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.

Ciambotta

I spent a fair amount of time planning the Savage Boleks' Christmas Eve dinner. The centerpiece of the dinner would be an Arista-Style Turkey with Tuscan Chestnut Stuffing. That recipe has become my signature dish; and I was looking for regional Italian dishes that could complement the meal. The focus was more on vegetable dishes, because I needed vegetables to balance the protein and the starch from the main course. 

As I was perusing a wide range of Italian dishes, I got to thinking about ratatouille.  That dish serves as an excellent example of la cuisine pauvre. It emerged during the 18th century, when peasants and poor farmers in Provence would cook what was left of their summer vegetable harvest for hours until they produced a chunky stew. Indeed, the name, ratatouille, comes from the Occitain word, ratatolha, which basically means chunky stew. Over time, the dish became popular among restaurants, first in cities like Nice and then across France and beyond. 

While I could make a ratatouille as a side dish for our meal, I began to wonder if there was an Italian version of the dish. Sure enough, the Italians have ciambotta. The dish parallels ratatouille on many levels. Just as ratatouille emerged as poor person's cuisine in the south of France, ciambotta similarly emerged among the peasants and poor farmers of Italy's southern regions. While its exact origins are unknown (unlike ratatouille, which emerged from area around Nice in Provence), much of the literature traces the dish to the region of Campania, where it goes by many different names, such as ciauliello in the town of Cilento, ciaurella in Sapri, ciamardola in Torre Orsaia, or, once again, ciambotta in places such as Campora, Roscigno, and Bellosguardo.

As one would expect with a dish that goes by many names, there can be many different variations of the dish. Yet, all of the variations are tied together by some fundamental basics. Every dish uses seasonal fruits -- like tomatoes, eggplants and peppers -- as well as the remainder of the summer vegetable harvest, such as squash, potatoes, and more. Basic fruits and vegetables because, regardless of the city in which it is prepared, it is a a subsistence dish. 

I found an excellent recipe for ciambotta from The Forked Spoon. This recipe not only drew its inspiration from southern Italian cooking, but it also incorporated some of the keys to making a good ratatouille. These keys include using equal proportions of bright, colorful vegetables and cooking those vegetables separately. This recipe incorporates a fair amount of the rainbow when it comes to (fruits and) vegetables: bright red tomatoes;  red/orange/yellow bell peppers; yellow squash; green zucchini and dark eggplant. Ciambotta also uses a "pesto" of fresh basil, oregano and garlic, along with some crushed red pepper if you like some heat, to help further brighten the dish. 

CIAMBOTTA

Recipe from The Forked Spoon

Serves 8

Ingredients (for the herb pesto):

• 1/2 cup fresh basil, packed
• 1/3 cup fresh oregano leaves
• 8 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)

Ingredients (for the ciambotta):

• 1 large eggplant, chopped into 1/2 inch pieces
• Salt
• 1/4 cup olive oil, divided
• 2 medium onions, chopped
• 3 tablespoons tomato paste
• 2 large russet potatoes, peeled and chopped into 1/2 inch pieces
• 2.5 cups water
• 1 can whole peeled tomatoes, with juice (tomatoes roughly chopped)
• 2 large fresh tomatoes, chopped
• 2 large zucchini, seeded and chopped
• 1 yellow squash, seeded and chopped
• 2 bell peppers (yellow, red or orange), stemmed, seeded and diced

Directions:

1. Make the herb pesto. Add the basil, oregano, garlic, olive oil and red pepper flakes to a small food processor and blend until finely processed, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. Set aside. 

2. Prepare the eggplant. Transfer the eggplant pieces to a large bowl. Sprinkle with 1-2 teaspoons of salt and transfer to a large plate lined with paper towels. Microwave, uncovered for 5-8 minutes or until the eggplant is dry to the touch and starting to shrivel. 

3.  Prepare the onions, potatoes and eggplant. Heat a large Dutch oven or pot over medium heat. Add 2 tablespoons of olive oil and onions to the pot, mixing well to combine.  Add the potatoes and eggplant and cook, stirring frequently, for 4-6 minutes, or until the onions are softened and the surface of the potatoes are translucent (they will not be fully cooked. 

4. Add the tomatoes.  Push the potatoes and onions to the side of the pot. Add the tomato paste and 1 tablespoon of olive oil to the other side. Cook the tomato paste, whisking continuously, until a brown fond forms on the bottom of the pot. This will take approximately 2 minutes. Still stirring, add the water scaping the brown bits from the bottom of the pot. Add the canned tomatoes with their juice and the fresh chopped tomatoes. Mix well and bring to a boil. 

5. Simmer. Reduce heat and bring to a simmer. Cook until the potatoes are tender and soft and the eggplant is broken down, approximately 25 minutes. 

6. Prepare the zucchini and pepper. While the stew is simmering, add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil to a large skillet over high heat. Allow the skillet to get really hot before adding the zucchini, yellow squash and bell pepper. Sprinkle with salt and cook, stirring occasionally, until just softening. 

7. Add the herb pesto. Create a well in the middle of the zucchini and bell pepper. Add the herb pesto and cook until fragrant before stirring to combine with the zucchini and bell peppers. Remove from the heat. 

8. Finish the dish. Once the potatoes are soft, add the zucchini and bell pepper mixture to the pot. Remove from the heat and mix well to combine. Cover and allow flavors to combine for at least 10 minutes before serving. Serve with freshly toasted bread. 

PEACE.

Around the World in 80 Dishes: Colombia

"In Colombian cuisine, every dish tells a story."

-- Harry Sasson (Colombian chef)

This part of my journey around the world in eighty (80) dishes takes me to the South American country of Colombia. The above quote from one of the most famous Colombian chefs, Harry Sasson, represents my starting point. It is an acknowledgement that, in Colombia, cuisine represents more than just food on a plate. Instead, to borrow someone else's words, it is "a narrative of tradition, culture and love passed down the generations." I can't believe a better way to start a culinary adventure.

This personal culinary challenge presents an opportunity to learn about some of those stories. The thing is, there are a lot of them to tell. Colombia is in many ways a "melting pot," in which many cultures -- both indigenous and non-indigenous -- have flourished in a range of environments, from the coastlines of the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean to the heights of the Andes Mountains and back down into the marshlands of the Orinoquia region or the forests of the Amazon. This wide range of people and places gives rise to an equally diverse set of cuisines.

For some background, Colombia is generally divided into six regions. Those regions are Caribe, Pacifico, Andres, Orinoquia, Amazonia, and Insular. The map to the right shows each of those regions. 

At first, I wanted to tell the stories of the indigenous people of Colombia, such as the Guambiano and Muisca peoples. That would take me to the Andes region of Colombia. Thoughts of stories about corn, potatoes, quinoa and beans started running through my mind. I have to admit that I encountered some difficulty in finding indigenous recipes that I could use to prepare the dishes. 

Given this difficulty, I decided to shift my focus from inland to the coastal regions. I decided to research and learn about both of Colombia's coastal regions: Caribe and Pacifico. (Perhaps also the Insular region, which happens to consist of islands in both the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean.) So, basically, this post will try to tell Colombian stories around seafood. 

APPETIZER

I decided to start with perhaps one of the lesser told stories of Colombia. It's neighbors, Ecuador and Peru, are well known for their tuna fisheries. Indeed, one city in Ecuador -- Manta -- boasts of the name, Tuna Capital of the World, because it has some of the highest tuna landings of any port on the Pacific Ocean. Much of the catch is yellowfin or skipjack tuna, with some bluefin tuna. Yet, Ecuador shares the Pacific coastline with Colombia. The thing is that Colombia's fishery is far less developed than its neighbors. For one thing, there are far less ports, and even less ports of substantial size, along the Pacific Coastline in Colombia. 

Yet, the waters boast of one of the more notable fish migrations: millions of sardines make a journey down the Pacific coastline from Panama south along Colombia.  As one would expect, that sizeable migration would attract the attention of others, namely predators. One of those predators happens to be the yellowfin tuna. The yellowfin provide a sustainable fishery for Colombians. As Matt Harris described the experience, being on the waters off of Colombia looking to fish yellowfin tuna: 

We scanned the water expectantly, rods at the ready and line stripped on the deck. Just as Jose predicted, we didn't have to wait long. Suddenly they were all around. Yellowfin. Everywhere. The feeding activity was astonishing. Everywhere we looked there were myriad busts as if dozens of hand-grenades were being thrown around the boat. The water was literally churning with activity, as hundreds of tuna fizzed through the waves like supercharged torpedoes, slicing through the bait-ball in a frenetic blizzard of mayhem and slaughter.

I strongly recommend reading the entire article, which was published in the magazine In the Loop, and which was very interesting. 

This story provides the opening to my first dish, an appetizer that features yellowfin tuna. The method of preparation is not so much Colombian, but it definitely draws its inspiration from the cuisine. The dish is Tomates Rellenos de Atun, or Stuffed Tomatoes with Tuna. 

TOMATES RELLENOS DE ATUN

Recipe from My Colombian Recipes

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 1-2 cans (6 ounces of tuna)
• 1/8 cup chopped onion (red or yellow)
• 1/8 cup chopped red bell pepper
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 tablespoon lime juice
• 1/4 cup mayonnaise
• 1/2 cup mixed corn, diced carrots, peas
• 1 tablespoon chopped parsley, plus more for garnish
• 4 medium sized tomatoes, cored and seeded
• Lettuce leaves, for serving (optional)

Directions:

1. Prepare the filling. In a medium bowl, combine all of the ingredients, except the tomatoes and lettuce. Cover and chill for 1 hour.

2. Finish the dish. To serve, line a large plate with lettuce leaves, spoon tuna salad into tomatoes and garnish with chopped parsley. Arrange the tomatoes on top of the lettuce leaves and serve. 

MAIN COURSE

While I could have stayed along the Pacifico region of Colombia for my culinary challenge, I decided to "travel" to the other coastline, along the Caribbean Sea. This coastline is dotted with port cities like Cartagena, Barranquilla, and Santa Marta. The challenge requires me to prepare Cazuela de Mariscos, a dish with perhaps a few stories. One of them would take me across the ocean to Spain, where seafood stews abound in a country with 3,084 miles (4,964 kilometers) or coastline. By contrast, Colombia has only 1,800 miles (2,900 kilometers). 

However, I want to stay in Colombia, so I look for stories in places like Cartagena or Santa Marta. In the latter city, there is a place where people talk about some of the best seafood stews or casseroles around.  It is Plaza San Francisco. Vendors sell the stews in pots. But, the story actually begins early in the morning, when they gather the ingredients together at their homes, prepare the dish, and cook it over a wood fire. When the stew or casserole is ready, then they head to the plaza to sell their food to locals and tourists alike. 

A cazuela de mariscos is prepared with seafood that is local to the area, although that typically includes clams, shrimp and white fish. The recipe typically calls for the use of coconut milk and, in some cases, heavy cream. I decided to skip on the heavy cream for health reasons, but I saw that other recipes incorporated seafood stock and/or water. So, I used some of the stock from steaming the clams, along with some water. 

CAZUELA DE MARISCOS

Recipe adapated from My Colombian Recipes and Travel Food Atlas

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 1 tablespoon butter
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1/2 cup chopped green pepper
• 1/2 cup chopped red bell pepper
• 1 cup chopped onion
• 2 fresh garlic cloves minced
• 1 cup grated carrot
• 1/2 teaspoon paprika
• 1 can (13.5 ounces) coconut milk
• 1/2 cup white wine
• 4 cups heavy cream (I substituted clam stock and water)
• 2 pounds of jumbo shrimp, peeled and deveined
• 12 littleneck clams, scrubbed
• 2 pounds white fish, cut into 1 inch pieces
• 1 tablespoon fresh parsley or cilantro
• 1 tablespoon tomato paste

Directions:

1. Sauté the vegetables. In a large saucepan over medium heat, warm the olive oil and butter. Add the garlic, red pepper, garlic, green pepper and carrots and sauté, until tender and translucent, about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add salt and pepper

2. Continue to prepare the stew. Add the cream and coconut milk. Bring to a boil. Add the seafood and cover, reduce the heat and cook about 2 minutes until the clams open. Remove from the heat, discard any open shells. 

3. Finish the dish. Add the wine and tomato paste, simmer for about 20 minutes. Garnish with fresh cilantro or parsley. 

*    *    *

It has definitely been a while since I did my last personal culinary challenge (which was The Gambia). This particular challenge went well; but more importantly, as much as I enjoyed preparing this meal, I also enjoyed researching the cuisine of Colombia. I think that I will be paying future "visits" to this country, so that I can try to prepare foods from other regions, like the Andes and the Amazon. Until then ...

PEACE.