I Love Yogurt

Above, one-quarter of the glorious yogurt isle in Carrefour.

Dairy products - outside of 1-gallon milk jugs, pre-sliced American cheese and ice cream - being completely absent from my Chinese mother's kitchen, yogurt probably made a very late appearance in my life. I don't really even remember eating yogurt, much less enjoying it, before living in France. But I do remember suddenly liking yogurt very much the semester I studied abroad - so much so that I wrote home about it on several occasions. Why the change? Possibly because there is a significant difference between when Americans eat yogurt and when the French eat yogurt; Americans eat yogurt as a breakfast food, or as a snack whereas traditionally, the French eat yogurt as a dessert. There is something particularly satisfying in a cool, sweet, light dessert after a meal. But mostly because there was a significant difference in taste. I remember eating tiny tubs of unctuous stracciatella from Danone, fruit tarts in yogurt form from la Latière... I even enjoyed the creamy prune yogurt!

One of the pleasures, then, of living in France is the yogurt. Besides the typical strawberry-, peach- and cherry-flavored yogurt, there are more local flavors available in the supermarket aisles here.

Above, Danone's Velouté Fruix, Yoplaît's Caresse and Littée's Mixé.

Danone's Velouté Fruix has Guava, Coconut, Mango, and Passion Fruit/Peach. Yoplaît's Caresse has Guava, Piña Colada, Litchi, and Passion Fruit/Peach. Littée's Mixé has pineapple, mango, guava and vanilla. Veoluté Fruix and Caresse are fairly similar - quite tasty - and when we are at the store, we choose whichever one happens to be on sale at the moment. Littée, whose neon-colored labelling might serve as indication, is a bit too sweet.

Occasionally, when there is some pineapple in the house, I will cut up some pieces and add them to some coconut yogurt, with a splash of rum. A bit rich? ... not at all.

Plantain Pancakes

Sundays are made for extravagant breakfasts. Having successfully made plantain crepes, I tried making plantain pancakes. I used the Barry Farms recipe I had found while researching plantain flour. I halved the recipe, since I was only making pancakes for two. I also substituted melted butter for the cooking oil, since, I do love the butter.

Ingredients
1 cup plantain flour
1 ½ tsp baking powder
dash salt
1 ½ tbs sugar
1 egg
1 ½ tbs melted butter
½ cup milk

The batter is ashen in color, somewhat less appetizing than the creamy yellow color of a regular wheat flour batter. The recipe gives an incredibly thick batter. I ended up adding a few tablespoons more of milk just to thin the batter out. The pancakes turn out quite nicely, though, the ashen color turning golden brown in the pan. There is no perceptible difference in cooking time, and the edges crisp nicely in the butter. The texture is smooth, and dense, resembling bread. There are slight differences between the plantain pancakes and wheat flour pancakes, but I think the satisfaction is about the same.

My favorite type of pancakes are those made with buttermilk. I'm thinking about trying the recipe again, but replacing the milk with buttermilk. From the information I've found, plantain flour seems to rise less easily than wheat flour. I think the buttermilk might help to make the pancake fluffier, less bread-like. I just have to figure out how to make buttermilk, a product unknown in France, and certainly unknown in Guadeloupe.

Other Uses for Colombo Powder

When I first decided to make colombo six months ago, I had purchased a 250g bag of colombo powder at the supermarket. Two hundred and fifty grams of colombo powder is actually a lot, and certainly constitutes more dishes of colombo than I am ready to eat. So, what to do with all that powder? I had moment of food inspiration when I realized that I could use the colombo powder in Singapore Noodles.

Singapore Noodles is a fairly popular dish found on menus in almost all Chinese restaurants. It should be noted that the dish isn't actually from Singapore, but is rather an interpretation by (immigrant) Chinese cooks of the spicy noodle dishes common in Singapore. In any case, Singapore Noodles are usually made with vermicelli noodles, dyed a bright yellow by the turmeric in the curry powder, sauteed with peppers. The remaining ingredients - which can include shrimp, roast pork, strips of fried egg - depends largely on the cook. The recipe for BBC Good Food for Singapore noodles includes both a vegetarian and a meat version. Below is my recipe for Singapore Noodles. I change the quantities depending on what is available, whether or not the dish is supposed to be a stand alone dish, whimsy...

Ingredients:
Angel hair pasta
1 medium-sized onion, thinly sliced half moons
1 large bell pepper, julienned
3 - 4 piments vegetaliens (1), de-seeded, julienned
2 eggs, beaten
2 slices of ham, cut into strips
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 tsp grated ginger
3/4 tsp colombo powder
green onion, chopped
soy sauce

1. Boil a pot of water, cook the angel hair pasta according to package directions. Drain and set aside.

2. Heat some oil in a sauté pan. When the pan is hot, pour in the beaten egg.

3. Swish the beaten egg around to ensure an even layer over the bottom of the pan. Cook until the egg is set on the pan side, then flip the egg to cook the other side.

4. Remove the egg from the pan and cut the egg into thin strips.*

5. Heat some oil in a wok or sauté pan. When the oil is hot, throw in the garlic and turn down heat to medium. Cover and allow the garlic to cook for a minute. Then add the ginger.

4. Turn the heat back up to high. Throw in the onion, bell peppers, and piments. Stir the onions, bell peppers, and piments to make sure there is even cooking.

5. Once the onions and bell peppers have slightly softened, add the colombo powder. Stir to mix.

6. Turn the heat down to medium. Throw in ham strips, egg strips, green onion. Stir to mix.

7. Add angel hair pasta. Combine all ingredients. Add soy sauce and combine to coat.

* To save time, you do not have to cook the eggs separately. After sauteeing the onions and peppers, push them to the side, and pour in the beaten eggs. Stir the eggs. Once the eggs are scrambled, combine the egg with the onions and peppers. Add colombo powder and continue with the recipe as detailed above.

I like eating my noodles with Huy Fong sriracha, a veritable luxury given that a regular 17oz bottle costs almost 10€ (2). The noodles pictured above also have roast pork, but that is an additional step that requires a bit of planning. Sliced ham is a good stand in.

Singapore Noodles is something I would have never made before. My parents are from southern China, and this type of oil-heavy, spicy dish is not part of our cuisine. I don't associate it as food I would eat at home; It was always something we ate at canteens in Chinatown. But its been several years since I've moved out of my parents' home, and the food I cook is no longer defined solely by the ethnic background of my parents. Still, cooking Chinese food - and, in particular, Chinese food that I would have eaten at restaurants only - is challenging. I don't mean that technically, of course - any regular home cook with the right ingredients can manage Chinese food. I mean that it requires rearranging fixed ideas about my own abilities, and how I interact with my environment. Like learning to cook Korean food, daring to cook Chinese food is a definite gain.




(1)






(2) I imagine that the price is high because the sauce is twice imported: imported first by Frères Tang in Paris, then on to Guadeloupe by local importers.

Plantain Flour

Recently, I discovered plantain flour in the supermarket. I wasn't looking for it, but the colorful label caught my eye. Even though plantains are a staple in Antillais cuisine, plantain flour doesn't seem to be. After turning it over a few times I added it to my grocery cart.

Mostly, I was thinking about my mother. After a lifetime of eating wheat and wheat products, my mother discovered that she was allergic to wheat about a year ago. Its not a serious allergy, she can allow herself to eat wheat occasionally, but its preferable for her to avoid it. Giving up pasta and bread was not easy, but it was certainly easier thanks to a wide range of rice- or soy-based products found in Asian food stores.

Could plantain flour provide another wheat flour alternative?

Somewhat surprisingly, I wasn't able to find much information online. With the seemingly exponential increase of wheat and gluten allergies, I simply assumed that plantain flour would be one of many proposed alternatives, along with chickpea flour, soybean flour, fava bean flour, etc. Still, I was able to find some interesting tidbits:

*****

The Post-Harvest Compendium, an initiative of the UN Food and Agriculture Organization, has an interesting page on post-harvest operations for the plantain, including the production of plantain flour. Here is a description of how plantain flour is made:

Unripe plantain is traditionally processed into flour in Nigeria and in other west and central African countries. This traditional technology is equally present in Amazonian Bolivia. The preparation method consists of peeling of the fruits with the hands, then cutting the pulp into small pieces, and air drying them for few days. The dried pulp is then ground in a wooden mortar or a corn grinder. The flour produced is mixed with boiling water to prepare an elastic pastry (alama in Nigeria and foufou or fufu in Cameroon) which is eaten with various sauces. The colour of the flour obtained is more or less dark due to the action of browning enzymes. Some improvement of this traditional method, by blanching the plantain pulp at 80°C for 5 minutes and cutting them into round pieces, [...] followed by draining and drying in a drying oven at 65°C for 48 hours or in the sun for some days resulted in the production of a more or less whitish flour. Plantain flour containing 10 percentage of residual humidity and hermetically packed in plastic sachets can be kept for many months without deterioration of its qualities.

The passage goes on to describe various end products, such as fritters and cakes.

Plantains may be staples in many African countries, transformation of plantains into other products seems relatively new. In an issue of African Journal of Biotechnology (1), Nigerian researchers report on the use of wheat and soybean/plantain composite flours. The purpose of the study is to find an alternative to wheat flour bread, whose consumption is steadily rising in the country. As an imported product, wheat is expensive, and so efforts are being made to find alternatives that utilize locally grown produce. The researchers found that plantain supplemented breads had "comparable sensory and nutritional qualities," but required a high proportion of wheat flour to be able to rise.

Another Nigerian study sheds light on the reasons why the use of plantain flour is not widespread (2). They conclude that plantain flour would have to sell for almost twice the price of imported wheat flour in order to be profitable. This clearly illustrates the challenges of introducing a product that competes with wheat. Because there would be both economic and social benefits to weaning Nigeria off imported wheat, the authors of the study recommend government subsidies to encourage the production of plantain flour and plantain four products.

*****

Anyway, I thought I would start with something simple: crêpes. I used my sister Js recipe for crêpes, which calls for regular wheat flour. I substituted the wheat flour with plantain flour 1 for 1.

3 tablespoons plantain flour
3 teaspoons sugar
1/3 cup milk
1 egg
pinch of salt

The flour is somewhat ashen when compared to regular wheat flour. The seeds in the plantain are not removed and so add black specks to the flour. Plantain flour also has a different odor; it smells slightly sweet, oddly sour. Otherwise, it seems to look and feel quite the same.

The crepes turned out well. Crepes lend well to the substitution because there is no rising action required. There was no particular banana taste.

I'd like to try some other recipes, but I'm a bit reticent to find myself with some soggy, mushy mess. The packaging includes a recipe for a cake, but calls for a mixture of plantain and wheat flour. I also found a recipe for plantain flour pancakes on the website for Barry Farm, a producer in Ohio that carries a wide selection of wheat flour alternatives. Its been a long time since I had pancakes, my last box of pancake mix finished months ago. I think I'll give the plantain pancakes a go*. Its got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

* I made plaintain pancakes two weeks later.


(1) Olaoye O. A., A. A. Onilude, O. A. Idowu. "Quality characteristics of bread produced from composite flours of wheat, plantain and soybeans."African Journal of Biotechnology Vol. 5, No. 11, 2 June 2006, pp. 1102-1106 (here)

(2) Ogazi, P.O. and K.G. Vaidya. "The Place of Plaintain in Bakery Products Production - Economic Aspects." ISHS Acta Horticulturae 123: VI African Symposium on Horticultural Crops. (here)

Colombo Update

Its been a while since I made colombo. The shortage of fresh meat was the main reason, but maybe a lack of inspiration, too.

I really should have read my post about colombo before I began. I had worked out all these problems and had come up with some good ideas, all of which I forgot to try (except for the tomatoes). In fact, it seems I began from scratch.

I hadn’t been really pleased with the way the pork was eating - a bit rough. So instead, I tried making it with chicken. I had intended to de-bone some drumsticks, but didn’t have the time and just cooked it on the bone. Chicken seems to be a vast improvement on pork: it simply tastes better with the sauce and the turmeric colors the meat into a nice dandelion/brown whereas the pork took on a brown/gray color.

I added two tomatoes (skinned and seeded) at the very end just a few minutes before I turned off the burner. It was the acidic note I was looking for.

Previously, I served my colombo with rice. Since there was none at the house, I roasted some potatoes with a bit of olive oil as the accompaniment. I reserved two cubes to put in with the chicken to thicken the sauce.

No eggplants, no christophines. But I did add a hard boiled egg. I don’t think that’s ever done with a traditional colombo, but its common in Indian curries.

The dish turns out quite well, even without all the intended improvements - the fresh ginger, the granny smith apple. The meal left me feeling inspired; I think I'll try making it again soon.

Sugar Cane Juice

The color of sugar cane juice certainly isn't very appetizing. The murky greenish brown liquid could easily be mistaken for very dirty mop water. The taste, then, is somehow even more remarkable for its unattractive color: sweet, crisp, and very refreshing.

We bought a bottle of freshly pressed cane juice this morning at the market in Basse Terre from a man and his truck. It comes in reused 1L water bottles for €3.50.

I had my first taste of cane juice in December. M. and I had driven to Baillif to see a special Christmas market. It was no more than a regular market, with vegetables and fruit, but with a few tables selling cakes. Somewhat in the center of the temporary market, there was a truck with the words 'jus du canne' wriiten in large bold red letters across the side. An old man was noisily extracting juice using a sugar cane press. M. and I were excited about buying a glass each to accompany the snacks we had purchased. Unfortunately, you had to bring your own bottle. Having none, we could buy no juice. A steady rain began to fall so we remained next to the truck to take shelter. And the old man, seeing us still there, told somebody to fetch two cups from the bakery across the way. He then served us two plastic cups of cane juice. When M. tried to pay him, the old man shook his head. It was free, he said. This was the famous Antillais hospitality.

Instead of heading to the beach on Easter Sunday like most Guadeloupeans, M. and I went to Morne-à-l'Eau for la Fête du Crabe. Every Easter Sunday for the past 17 years, les Mornaliens have celebrated the mangrove crab with an all day festival with live music, boat rides in the mangrove, ox rides, and of course, lots of crabs.

Above, left to right, a demonstration of quadrille on stage and the various stands participating in the festival.

This is the kind of event that people who grew up in small towns disparage. I revel in this folksy kind of stuff, and made M. bring me. There were some big-name sponsors, including the Bologne distillery and Capès mineral water, and had the support of various regional and local agencies. The entire festival is organized by the clunkily-named Association for the Protection and Development of the Crab and Other Resources of the Mangrove (l'Association pour la Protection et le développement du crabe et des autres ressources de la mangrove, APRODECARM).

Above, the sleek in-color program that was entirely ignored. Click on the image to read.

Manjé krab. Bwé Capes.

Ostensibly, the raison-d'etre of the festival is to to increase awareness regarding the ecological, economic and cultural importance the mangrove. This is perhaps necessary since the largest light industrial and commercial zone in all of France is located in Guadeloupe on razed and drained mangrove. But, everybody knows that the whole point of the festival is to eat some crab.

Smaller fare included crabe farci (stuffed crab), crab puff pastry. Main courses were spooned out from large vats, including Matété, Kalalou, Dombré, and Colombo. According to this recipe, the distinctive flavor of Matété comes principally from West Indian Bay seeds and leaves. For the kanalou, crabs sat in a swampy green sauce made with taro leaves. The dombré was the only dish not to be served with rice. In its place, little balls of flour – perhaps like gnocchi – which are boiled separately, then cooked with the crab stew. This recipe describes the sauce for dombré as tomato-based.

It would have been nice if a tasting plate was offered. Since that was not available, we had to make a choice. M. chose the Matété and I got myself a stuffed crab.


Above, left to right, Matété and stuffed crab.

Both had deep woodsy flavors, and that characteristic smokiness of Caribbean cooking.

I am not a huge fan of seafood, having only begun eating fish in the last few years. I made an exception today because it would be idiotic to attend a crab festival and not eat the crab. I was also encouraged by the fact that I had a very tasty king crab once. Though I do admit I was a bit put off by the little hairs (?) on the crab legs, and the beard. I got a little squeamish when M. purposely toyed with the eyes of my stuffed crab.

The festival spilled out beyond the square and past the police barricades blocking traffic on the street circling the square. On one of the side streets, somebody had decided to make a bit of a political statement:

Left, to catch a political crab...

In a patch of unused dirt, a collection of wooden crab traps, each with the names of political figures. Willy Angèle, the spokesperson for Medef; Nicolas Desforges, Préfet and Yves Jégo, Secretary of State for the Overseas Territories; Jacques Gillot, President of the General Council and Victorin Lurel, President of the Regional Council; Elie Domota, leader of LKP; and Colette Koury, President of the Chamber of Commerce and Industry. Above the crab traps, a play on the abbreviation of Lyannaj kont le profitayson (LKP), Lyannaj Krab Pak.

Besides the crabs, there were a number of stands occupied by artisans, most selling jewelry made from seeds and coconut shells. In the past, I associated this kind of stuff with the 'beach' look of Midwestern teens who live hundreds of miles from the ocean. Or, rasta-hip trendy types. But I've noticed a lot of the Antillais wear this kind of jewelry, to great effect.


Catch the Crab Fever

It was a bit like a New York street fair, except without the funnel cakes and $10 massages. I think that had the festival taken place in the US, there would have been crab balloons, a man in a crab suit, crab magnets, crab ashtrays and more, so much more. Some people might balk at such commercialism, and I would never buy any of that stuff myself, but I believe in going all out. People should really leave with crab-themed household items that clash horribly with everything they own, completely crabbed-out by the end. There is no sense of crab fanaticism, and there is certainly no passion. The feeling instead was more akin to affection, the same kind one might feel towards chicken breast. Maybe that is why one vendor, set up on the fringe of the festival to sell sorbet coco and pineapple cake, said that every year there are fewer and fewer vendors.

Let's hope people catch some crab fever next year.

Fresh Fish

(above, Simon's catch of the day: la dorade in the background, and poisson perroquet in the foreground)

The in-laws and I stopped by the market in Basse Terre today for some produce. I didn't mention in my first post about the market that fish mongers can also be found along the promenade. M. and I have bought from one in particular, Simon le pecheur. Today, he had a decent line of customers, waiting patiently while fish were sorted, scaled, and chopped up into pieces. We were interested in purchasing some dorade, more commonly known in the U.S. as mahi-mahi. Normally sold as thick steaks, mahi-mahi is a great white fish that eats like meat.

Mahi-mahi is an impressive-looking fish. Its an incredibly large fish, dark blue green in color with a flash of yellow, crowned with an imposing forehead. Nevertheless, I was struck by the other type of fish Simon was selling. They were all skinned, but I could tell from the beaked mouth that they were poisson perroquet, or parrot fish. They resembled skinned rabbits at the butchers.


The wikipedia entry for parrot fish notes that "Their meat is rarely consumed in the US; however, it is considered a delicacy in many other parts of the world." I have not yet seen parrot fish on any menu. But that may be due to tourists distaste for such exotica rather than a general dislike of the fish in Guadeloupe. They were certainly not selling as briskly as the mahi-mahi, but at least one customer purchased three parrot fish. In any case, its apparently a bad idea to eat parrot fish.

At some point, though, Europeans in the Mediterranean region apparently liked parrot fish quite a bit:

The best known is the parrot fish of the Mediterranean (A Cretemis, Rond.), of a red or blue color according to season, highly esteemed by the ancients ; it is about 15 inches long, of a general purplish color, roseous below, and violet brown on the back; the pectorals orange, ventraia with transverse lines of violet, and dorsal violet gray with golden spots and bands. There is more said' of this fish in the ancient writers than of any other ; in Pliny's time it was ranked as the first of fishes, and large sums were expended to stock the Italian waters with it from the sea between Crete and Asia Minor. By the ancients it was believed to have a voice, to sleep at night (alone of fishes), to be very ardent in the pursuit of the female, to release its companions and other fishes from nets, and to have the power of ruminating ; the last belief naturally arose from the backward and forward movements of the jaws rendered possible by the mode of articulation, and necessary for the complete mastication of the sea weeds upon which it principally feeds. Its flesh is tender, sweet, and easy of digestion, and the intestines and their contents were highly relished ; the modern Greeks call it scaro, and consider it a fish of exquisite flavor, eating it with a sauce made of its liver and intestines, as the moderns eat plover and woodcock ; its liver entered into the composition of the famous dish called "the shield of Minerva," with the brains of the peacock and pheasant, flamingoes' tongues, and the milt of the murena eel (1).

Such decadence...

*EDIT* (April 26, 2009) I was mistaken. These are not parrotfish. What they are, however, I am not sure. Simon simply called them bourse, but this is an incomplete name. From this page detailing the fish species of Guadeloupe, I narrowed bourse down to two possible families: monacanthidae (filefish) or balistidae (triggerfish). The fish here could possible fit both descriptions in wikipedia. I would put my money on the triggerfish.



(1) Ripley, George and C. A. Dana. The New American Cyclopaedia: A Popular Dictionary of General Knowledge. D. Appleton and Company, 1862.

Bearing Gifts

Going home means bringing goodies. I abhor tchotchkes. And the only thing worse than spending money to buy a tchotchke must to be gift one to somebody else. Instead, I like bringing food items. As my grandmother used to say, nothing better than something for the stomach. So, in my suitcase:

• two boxes of Cruesli
• one liter of milk
  
• 3 jars of Dame Besson Sauce Créoline
• 5 250g bags of ground Café Chaulet coffee beans
• 1 bottle of Père Labat ginger rum
• 1 box of Caoba Petit Cigarillos (from a trip to the Dominican Republic)
  

Okay, that last item isn't a food item, but its not a tchotke. The sauce, coffee, and rum are all Made in Guadeloupe. The Cruesli and milk is French. I would have included a few more things, but the strike made provisioning difficult.

I imagine that all of these items are available in New York. Surely not all in the same place. And not likely at the local bodega. But, the wonder of New York places anything and everthing - including obscure products from a small French state in the Caribbean - at one's fingertips. Still, I always travel bearing gifts. Its a particular joy to travel with a suitcase full of gifts, in anticipation of the loved ones who will receive them.

Plage de Malendure

One of the beaches where M. and I go with some frequency is the the beach of Malendure, in the village of Bouillante. Its a lovely little black sand beach with calm waters. M. has done most of his dives here, in the waters around les îlets Pigeon, within eyesight of the beach. Les îlets Pigeon - bits of land just peeking above the water - are incredibly accessible and supports abundant sea life.

Like all black sand beaches, the sand absorbs and retains the heat from the sun with incredible efficiency. I like to lay my blanket down underneath the coco trees for a bit of shade. The only problem is that many of the coco trees are still quite young, and so, there can be a bit of competition for a spot, especially on Sundays, and especially during high season. But, we've always managed to find a good shady spot.

My favorite part about coming to Malendure, though, is lunch. We always have a bokit. I was a bit lost as to how to describe a bokit. Michelin guide describes it as "a sort of large donut, stuffed with vegetables, cod, or anything you want, like a sub" (1). But, I find that definition incredibly vague, not to mention unappetizing (a fish-stuffed donut, anyone?). I think the Michelin definition reflects the lack of imagination of the French when it comes to sandwiches; anything that isn't made with a baguette is not quite a sandwich.

Above, my bokit, most likely made with white flour, lard, eggs, butter, and stuffed with shredded rotisserie chicken, lettuce, sliced tomatoes, hot sauce (hot sauce optional).

Anyway, I finally realized that a bokit is quite similar to naan, but instead of being baked, it is deep fried. The similarities between the two are probably no coincidence, as much of the food here has been influenced by Indians who immigrated here at the end of the 19th century.


Above, Chez Hubert.

We buy our bokits from the yellow sandwich truck, 'Chez Hubert,' reviewed in the 2007 edition of Petit Futé. I've never actually seen Hubert, its maybe his wife or sister who runs a one-woman sandwich show. The wait can be long, but so very worth it.

*UPDATE* (April 8, 2009) Hubert no longer operates from the yellow truck, and has constructed a free standing restaurant. There is still seating at the 'counter' but this is now supplemented by a few tables. The bokits are still just as good, and the wait just as long.


(1) bokit: sorte de gros beignet fourré de légumes, de morue ou de tout ce qu'on veut à la manière des pans-bagnats



Plage de Malendure
Black sand beach, lined with coco trees, located in a small bay. The water is calm, and waves are relatively small. The beach is very popular with tourists as a number of diving clubs and a few glass bottom boats depart from Malendure for the îlets Pigeon.
Location: Pigeon/Bouillante (Basse Terre)
Parking: Ample parking in front of the tourist office, directly in front of the beach (note that the parking lot has been sectioned in two by some of the food trucks); parking along the road.
Food: A few restaurants; Numerous food shacks and food trucks selling a variety of sandwiches, salads, soft drinks, etc. Sheltered picnic tables along the beach.
Public Showers: Yes, one of five that has yet to be vandalized, located on the side of the tourist office.
Public Restrooms: Yes, located on the other side of the tourist office. The ladies room is locked when the tourist office is closed.

My Colombo

Above, a closeup of my colombo.

A typical dish from the French West Indies is Colombo. Colombo is a meat dish that is simmered in a sauce flavored by colombo. Colombo is not one single spice, but actually a mixture of spices, with varying quantities of coriander, turmeric and cumin. My 250g bag of Colombo powder, purchased at the supermarket, also has powdered corn, hot peppers, fenugreek, ginger. A variety of meat can be used, the most common being chicken, pork, and goat. The dish is prepared with vegetables, and like colombo powder itself, varies depending on the cook. If colombo looks and tastes similar to Indian cuisine, it is because its origins are Indian. Colombo is the fusion of Indian cuisine, brought here by indentured Indian workers who came to the French West Indies after slavery was abolished, with local flavors.

I think a gauge of successful adaptation is the ability to cook local cuisine well. And so I've embarked upon a mission to cook a great colombo.

I've based my colombo on a short recipe that I found in a booklet on Antillais cuisine that M. bought upon his arrival. This particular recipe calls for the following ingredients: 500g lean pork, cut into pieces; 5 green onions; 1 clove of garlic, crushed; thyme; 1 large tablespoon of colombo powder, a pepper; and, according to the season, eggplant, christophine (chayote), green mangoes, and potatoes, cut into pieces.

The first time I made colombo, I used chunks of pork loin and 2 eggplants, following the directions fairly closely. It did not come out well. The second half of the recipe calls for simmering the meat and eggplants for 30-45 minutes, at the end of which, the chunks of eggplant had dissolved into skin and seeds. The sauce was too liquid-y.

The second time I made colombo, I used only 1 eggplant, and added a potato. I didn't follow the recipe anymore and cooked it as I would. It came out fairly well. I ended up with a good thick sauce, but very little of it.

This is the third time I've made colombo, and I think I've made some vast improvements to the form. Still one eggplant, but instead of the potato, I used chunks of igname (a local yam). I also added 1 christophine.


Above, my most recent attempt at colombo de porc. Yes, that is a wok. I cook with what I have.

Now that I've got the main ingredients and the cooking method down, I'll start working on the taste. I used fresh thyme the first two times, as I have for all the Antillais dishes I've made, but found that dried 'herbes de provence' actually gives a much stronger flavor. I started with one or two peppers, but now have increased the quantity to 4 or 5. Since there is already ginger in the powder, I think I may add some fresh ginger to the colombo next time. The green mango is supposed to add an acid note to the dish, which I think is lacking in mine. I'm not sure where I might procure a green mango, but, I've seen a recipe replacing the green mango with a Granny Smith apple. I might just add some tomatoes.

According to M., the colombo tastes great, and on par with the colombo at his local canteen. I have to admit that while I think it tastes good, I don't think it tastes great. I'm not sure if its the ratio of spices in my colombo powder, or if its a lack of some ingredient, or maybe I just don't like colombo. I do like Indian curry, though, so I think I just have to work at it.

I imagine myself one day, serving my colombo to my new Guadeloupean friends, and being congratulated on a colombo that is tastier than their grandmas ever made. May and her triumphant colombo...

Since I don't actually have any Guadeloupean friends yet, I still have some time to perfect my colombo.