Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Dasheen through the snow, in a 4WD hard top Jeep...

Through the banana fields we go
Saint Lucia all the way

Soca carols play (on the radio)
Making spirits bright

What fun it is to drive and eat
Before the blizzard strikes!

Full lunch: Curry beef, rice, mac and cheese, "greens", black eyed peas, potato salad.
St. Lucia is a diverse mix of cultures: As a formerly French colony, turned British, populated by African slaves, its cuisine is a mixture of Creole and East Indian, with some British influence (East Indian indentured servants were brought to work in the Caribbean during the 19th century, after the abolition of slavery throughout the British empire). There was much fish; there was much curry. There was a significant amount of dasheen pie, yet never enough.

Dasheen is a form of taro, of which both the leaves and root are used. The starchy root is used to make dasheen pie, something akin to a potato croquette. But better.

Dasheen. Before pie.
On Saturday mornings, the Castries food market in the capital comes alive with produce and spice vendors. It was rainy, but that didn't harm the okra (unfortunately).

Ginger, cabbage and cukes, Oh My.


Soggy market.

Okra! Ugh.

Escaping the rain.


My suitcase smells like curry.

Cocoa tea: boiled with milk, drunk with glee.


Hooked.

Keeping an eye on their eggs.
Several communities on the island throw evening fish fries on the weekends, with music as well as, um, fish. The fry at Anse La Raye, a fishing village on the west coast, is mostly attended by locals. And this guy, my friend, Mr. Boxfish. RIP, my friend.

Blackfish, fishcake, shrimp, mussels, fried cassava bread, and turtle. Yes, turtle.

Fishcakes, curry chicken, and roti: a trio that repeated itself throughout the trip, without complaint.

Lamb roti and a Piton, the local beer.
(The actual Pitons).

Curry chicken plate, with the ubiquitous tuna-potato salad.
One small lunch deviation for callalloo soup and soda bread (there's your British influence):

Mmm, healthy.
St. Lucians make a drink called spice rum, which is white rum soaked in herbs and spices and mixed (sometimes) with grenadine to make a tonic good for curing... well, it seems just about everything.

A little medicinal, but I did have a cold.
We bought a jug of spices to make our own at home. Infusing time: A minimum of 6 months. Included: Cinnamon, bay leaves, star anise, peppercorns, allspice, cloves, and the bark of a tree that I embarrassingly forgot the name of. Jug: An old Carlo Rossi bottle. An excellent example of reuse, I think.

Pre-rum. Check back in 6 months for post-rum.


Banana plantations were vital to the economy of St. Lucia during the 20th century, taking hold after sugarcane was gradually phased out in the 1950s. But in the 90s, the EU stopped preferentially buying bananas from the Windward Islands, and St. Lucia's economy took a hit from which it has not recovered.
Driving through the banana fields.

Their bananas are much, much tastier than ours.
We visited a local organic farm that sells its produce to nearby hotels and restaurants. Cassava, dasheen, carrots, okra, pineapple, squash, corn, and herbs are all planted together.


Sorrel, used to make a traditional Christmas drink.

Okra: now I know what to avoid.
Of course, there was the requisite foreign soft drink to try. I do it so you don't have too.

Unless you're a hummingbird, avoid this.
On a more serious note -- the island was badly hit by Hurricane Tomas this past November. Many people we met were still without running water, houses and roads have been destroyed by landslides, and several people lost their lives. This holiday, consider donating to those in need, wherever they may be.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

(Leftover) Cranberry (Sauce) Pie

It's more than a week after Thanksgiving at this point. If you haven't eaten the cranberry sauce by now, you never will.

Sweet, tart, and as visually appealing as bowl of borscht.
Year after year, I make cranberry sauce that no one ever touches -- except me. Despite delicious additions (apples, bourbon, copious amounts of sugar), I'm always left with heaping bowls of it afterwards. Or at the very least, leftover cranberries in the freezer.

There are a number of people in my family who are of the variety who "don't like some things to touch the other things on [their] plate" or who "don't like sweet things with the savory" or who "don't like cranberry sauce." ("I don't like cranberry sauce," they say. "No, I don't need to try it again this year.") Have you never savored a duck a l'Orange? I want to ask. Have you never enjoyed chili with a bit of mac & cheese mixed in?

Here's a more polite way to handle your bog-grown leftovers, if your family is as perversely cranberry averse as mine: Make a pie.

(Also, continue bringing it to the table year after year, in defiance. It's not like your mother ever gave up with her boiled Brussels sprouts; why should you?)

No one ignores you when you're baked into a pie. Just ask around Fleet Street.
(Leftover) Cranberry (Sauce) Pie
 Makes one 9 inch pie
  • 3 cups homemade cranberry sauce (I highly recommend this recipe, sans nuts)
  • 2 Tablespoons flour
  • Sugar, to taste
  • 2 Tablespoons butter
  • Dough for a 9 inch double crust
Preheat your oven to 425 degrees. Since cranberry sauce recipes vary, add enough sugar to your sauce that it skews more sweet than tart. Stir in the flour.

Roll out your bottom crust and line a 9 inch pie dish. Add the filling and dot with butter. Top with a second full crust, and brush with cream or egg wash if desired.

Sprinkle with sugar and bake for 15 minutes at 425, then lower the heat to 350 for an additional 30-45 minutes, or until crust is golden brown. Serve with whipped cream and a side of I-Told-You-So.

Oh, so NOW you want second helpings...