Meal 58: Fiji

We had been planning this meal with 18 Reasons, a warm and welcoming non-profit community food space in San Francisco, for almost a year. Taking the day off of work to prep and cook with my parents, the larger audience of friends new and old, and the gorgeous organic ingredients from Bi-Rite Market all contributed to a special and gratifying experience. But didn't really hit me how this meal was operating on an atypical plane until one of the volunteers very politely asked if there was enough food that they could try a bit. Two full-on staff helping to serve dishes, pour wine and wash up, without even the expectation of joining us at the table, was a first for this amateur chef.

Not only was the setting unique, but this was first adventure into the islands of the Pacific, a region rich in root vegetables, tropical fruits, seafood — and in the past several decades, canned meat. Thanks to a large Indian population, courtesy of British colonial practices a century and a half ago, Fiji's cuisine has a strong fusion streak, with the spices and techniques of South Asian cooking. I found most of what I needed, including citrus (50 limes!), coconut milk (7 cans!), and some beautiful fresh fish, at 18 Reasons' parent market, Bi-Rite. We did have to adventure to the appropriately named Fiji Market in nearby San Bruno for taro, kava, and canned corned beef.

We had a really wonderful time, with a fun cross-section of friends we knew, members of the 18 Reasons community, and others who'd heard about us. The spirit of getting to know food, culture, and each other through shared experience, that we and 18 Reasons both celebrate, shone through brightly. We owe a huge thanks to Olivia, the program coordinator, who not only made sure things ran smoothly and that we kept on schedule, but brought an awesome blend of hospitality and helpfulness that made us feel right at home in the unfamiliar surrounds of a commercial kitchen.

Kokoda | Coconut milk ceviche | Recipe

This dish is pretty much as excellent as it sounds. The types of fish the recipe recommends were either prohibitively expensive or unsustainable, so we went with local rockfish, which worked out great. The only challenge in making this dish is not feeling sad when you have to drain the acid-cooked fish of all that lime and lemon juice you hand-squeezed! (But don't worry, plenty of that citrus flavor remains. And you don't have to pour out every last drop.) This is a great dish to make ahead for a party, and if you like it spicy feel free to liven it up a bit more than we did.

Curried sweet potato and banana saladRecipe

It sounds strange, and looks unappetizing, but this dish is a real winner. Bananas and baked sweet potatoes, which I've never seen together in a dish, have a similar mushy texture and earthy sweetness that complement each other quite well. The garlic and curry powder provide a robust, savory counterbalance, which is enlivened by sautéeing the two together to release the flavors and colors of the powder into the oil while making the garlic a bit nutty. (I just learned that this technique is core to Indian cooking, and called chaunk). The seasoning is mixed with a generous hunk of mayonnaise and folded to coat everything. I imagine this lasts long in the fridge; we wouldn't know as it was all gobbled up, the blend of sweet, creamy, and turmeric-heavy spice proving too much to resist.

Palusami | Corned beef and coconut milk baked in taro leaves | Recipe

 
Gonna be honest, this didn't seem like it was going to go well. The folks at the Fijian market have to chase us down as we were getting in the car to remind us to take the cans of corned beef, and when we opened them, the smell bore a striking resemblance to cat food. Happily, it was all uphill from there. We'd found beautiful, fresh taro leaves — the above-ground part of the tuber — which worked nicely as the outer layer of this sort of casserole. Mixing with coconut milk and herbs toned down the intensity of the corned beef, and layers of sliced tomatoes and onions added some texture and calmer flavors. Traditionally it's baked by being buried with hot stones, but instead we had a fiercely efficient commercial convection oven at our disposal. The dish is a pretty intense combination of flavors, textures, and colors, and at least as far as I'm concerned, it was pretty good (and in particular not as salty as I'd feared) but not exactly something I'll add to my repertoire.

Steamed taro

This fairly bland and starchy tuber is very high in oxalic acid, the same chemical that makes the back of your teeth feel dry after eating a bunch of spinach. Some people even need to use gloves to handle it so their skin doesn't get irritated. There are a lot of ways to cook taro, and in Fiji they tend to steam it. The kitchen didn't have a true steaming setup, so we improvised, and apparently undercooked, because some people got itchy mouths and throats from it! Lesson learned.

Coconut chutney | Recipe

I might call this more of a slaw or a salad, since it doesn't really resemble either the syrupy or soupy, tangy, highly spiced condiments we're used to carrying that name. Call it what you may, a little pile of this limed-up coconut shred definitely added some flavor and intrigue to the taro. (Also, gotta say this coconut was a lot easier to break and separate from the shell than most I've used, maybe it was fresher than what I normally find?)

Squash and chana dhal | Summer squash and yellow lentil stew | Recipe

I chose this dish partly to accommodate the vegetarians, but also to more wholly represent the Fiji-Indian population. This recipe is a pretty good dhal, not too hot but with a good variety of spices. The squash is a novel addition; in my experience with Indian food, generally a dhal is pretty much legume and onion, with no other vegetable sharing the stage. It would seem I made one error, though: after cooking this dish, I discovered that "chana dhal" is peeled split black chickpeas/garbanzos and commonly used in India, whereas in Fiji, this dish would have been made instead with yellow split peas. My guess is the Fijian dish would probably have been a bit softer and not cooked for as long, but I think this one still turned out quite well.

Roti | Indian flatbreadRecipe

Guess what: if all you've got is 20 minutes, some flour, and optionally a bit of butter, you can make bread! Roti is really as simple as it gets: mix flour with water until it's a decent dough; knead it a bit, then roll it into rounds on a floured surface; then cook for about a minute on each side on a pan or griddle. The butter, added once the roti hits the grill much as you'd put blueberries in a pancake, makes it tastier but isn't necessary. (The variation in colors in the photo is due to the fact that we made them with whole-wheat flour until we ran out, and then turned to white flour.) Huge thanks to our friend Felicity for showing up, strapping on an apron, and jumping in to help my mom whip up a few dozen just in time for dinner!

Cassava cake | Recipe

Throughout the world, we've seen cassava prepared so many ways — steamed, boiled, sauteed, fried, powdered, fermented — and you've surely had it as a dessert at some point in the form of tapioca pudding, but never have I seen this flexible and widespread root in its solid form. The ingredient list is so simple, basically just cassava, sugar, and coconut milk, though it does take labor to peel and grate the root and then squeeze it to extract liquid while retaining starch. But it's a very forgiving recipe, you can tweak the proportions to your taste, and cooking it for a few minutes more or less will pretty much just affect how brown the top is. After a meal with some pretty odd flavor combinations, this mildly sweet and moderately spongy-sticky dish was a nice wrapup.

Kava 

But wait, there's more! A Fijian feast would be quite incomplete without this traditional relaxing drink. We were very lucky to have Monica, a returned Peace Corps volunteer, who taught us how Fijians dry and ferment the root, grind it up, and often drink bowl after bowl. While it's not alcohol, the similarity of the effect leads them to call it "being drunk." It's pretty straightforward to make, just put some amount in cheesecloth, dunk that into water, and massage the lump until your hands start to get numb. It smells no better than mildly decomposed leaves, and tasted pretty bitter, but once the sensation of calm and lethargy starts to hit, it's amazing how easy it is to overlook all that.

18 Reasons generously included local beer (the Fijian stuff doesn't seem to be very good) and some nice, crisp New Zealand sauvignon blanc. Laura pulled together an intriguing playlist, including one type of music that surprisingly combines country, disco, and island sounds in roughly equal proportion. And huge thanks, once again, to the volunteers who spent the evening helping us have such a great time.

We had such a fun time, both in the preparation and the enjoying of the meal, and hope to be able to do more of this sort of collaboration — both with 18 Reasons and other great food-community orgs — in the future!

Week 9: Australia

While Australia is the furthest country in the world from most of the US, my research made it clear that the cuisine there is quite similar to our own — a Western European base with plenty of influences from immigrants around the world. So it took a little asking around to figure out what I could make that would be an only-in-Australia sort of thing. And this is how I learned about the mad genius of the Aussie burger, with a few other gems thrown in.

Tonight was a mini-reunion of Albania, with Snezan, Neely, Rudina, and Kirsty in attendance. We also had the pleasure of the company of Kirsty's mother (all the way from England) and elementary school teacher (all the way from Alabama), as well as Rudina's boyfriend Adam and my friend Mike. Thank goodness the threat of rain never materialized, because between the crowd and the need to grill, doing this one outside was a must.

Vegemite on toast

I'd heard plenty about this yeast extract spread that's apparently an immense cultural anchor and source of Australian pride and identity. Well, I found it at Fairway, and we spread it on toast. It was very salty and was like essence of meat in spreadable form. Check that off the foods bucket list.

Prawns in coriander-pepper sauce | Recipe

 

If an American has a thought about Australian food, it's probably "shrimp on the barbie," from a long-running and very successful tourism advertising campaign. It turns out, though, that in Australia they're called prawns, but that's where the inauthenticity ends — barbecuing them is definitely appropriate! I found this recipe, whose marinade is made from the entirely of the coriander (a.k.a. cilantro) plant, including the roots. I used the largest reasonably-priced prawns I could find, and I made sure to get them wild-caught because I've read some awfully nasty things about farmed shrimp/prawns. I had to peel and devein them myself, which wasn't a horrible hassle but probably worth paying a few extra points to avoid next time. Anyway, it was really yummy, a good nibble to pass the time while waiting for the main event.

Beef burger with the lot | "Aussie burger" | Recipes: burger, barbecue sauce

 

Imagine a hamburger, made with breadcrumbs and some stuff to make it extra juicy. Now imagine it slathered with homemade barbecue sauce, and then stacked with cheddar cheese, a grilled pineapple ring, pickled beets, bacon, and, I kid you not, a fried egg (the recipe above doesn't call for that but I saw several mentions elsewhere). Yes, this was difficult to eat. Yes, this was a bizarre combination of flavors. But gosh, it was good. As Adam observed, the Chinese say that a meal should feature the five major flavors, and, well, this featured them all and then some in one impossible sandwich.

Brussels sprouts with bacon and shallots | Recipe

 

Out of all that comprises "bush tucker," the umbrella term for fruits, vegetables, game and even grubs from the outback, the only native Australian plant-based food that seems to have spread this far is macadamia nut. I made do with a tip from Kirsty that Aussies like brussels sprouts, and I found this nice little recipe on an Australian site, so there we go. Turns out that Fairway has slab bacon that halfway replicates rashers, but I went a bit overboard and got the proportions wrong. This dish ended up a bit more like bacon with a smattering of sprouts. Oops! Well, nobody complained.

Anzac biscuits | Recipe below

Australia does lay claim to some distinctive desserts. I learned about the meringue-and-cream pavlova, but (sorry Aussies) my research leads me to conclude that it's originally from New Zealand so we'll want to do it then. The chocolate-dipped cake squares known as lamingtons seemed neat too. But Kirsty brought a recipe for Anzac biscuits from her ex's mother, so in the interest of keeping things in the family we went with that. These cookies are named after the Australia and New Zealand Army Corps, the one that met an infamous fate at Gallipoli in World War I. Apparently they were made to last during a long shipment, and to make do during a shortage of eggs, and the oats and coconut hold up valiantly. These disappeared within five minutes of hitting the table, warm from the oven.

As Mike put it, we'd been expecting that this might be a boring meal, but it turned out to defy that expectation. And I'll definitely keep that prawn marinate recipe in mind for future cooking — I could see it going on other types of fish, or even chicken. Next week takes us to Austria, where they don't do shrimps on barbies. Laura's parents and sister will be our guests of honor!

 

Anzac Biscuits
1 cup of rolled oats
1 cup of plain flour
1 cup of sugar
¾ cup of coconut
2 tablespoons golden syrup (note! this is not corn syrup or molasses or anything else. You can find it British specialty aisles and the like.)
125g (4oz.) butter (one stick)
½ teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda (aka baking soda)
1 tablespoon boiling water

Combine oats, sifted flour, sugar and coconut. Combine butter and golden syrup stir over a gentle heat until melted. Mix bicarb of soda with boiling water, add to melted butter mixture, stir into dry ingredients. If the mixture appears a little dry just add a little more butter or margarine. Place tablespoonfuls of mixture on lightly greased oven trays: allow room for spreading. Cook in slow oven for 20 minutes. Loosen while warm, then cool on trays.

Makes about 35