Meal 42: Croatia

Thanks to its unique location, Croatia straddles several opposing forces of history and geography, and of course this is reflected in the food. It features a unique shape, a comically long and thin Mediterranean coastline with a big bulb at the north stretching inland toward the heart of the Balkans. Parts or all of it have been subject in turn to Venetian, Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires, which have lent such influences as pasta, lamb, and strudel. And of course it's a matter of geography, with the Adriatic providing for seafood, citrus, olives and other Mediterranean abundance, and the inland favoring heartier, roasted affairs. And through it all, the Croatians have very much enjoyed their drink, taking advantage of abundant  fruit-growing climates to make marvelous wines and all manner of brandies.

To craft this meal I had excellent guidance from Janet, the wife of a longtime family friend, who maintains strong connections to her relatives in Croatia. If I'd followed all her recommendations I'd have made a meal for fifty, so I picked and chose and still ended up spending all day in the kitchen! Frankly, without her I'd have been kinda lost and throwing darts at a cuisine that at first glance feels a bit random, and plus it's always a pleasure to learn about (and recreate!) family traditions. Thanks also to Zack, a friend of frequent nosher Caro, whose thoughts from several years of living there helped me clarify things.

Since a storm was blowing through we had to eat indoors, which was more than a bit warm what with the oven running pretty much all afternoon and evening. (Too bad 'cause it would have been fun to make the lamb in a "bell" on the barbecue as suggested.) Our guests were Colin, Kirsty, Sophie, Luisa, Christen, Sam, and Eleanor.

Pršut, Paški sir i masline | Prosciutto, Pag cheese and olives

I love how when words jump between languages, they tend to conform to the familiar sounds and patterns of the tongues of those who pronounce them. Never one to pass up an opportunity to explore a culinary angle, I wrote a paper for phonology class in college called "Holy Guacamole" about American English pronunciation of Mexican Spanish food names. Well, the morphing of the Italian prosciutto into the Croatian pršut is a textbook example: just as the word comes roughly from the Latin for "that which has had the moisture expunged," so have the Croatians compressed things by halving the number of letters and removing a syllable. Perhaps if I ever tackle the same topic again, I'll name the paper "In Pršut of Happiness."

Anyway. Along with the lovely slices of dry-cured ham, we nibbled on olives, but the star of this appetizer show was truly the cheese. Paški sir comes from the isle of Pag, where a salty dry wind stunts the growth of all but the hardiest of little shrubs, and the sheep that nibble on them make some sort of awesome milk that becomes this excellent cheese. Its texture is somewhere between aged cheddar and parmesan, and the flavor is delightfully rich. It ain't cheap, but if you see it at your cheesemonger it's a worthwhile indulgence.

Pogača | Rich hearth bread | Recipe

This is the first bread I've ever made that a friend has offered to pay me to bake again, so you don't have to take my word that it turned out fantastically. It's a pretty rich one, with milk, sour cream, butter, and egg, all baked in a dutch oven. The soft sweetness was a great foil for the salty and dense appetizers. If we had any left I'd love to try making French toast or bread pudding with it, but alas, it's all gone. (Note that if you make it, the dough will be rather goopy when you're done mixing. Resist the urge to add more flour, 'cause it turned out great.)

Vino i rakije | Wine and brandies

"How do you say cheers?" "Živeli!" "Do we sip it?" "No, take the whole shot!" And with that short conversation, we learned the basics of Croatian drinking from Christen, who's spent some time there. Unfortunately we couldn't find the travarica herbal liqueur that Janet recommended. However, we had plenty of brandy on hand from our cascading drinking around the Balkans: the šljivovica (plum) and rakija (grape) brandies were left over from the Bosnian meal, and we bought some extra šljivovica from Czech Republic anticipating (correctly) that we'd have some left over for that upcoming meal. We also enjoyed plenty of Croatian wines; the white mixed with seltzer to make what's known as gemist, while we enjoyed the red on its own — turns out that the main grape of Croatia is almost identical to Zinfandel!

Pečena janjetina | Roast lamb | Recipe

The recipe calls for cooking this dish under a bell-like lid that holds coals, but I just didn't have one of those, although Janet suggested we could use a terra cotta pot. But since it was storming, I went the easier way, re-using the dutch oven from the bread and cooking the lamb. The pot wasn't big enough for the whole leg so I cut it into pieces, and with it added potatoes, tomatoes, apples, onions, rosemary, and wine. I mighta overcooked it a bit, but it was sure tasty.

Mlinci |(what I call) Brothcrackers | Recipe 

Why you don't see this genius dish in more cuisines is beyond me. It's so simple, cheap, efficient, and tasty. You make dough from flour, water and a little bit of egg, roll it out, bake it into crackers, soak it in a bit of water, and then bake it in the juices from whatever meat you just cooked. It's kind of like the tastiest napkin imaginable. Heck, I could even see scrambling up the leftovers with eggs like matzo brei or migas. Mmm.

Salata od hobotnice | Octopus salad | Recipe

There were very clear pro- and anti-octopus factions at the table, so rather than mix these adorable/horrifying creatures straight into the salad, we made it separate and guests were free to add the octopus if they wished. The recipe does call for big rather than baby, but this is what the fishmonger in Astoria had so I rolled with it. Probably took about an hour and a half of simmering, which is less than a big thick guy would have taken. I love the taste and texture, you may not.

Blitva | Chard and potatoes | Recipe

Simple, tasty, healthy. Really nothing more than potatoes and chard boiled in seasoned water and drizzled with quality olive oil. Especially tasty with veggies straight from the farmer's market. Will probably make again!

Štrudla s jabukama | Apple strudel | Recipe at end

 
I have eaten my share of turnovers, tartes tatin, and other apple pastries, and I declare without hesitation that this is the best I've tasted. Is it the unseasonably early apples from the farmers market, or the lovingly preserved family recipe (read below!), or Kirsty's careful preparation, or the even heating thanks to the pizza stone in the bottom of the oven and the Silpat mat under the pastry? Probably all of the above, and what a wonderful result. The novelty for me in this recipe was the layers of breadcrumbs between the sheets of filo, which I'm guessing serves to keep the layers a bit more separate and help them crisp up all the more. This was just great.

Macerated cherries

This is, quite literally, the cherry on top, where it all comes full circle. In the reversal of naming of the ham, it turns out that what we know as the maraschino cherry, by way of Italian, actually comes from Croatia, where it's called maraska and is actually a small sour cherry. Today's fake sugary red confection is a far cry from the original, which was steeped in liquor. Well, I couldn't find sour cherries easily, but I did get my hands on a few pounds of Bings and a bottle of kirschwasser cherry liqueur. I pretty much just mixed the two, plus well over a cup of sugar, shook it daily for the first few days, and waited. After a week it wasn't great, but two more weeks and wowza. Sweet enough for dessert, subtle enough to merit eating many, and definitely boozy enough to be fun! If you enjoy making cocktails, I recommend you macerate some cherries of your own.

We enjoyed the meal to the surprisingly diverse sounds of Croatian music, from traditional ballads to hip-hop to straight up punk pop. And with that, we're taking a wee break from the pattern, and next week we've got a bit of an Olympic surprise!

Photos by Laura Hadden, who broke her rule of openmindedness and refused to try the octopus.

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Apple Strudel Recipe from Janet Garvin 

This recipe is one of our family’s most highly treasured, since it was made often by my grandmother. Strudel displays the influence of the Austrian Empire on Croatia. Traditionally, the dough for this strudel is homemade—an eggy, elastic dough that is gradually stretched out on top of a white tablecloth until it covers the entire surface of a dining table about four feet across, and is translucent. This takes time. I did it once with my mother, and the results were worth it. On every other occasion I have made strudel, however, I have used packaged filo dough, which works well. This is my grandmother’s recipe, and the results are light, flavorful, exquisite when served at room temperature:

1 lb. filo dough 4 cups thinly sliced apples—my mom wrote in her copy of the recipe that you can use almost any kind—she recommends Granny Smith 1 cup sugar ½ cup raising—I like golden ½ cup toasted bread crumbs 1 tsp. cinnamon ½ tsp. nutmeg lemon zest—as much as you like (it is a very good addition) 1 cup of chopped almonds or walnuts—we prefer walnuts 1 small table cloth or large tea towel

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Melt butter and keep warm. Mix apples, raisins, lemon zest, nuts, cinnamon and nutneg. Remove 3 sheets of filo dough, one at a time. Cover remaining filo with a damp cloth. Place one dough square on the table cloth, being careful not to break or introduce holes.. Brush butter over the surface and sprinkle with bread crumbs. Repeat with the other 2 sheets, arranging exactly on top of the previous sheet.

Take one cup of fruit mixture and arrange evenly along the width of and edge of the stacked dough squares nearest you, to within 2 inches of each end. Raise one end of the cloth, causing the dough to roll up and over the fruit. Continue raising the cloth, causing the dough to foll over and around the fruit, jelly-roll fashion. When a complete roll is achieved, crimp the ends of the roll to prevent the fruit from falling out. Using the cloth to support the roll during transfer, place it on a greased cookie sheet. (Note: When I make this I use Silpat silicone baking sheet liners, which work beautifully. The strudel browns and nothing sticks.) Cover the roll with a damp towel. Repeat process. About 4 rolls will be created. Remove the damp cloth, bruch the outsides of rolls with melted butter, and bak for 20 to 30 minutes or until golden brown. It is best not to overcook. Let cool until the strudel can be more easily handled. It is best eaten freshly baked but may be frozen for a short period prior to serving. On my copy of the recipe I noted a variation I created when I made the strudel in December 2010: Add diced dried apricots to the apples: steep the apricots and golden raisins in a little warmed limoncello, then add everything to the apple mixture.

Meal 41: Côte D'Ivoire

Am I getting better at cooking African food, or is Ivorian cuisine just that good? Probably more the latter, but still, this was probably our best sub-Saharan meal yet. The flavors were so well-balanced, the spice delightful and not overwhelming, and the textures pleasant. What's more, with the exception of a few ingredients that you could probably cleverly work your way around, you can find these ingredients in a standard Western supermarket, so if you've been looking to try cooking African food, this is a good start.

Other than the New World staples like cassava and chilies which have become so common over Africa that most people probably don't know they were brought there, this meal shows essentially no European influence. Jessica, who lived in Côte D'Ivoire during high school, notes that although Ivorians are the world leaders in cacao production and also grow a lot of coffee, they consume almost none of either.

In contrast to the day before which was gross and rainy, we were blessed with amazing evening weather. Around the table were Jessica, Anthony, Miriam, Flonia, Natalie, Diana, Anna, and David.

Tilapia braisé | Grilled tilapia | Recipe: French, English translation

 
The coast is so much a part of the country's identity that it's in the name! So it was only appropriate to cook some fish. I had several options available, including dorado and hogfish, but I went with tilapia because I could buy it live from a tank in Sunset Park. Doesn't get fresher than that!

As with last week's Congolese quail, the marinade was a blend of garlic, ginger, onions, and hot pepper, although this time I used a blender rather than crushing it. And also the same, this grilling style calls for cutting deep slashes in the meat to allow more of the marinade to permeate. But what's different is what comes afterwards: throwing onions and tomatoes marinated in a vinaigrette straight on the grill! As you can see from the photo I used a mesh, otherwise it would have all fallen through. It all made for a delicious mess, and I'm glad I got three fish, because it all got snapped up!

Kedjenou | Chicken and vegetable stew | Recipe

I have to admit I was a bit suspicious of the value of this stew, since it doesn't feature any ingredients you couldn't find at a Walmart with a produce section, but several sources pointed to it being a well-known Ivorian dish so I took the plunge. I did start with the heat too low, because after the prescribed hour and a half with the lid shut, the meat was still pink, but I turned it up to medium for another half hour. How rewarded we were! The flavors blended so delightfully and the chicken was really tender. Maybe the super-slow start helped?

Sauce arachide | Peanut sauce | Recipe

I swear it tasted way better than it looks, what you see here is the red palm oil having separated. This recipe comes by way of my colleague Christiaan! I found this article when I was looking for an Ivorian peanut sauce, and it turns out that he did Peace Corps there. In fact, he's something of a peanut sauce impresario, he's even hosted a cook-off! He also helped make sure that the rest of the meal seemed on-track.

I left out the chicken from this recipe since we had it in another dish, and instead upped the crushed dried shrimp. I also halved the number of peppers and fished them out partway through, in the interest of keeping it less than fiery. But it's a damn good recipe and it would go well on so many things.

Attiéké | Cassava couscous | Preparation

Another African country that doesn't just do fufu, hooray! This one's pretty distinctive, a couscous that's traditionally made by hand out of cassava. Christiaan doubted I'd find it in the states, but my little favorite African market has it in frozen three-pound balls. You could really do fine using regular couscous, but the texture would be a bit different. Also, I like the preparation as (passionately!) described in the link, including a bit of vinegar and bouillon for flavor.

Aloco | Fried plantain

It's hard to make a bad fried plantain, but apparently you can always improve. I biked a little farther than I normally go on my shopping jaunts to Sunset Park, and among dozens of produce shops found Marketa Los Fernandez. This place was narrow and crowded, and was holding its own a block from a supermarket, a very good sign. But the best part was the plantain selection: not only green and yellow, but also black! The stuff of legend! I snapped up every one I could find, cut them up in wedges as shown, fried them in red palm oil, and, well, yum. (There's supposed to be a spicy tomato-onion sauce with them, but with all the other dishes I just skipped that part.)

Mangues | Mango

Apparently dessert isn't much of a thing, so I cut up some ripe mango, and we passed the bowl around as we ate with dainty cocktail forks.

We're taking the next week off to celebrate our third wedding anniversary at the Newport Folk Festival, and when we're back it's Croatia!

Photos by Laura Hadden, who is really enjoying experiencing the wide variety of African cuisine. 

Meal 40: Congo

The larger better-known of the two countries named after the Congo River is the Democratic Republic of Congo, the former Zaire and previously a Belgian colony, but that shows up in the D's. This meal is from the north side of the river, the Republic of Congo, the former French colony, sometimes known as Congo-Brazzaville after its capital.

Anyway, as you might imagine, it's a bit tricky to find what's distinctively from this country as opposed to its cross-river sibling, both because they eat similar things and also because the similar name makes it hard to search precisely. But I managed! While this is hardly the first time we've encountered cassava leaves, this preparation takes advantage of Congo's coast and throws in fish. And for the first time we're approaching bush meat! Read on for the tasty details.

The threatened thunderstorms never arrived, and it was just a perfect evening on the deck. It was a really fun crowd, with Melvin, Pegi, Alex, Barrak, Hillary, Dan, Jessica, Beni, and Barmey trading stories for hours.

Cailles grillées au piment et au gingembre | Grilled quail with chili-ginger marinade | Recipe: French, English translation

All manner of animals are either hunted or raised in Congo, of which quail is a good example. And this marinade is a good example of the simple, straightforward, and tasty approach that so much African food shows: mash up some onions, garlic, ginger and chilies, toss in some salt and oil, and you've got yourself a marinade. By cutting slits in the meat, more flavor can get in. Then just throw them whole on the grill, turn 'em a few times, and they're really tasty. Don't be scared by the amount of chili pepper in the recipe, since it's a marinade you're only really eating a fraction of what you put in. I would definitely recommend this for even less adventurous meats like chicken; if you don't want to mash it by hand you could make a fine marinade in the blender. If you're making it with quail, just remember that each one weighs barely a quarter-pound, so think of it more as an appetizer at one apiece.

Saka-saka | Cassava leaf stew with mackerel | Recipe: French, English translation

One hazard when cooking the most "authentic" recipes is that they assume you're cooking from the same type of ingredients that you'd find on the ground. But it turns out there's a pretty big difference in cooking fresh and frozen cassava leaves, which I only realized when I found this recipe that was specifically developed for the frozen kind. Turns out you gotta cook it a heck of a lot longer!

Another great improvement over the Burundian and Central African versions of this dish is the addition of fish. These two whole mackerel did a lot for both the flavor and the texture. I also learned a novel technique for removing the bones: put the fish on top of the stew for about ten minutes to heat it up, remove it, and the meat just slides off the spine. Genius!

I did make a few variations on the recipe. The "whole bottle" of red palm oil was ambiguous, I ended up using about half the one-liter bottle I had. I also took two bits from another recipe: I sauteed the onion and garlic in the oil before adding it to the dish, and I crumbled in two little bouillon cubes (equivalent of one American-sized cube) rather than just adding salt. I left out any chilies, and instead passed around some Peri-Peri hot sauce.

Bananes plantains | Green plantains

We're cooking green plantains as starch so often that, just like the rice I also served with the meal, I'm probably going to stop calling them out at some point. But one thing I wanted to point out was advice from my mother: it's so much faster and easier to cook them in the microwave! Give it about two minutes apiece, and they're done.

Mango-ginger-lime sorbet | Recipe

A real Congolese meal would probably end in cut fruit, if anything. But I was itching to make a frozen delight, and had the ingredients on hand, so I made this sorbet. I only had two mangoes rather than the five the recipe calls for, and I tripled the ginger, added an extra lime's worth of zest, and put in some sugar water to compensate. All told, the original recipe is probably more of a crowd-pleaser, but if you like ginger and aren't afraid of bitter, try it my way! Oh, and those red things are pieces of papaya bathed in lime juice.

We're heading around the Gulf of Guinea up to Côte D'Ivoire for our next meal. Joining us for the rest of our journey is our sweet new dog Emmylou, a border collie mix who just joined our family on Friday!

Photos by Laura Hadden, who's looking forward to Emmylou's help eating table scraps.

Meal 39: Costa Rica

Our travels have taken us to Laura's parents' place on the shores of beautiful Lake Josephine on Anderson Island, Washington. How lovely to hit our one-year mark of Noshing, and make it 20% of the way through the nations, amongst the pine trees, outdoor, during a break in the rain!

Costa Rican food, as I remember it from visiting there in eighth grade, is very simple and straightforward, with one distinctive aspect: Salsa Lizano. For a Tico, the colloquial name for a Costa Rican, it's just not authentic without this sauce, which is kinda like steak sauce but more vegetable-forward. So I shipped ahead a big bottle from Amazon to make sure we'd have it on hand. With the exception of that and possibly plantains, everything for this meal can be easily found at a normal supermarket.

We had quite a crowd of islanders on hand, plus Laura's parents Eileen and Lyall, sister Jennifer, high school friend Ellen, and  their retired high-school history teacher Mr. Martin:

The Tican meal par excellence is the casadoa single plate with a fixed assortment of inexpensive, delicious, and filling food. Casado means "married," and there are two explanations for the name. One says that the foods are a lovely marriage. The other is that men would wander into a lunch spot and ask to be served a meal as their wife might make them. Take your pick!

Gallo pinto | Rice and beans | Recipe

This rice-and-bean mix is by far the most emblematic dish of Costa Rica. It's a little more special than just tossing the two together. The black beans are simple enough; I made them overnight in a slow cooker and they were fantastic. The rice you fry dry for a few minutes, then add a bit of veggies, then top up with liquid to cook. Ideally you make them the night before so they can dry out a bit. Then sauté up more veggies, throw in the rice and the beans including some cooking water, and for the coup de grace a liberal helping of that Salsa Lizano. Listo! This stuff is great and worth the effort. Serve with extra Lizano on the side, and remember to pour the sauce into the cap first so you don't drench your dish.

(Note: a purist may say that a casado should have the rice and beans served separately. But since this was my one opportunity to make Tican food for years, I went all-out!)

Chuletas de cerdo | Grilled pork chops | Recipe

There's a wide variety of meats you can serve with a casado including beef, chicken, and even fish, but pork chops just felt right. I found this simple marinate with lime zest and juice plus cilantro and a few other things. Yum.

Plátanos | Plantains

Traditionally these ripe plantains would be sliced and fried, but given my self-imposed rule of no frying in others' kitchens, we simplified and baked the plantains brushed with butter. Most of the plantains weren't that sort of nearly-black-skin type that means they're the sweetest, but it was tough (and expensive!) to find enough around Tacoma so we did what we could. Wish I could have baked them for another few minutes but they were pretty ok.

Ensalada de repollo | Cabbage salad | Recipe

A pretty simple but plenty tasty salad. The dressing is tangy and a little sweet, which is the perfect way to blend with the rest of the plate.

Queso | Cheese

There was nowhere to find the suggested Turrialba cheese, so we did our second best with a wheel of ranchero cheese. This stuff is addictive, I really had to stop myself from eating any when cutting it up!

Huevos fritos | Fried eggs

Look at how orange those yolks are! Fresh eggs from an island neighbor. When making fried eggs, such as to put on top of the casado, get the freshest and highest-quality you can, they'll actually have some flavor that way.

Arroz con leche | Rich rice pudding | Recipe: Spanish, English translation (use number II!)

I chose the second of three recipes on this page, and I'm glad I did! (Though I did use half the butter it calls for.) A liter of milk plus a can each of condensed and evaporated milk sure seemed like a lot of liquid for just under a cup and a half of cooked rice, and when I took it off the stove it sure seemed runny. But after a few hours in the fridge, it either got absorbed or solidified on its own, and we ended up with a really rich and tasty pudding. Love the tres leches effect!

Refresco de mango y piña | Mango and pineapple shakes

To go with the pudding, Ellen cut up some mangos and a pineapple, and whipped up a delicious drink. So simple and tasty!

There's not a ton of distinctive Costa Rican music, but we did find one gem that really sums up the meal: a song called Rice and Beans! Warning, it's catchy.

Amazing we're a fifth of the way through! Next time we're back to our normal swing of things, with a meal from the Republic of Congo (the one that's across the river from the former Zaire) in Brooklyn. Happy Fourth!

Meal 38: Comoros

As a small cluster of islands between Madagascar and Mozambique, Comoros offers a cuisine that's about as exotic as you'd imagine. It's situated off of Africa, but heavily influenced by the Arab, Indian, and more recently French culinary histories. This means seafood, stews, coconuts, and lots of spices in combinations that are totally trippy to Western tastebuds!

Huge thanks to Evin, Zoe, and Kayla for hosting us at their beautiful home (and well equipped kitchen!) in Oakland, CA. We had a number of old and new friends in attendance: Scott, Sylvia, Raph, Margaret, Alicia, John, Jessica, Katie, Carrie, Cass, and Graeme. We also enjoyed the company of our youngest nosher to date, Lulu, who was a very brave two year old in trying most of the food!

Langouste à la vanille | Lobster with vanilla sauce | Recipe: French, English translation

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought of combining vanilla with seafood. But, by golly, it's pretty darn amazing.

Cooking the lobster was quite the feat to begin with. First off, the recipe leaves out the very important first step of steaming the lobster; in my naïveté I had somehow figured you just cut the thing open while still alive. Anyway, we boiled them just enough to, uh, prevent them from squirming on the cutting board, and then Scott split them in two. Sylvia stuffed them with chopped-up vanilla beans, salt, and pepper, and then we cooked them in pans until done. The splitting was good not only for getting the flavors inside, but also let us check the flesh for done-ness, so we cooked them not a moment longer than necessary.

But let's be honest, the best part of this all was the sauce. Rare is the moment in a cooking enthusiast's life when simple, well-known ingredients in novel combinations come together for a mindbendingly new creation, and that's what happened here. Melt a stick of butter, add in a few chopped-up vanilla beans, fry five minutes, remove from heat, add salt and pepper, and stir in a container of crème fraîche. It was meant for the lobster, but quite frankly was tasty on just about everything.

(A note on the beans: normally they're pretty pricy, at least $1 apiece, but Xanath Ice Cream on Valencia in San Francisco happens to sell them for less than half that: a 1/4 pound package has about 25 and retails for $10.)

M'tsolola | Green plantains with fish in coconut milk | Recipe: French, English translation

I was surprised at how tough it was to find green plantains in Berkeley. Ripe ones were no problem, but the recipe was adamant that they needed to be as green as possible. (I also could have made a mistaken assumption in the translation, but I'm pretty sure that when they call for "banane verte" they want plantains.) We had to go to four stores, and it wasn't until the Korean market on Telegraph that we found ones green enough to work.

Anyway, this dish was loaded with plantains, layered with fish and nominal vegetables. For the fish I chose tuna since it seemed to be a common one there, and rather than frying as specified, I seared it in a bit of oil. The whole mess simmered in coconut milk we made ourselves, see lower down for that process. All in all, I think this dish was OK, though I probably should have cooked the plantains longer in the beginning, they were still pretty starchy. Also, the recipe is way too much, this serves more like 20 and not the "4 to 6" the recipe says.

Ambrevades au curry | Pigeon pea curry | Recipe: French, English translation

Pigeon peas is one of those things you can find very easily in Brooklyn thanks to our large Caribbean population, but is scarce in California. As a substitute we used frozen black eyed peas, and as far as I can tell it turned out just fine. This curry is pretty darn tasty, and makes for a substantial vegan treat. Love the cardamom in there!

Achard aux legumes | Blanched vegetable salad | Recipe (scroll on page): French, English translation

In India, achar is the name for those intense little pickled things you have on the side of your meal. The concept kind of made it to Comoros, except that it's more of a tangy salad sort of thing and definitely not pickled for any length of time. There seem to be all sorts of ways to make this and ingredients to throw in. I'm pretty fond of green mango and green papaya, so we left out the cabbage in favor of these. The dressing of sauteed ginger was pretty nice!

Riz coco | Coconut rice

   
Sure, we could have bought cans of coconut milk, but what's the fun in that? Homemade coconut milk is much lighter and more delicately flavorful. And a hell of a lot more work.

First Zoe pounded them with a hammer to crack them in two, then a whole team took at them with a butterknife to painstakingly extract the fruit from the shell. I then ground the flesh up in a food processor and put it in a strainer. Then we extracted the milk by pouring hot water over them, much like making coffee, and poured it back over a few more times to make it thicker.

That's the hard part. Making the rice is, well, just like making rice, except you use this freshly extracted elixir in place of water.

Poutou | Hot sauce | Recipe: French, English translation

Couldn't be simpler. One habanero or scotch bonnet pepper, one tomato, half an onion, half a lemon, salt. I perhaps willfully misinterpreted the recipe by putting in the whole lemon instead of just its juice, but if anything the extra substance did it well. Made for a fantastic salsa of medium consistency, medium spice, and maximum flavor and happiness.

Ladu | Ground rice dessert | Recipe

After the Cameroon meal, we made a rule of not deep-frying in other people's houses, so we couldn't make the classic Comoran dessert of donass, which is how they pronounce "donuts." All else I could find was ladu, which is based off an Indian dessert. I'm not sure where things went wrong — maybe I didn't grind the rice enough, or maybe the recipe should have mentioned when to put in liquid — but this clearly wasn't what was intended. But we added plenty of coconut water to this ghee-fried broken rice, formed it into balls with powdered sugar, cardamom, and pepper, and then baked it off once all the balls were crumbling, all in an effort to salvage it. And you know what, they tasted astonishingly like popcorn, and while I wouldn't recommend this recipe, it wasn't a failure either.

As we were finishing up the meal, I just happened to check my phone, and noticed several dozen emails. I'd had the great fortune of being chosen to send an email to The Listserve, a worldwide list of tens of thousands where one member a day gets to send an email, and mine got sent during the meal! It was Laura's great idea to ask people to help us with their own country's meals as we trundle through the alphabet, and the response so far has been phenomenal! From Iceland to Peru to the Philippines, many of our upcoming meals will have the benefit of our new farflung network's contributions.

Next week, we'll be up in Anderson Island, Washington, where we hope to catch our trout for a Costa Rican meal!