Antebellum Fried Oysters

Oysters have a peculiar place in our historical foodways. Once plentiful across the Chesapeake Bay, as well as both seaboards and the Gulf of Mexico, their abundance enabled the bivalve to become a food item that was available to everyone. And, for some, especially the enslaved Africans who worked on plantations up and down the Chesapeake Bay during Antebellum times, the oyster was an important staple of their meager diet.

Most slave owners provided little more than a monthly or periodic allotment of cornmeal, salt, and poor-quality meat. For example, George Washington provided his slaves who worked at Mount Vernon with "1 quart of cornmeal and 5-8 ounces of salted fish (usually shad or herring)."  It was just enough, in the eyes of owners like Washington, to sustain the slaves. "[A]s much as they can eat without waste and nothing more," in the words of the General and former President. From the slaves' perspective, it was not enough to survive. This led slaves to search for food that would supplement their diets, ending with whatever they could find or catch. 

Oysters were an important part of this supplement. As Frederick Douglass once wrote, the enslaved at the Wye House (which was a plantation on Maryland's eastern shore), the enslaved African-Americans gathered oysters to "make up the deficiency of their scanty allowance of food." The collection of oysters from local waterways is a practice that can be traced across the Atlantic Ocean. A reknowned historian and chef, Michael Twitty, saw the parallels between Virginia and Senegal. While walking through the Kermel Market in Dakar, Senegal's capital, Twitty noticed the "blue-hued crabs, the fish that resembled shad or rockfish, and the shallow troughs filled with oysters," which "transport[ed his] mind to the Chesapeake and its tributaries." It was common practice in Senegambia (the combination of present day Senegal and The Gambia) for families to collect crabs and oysters, along with other crustaceans and shellfish, from the brackish waters along the Gambia river. 

When Africans were forcibly brought to the new world as slaves, they brought this collective knowledge about oystering with them. Slaves could have gone out at low tides and collected oysters from reefs close to the shore. Slaves worked on oyster vessels, plying the waters of the bay and tonging for oysters. As an aside, slaves who worked on these vessels were some of the first to be emancipated, long before President Lincoln gave his address at Gettysburg, through the issuance of Seaman Protection Certificates (as early as 1797) that defined the holder of such a certificate as a U.S. citizen. Indeed, Frederick Douglass escaped from slavery posing as a seaman, borrowing a certificate from another African-American. 

Back at their quarters on the planation, enslaved African-Americans often ate oysters right out of the shell. Cooks would also prepare oysters using what little they had on hand, such as that cornmeal and whatever cooking oil or lard they could find. This recipe seeks to recreate a very basic preparation of fried oysters that could have been prepared by slaves in their cabins for their families. No fancy mignonettes, no special preparations. Just oysters, cornmeal and cooking oil. 

I prepared this recipe, as well as this post, because I deeply believe that we need to learn and understand all of our history, both the good and the bad, especially the bad. If we do not fully understand and come to grips with what our country has done, then we can never truly improve our country or even come close to the ideals upon which it was founded. Moreover, the current administration is trying to wipe away all of the progress that we have made over the past fifty years. The President is using his administration and the government to coercively substitute our history with others' propaganda, whitewashing what our country did to millions of its citizens by diverting their attention toward a false beacon of hope. We should be acknowledging the transgressions of our past, learning from those mistakes as we build a better future for every person in this country. That is what fuels me during each and every day in my actual job. It now fuels me each and every moment of my free time when I work on my blog, as embodied in my personal version of Federal Project Number One.  

ANTEBELLUM FRIED OYSTERS

Recipe adapted from multiple sources

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 1 pint of shucked oysters or about 24 oysters shucked, liquor reserved
• 1 cup of corn meal, more if needed
• Sea salt
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 cup cooking oil, butter or animal lard

Directions:

1.  Prepare the oysters. Pour the cornmeal in a bowl. If you are using a pint of oysters drain the oysters through a finsh mesh sieve or cheesecloth and reserve the liquor in a bowl. Return the oysters to the bowl with the liquor. Take an oyster and roll it in the cornmeal until covered, set aside. Repeat with the remaining oysters.

2. Fry the oysters. Heat the oil, butter or lard in a pan over medium high heat. Add a few oysters at a time, making sure not to overcrowd the oysters. Cook the oysters for 2-3 minutes until they begin to brown and then turn. Brown the other side for 1-2 minutes. Remove and set aside on a plate lined with a paper towel. Repeat with the remaining oysters. Once all oysters have been cooked, serve immediately.

*     *     * 

P.S.: As to the ingredient itself, I wanted to ensure that I used oysters from the Chesapeake Bay, not from somewhere else (such as along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico). While vacationing in the eastern shore of Virginia, I purchased a pint of pre-shucked oysters from the Great Machipongo Clam Shack, which is an amazing restaurant located on Route 13 in the eastern shore of Virginia. The oysters came from H.M. Terry Company, an established oyster farmer that has been operating in Willis Wharf, Virginia since 1903. The oysters were Sewansecotts, which are a briny bivalve cultivated by H.M. Terry in the waters near Hog Island, Virginia.  

PEACE.

Edith Dyson's Crab Cakes

"The government killed my grandmother and grandfather when they took that land from them." 

-- Edith Dyson

Almost every recipe comes with a story. Sometimes that story involves the dish itself, or its ingredients. However, every once in a while the story may be part of a larger history lesson. That history will often fade, like the printing on a page, unless there are people who are able and willing to tell it. Recently, I came across the work of someone - Kara Mae Harris - who strives to tell not just the history of recipes in Maryland, but about the people who make them. I came across her blog, Old Line Plate, during a search for historic Maryland crab cake recipes. That is when I was introduced to crabcake recipe of Edith Dyson, which was originally printed in 300 Years of Black Cooking in St. Mary's County Maryland. The recipe was also reproduced by Harris on her blog, with the story, and history, of Edith Dyson and her family.  

John and Louise Dyson
(Source: Library of Congress)

The story actually begins with John Dyson, who was born into slavery in approximately 1860. (Maryland abolished slavery in 1864.) That fact comes from notes that accompany photos of Mr. Dyson taken in 1940. The notes read, "he was born into slavery over 80 years ago." By the time the photos were taken, Dyson was at least 80 years old and married to his wife, Louise Dyson. According to census records, the Dysons also had at least two children, although the records have inconsistencies. 

The photos were taken by John Vachon, a photographer who  worked for the Farm Security Administration ("FSA") from 1940 until 1942. The FSA was an agency born from the New Deal in 1937 (as a successor to the Resettlement Agency). The FSA had a mission to help poor farmers, sharecroppers, tenant farmers and migrant workers by providing loans for land, equipment and livestock. The FSA also provided training and health insurance.

From the documentary evidence, John Dyson had a home and property; and, he also participated in the FSA's loan program. It is unclear what loan he received and how he used it. However, this is where John Vachon and the FSA may shed some more light. The timeless legacy of the FSA is not its loans, but the photography project that Vachon was a part of. The FSA employed Vachon and others for their photography skills, seeking to document the lives of poor rural farmers and sharecroppers. 

Vachon took numerous other pictures of John and Louise Dyson. Many of those pictures appear to involve John Dyson surrounded by pear trees, picking their fruit. For example:

John Dyson picking pears (Source: Library of Congress)

By his 80s, Mr. Dyson was living with his wife in a house in what was known as Fordtown. Perhaps by that time, he may have been a farmer cultivating pears from trees around his house. 

Edith Dyson in the kitchen
(Source: Library of Congress)

However, according to his granddaughter, Edith Dyson, Mr. Dyson originally made his living from the water, not the land. As she recounted, "my grandfather worked the water. There were hotels and families that bought fish from him. These fish were caught on a hook and line; they they were not caught on rod and reels." Having worked the water in St. Mary's County, John Dyson would have been familiar with more than fish. He would have also known about blue crabs. And, while there is much less known about Louise Dyson, John Vachon does provide some visual history in the form of a picture of Louise in the kitchen of her home. 

I would like to think that, at some point, that either Mr. Dyson or Mrs. Dyson prepared crabs in some fashion in the kitchen. It would provide a narrative that could explain why  their grand-child, Edith Dyson, offered up a crab cake recipe nearly thirty years later for a cookbook about African American cooking in St. Mary's County.  This part of the story will most likely be left to conjecture. While Edith gave an oral history about her grandfather and his farm, which is noted in Kara Mae's research, I have been unable to located that audio.

But, I was able to determine what happened to Mr. Dyson's farm. The community of Fordtown, along with Pearson and Jonestown, were seized by the Federal government through eminent domain in 1942. As one homeowner, Webster Bell recounted, "It was in March, a cold, windy day. My wife heard this banging outside and she went to the door and looked out and here was this man, driving a great big 20-penny nail through this stack of papers that looked like a Sears Roebuck catalog." That stack of papers was an eviction notice. The residents -- including the Dysons -- who lived in these small African-American towns, in an area that was then called Cedar Point, were forcibly evicted from their homes. They received money for their land, but, for many (and most likely for Mr. Dyson), it was not a lot. They lost their land and their communities. What was Cedar Point would become known as Naval Air Station Patuxent River. And that all happened roughly two years after the pictures above were taken.

Not every story has a happy ending. Many stories about our country lack that happily-ever-after. We should never delude ourselves into thinking that our past was great. It alway makes me think about the Woody Guthrie quote, "I don't care how good the good old days were for you. They were not good enough for me." Or for those African Americans who lived in Fordtown, Jonestown or Pearson. This crab cake recipe offers a history lesson about entire communities that no longer exist. 

EDITH DYSON'S CRAB CAKES

Recipe (and much of the research) from Kara Mae Harris at Old Line Plate

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• Onion, finely chopped
• Green pepper, finely chopped
• Peanut oil
• Prepared mustard
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup mayonnaise or an additional egg
• Cracker meal
• 1 pound of crab meat
• Breadcrumbs
• Worcestershire sauce
• Salt
• Cayenne Pepper
• Black pepper
• Seafood seasoning

Directions:

Use the above ingredietns according to your tastes and needs. Saute the oinion, green pepper, red pepper (cayenne), salt and seafood seasoning in oil. Do not brown. Beat the eggs and/or maynnaise. Add the sauteed ingredients, worchestershire, salt, pepper and mustard. Gently fold in breadcrumbs and crab meat to mix. Make into cakes or patties. Roll in cracker meal and fry in vegetable or peanut oil until browned.

*     *     *

A post-script to this post, provided by the research of Kara Mae Harris. Edith Dyson recounted a visit with her grandparents after they were forced to relocate to New Jersey. As she recounted, "my grandfather was sitting on the porch and I will never forget it: he was playing his accordion, he was playing 'Look Down that Lonesome Road.' and that is a very sad song. I said, 'Grandfather, don't play that song, don't play that song. You know, play something, say something, let's dance it off. But there was no pleasure in him, everything was gone. There was nothing you could bring up to him that wouldn't bring back St. Mary's County. And we never, we never wanted to remind him of St. Mary's County." 

John Dyson playing his accordion for Louise Dyson (Source: Library of Congress)

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.

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.

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.

Steamed Shrimp

Sometimes all one needs is a very simple recipe. Steamed shrimp is just that recipe. All one needs is shrimp, some liquid and a spice mix (and, if you like lemons with your seafood, then add a lemon). Heat the liquid in a pot with a steamer basket to a boil, which creates the steam, and then add the shrimp. Wait two minutes, remove the shrimp, sprinkler the spice mix, and serve immediately. It's that simple. 

The only other thing that I can say about this recipe is that, as simple as it is, there are variations that one can do to add some creativity to the dish. While I used a good lager beer to make this recipe, you can substitute a good white wine for the vinegar or beer. I would probably use a good Sauvignon Blanc or unoaked Chardonnay. You can also substitute any other spice bland for Old Bay or XO, but, given my love for the Chesapeake Bay area, I went with Old Bay. (I don't have any XO on hand.) 

This is a great recipe if you need a quick appetizer or finger food for guests. It is a helluva lot better than simple steamed shrimp.

STEAMED SHRIMP

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 16 large shrimp, deveined
• 1/2 cup water
• 1/2 cup cider vinegar or beer
• 2 tablespoons J.O. or Old Bay, plus extra for finish
• 1 lemon, quartered

Directions:

1. Prepare the boiling liquid. Place the water and cider vinegar/beer in a small to medium-sized pot. Add the J.O. or Old Bay and stir well. Place a steamer basket in the pot and bring to a boil. 

2.  Steam the shrimp. Once the water is boiling, place the shrimp in the pot and cover. Steam for 2-3 minutes. Remove immediately rom the steam once the shrimp have turned pink.

3. Finish the dish. Place the shrimp on a platter, sprinkle lightly with more J.O. or Old Bay. Serve immediately with the lemons. 

PEACE.

St. Helena Fish Cakes

If you find yourself in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in the southern hemisphere, you may find yourself very far away and very close at the same time. You will most likely be far away from any significant land mass, as both South American and Africa are separated by thousands of miles of ocean. But, you may be very close to the island of St. Helena (and that is a big maybe).

St. Helena sits in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in the Southern Hemisphere. It is over 1,200 miles from the African coast (where one would be standing in Namibia or Angola) and 2,500 miles from the South American coast (where one would be standing in Brazil). The island is figuratively and literally in the middle of nowhere. 

That isolation proved helpful when it came to banishing a certain Le Petit Caporal (i.e., Napoleon) in 1815 after he escaped his first imprisonment on the island of Elba. But, there have been people living on that ten mile by five mile long island since the late seventeenth century. Recent statistics place the number of people calling the island their home at over 4,400.  

Saints (source: St. Helena Info)

The people of St. Helena -- who refer to themselves as "Saints" -- descended from Europeans, who were mostly planters, government workers and ex-soldiers. Given St. Helena was part of the British empire, there are also people of Chinese ancestry, whose family members came to the island as workers, or of other Asian or African ancestry, whose family members were forcibly brought to the island as slaves. Together, the Saints have developed their own identity, culture and cuisine.

The cornerstone of Saint cuisine is the Fish Cake. Given St. Helena is an island surrounded by thousands of miles of ocean, one could expect that fish would have a prominent role in both the cuisine. The most prevalent fish in the Saint diet may well be yellowfin tuna. Saint cooks take fresh tuna, shred it down with a knife, and then prepare the fish cakes with mashed potatoes, onions, parsley, thyme and bacon. But, there is one ingredient that is just as important to the fish cake as the fish ... the chile. A Saint Fish Cake must have bite (that is, in the Saint vernacular, it must be spicy). Most recipes call for a "chile" or "chilli," but, depending upon the bite you are looking for, I would go with a jalapeno pepper (for less of a bite) or a serrano pepper (for more of a bite). If a serrano is not enough, there is alway the Scotch Bonnet or Habanero pepper.

In the end, the fish cake was very tasty, but I have to work on my preparation skills with this dish. I am used to making crabcakes, whose starch usually involves crackers. The use of mashed potato was part of the binding agent was new for me. I had some difficulty keeping the fish cakes together during the cooking process, but that can be improved when I make this dish again. 

Until then, I can just sit back and think about a short banished emperor sitting at a table on an island in the middle of nowhere. According to historical records, it took a while for Napoleon to get used to his new surroundings. Records published in 1824, which was after Napoleon's death in 1821, recounted that "fresh beef was so precious as to have occasioned restrictions upon its consumption." While fresh beef may have been hard to come by, one could picture Napoleon staring down at a table of full of fish cakes. And, thanks to artificial intelligence, we can now see a relatively close depiction of that fictional moment for ourselves. 

If you are as interested about St. Helena's island as I am, check out St. Helena Island Info at this website. 

ST. HELENA FISH CAKES

Recipe from Aberdeen News

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 1/2 pound Russet potatoes, peeled, quartered
• 1/2 pound fresh tuna
• Mild oil, such as canola
• 1 small onion, finely chopped
• 1 small clove of garlic, finely chopped
• 1 slice bacon, diced
• 1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh parsley
• 1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh thyme
• 1 fresh serrano chile, finely chopped
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon paprika
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne
• 1 egg, lightly beaten
• 1 lemon, zested.

Directions:

1. Boil the potato. Settle potato chunks in a large pot of salted water. Bring to a boil; cook until tender (poke one with a skewer, it should be easy work), about 18 minutes. Press potatoes through a ricer into a large bowl or smash with a potato smasher. Let cool. 

2. Prepare the tuna.  Use a sharp, heavy knife to finely chop the tuna (a little coarser than ground beef.). Use a fork to gently mix into the cooled potato. 

3. Saute remaining ingredients (except egg and lemon zest). Pour 1 tablespoon of oil into a large skillet. Heat over medium. Scrape in onion, garlic, bacon, parsley, thyme, chile and spices. Cook, stirring, until everything looks brown and tasty, about 8 minutes. Scrape ono a plate to cool. Wipe out skillet. 

4. Prepare the fish cakes. Scrape the cooled onion mix onto the fish and potatoes. Pour in egg, scatter on zest. Mix gently. Shape 8 pucks about 3/4 inch thick and 2 1/2 inches in diameter. Fry pucks until brown, about 2 to 3 minutes per side. Drain on paper towels.

PEACE.

Grilled Clams with Cambodian Ginger Dressing

In my humble opinion, Cambodian cuisine has mastered the pairing of ginger to seafood. I don't know how they did or even when they did it. Yet, whenever I come across a Cambodian seafood recipe that incorporates a ginger sauce or dressing, that recipe is amazing. 

I learned that first hand more than four years ago, when my beautiful Angel and I hosted a New Year's Eve party. I prepared a bunch of dishes that symbolized good luck in the new year. The most popular dish that I prepared was a Cambodian Ginger Catfish recipe. That catfish was in more demand from the guests than anything else in the spread. 

So, when I got my hands on some top neck clams that I planned on grilling, it seemed only appropriate that I return to the cuisine of Srok Khmer (how the Cambodians refer to their country) and its cuisine for inspiration. Sure enough, I found a few recipes that were worth a try. The only question is which one to use. 

I ultimately chose a recipe from Theo Cooks, but I decided to make a few modifications. The original recipe called for four tablespoons of grated ginger and four tablespoons of olive oil. I halved the grated ginger because I got a little impatient and I thought that, given its relatively strong flavor profile, a lot of ginger might cause an imbalance in the dressing. I also substituted vegetable oil for olive oil because, as far as I know, olive oil does not feature prominently in Cambodian cuisine. The last modification is that I did not shake the ingredients in a jar. Instead, I used a whisk to create an emulsion. I thought that would better mix the ingredients as well as improve the texture of the dressing. 

In the end, this recipe was very good. The ginger still shined in the dressing, but the sweetness from the honey and the slight tartness of the lime juice were also present in the flavor of the dressing. Not only does the dressing work well on clams, but it would also be a good condiment for grilled fish. That will be another post for another day.

GRILLED CLAMS WITH CAMBODIAN GINGER DRESSING

Recipe adapted from Theo Cooks

Serves 2-3

Ingredients:

• 2 pounds of top neck clams (about 8 to 12)
• 2 tablespoons grated ginger
• 1 clove garlic, grated
• 1 lime juiced
• 1 teaspoon soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon honey
• Salt
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
• Pinch dried chile flakes
• Handful of finely chopped cilantro

Directions:

1. Prepare the dressing. Combine all of the ingredients, except the cilantro, together in a bowl. Whisk until the ingredients are well combined. Add the cilantro and stir to combine. 

2. Grill the clams. Heat a grill on high heat. Place the clams on the grate. Close the grill and cook the clams until they open, at most 5 minutes.  Remove the clams from the grill.

3. Finish the dish. Remove the top shells from the clams. Spoon some of the dressing over the clams and serve immediately.

PEACE.

Steamed Snow Crab

Snow crabs --  also known as chionocetes opilio, "opilio crabs" or just "Opies" -- are native to the northern Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. One can find Opies at depths between 43 feet and over 7,000 feet, but they usually hang out on sandy or muddy areas around 110 feet deep. The Atlantic Opies are located along Greenland, Newfoundland and the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The Pacific Opies are predominantly found in the waters around Alaska and Siberia. If anyone has watched any of the nineteen seasons of the TV show, Deadliest Catch, then you have inevitably watched crabbing vessels ply their way around the Bering Sea, pulling up large pots with snow crabs.  

Yet, chinocetes opilio may become better known as the twenty-first century, aquatic version of the proverbial "canary in the coal mine." Back in 2018, the U.S. National Marine Fisheries estimated that there were about eleven billion (11,000,000,000) snow crab in the northern Pacific ocean. By contrast, there was just 7.6 billion people on the planet in 2018.  Just three years later, in 2021, there were just over one billion (1,000,000) snow crab in the same region. A loss of ten billion would exceed the entire human population on the planet. (There were only 7.8 billion people on the planet in 2021.)

Researchers and scientists have spent the following three years (from 2021 through today) trying to determine what exactly caused this catastrophic plunge in the northern Pacific snow crab population. At the time, no one quite knew what happened. There were theories that the crab migrated to colder waters, either at greater depths or further North. Other theories revolved around disease or predators. Years passed and the research continued. In recent months, researchers and scientists have begun to go public with their conclusions. One organization -- the Global Seafood Alliance, a not-for-profit that promotes responsible and sustainable seafood practices --wrote a very interesting and troubling piece about that research. 

Charts explaining the snow crab collapse.
Source: Science (2023), Phys.org

The bottom line has a simple answer and a complicated one. The simple answer is that the snow crab starved to death. The more complicated answer involves climate change. There is no disputing the fact that temperatures have increased in the northern Pacific. The rising temperatures were the facts that led many to think the crabs migrated. However, they didn't. They remained where they were. And, relatively speaking at the time, there were a lot of snow crabs. However, as the temperatures increased, so did the metabolism of the snow crabs. The rising metabolism meant that the snow crabs needed to eat more. An increase of 3 degrees Celsius (or about 5.4 degrees Fahrenheit) requires snow crab to eat twice the amount of food they would otherwise eat. However, there was less to eat because of the rising temperatures. The combination of factors led to mass starvation and death. It also led to the closure of the snow crab seasons, with the resulting harm to fishing vessels and their crews. 

The snow crabs are a warning sign and it is one that has led me to limit the snow crab that I purchase and consume. The last time I probably bought snow crab was back in 2018 or 2019, before the news broke about the population loss. I broke down recently to purchase some snow crab legs as a treat for my beautiful Angel and the kids, as well as an opportunity to talk about the pressures that threaten the crab's future. 

Generally, snow crab is easy to prepare. The best way is to set up a steam pot and steam it for about 10 to 15 minutes (if the snow crab is frozen, less time if it is thawed). The steamed crab needs only be served with melted butter. 

But, I looked around for something to add to this special dish. I ultimately I found a recipe for a spice mix that reminded me of my project  -- In Search of Orange Gold -- in which I sought to recreate Old Bay. The mix worked well with well with the melted butter and the snow crab. It also works well as a blackening spice for fish. 

After this recipe, I will go back to my old ways of not buying snow crab.

STEAMED SNOW CRAB

Spice Mix Recipe from Delish.com

Serves 4-6

Ingredients (for the crabs):

• 4 pounds snow crab legs (about 3 clusters to a pound)
• 1/4 cup distilled vinegar
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• 2 bay leaves
• 1 tablespoon mustard seeds
• 2 teaspoons allspice berries
• Water
• 1 cup butter, melted, divided into four serving ramekins

Ingredients (for the spice mix):

• 2 tablespoons kosher salt
• 1 tablespoon smoked paprika
• 2 teaspoons dried oregano
• 2 teaspoons dried thyme
• 2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
• 2 teaspoons garlic powder
• 2 teaspoons onion powder
• 1 teaspoon granulated sugar
• 3/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Directions:

1. Prepare the steam pot. Add 2 to 3 cups of water to a steam pot, so that the water level is below the plate or steam basket. If you want to add additional flavorings, add the vinegar, garlic, bay leaves, mustard seeds and allspice berries. Heat the pot, covered, on high until the water starts to boil and steam comes out

2. Prepare the spice mix. Combine all of the ingredients in a small bowl, mix thoroughly. Set aside. 

3. Steam the snow crabs. Add the snow crabs to the pot by layering them. Cover and cook for about 5 minutes. 

4. Finish the dish. Remove the pot from the heat and remove the crabs from the pot. Serve immediately with the melted butter and spice mix.  

PEACE.

When Oysters Can't Sleep

This appears to be the reason why oysters found in deep water are rather small; darkness hinders their growth, and their gloom robs them of appetite.

-- Pliny the Elder 

Pliny's words may hold true for oysters that find themselves in the deep depths of water; but, what if oysters find themselves in a world of light. Does that mean that they will thrive and grow to be big and plump? Put another way, what if oysters are exposed to too much light? What happens in that case?

Those questions were tackled by researchers from the University of Bordeaux. Those researchers - Audrey Botte, Laura Payton and Damien Tran - published a study in the Marine Pollution Bulletin. The researchers kept oysters in several tanks. They turned up the lights slowly to simulate the rising sun and then kept the lights on as if it were daytime. They turned down the lights as the sun would set, but they did not turn them down all the way. Instead, they left a dim glow, which was supposed to simulate artificial light at night. After they concluded their study, they published their findings: 

Our results showed that ALAN [artificial light at night] disrupts the oyster's daily rhythm by increasing valve activity and annihilating day/night differences of expression of circadian clock and clock-associated genes.

So, too much light -- or too much continuous light -- has a negative effect upon oysters.  The following graphic also demonstrates the researcher's findings:

Put simply, light pollution - especially light produced by cities during the night time - has an effect upon the daily lives of oysters. The impact upon the oysters' biological rhythms affects the bivalves' genes. Those genes are what turn on oysters during the day and turn them off at night. But, if there is continuous light, the oysters do not turn off. They don't sleep. They have insomnia. 

The effects of insomnia upon people are well researched and documented. Generally, according to the Mayo Clinic, insomnia can cause physical, mental and emotional complications. People are less effective at what they do. One can surmise that insomnia could have equivalent effects upon oysters - making them less effective at what they do and perhaps even affecting how their internal systems operate.  For people, the solution involves, in part, improvement in sleeping habits. Perhaps for oysters, the solution lies in improving their sleeping habits. That means turning off the lights. 

All of the discussion of oysters got me to thinking about my favorite oyster recipes. If I had to choose one recipe that, to date, is my favorite oyster recipe, it would be the following one. There is something about oysters and gazpacho that is the perfect combination, at least in my humble opinion.

MY ALL-TIME FAVORITE OYSTER RECIPE

ANDALUSIAN-INSPIRED OYSTER SHOOTERS

A Chef Bolek Original

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 1 pint of shucked oysters or 24 oysters shucked with liqueur reserved
• 1 1/2 pounds of tomatoes, skinned, seeded and chopped
• 1/2 red bell pepper, diced
• 1/2 cucumber, skinned, seeded, diced
• 1/2 jalapeno, skinned, seeded and diced
• 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar or sherry vinegar
• 1 bunch of scallions, white parts and green parts thinly sliced
• 1/2 cup water
• Kosher salt, to taste
• Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Directions:

1.  Prepare the "gazpacho."  Place the tomatoes, bell pepper, cucumber, white wine vinegar, and jalapeno in a blender.  Blend until the ingredients are liquified.  Add salt and pepper to taste. 

2.  Prepare the oysters.  If you buy a pint of oysters, remove the oysters and strain the liquid through cheesecloth.  If you bought the oysters, shuck the oysters and reserve the liqueur.

3.  Finish the dish.  Stir the oyster liqueur into the "gazpacho."  Place 1 or 2 oysters in the bottom of a shot glass, and 1-2 tablespoons of the "gazpacho."  Garnish with the scallions.  Serve immediately.

OTHER DELICIOUS OYSTER DISHES TO TRY

If you are looking for other dishes that will make oysters lie awake at night, here are some recipes that I strongly recommend: 

Vietnamese Grilled Oysters: This recipe presents grilled oysters with a topping that incorporates a perfect balance of the five tastes: spice, sour, salty, bitter and sweet.The chiles provided the spice. Lime juice perhaps contributes the sour or bitter flavors. Fish sauce definitely imbues a salty umami flavor and there can be no dispute that honey adds sweetness to the dish. 

Oyster Ceviche: This recipe allows one to "cook" oysters in a different way, through the chemical reaction caused by the oysters marinating in citrus juice. That chemical reaction is also the common method of preparing ceviche, which is a well known dish throughout Latin America.

Oyster Shooters with Tomato, Lime and Chiles: I called this recipe ever invented. That was back in 2017, which was one year before I discovered my Andalusian-Inspired Oyster Shooters recipe. Still, the combination of tomatoes, limes and chiles works well for a non-alcoholic oyster shooter. 

Oysters Rockefeller: No list of oyster dishes would seemingly be complete without a reference to Oysters Rockefeller. The dish that originated in New Orleans and whose original recipe is still a closely guarded secret. My first attempt at the dish was not bad, but the end result was very tasty.

These are just some of the oyster recipes on this blog. If you want to see the other posts, just click on "Oysters" in the word cloud in "What's in my Fridge + Pantry." Until next time,

PEACE.