN OYSTER STEW

Recipe from Saveur

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 2 teaspoons toasted benne (sesame seeds)
• 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/2 teaspoon lemongrass powder
• 4 tablespoons all purpose flour
• 3 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1 celery stalk, finely chopped
• 1 small yellow onion, finely chopped
• 1.5 tablespoons sundried tomato powder
• 2 teaspoons Caribbean bay leaf powder or 2 dried bay leaves; 
• 1.5 teaspoon crawfish powder or dried shrimp powder
• 2 teaspoons ground dawadawa
• 1.5 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1.5 teaspoon onion powder
• 1.5 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1 teaspoon chipotle powder
• 2 pints shucked fresh oysters
• 6 cups seafood stock, vegetable stock or water
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more
• 2 tablespoons finely chopped onion sprouts or chives

Directions:

1. Toast the spices. in a large skillet set over medium-low heat, add the benne, ginger powder and lemongrass powder; toast until golden-brown, 3-5 minutes. Remove from heat. 

2. Prepare the roux. In a large pot over medium high heat, whisk together the flour, 2 tablespoons of oil and the butter. Stir continuously until the roux turns a dark chocolate brown color, about 5 minutes. 

3. Saute the vegetables. In a separate skillet over medium high heat, add the remaining oil, celery and onion. Cook, stirring frequently, until soft and translucent, about 3 minutes. Remove from the heat. 

4. Continue working with the roux. Turn the heat down to low, then add the tomato powder, bay leaf powder, dawadawa, crawfish powder, garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika and chipotle powder. Cook, stirring continuously until fragrant, about 1 minute. Stir in the celery-onion mixture and then slowly pour in the oyster liquor and the tock, stirring continuously until all the liquid is incorporated into the roux. Add the salt, turn the heat up to medium-low to bring the stew to a boil, then turn the heat back down to maintain a simmer. Cook until the broth is thick enough to coat the back of a wooden spoon and has reduced by about a third, 40 to 45 minutes. 

5. Finish the dish. Remove the stew from the heat, then immediately stir in the oysters (the residual heat will cook them). Season to taste with more salt as needed. Ladle the brown oyster stew into wide soup bowls, garnish with onion sprouts and reserved benne seed-ginger-lemongrass mixture and serve hot. 

PEACE.

Arrachera Verde

My parents bought me Bricia Lopez's Asada, The Art of Mexican Style Cooking for my birthday. It is a cookbook that I have wanted for some time. I wanted to learn more about Mexican cooking, as well as to do more grilling and smoking of meats, seafood and vegetables. As I read the cookbook, I began to make mental lists of the recipes that I wanted to make. One of those recipes is Arrachera Verde. 

The name translates to green skirt steak, which raises a question and provides a nod to its preparation. First, the question is around the meat. While arrachera may mean "skirt steak," the recipe calls for flap steak. That latter is also known as bavette, a thin and chewy cut of meat that is very popular in France, Argentina and Uruguay.  However, I have found that flap steak is not very common or available, at least around where I live. So, I had to look for a substitute, which led me back to skirt steak. Flank steak is also a workable substitute. Both skirt steak and flank steak share many characteristics with flap steak, being thinner cuts, as well as more fibrous and chewy.

The nod goes to the marinade. Perhaps the most green of the marinades is chimichurri. Indeed, Bricia Lopez notes, Arrachera Verde utilizes a marinade that is inspired by chimichurri. The recipe calls for a lot of herbs -- basil, mint, parsley and oregano -- for the marinade. Other classic chimichurri ingredients, like garlic and olive oil, help to round out the marinade. As the photo to the right shows,  the marinade does look a lot like a chimichurri.

The one thing that I like about the marinade is that the recipe says that only thirty (30) minutes are needed before the meat is ready for the grill. (Obviously, one can marinate the meat overnight, but the fact that a short marinade period raises a question for me as to whether a long period is necessary - that may have to await another post.) More importantly, the short marinating period makes the recipe something that can be made as dinner on a busy weekday.

While this blog readily illustrates that I have made quite a few chimichurri recipes over the years, I have to admit that I have rarely made recipes that use flap steak, skirt steak or flank steak. That is another reason why I wanted to make this recipe. I wanted to use a cut of meat that has not been a regular part of my repertoire.

This recipe also led me to another recipe, Salsa de Pina Tatemada. This recipe takes a salsa two ways that are different. First, it incorporates grilled ingredients, like grilled garlic and red onions. Second, it incorporates pineapple, which I have to say I don't usually use when making salsas. But, this salsa really worked and it is amazing with the grilled skirt steak.

One last note, Arrachera Verde with Salsa de Pina Tatemada is best served with corn tortillas. That seems, at least for me, to take me to what asado really is in Mexico.

ARRACHERA VERDE

Recipe from B. Lopez, Asada at 74

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 1 cup loosely packed basil leaves
• 1 cup loosely packed fresh mint
• 1 cup loosely packed fresh parsley
• 1/4 cup fresh oregano leaves
• 2 Fresno chiles
• 3 large cloves garlic, peeled
• 1 lemon, zested and juiced
• 1/4 cup olive oil
• 1 teaspoon citrus vinegar
• 2 tablespoons sea salt
• 2 pounds flap steak
• Warm tortillas, for serving
• Salsa de Pina Tatemada, for serving

Directions:

1. Marinate the steak. In a food processor, add the basil, mint, parsley, oregano, chiles, garlic, lemon zest and juice, olive oil, vinegar and salt. Pulse until a smooth paste forms.  Pat the steak dry with paper towels and place it in a large bowl. Rub the paste mixture all over the meat. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes or overnight.

2. Prepare to grill. Remove the meat from the refrigerator to allow it to reach room temperature before grilling if possible. Start a charcoal or gas grill. The gas should be set to high. If using a pellet grill, preheat your grill to 450 degrees Fahrenheit for at least 15 minutes. If using charcoal, the coals should be red but entirely covered with gray ash.

3. Grill the steak. Remove the meat from the marinade and put it on the grill directly over the fire. Close the lid and cook, turning once, about 4 to 5 minutes on each side. Transfer the meat to a cutting board and let rest for 5 minutes. 

4. Finish the dish. Slice the meat against the grain. Serve with warm tortillas and the salsa. 

PEACE.

On Count Rostov's Plate: Latvian Stew

December 1922.  Count Alexander Rostov sat, by himself, in the middle of the restaurant referred to by the Count as the "Piazza."  Alexander was not alone, for there was a couple sitting at a nearby table. The male counterpart of this couple was talking about a conference to unify the Soviet republics. This encounter took place in December 1922. It would have been Christmas season, but, in that year, it was the birth of the Soviet Union. The female counterpart turned to a technical conversation about the "Transcaucasian question." (I am curious as to which one, as there were -- and still are -- many Transcaucasian questions.) Before the man could answer, a nearby accordion player began playing a number with a Spanish flair. The music was from The Nutcracker. (Emil Towles, The Gentleman of Moscow, pages 95-96.)

That provides the setting for what happened next, and, by extension the recipe that is the subject of this part of my On Count Rostov's Plate series. It is perhaps, from a culinary view, one of the most interesting aspects of the story. What happens next provides a window into life as a nascent Soviet Union came to terms with new economic, social and ideological principles. 

The waiter -- referred to as "the Bishop" by Count Rostov because of his appearance -- is standing over the couple ready to take their order. As Towles recounts: 

But for a hopeful young man trying to impress a serious young woman, the menu of the Piazza was as perilous as the Straights of Messina. On the left was a Scylla of lower-priced dishes that could suggest a penny-pinching lack of flair; and on the right was a Charybdis of delicacies that could empty one's pockets while painting one pretentious. the young man's gaze drifted back and forth between these opposing hazards. But in a stroke of genius, he ordered the Latvian stew. (Id. at 96.)

Latvian stew -- a dish of pork, onions and apricots -- that was both exotic and a call to "the world of grandmothers and holidays...." 

In writing his book, and, in particular this part of the story, author Amor Towles recounted his own encounter with the Scylla and Charybdis. While he chose to use the Latvian stew, Towles had his own questions about the dish. He had a recipe for the dish from Saveur, but the ingredients did not include any wine, spices or stock. But, that was the point, as Count Rostov recalls (because he also ordered the dish): "The onions thoroughly caramelized, the pork slowly braised, and the apricots briefly stewed, the three ingredients come together in a sweet and smoky medley that simultaneously suggest the comfort of a snowed-in tavern and the jangle of a tambourine." That is quite the review.

LATVIAN STEW

Recipe from Book Club Cookbook, written by Amor Towles

Serves 6-8

Ingredients:

• 3 pounds boneless pork shoulder, trimmed and cut in to 1-inch pieces
• Salt
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 6 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
• 6 carrots, peeled trimmed and sliced cross-wise
• 4 tablespoons tomato paste
• 5 cups of water
• 1 cup dried apricots
• 1 pound white boiling onions, peeled, each cut into 6 wedges
• 1 cup pitted prunes

Directions:

1.  Begin the stew. Season the pork with salt and pepper. Heat 3 tablespoons of the oil in a large heavy bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Add the pork and cook, stirring occasionally, until the meat releases all of its juices and is no longer pink all over, about 5 minutes. Add the carrots and cook until slightly tender, about 10 minutes. Stir in the tomato paste and water, then add apricots. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium-low, and gently simmer, uncovered, for 45 minutes.

 2. Sauté the onions. Meanwhile, heat remaining oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add onions and cook, stirring often, until deep golden brown, about 15 minutes.

3. Finish the dish. Add the onions and prunes to the stew and continue to simmer over medium-low het until the pork is tender and the sauce has thickened, about 30 minutes more. Adjust seasonings. Serve with boiled potatoes, buttered and garnished with chopped parsley.

PEACE.

P.S.: If you are looking for a wine to pair with this dish, Count Rostov would strongly recommend a Mukuzani, a Georgia red wine produced from the Saperavi grape. In the Count's words, "the Georgians practically grow their grapes in the hopes that one day they will accompany such a stew." (Amor Towles, A Gentleman in Moscow, pg. 98.) The author, Amor Towles, hints that any good red table wine will suffice. 

Salsa de Pina Tatemada

Many towns are known from something or someone. When it comes to Loma Bonita, a town of about 41,000 people in Mexican State of Oaxaca, that something is the pineapple. Indeed, Loma Bonita is often referred to as the Pineapple Capital of the World.

The story of how Loma Bonita became that capital involves a yanqui named Frank Peters. Frank arrived in the area in 1906, working for an Illinois doctor who purchased land there. Frank later bought some land -- nearly 200 acres -- in the area for himself. Frank then planted pineapples on his land. And, by 1910, he was harvesting 20,000 pineapples per year. His success led to the purchase of more land (eventually reaching 7,400 acres) and, of course, many more pineapples. Things eventually went downhill for Frank Peters. The Mexican government seized most of his land in 1934.

While history may have been written about yanquis bringing pineapples to Oaxaca or Loma Bonita, one white man could not harvest all those pineapples. By 1952, the area was producing 40,000 to 60,000 tons of pineapples, which supported four nearby canneries. The focus primarily rests upon the growers, but it is the laborers whose work ensures that pineapple after pineapple, ton after ton, make it to the canneries and beyond. Those laborers are just as deserving of recognition for making the area, with Loma Bonita at its center, one of the most important pineapple exporting regions in Mexico. 

In Oaxaca, the pineapple is often used to prepare salsas. Those salsas are often cruda, incorporating raw pineapple, along with other raw ingredients like tomatillos. I came across a recipe from Salsa de Pina Tatamada when I made Arrachera Verde, which is a recipe for grilled flap steak (or, in my case, skirt steak). This salsa may be considered a variation of the traditional Oaxacan pina salsas in that the pineapples -- along with all of the other ingredients are grilled. 

I am a big fan of pineapple, but usually raw. However, I have to say that the use of grilled pineapple really worked in this recipe, because the heat brings out the sweetness and tames the citrus notes. That sweetness helps to balance the chiles in the salsa.

SALSA DE PINA TATEMADA

Recipe from B. Lopez, Asada at 195

Makes 2 cups

Ingredients:

• 3 cloves garlic, peeled
• 1 large red onion, minced
• 1 medium pineapple, cored and cut into 3/4 inch slices
• 2 habanero chiles
• 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
• 1 teaspoon sea salt, plus more as needed
• 1/4 cup olive oil
• 1/2 cup flat leaf parsley, minced

Directions:

1. Start the grill. Start a charcoal or gas grill. Gas should be set to high. If using a pellet grill, preheat the grill to 425 degrees Fahrenheit for at least 15 minutes. If using charcoal, the coals should be red but entirely covered with gray ash.  

2. Grill the garlic and onion. Wrap the garlic and onion in separate aluminum foil packets. Place them on the grill until the garlic and onion have softened, about 15 to 20 minutes. 

3. Grill the pineapple and habanero peppers. Meanwhile, place the pineapple slices and habaneros directly on the grill. Cook until the pineapple has charred evenly on both sides and the skin of the habaneros has charred evenly too, about 5 to 10 minutes. Turn every 2 to 4 minutes for even cooking. When charred, remove everything from the grill.

4. Prepare the salsa. On a cutting board, chop the grilled pineapple into 1/4 inch cubes. In a serving bowl, mix the pineapple with the grilled onion and lime juice. Reserve. Add salt and garlic to a molcajete and grind until the garlic has dissolved into a paste. Next, slowly incorporate the habaneros and the olive oil, continuing to grind until you are left with a paste.  

5. Finish the dish. Add the habanero paste to the bowl of pineapple and onion, add the parsley, and stir to combine. Taste for salt, adding more as needed and serve. 

PEACE.

Bergstrom Cumberland Reserve Pinot Noir (2020)

Bergstrom Winery is one of the premier vineyards and winemakers in Oregon's Willamette Valley. My beautiful Angel and I visited Bergstrom's tasting room during our honeymoon. We were both impressed by the Pinot Noir wines that were offered and we took home a few bottles to enjoy at a later time. Some of those wines have even made it to reviews on this blog, such as Bergstrom's Shea Vineyard Pinot Noir (2007), along with the 2007 vintage and 2009 vintage of its Cumberland Reserve.

The Cumberland Reserve is produced with grapes grown in the Willamette Valley AVA. The AVA - or American Viticultural Area - is the designation that has been given to the region by the Bureau of Alcohol and Firearms back in 1984. Since that time, the Willamette Valley AVA has been further divided into ten (10) sub-regions. These sub-regions include the Dundee Hills AVA, Chehalem Mountains AVA, and the Ribbon Ridge AVA. Bergstrom has five vineyards in these AVAs.

In recent years, I have been finding Bergstrom wines in stores near where I live. And, while these wines tend to be a little pricey (as do most really good Oregon Pinot Noir wines), I buy one every once in a while so I can remember what my beautiful Angel and I enjoyed when we were on our honeymoon. 

The most recent purchase was the 2020 vintage of the Cumberland Reserve, which makes this particular post a blogging hat trick following on the previous posts of the 2007 and 2009 vintages. 

The 2020 vintage came in a little darker and bolder than the previous vintages that I have tried. When first poured, the aroma was full of earthier elements, such as some slate and earth. Maybe this was due to the fires that plagued the region around harvest time. It does not matter to me, because I generally prefer Pinot Noirs on the earthier side, as opposed to the fruiter side. In any event, those aromas faded as the wine opened up. 

The slate carried over to the taste, and, the first sips even seemed to give a hint of smoke. Those hints soon faded, leaving a very good expression of dark fruit, such as blackberries and dark cherries. This darker profile was echoed by other reviewers, who noted elements such as dark tea, raspberries, and tarragon. The Bergstrom notes pegged this wine as a little brighter, with strawberry and raspberry candies, sandalwood and incense. I could see the last two, but the fruit elements were bolder as opposed to brighter. 

The 2020 vintage is sold out, but newer vintages are available. They generally sell for between $50 to $55 per bottle. They are definitely worth it. Until next time ... 

PEACE.

Around the World in 80 Dishes: Seychelles

Seychelles is an interesting combination of the littlest and the greatest. The one hundred and fifty-five islands that comprise the country, which lie in the Indian Ocean, make Seychelles one of the smallest countries in Africa by square miles. The estimated 100,600 people who live on those islands makes the Seychelles the least populated country in Africa. Yet, Seychelles has the highest nominal gross domestic product (GDP) per capita of any African country, which means its residents have relatively the highest standard of living. It is also ranked the highest electoral democracy in Africa, and forty-third in the world. That is quite the combination for a country whose islands laid uninhabited prior to the 18th century.

The French were the first to occupy and claim the islands in 1756, naming them after Louis XV's Minister of Finance, Jean Moreau de Sechelles. As the French settled on the islands, they brought with them an order that was familiar in the colonial era. Helene Frichot, an architectural author, recounted this historical order in one of her essays:

Originally, when the French plantocracy settled, habitations -- strips of land - were marked from mountain peak to shore, parcelled out for the mostly large, conservative, Catholic families. These families assumed a certain order of things, divided strictly along lines of colour: those who owned and governed, and those obliged to labour. As Mairi O'Gorman argues in her research on the Seychelles, property, espeically when organised according to a plantation regime, is racialised: ownership assumes whiteness, while labor is delegated to Brown and Black people.

And, French settlers brought with them enslaved African men, women and children to work on these new plantations. The British Empire took control of the islands less than fifty years later, with the Treaty of Paris in 1814. The British allowed the use of enslaved Africans to continue, and they began to bring indentured servants from the Indian subcontinent and other parts of Asia to work on the islands. The result was a society that had French plantation owners, the British administrative elite, and a large number of African and Asian laborers, traders and shopkeepers. 

This mix of people and cultures on the islands led to the emergence of the Seychellois Creole, an ethnic group that combines African, Asian and European influences into one common identity with a language and culture of its own. The Seychellois Creole language, Seselwa, is rooted in French, but it has incorporated aspects of African and Malagasy languages, as wells as terms and phrases from English and Hindi. E, kot i konsern manze, lenfliyans Lafrik, Lazi e Eropeen is disifil pou manke. ("And, when it comes to food, the African, Asian and European influences are hard to miss." - My attempt at Seselwa using Google translate.)

Le Jardin du Roi, Mahe, Seychelles
(Source: Runaway Lodge)

As for Seychelles cuisine, its story can be told, in part, with reference to a garden, Le Jardin du Roi, that the French settlers started in 1772.  One of those colonists, Pierre Poivre, wanted to get into the spice trade. Poivre himself was quite the story. He spent his early years as a missionary, living in Cochinchina (later known as Vietnam), Guangzhou, and Macau. He left missionary work to join the French East Indies Company, where he presumably came into contact with the spice trade. By 1772, he was living between Mauritius and the Seychelles, and wanted those islands to be part of that trade. Poivre's entre into the spice word was not very Christian-like. He decided that he would set out on a vessel to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) and the Moluccas (now part of Indonesia). His goal: to steal the spices and bring them back to French-controlled islands where they could be planted and then France could have its own source.  Poivre actually stole the spices and brought them back to the Seychelles. However, as Poivre returned from his voyage in 1780, the governor mistook Poivre's vessel for an enemy ship. The governor destroyed the growing garden. Spices were too valuable to have fall into the hands of the enemy. 

Le Jardin du Roi ultimately survived and grew into 25 hectares where more than 120 species of fruits and spices were cultivated. That variety is one of the defining characteristics of Seychellois Creole cuisine. Recipes use a range of spices, including chiles, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, nutmeg, turmeric, and much more. The cuisine also features a range of seafood dishes, which one would expect from an island nation. 

MAIN COURSE

This personal culinary challenge showcases a cuisine that reflects how influences from around the world come together in amazing dishes. The challenge involves the preparation of a Seychellois Octopus Curry. The cephalopods could be found around many of the islands, such as Cousine. That availability led to this curry, which is a popular dish in the Seychelles. 

This demand created a fishery for octopi in the Seychelles. Many look for the creatures around the coral barrier reefs, while others, like a fisherman named Dave Auguste, go further out into the ocean. Auguste has fished for octopus for more than twenty years. When the COVID pandemic hit, the tourist trade (which is important to the Seychelles) crashed, and so did the market for expensive seafood like octopus. As the world gradually reopened and tourists returned, so did the demand for octopus. 

Dave Auguste with his catch (Source: United Nations, Photo: Douglas Okwatch)

Dave Auguste found one longer lasting change ... there were less of the cephalopods to catch. This change is not the result of COVID, but other factors.  In an article published by the United Nations, Auguste explained: 

There are fewer and fewer octopuses now. Before, I used to find them close to shore, but now I have to go further out. Again, for the last ten years or so, going out to sea has become more complicated because the sea has become rougher and the currents stronger. If I am not careful I can drift away from shore.

Indeed, climate change has affected the work of those who fish the waters around the Seychelles.  Auguste explained that there has been a change in rain patterns: "we used to have rainy periods that lasted several days, now it rains the same amount for one day and it all runs off into the sea." The prolonged rains and the runoff cause the waters close to shore to take on a reddish hue. The octopi do not like the tinged water and move further offshore. An additional factor is that, due to warming temperatures in the sea, there are some areas of the barrier reefs where up to 90% of the coral have died.

Not all of the news is bad. The Seychelles has taken proactive steps to stem the damage caused by changes in the climate. These steps include imposing quotas on seafood catches, expanding the range of protected marine areas, and implementing reef restoration projects. This has required some adjustment and adaptation, especially for those who work in the seafood industry, which makes up 27% of the Seychelles gross domestic product. This sacrifice, as well as, the conservation efforts, may not be enough if the climate continues to change. 

Turning to the challenge, I have prepared whole octopus in the past, but I decided for this dish that I would use pre-cooked octopus, which is available online or from some warehouse stores. Each package usually has 2-3 large tentacles, which may be less than a kilogram but still enough to prepare a meal for at least 2-3 people. The pre-cooked octopus also saves a lot of time (basically you can skip step 1). 

OCTOPUS CURRY

Recipe from Tourism Seychelles

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 1 kilogram octopus
• Salt
• Pepper
• Fresh coconut milk (substitute 1 can coconut milk or cream)
• 2 teaspoons saffron
• 1 onion
• Fresh thyme
• 3 garlic cloves
• Ginger (a little bit)
• 1 teaspoon curry powder (or to taste)
• Cinnamon sticks
• Curry Leaves
• Oil

Directions:

1. Prepare the octopus. Add the octopus to a pot and fill it with water. Boil until tender, about 45 minutes to 1 hour depending upon the size. Use a fork to check if the octopus is soft enough. Once the octopus is done, cut it into pieces

2. Prepare the curry. In a saucepan, add the oil, onion, garlic, ginger, saffron, curry powder, cinnamon sticks, thyme, salt and pepper. Mix and the add the octopus pieces. Fry the octopus pieces for a few minutes and then add the coconut milk and stir. Cover the saucepan and let it simmer for 15 to 20 minutes, as the sauce thickens. 

3. Finish the dish. Once cooked, serve with some white rice, lentils and papaya chutney. 

SIDE DISH

Ordinarily, as noted above, one would prepare white rice to serve with an octopus curry. Seychellois cuisine is known for its creole rice, a dish that is shared -- in some common form -- by creole cultures around the world. Rice is a staple food in the Seychelles, often accompanying main dishes. Yet, cultivation of rice cannot occur on a large enough scale on the islands to support its population. (Indeed, while the Seychelles may have an abundance of spices and access to seafood, it actually imports much of its other food.) Most of the rice comes from India, with smaller amounts imported from countries such as Pakistan, the United Arab Emirates, France and South Africa.

This personal culinary challenge gave me an opportunity to prepare creole rice and, to do so using the wide range of spices drawn from the subcontinent and southeastern Asia. The recipe shows that diversity with garlic, ginger, bay leaf, cinnamon, cloves, pepper and turmeric. I knew that I had to prepare this dish, which I served alongside the octopus curry.

SEYCHELLES CREOLE RICE

Recipe from Amy's Cooking Adventures

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1/2 red bell pepper diced (about 1/3 cup)
• 1/2 onion diced (about 1/3 cup)
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 teaspoon turmeric powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1 bay leaf
• Pinch of ground cinnamon
• Pinch of ground cloves
• 1/2 cup basmati rice
• 1 cup water
• Fresh parsley to garnish

Directions:

1. Saute the vegetables. Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Add the bell pepper and onion and cook for 5 minutes. Add the garlic, spices and rice and cook for another minute. Stir in the water and bring to a low boil. 

2. Finish the dish. Cover, reduce heat to low, and simmer for 15-20 minutes or until the water is absorbed. Fluff the rice, garnish with parsley and serve. 

*          *          *

To be honest, I had not expected to do a personal culinary challenge involving the Seychelles. I had previously done one for Mauritius, when I prepared an amazing duck curry. However, I really wanted to prepare this octopus curry and that led me to add this to the Around the World in 80 Dishes challenge. It is a decision that I will never regret, because it opened a door to exploring a creole culture and cuisine that draws inspiration from the diverse populations that have come to live on the Seychelles islands.  

Each of these dishes was a success, and, perhaps, some of the best dishes that I have prepared in recent weeks. This challenge has inspired me to move on to the next one. Check back to see where I end up. Until then ... 

PEACE.

Fish Pepper Sauce

"The story of the fish pepper really spoke to me. It was an homage to enslaved African foodways, and that influence in Chesapeake Bay cuisine...."

Denzel Mitchell, Jr.

In a world dominated by chiles like cayennes, jalapenos, serranos, and habaneros, there is one little known pepper. Its story is not tied to the Spanish and Portuguese caravels that cross from the new world to old, going east to west. Rather, the story revolves around people who traveled in the opposite direction, from east to west in brigs and schooners, namely, the nearly 12.5 million enslaved Africans who were taken from their homes to the new world.

The fish pepper was first cultivated somewhere in the Caribbean. The chiles made their way north, rather than east, to the Chesapeake Bay.

It is not entirely clear when fish peppers began to be cultivated in the Chesapeake region. One author, culinarian and historian, Michael Twitty, believes that, in the years after Haitian independence, Haitians brought the chiles to the Chesapeake region, where African-American slaves began to grow the peppers. There are also stories about how slaves would rub their feet with fish peppers to throw off the scent of the dogs as the slaves sought freedom. After the end of slavery, African-Americans throughout the Chesapeake Bay continued to grow fish peppers in their gardens. They also tended to use the peppers to flavor mostly seafood dishes. 

By the turn of the century, however, the fish pepper largely disappeared. The decline coincided with African Americans moving from the rural eastern shore to Baltimore and Washington, D.C., along with changing food styles.  Given the absence of written records from the African-American community during the times of slavery, as well as the dearth of records thereafter, the disappearance went largely unnoticed.

That was until the 1940s, when Horace Pippin made trades, offering seeds from the fish pepper to a local beekeeper in return for the use of his bees. (Pippin needed the bees for their stings, which was a well accepted remedy for arthritis at the time.) The beekeeper, H. Ralph Weaver, kept the seeds. Two generation's later, Weaver's grandson -- William Woys Weaver -- came across the jars of seeds. He shared the seeds with the Seed Savers Exchange; and, today, just about any fish pepper seeds one can find are the descendants of the Weaver's seeds.

Fish peppers set themselves apart from other chiles because of their multitude of colors. One can surely find red and orange peppers, but about 1 in every 50 will lack chlorophyll and be pale in color. As the picture above illustrates, I got quite a few red ones, which are more piquant than than the orange and green ones. 

I wanted to pay homage to the ingredient and the African-American foodways where it played an important role. I did quite a bit of research before I found myself back before Michael Twitty. I have read his books and am quite the fan of his important work. You can read about some of that work when I explored his recipes for Kitchen Pepper and for West African Style Broiled Lobster Tails.  Twitty has developed a recipe for Fish Pepper Sauce, which is a sauce that I could easily see being used to flavor seafood stews, or as a way to add flavor to other main courses. The recipe reminds me somewhat of eastern Carolina barbecue sauce, which is heavy on the vinegar and laced with hot peppers. (The eastern Carolina sauce also draws its roots from the cooking techniques of enslaved Africans.) 

The recipe is easy to make. The hardest part was waiting the two to three weeks before I could use it. Then again, that gave me some time to come up with recipes. There will definitely be more to come with respect to this sauce. 

FISH PEPPER SAUCE

Recipe from Michael Twitty, My Cooking Gene, pg. 24

Ingredients:

• 15 to 20 fish peppers
• Kosher salt
• 4 cups apple cider vinegar or rum

Directions:

1. Prep the fish peppers. Take fish peppers, and cut off the tops and tips of the pods. A few peppers, about 5, should be chopped to a pulp in a food processor. Add a pinch or two of salt. 

2.  Prep the sauce.  Take this pulp and place it at the bottom of a jar. The rest of the peppers can be sliced down the middle, exposing the seeds or left whole. Place them on top of the pulpy mixture and cover in the bottle with apple cider vinegar or rum. Shake well and let steep 2 to 3 weeks before using. 

PEACE.

Molho a Campanha

The "rule of three" takes many forms, including as a literary device. In this particular form, the rule represents an understanding that people better remember and understand concepts when presented in groups of three. It is the pattern -- and it takes at least three of something to create one -- that fixates itself in the human brain.  If one pays attention to the numbers in any method of communication, then they will be surprised how often words and concepts appear in groups of three. 

In many respects, food is a form of communication. The term, communication, can be defined (ironically) as a duality: the process by which we understand the world and the means (verbal or nonverbal) by which we convey that understanding to others. Food thus becomes a way that we communicate amongst ourselves; and, in doing so, it is one of the fundamental means by which we create cultures, whether through personal identity or group association. 

These concepts unfolded before me as I was preparing molho a campanha, which is basically a vinaigrette sauce prepared to accompany grilled dishes in Brazil. While the word molho translates from Portuguese to English as a "sauce," what I was preparing looked more like a salsa. The ingredients -- tomatoes, onions, and peppers -- confirmed that fact. Those three ingredients got me thinking about all of the other recipes that I have made from around the world where tomatoes, onions, and peppers (or chiles) constitute the basis of the dish. Indeed, if one looked at a basic pico de gallo (or salsa) from Mexico, its core ingredients are tomatoes, onions and peppers. Sometimes, they are the foundation of the dish, followed by the addition of other ingredients that results in a larger presentation. Sometimes, they are the dish, as is the case with pico de gallo or this molho. 

As with any means of communication, it can be used to bring people together, but it can also be used to differentiate. For example, a pico de gallo in Mexico is typically prepared with the addition of a citrus juice, such as lime juice; however, the molho a campanha is prepared with vinegar. The vinegar is better suited for flavoring and tenderizing grilled meats, such as beef, chicken and even fish (as the recipe below will attest). Such differences are minor, and, to most people, go unnoticed. They are more likely to note, as I did, the use of three -- tomatoes, onions and peppers -- and its similarity with other dishes that they have eaten. And, they are more likely to think about other groups of three, which, for me, gets me thinking about sofritos, mirepoix and the Cajun/Creole "holy trinity." All of those may be posts for a later date.

MOLHO A CAMPANHA

Recipe from Serious Eats

Serves 4 

Ingredients:

• 1 large tomato, cored, seeded and cut into 1/4 inch dice (about 3/4 cup)
• Kosher salt
• 1/2 red onion, diced (about 1 cup)
• 1/2 green bell pepper, stemmed, seeded and diced (about 3/4 cup)
• 1/2 red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded and diced (about 3/4 cup)
• 2 tablespoons chopped cilantro leaves and tender stems
• 2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley leaves and tender stems
• 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
• 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for oiling fish
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 2 pounds whole fish, such as branzino, mackerel or trout, scaled or gutted

Directions:

1. Prepare the tomatoes. Season tomatoes with 1 teaspoon of salt and toss to combine. Transfer to a fine mesh strainer or colander set in a bowl to allow to drain for 20 to 30 minutes. Discard liquid.

2. Prepare molho. In a medium bowl, stir together tomatoes, red onion, green pepper, red pepper, cilantro, parsley, vinegar and olive oil. Season with salt and pepper. Let molho stand for at least 30 minutes, or refrigerate for up to 24 hours. Return to room temperature before serving.

3. Prepare the grill. About 30 minutes before grilling, remove fish from refrigerator and let come to room temperature. Light one chimney full of charcoal. When all the charcoal is lit and covered with gray ash, pour out and spread coals evenly over half of coal grate. Alternatively set half of the burners of a gas grill to high heat. Set cooking grate in place. Cover and grill and allow to preheat for 5 minutes. Clean and oil the grilling grate.

4.  Prepare the fish. Thoroughly pat fish dry with paper towels. Season inside and out with salt and pepper. Rub fish all over with olive oil. 

5. Grill the fish. Set fish over hot side of grill and cook until bottom sides are browned, about 5 minutes. Using a carving fork (the tines of which can slide down between the grill grate) or a thin metal spatula, carefully attempt to lift fish from below; if it resists, allow to cook for 1 more minute and try again. When fish lifts easily from grill, turn onto other side and cook until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part registers 135 degrees Fahrenheit, about 5 minutes longer. If the skin begins to char before the fish is cooked through, transfer fish to the cooler side of the grill to finish cooking. Let the fish rest for 5 minutes.

6. Finish the dish. Serve the fish with the molho spooned over top.

ENJOY!

Fish Curry

Whenever I prepare a dish, I always have expectations. I have greater expectations when it comes to my favorite cuisine. I am a huge fan of south Asian cuisine. When asked for more specificity, my initial response is Sri Lankan cuisine (usually with an add-on that I also love the cuisine from Tamil Nadu and Kerala). The cuisine is fiery, due to the use of various chiles. It is also curry-based. Taken together, that is where my preferences are at the moment. 

As readers of this blog know, I have made many a curry recipe, sambol or other dish from this part of the world. Those recipes and dishes have created certain expectations whenever I pull a new recipe from a cookbook off of the shelf or print one off of the Internet. Those expectations include a fiery meal, fueled by the use of fresh chiles or piquant curry powders, along with a certain umami that comes from unfamiliar ingredients, like Maldive fish chips, or a particular combination of herbs and spices. 

Recently, I had the urge to make a fish curry. Often times, those curries end up being Chef Bolek Originals, like this one or this one. They basically represent an effort to use what I have learned over time making curries and then just "wing it." This time, the urge was different. I wanted to make a fish curry that more closely followed the lines of a cuisine. The cuisine that first came to mind was, of course, Sri Lanka. And, I had just the cookbook, Lanka Food.

I reviewed the recipe and prepared my grocery list. I then went to my local Asian grocery store to get the ingredients that I did not have on hand, like curry leaves, pandan leaves and coconut cream. I proceeded to make this dish according to the recipe. However, in the end, the dish was not what I had expected. 

Indeed, the dish challenged my expectations. Do all Sri Lankan dishes have to burn with the intensity of a blue flame? Even when I try to make the dish spicy, such as grabbing my hot curry powder instead of my regular curry powder, does that mean that the dish itself should change? It got me to thinking that, whenever I try to be mindful and in the moment, I also have to go one step further with my mind. Namely, I have to approach the present moment with an open mind.

Looking back, and setting aside my expectations, I can say that this particular fish curry dish is very good, even if it is not all that spicy. It is an acknowledgement that there is more to Sri Lankan cuisine than the Scoville-busting curries. That is a good thing to remember. 

FISH CURRY

Recipe from O Tama Carey, Lanka Food, pg. 162

Serves 4-6

Ingredients:

• 500 grams skinless and boneless snapper fillets (or other firm white fish)
• 40 grams coconut oil (or ghee or vegetable oil)
• 4 grams curry leaves
• 220 grams sliced brown onions (or yellow onions)
• 20 grams finely chopped garlic
• 15 grams finely chopped ginger
• 15 grams finely chopped lemongrass, white part only
• 1 long green chile, cut into thin rounds
• 30 grams brown curry powder
• 8 grams fennel seeds
• 4 grams fenugreek seeds
• 40 ml coconut cream
• 4 x 5 pieces pandan leaf
• Salt flakes
• Freshly ground black pepper

Directions:

1. Prepare the fish. Slice the fish into bite sized pieces. Much will depend upon the size of the fillet, but try to make the slices about 1/2 inch thick. Cut them into similar sized pieces. Set aside in the refrigerator.

2. Saute the initial ingredients. Melt the coconut oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat, add the curry leaves and cook, stirring, for a minute or so until the leaves are fried. Add the onion, garlic, ginger, lemongrass, and chile and lightly season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally for 6-7 minutes until the onion has softened. 

3. Continue the saute. Add the curry powder and fennel and fenugreek seeds and cook, stirring for 1-2 minutes until the curry powder begins to catch the bottom of the pan. Season again. Add the coconut cream, pandan leaf and 500 ml of water and bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer gently until everything is cook and you can no longer taste a sharpness from the ginger. 

4. Cook the fish. Add the fish pieces and simmer gently until cooked. The cooking time will depend upon the size of the pieces but start checking from about 5 minutes. Taste the curry and season as needed.

PEACE.