Meal 67: Ghana

When I asked for fermented cornflour at Owa Afrikan Market, the kindly shopkeeper replied, "Kenkey? Oh, that's from Ghana. We're a Nigerian store!" I didn't have much better luck at Diaby African Market, which is run by shopkeepers from Cote d'Ivoire who are equally friendly but equally devoid of kenkey. Just as I'd begun to grow a bit fatigued of what seem to be a limited range of very common African staples -- smoked fish, palm oil, cassava, yam, plantain, peanuts -- I was so happy to discover first-hand some real regional variation that I quickly overcame the disappointment of not finding what I was looking for. (Plus, as you'll see below, I got creative and found my way around it.)

Our guest of honor was Jessica, whose family is from Ghana and spent several years there. She cooked up some amazing spicy plantains! Also on hand were Anthony, Angad, Melanie, Christen, and Ignacio.

Shito | Dried shrimp pepper sauce | Recipe

In addition to being a word that makes any English speaker giggle, shito means hot pepper. It also refers, by synecdoche, to any spicy sauce, whether fresh or preserved. The fresh version, on the right, is so simple as to not require a recipe (onion, tomato, hot pepper, salt, pepper, food processor, done), while this one is both more complex and also not as spicy, as the bulk of the volume is actually pungent dried shrimp. As far as I can tell, this condiment, which can also go by the confusing name "black pepper," is like the ketchup of Ghana. It goes well with dishes made of red palm oil and other strong flavors, adding both depth and zing, but I made the mistake a few days later of adding it to a French-style braised chicken and that wasn't the beset combo.

Kenkey | Steamed fermented corn dumplings | Recipe

Since I couldn't find the pre-fermented cornflour, I had to figure out how to make it myself. The traditional method is to simply mix some cornflour and water, leave it for a few days, and let the naturally-occurring yeast and bacteria in the air land and multiply. Unfortunately, whenever I've done that in New York, whatever lands on the surface makes it smell like bad cheese and taste worse. But I had an idea! The recipe I used for injera suggested using a sourdough starter to give it the right microbes, beating the stuff in the air to the punch. So I mixed in a bit of my sourdough starter with the corn, and the next day, I had delightfully sour corn mush. After that, I followed the recipe to heat the mush and then steam it, though I might have cooked it too long because it came out rather firm. A nice, tangy starch that's different from the usual fufu!

Grilled Tilapia Recipe

Similar to what I made for the Cote d'Ivoire meal, I slashed up some tilapia, marinated it with an onion-chili-ginger mixture, and grilled it up. The flesh didn't turn out as well and kind of came off the bone as much rather than firm flesh. Maybe I didn't have the grill up high enough. But it was definitely tasty, and went well with the kenkey.

Palaver Sauce | Spinach stew | Recipe

Why this stew of greens, red palm oil and peanut butter is named for the Portuguese word for a discussion or a talk is the subject of much speculation and no conclusion. It's stranger still to me because the core ingredients show no influence of European or new world foods. In any event, I made this with spinach rather than trying to make a hard chunk of long-frostbitten greens work, and used the ubiquitous dry-smoked fish for flavoring. Happily, I also have an African basil plant growing in the back yard, which Jessica confirmed is the right seasoning for this dish. This strongly-flavored and -textured stew had a good foil in some grilled yam.

Kelewele | Spicy plantain bits

Ignore anything I said above and just concentrate on this part. I followed Jessica's instructions to get plantains with blackened skin, they were so ripe I had to keep them outside to avoid keeping the fruit flies inside! She showed up with a marinade of ginger, chili, and citrus, cut the plantains into little pieces, and marinated them. Then she fried them to within an inch of burning, so they were so amazingly sweet and caramelized yet still gingery and tangy and a bit spicy. This was by far the hit of the meal!

Jessica also brought a delicious ginger drink. Once again, thanks to her for making our meal so special and authentic!

Laura apologizes for the quality of the photos, the lens she normally uses for food photography needs repair.

Meal 66: Greece

Greece has seen myriad civilizations, invaders, and influences over the millennia, and a climate in which most anything can grow, all of which have contributed to a cuisine that is both abundantly flavored and for the most part extremely healthy. It's also built to be sampled in abundance, with a wide range of mezedes for nibbling and sharing. Fortunately, most of these dishes didn't need to be served piping hot, which made it a little less insane to prepare ten dishes in a medium-sized kitchen with one helper (thanks so much, Neil!).

Our setting for this Nosh certainly encouraged relaxed enjoyment of the Earth's bounty: the porch of our friends' home in Asbury Park, on the Jersey Shore, on a very pleasant summer evening (thanks so much, Jenifer and Phil!).

Fasolada | Bean and vegetable soup | Recipe

In our culinary journey through time, this humble vegan soup of beans and vegetables brings us both to the very beginning and the most recent days of the history of this part of the world. The Minoan civilization, which preceded the Greeks, grew legumes -- this soup, save for a few New World additions such as tomato, is pretty much their direct legacy. Nowadays, with the Greek economy in a shambles, this soup is as popular as ever, as a big pot is cheap to make and fills the family's stomach. The flavors are simple, with few seasonings or fancy techniques to hide the true flavor of the ingredients, so if you're making this dish as a matter of recreation, make sure to get high-quality beans and vegetables, and take your time simmering to draw out the flavors.

While fasolada is considered by many to be the national dish of Greece, I don't know if I've ever seen it at a Greek restaurant; I've only known avgolemono, the egg-lemon soup that nursed me back from many a college hangover. Why is such a common dish, about which so many Greek food blogs tell deep stories, barely seen on menus of Greek restaurants in the US?

Horiatiki salata | Country salad | Recipe

Unlike the soup, this classic Greek salad is known around the world. The real version, apparently, has no vinegar or lemon juice, it's simply vegetables, feta, and olive oil. This one was pretty good, especially with the farmer's market tomatoes, but unfortunately the cucumber was fairly bitter. (Too bad there was no tartness to balance it out!)

Horiatiko psomi | Country sourdough bread | Recipe

I once read (but can't find again, alas) that a good sourdough starter is so cherished in Greece that saints are invoked during its cultivation, and that despite modern science, many Greek homemakers insist it's a magical, spiritual substance. While I'm all cool with the symbiotic relationship of those yeast and bacteria, to me the magic of Greek bread is the additions of little splashes of milk, honey, and olive oil, which turn mere leavened dough into a springy treat with just enough crunch and tooth to stand up to dipping, spreading, dunking, and straight-up nibbling. The protein and oil make the dough more forgiving to work with, and also crisp up more impressively in a standard home oven. Noted for future baking! Since our hosts weren't going to make bread anytime soon, I figured I should double the recipe, and use the whole five-pound sack of bread flour. By the morning, only one of the five loaves remained.

Skordalia | Garlic potato dip | Recipe

Is this a really garlicky, oily, cold version of mashed potatoes? Or is this a cavalry of garlic (after all, "skorda" means garlic in Greek) hitching a ride on potatoes and oil onto your bread and into your mouth? Either way, it's a surprisingly simple dish to make, and lends itself to endless modification. Creativity, too, because we didn't have a mortar and pestle handy for mashing the garlic, so I put it into a ziploc bag and pounded it a few dozen times with an empty wine bottle. Just don't freak out about all the olive oil in the recipe. If you've got good quality stuff, it'll really make the dip sing.

Alevropita | Feta-olive oil tart | Recipe

From the northwestern reaches of the country comes this dish that's equal parts simple, tasty, and ridiculous. If you can make pancake batter from scratch, you've already got more than enough skill to put this together. If you like feta and flatbreads and the taste of olive oil, you'll eat the whole pan. And with nearly a half a cup of olive oil and a quarter-stick of butter with a little more than a cup of flour, you'll probably be half grinning and half cringing as you make the dish. Even without the feta this would be a tasty starch halfway to fry dough, but with the cheese, it's just super good.

Piperies gemistes me feta | Feta-stuffed peppers | Recipe

Macedonia, the covering much of the north of Greece (not to be confused with The Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia directly to the north), is apparently the most exciting place for food in a country that seems pretty stimulating all over. It's a real convergence location between Balkan, Greek, and Turkish, and also has the legacy of a once-sizable Jewish community. These peppers themselves mark a convergence of spicy, creamy, and toasty, making use of the broiler twice: once to soften the peppers, and another to heat the cheese filling to brown. Greece is, of course, a wine country, but if you ever need a Greek dish that goes well with beer, look no further.

Kolokitho keftedes | Zucchini fritters | Recipe

Crete, the largest of the Greek islands, is the home of what is essentially a latke (i.e., potato pancake), but made instead of zucchini. Poor Neil spent upward of an hour shredding by hand the two largest zucchini I'd ever seen in my life, along with onion, carrot, and other ingredients. And all that yellow in the photo? That's extra virgin olive oil, in abundance. The fritters were darn good, especially accompanied by the tzatziki I whipped up (Greek yogurt, shredded cucumber and garlic, mint, salt, done). The only problem with making them for a crowd is that you're spending valuable minutes right around service time standing impatiently around a skillet, waiting for them to cook -- out of all the dishes we made, this is the only one that held up our starting at the appointed hour.

Keftedes me saltsa domata | Lamb meatballs in tomato sauce | Recipe

"What do you do with this stuff?" asked the butcher at Fairway while handing me the ground lamb. "I had it once at an Arab stand and it was weird." Well, dear friend who doesn't enjoy what he's selling, you might enjoy this dish as a re-introduction to the other red meat. The lamb is first blended with spices, especially the ever-present oregano, then fried as little meatballs, and finally nestled in with a tomato sauce -- which I made from fresh tomatoes from the farmers market rather than canned. This one was a winner, especially with the little kids!

Karithopita | Olive oil walnut cake | Recipe

For what the EU called its 50th birthday, the anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Rome, all its members sent two cakes representative of their national cuisines. This is one of the two Greece sent. The cake starts out rich enough, with a cup of olive oil, lots of walnuts, and semolina and cake flours. But the real treat comes when it's drenched in a lemony syrup -- so much so that you have to pour it a third at a time to make sure it all absorbs. Not too hard to make, and really nice, would make for an excellent coffee cake and is also great with a dollop of Greek yogurt.

Galaktoboureko | Milk custard phyllo cake | Recipe

I've already made baklava for Armenia, but I felt the need to make something with that flaky phyllo dough for this meal. Behold this amazing pastry, made of an astonishing 10 cups of milk, seven eggs, and a half pound of butter. As long as you're patient and attentive with the stirring, it's actually pretty easy to make, and it's really tasty, a little more subtle and less heavy than baklava. The only tweak I made was to replace about half of the sugar and water in the syrup with honey, which I would definitely do again. The Ottoman influence on Greek cuisine is clear here: "boureko," meaning stuffed pastry, comes from the Turkish "börek."

 

Meal 65: Germany

What a convergence -- my 30th birthday, the one-third point for United Noshes, a gorgeous day, an apartment with a backyard...and a cuisine and culture renowned for good cheer around food. While German food rarely makes the rounds of haute cuisine, for those who enjoy meat and beer it's a wonderful, homey way to get a lot of calories. New York City used to have a distinct German immigrant population. Much like Chinatown today, Kleindeutschland in the Lower East Side and other enclaves around town featured whole communities where you'd see more German than English on the walls. Yet today the presence is a lot more subdued, and is hanging on best in the portion of the Upper East Side once known as Germantown. There are many reasons explaining the decline of the German identity, from the General Slocum disaster in which over 1,000 people capsized near shore, to xenophobia during the two World Wars.

About thirty friends and members of the Noshing community passed through in the nine (!) hours the temporary backyard biergarten was open, including three visitors from California! Thanks to all who came for bringing so much beer and wine, too -- it was quite festive!

Aufschnitt | Cold cuts

German food is chock-a-block with preserved meats. To get the party started, I set out a few different kinds. Pictured above is liverwurst; sometimes it's more of a spread but this is the Braunschweiger variety, originating from near Hanover, which is firm enough to slice, and goes great with some onion on a bit of pumpernickel bread. We also had two air-dried ones: Landjäger, from the south, which is like a thin square salami, and smoked bratwurst. To round it out, we enjoyed the rich and appropriately named Butterkäse -- käse means cheese and I'll let you figure out the other part.

Brezeln | Pretzels | Recipe

I've always loved the distinctive flavor of pretzels, that oddly salty nuttiness, most enjoyable a crisp crust and a soft inside. The process was really enjoyable: a quick rise, a supple dough to roll and twist, a quick boil in a baking soda bath to lend the distinctive flavor, and a moderate bake. (In fact, the one modification I'd make to the recipe is to cook at more like 400 or 425, rather than 450, to get it to really bake through -- the crust will darken plenty even at a lower temp thanks to the baking soda.) Since I didn't want to spend my birthday party leashed to the stove, I figured out (with help from my buddy PJ at King Arthur Flour) how to prep and freeze them ahead of time while serving them nice and hot, right in time. I made them the whole way through but pulled them just as the crust was starting to brown, froze them on sheets until mostly hard, and put them in plastic bags and back into the freezer. A few days later, I thawed them for about an hour at room temperature, and put them on a 350 oven for maybe 15 minutes until the house smelled great. Done! I think they turned out even better this way than the original recipe, because the second bake really cooks them through and also lends a pretty thick and crispy crust. However you judge it, I made 65 pretzels and they all disappeared!

If you end up making these pretzels -- and you should! -- make sure you get some good mustards to go with it. We had a straightforward, medium-sharpness yellow mustard, a spicier one, and my favorite, a sweet rich Bavarian. Each brings out a different aspect of the pretzel, and taking your time to decide which mustard is your favorite is a great excuse to eat more pretzel.

Rheinlander Sauerbraten | Sweet and sour pot roast | Recipe

 

Don't worry, even if the photo were in focus, this dish wouldn't look like much. But whatever soaking three days in a spiced vinegar sauce followed by several hours of stovetop stewing and a dusting of raisins does to make a hunk of beef look unattractive, it sure makes it flavorful. This dish has been enjoyed in Germany for a very long time -- both Julius Caesar and Charlemagne have been credited with its invention -- and the meaty sourness, balanced a bit by the sweetness of gingersnaps and raisins, is still a winner.

Würste | Sausages

While I try to make as much as possible from scratch, I draw the line at sausages. It was surprisingly difficult to find a good variety of German sausages around New York -- Fairway, normally a reliable source of European foods, really came up short. So I headed up to Yorkville on the Upper East Side, an area once well-known as Germantown, to Schaller and Weber. It was tough to choose from their wide variety, but I ended up with delicate Weisswurst, richly spiced and smoked Bauernwurst, and then the famous Bratwurst, which I bought raw, and simmered in beer before grilling. As all the sausages were fully cooked ahead of time, grilling was just for temperature and texture, so I did it with the cover up.

Rotkohl | Stewed red cabbage with apples | Recipe

The classic German stewed cabbage is tender, with a good balance of sweet and sour. While this fulfilled all those elements, it was kind of lacking in depth. The dish was pleasant enough, but didn't really beg to be scarfed down like some versions of these dishes I've found. Not sure what the problem is -- maybe shredding with the Cuisinart made the cabbage too fine, or something?

Berliner Kartoffelsalat | Vinaigrette potato salad | Recipe

Most German potato salads don't have mayonnaise, and I like them for that. This recipe, which makes an unsubstantiated claim of being from Berlin and therefore helped me round out the geography, is pretty clever, using juice from the pickles as the sour base for the vinaigrette. I'd say it was all right, but it probably could have used more vinegar to really make the flavors sing. I also probably overcooked the potatoes a bit, which might have made things mushier than ideal.

Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte | Black Forest cake | Recipe

I didn't feel like I should be making my own birthday cake, so Laura agreed to do it. She even knew what she'd make, a German chocolate cake. Imagine Laura's surprise when she discovered that such a cake is actually American in origin, invented by a certain Sam German working at a chocolate company! Thank goodness our friend Lisa came to the rescue with this cake, which is so German that it was one of two national submissions to a Europe-wide cake fest. Four layers of deep chocolate, generously separated with buttercream studded with cherries, and then evenly sprinkled with shaved chocolate...wow. I might have a German-themed birthday party every year just so I have an excuse to get this cake!

We're about to start into a 16-state, 4500+-mile road trip, and our first stop is to the Jersey Shore where we'll do the Greece meal!

Meal 64: Georgia

“In the center of Tbilisi, the capital, there is a statue of a woman with a sword in one hand, and wine in the other. It shows how, if you come in war, the Georgians are so fierce the women as well as the men will fight you. But if you come in peace, you’re invited to feast.” Throughout the evening, on our friend Mark’s rooftop in Williamsburg, was punctuated by two periodic events: the rumbling of the elevated J train a few feet away, and stories from Mark, our tamada -- toastmaster -- as well as host.

Time spent in Georgia qualified Mark to guide our meal; having attended a supra, a feast, with President Saakashvili lent him all the more authority to regale us with tales of strength, folly, and complexity, usually leading to a moral and always finished with a toast. These stories of a distant and ancient land, washed down with abundant wine, enriched the meal nearly as much as the walnuts, herbs, and spices.

Even if you don’t have a tamada from Tbilisi to guide your meal, do yourself a favor and get to know Georgian food. Despite its history as a former Soviet republic -- and homeland of Joseph Stalin! -- it has nothing to do with sour creamand pickled fish! Its cuisine is much closer to Persian and Central Asian, overflowing with vegetables, nuts, fresh flavors, and a wide variety of meats. The cuisine is most authentically enjoyed in abundance: Mark’s a generally easygoing guy, so I took it quite seriously when he warned me that if the table were anything short of crammed full of food, it’d be a failure.

Enormous thanks to Justin and Kathryn, who braved a hot and small kitchen to make this absurdly ambitious feast get started before sunset!

Note that we put all the food out on the table at once, so rather than a list of courses, I’ve ordered these roughly in the order in which I prepared them.

Tarkhun | Tarragon drink | Recipe

Georgian cuisine is huge on spices and especially herbs. Whether dried or fresh, just about every recipe is enhanced with flavors from either the backyard or the trade caravan. In fact, Georgians are so crazy about their herb flavors that they even drink them, as evidenced by this drink made of tarragon. It’s quite an experience to drink in the essence of an herb, and we picked up a milky aspect along with the particular clear intensity that makes tarragon so lovely. (Note, also, that this is the first Nosh in which I used food coloring! Had to make it authentic, right?)

Pkhali | Spinach-walnut paste | Recipe

 

It’s a shame I couldn’t find pomegranate in the supermarket, because these nuggets would have looked even lovelier with the particular topping. Anyway, if I had to choose a dish that captured the essence of Georgian cuisine, I’d probably go with pkhali. It has the ubiquitous walnuts, leans heavily on fresh vegetables, and incorporates a whole lot of herbs and spices. It’s also a devil of a name to pronounce! I found pkhali pretty intense, though when I reread the recipe I saw that it’s intended to be spread on bread rather than eaten straight, which makes a whole lot of sense.

Khachapuri | Cheese bread | Recipe

If pkhali is the most representative of Georgian cuisine, khachapuri is arguably the best-known and definitely was the crowd favorite. It’s essentially pizza without the tomato sauce: a bready boat-shaped dough with a filling of sulguni cheese (kinda like mozzarella but marinated in brine), butter, and egg. There are several versions of khachapuri, this one, known as Adjarian, is supposed to have a barely-cooked egg sitting on top so you can dip the edges into the yolk, but time and logistical difficulties made that impossible. The crowd didn’t seem to mind, in fact I didn’t make nearly enough to satisfy demand! You can probably find sulguni at a Russian or Eastern European market, otherwise you could probably use mozzarella or a stringy Mexican cheese like oaxaca. You just might want to salt the filling a bit more to compensate for the lack of brine.

Shotispuri | Baton bread | Recipe

I figured it’d be nice to have some bread to go with all we were having, and this baton-shaped bread was nice enough, I guess, but not worth the effort. My advice would be to just focus on the khachapuri, it’d be nearly impossible to make too much of it.

Badrijani Nigvzit | Fried eggplant rolls with garlic-walnut filling | Recipe

Wow, these were tasty. Garlic and walnuts are an unexpected but great combination, sharp and brash versus meaty and deep. Put that inside strips of eggplant fried dark brown. Who doesn’t like intense flavors wrapped fried things? A real winner, this would make for a great potluck dish. You could replace the fried eggplant strips with marinated peppers or even strips of cucumber if you wanted to avoid the calories and hassle of the eggplant.

 Satsivi | Roast chicken with walnut sauce | Recipe

There’s two genius things going on with this recipe. First off, this is the best advice for roasting a chicken I’ve ever read. Trussing is actually pretty easy -- no needle needed, just about three feet of twine to tighten up the bird. The genius, though, is roasting on high heat for ten minutes on each side, like, thigh to the bottom of the pan, then returning to legs-up for the last 40 minutes at regular heat. The result was a perfectly cooked bird. Oh, and the butter basting helped.

I’d have been happy just to tuck into that well-roasted chicken, but the sauce made it sublime. It’s essentially pounded walnuts (walnuts! again!) with onion, a little flour to thicken, and chicken stock, reduced until you can just about slather it over the chicken. I’m pretty sure I’ll make this rich and oh-so-tasty dish again. Bonus: it’s just as good cold as it is hot.

Chakhokhbili | Braised chicken and tomato | Recipe

While the summer doesn’t afford pomegranates, it sure offers tomatoes, and this is a great alternative if you’re looking for something to do with the abundance in your garden or farmer’s market and don’t want to make pasta sauce. This recipe is so easy you can practically tweet it: brown the chicken legs, add an onion, add a lot of tomatoes, braise until meat’s falling off the bones, throw in herbs, serve. The braising makes this take longer you want for an easy after-work supper, but it’s not a lot of work, so if you have the time, treat yourself! (Thanks to Kathryn for chopping all those tomatoes!)

Lobio | Kidney bean salad | Recipe

It says something about Brooklyn that I couldn’t find a simple bag of dry kidney beans in the two food shops closest to my house, but both of them had several types of quinoa. When I made it over to Mark’s, his roommate Justin volunteered to go to the supermarket down the block to get some, and he was so happy to find it he bought two bags. So we made a lot of this salad. It was pretty good, but not particularly awesome; perhaps in the rush to finish up the meal we accidentally missed a spice or put in too little onion.

Khinkali | Georgian “soup” dumplings | Recipe

I think I’m getting better at my kitchen pacing, after so many meals, but I waited too long to get start started on this dish, the quintessential Georgian accompaniment to beer. (Or is it that beer is the quintessential accompaniment to khinkali?). I don’t like making things with rolled-out dough, and  I didn’t have a scale on me and the recipe was all based on weight so I had to completely wing the proportions, and ended up making too little dough. Then when it came to making what are supposed to be cute little meat-filled parcels, they looked pretty ugly, too small -- and then when boiled, many of them broke instead of keeping the juiciness from the cooked meat within. So the dumplings came out late, were misshapen, and there were too few. Oh well, it was worth a try, but I gotta get better at my dumpling-making because so many cultures do this sort of thing. Any tips?

Shashlik | Barbecue | Recipes: marinade, savory sauce, hot sauce

This was the other major screw-up -- I misread the recipe when making my shopping list and got ground lamb instead of chunks! I made the most of the situation by forming the ground lamb into balls, and marinating it in the copious quantity of onions as specified. (Thank goodness for the food processor, shredding 2.5 pounds of onions by hand would have been brutal.) I asked Kathryn to put them on the kabob skewers, but that quickly proved to be impossible, so we instead threw them on the grill directly -- and, despite being completely the wrong format, they were delicious. Several sauces accompanied: an herb-and-tomato sauce, a hot sauce (I used those fat red peppers rather than jalapenos as specified), and a bottled sour plum sauce.

Ghvinisa da tsqlis | Wine and water

Along with the tarragon drink, we washed the food down with Borjomi, a fairly salty mineral water with reputed health benefits, and of course plenty of wine. Georgia’s been making wine for millennia, but apparently the quality took a big hit in the Stalin years. Uncle Joe, as they call him, was actually a big promoter of Georgia’s wine, but his preference was for sweet wine, so they made sweet wine. It’s only in recent years that drier, more complex wines have come to market -- and, in fact, some of them are quite good, definitely fruity and with a moderate terroir. Don’t be surprised if you see a Georgian wine or two at your local wine shop one of these days, because we found one at ours! While our preference was for red, you just might see a special wine called Pheasant's Tears, which is called "amber," distinctively yellower than white wine.

Laura keeps a list of countries that weren’t really on her radar but that she’s now interested to visit after eating the food -- Cape Verde, Comoros...and now Georgia! Coming up is a swing of the pendulum, a cuisine that's familiar yet rather ignored in the culinary canon: Germany.

Meal 63: Gambia

The Gambia, a former British West African colony, is a little sliver of a country, hugging a river of the same name and surrounded by the formerly French Senegal. I find it appropriate that we held this Nosh in Portland, Oregon, a riverine city -- and, thankfully, one that has a few African markets!

While Gambia is squarely in West Africa, the food struck me as borrowing major parts from both Central and North Africa. The stew, with peanut butter and palm oil, is similar to many things we've made from the center of the continent, while the rice and couscous dishes remind me quite a bit of North African and even central Asian cooking.

Huge thanks to my aunt Marcia for hosting us, and a bunch of our friends, at her lovely house with a third of an acre for a back yard which doubles as an Urban Farm Collective site. Joining us were Molly, Jens, Eric, Sarah, Alley, Andrew, Viola, Laura, Drew, Suj, Craig, Laura (yes, there were a total of three Lauras there!), Luca, and Marc.

Pepe soup | Spicy chicken and tomato soup | Recipe

They say a hot, spicy soup on a warm day cools you down. I'm not sure I entirely buy it: I was warm inside, and sweating a bit, but didn't feel much cooler, in the mid-80s heat. Anyway, this is a pretty simple but tasty soup, made of simmering panfried chicken with bouillon and chilies to make a tasty broth, then enriching with tomato paste. The soup was a bit thin, with not a ton of chicken per bowl, but that might be authentic. Also we couldn't find anything resembling the hot African peppers called for; I would have preferred scotch bonnets but the closest we found was serranos. All in all, pretty tasty, I'd use this as a basis for something else in the future. (Maybe throw rice in there to enrich it?)

Benachin | Fish and rice with vegetables | Recipe

Benachin means "one pot," which is all you should need to cook this dish. The recipe I followed, for a fish version, wasn't the most specific -- it calls for "six white fish" without specifying what type or how big -- so I estimated with about three pounds of ling cod for a double recipe. (The "bongo fish," on the other hand, is clearly a dry-smoked fish with the tail stuffed in its mouth!) We improvised a bit across recipes, throwing in butternut squash and eggplant, and leaving out bitter tomato which we had no chance of coming across. I did my best job of following the technique of steaming the rice above the stew before throwing in, but honestly I don't think it was worth the hassle, next time I'd just throw the rice right in the stew after rinsing. All in all, this was a pretty tasty dish, although I think I made way too much for the crowd!

Plasas | Spinach stew with peanut butter and beef | Recipe

Aunt Marcia had mentioned before I came to town that there was amazing local spinach to be had, so I was happy to find this recipe using spinach. Unfortunately, with their spell of heat the spinach was gone from the farmers markets, but the supermarket still had fine stuff, which we used in place of frozen. Mixed in with that classic  technique of simmering beef into a gravy rich with palm oil and a bit of peanut sauce, this was in my mind one of the better of the African stews I've made.

Chakery | Pineapple-dairy sauce over couscous | Recipe

Between the main course and dessert, we went out back and picked marionberries and raspberries from the garden, so naturally they, very incongruously, made their way onto a few plates. I was surprised to see a recipe with so much fresh dairy product from an African country, but then I saw it a few more times and was convinced of its authenticity. There's no added sugar, but between the pineapple (we used fresh instead of canned), evaporated milk, and vanilla yogurt, plus the richness of cooking the couscous in coconut milk and the sour cream in the sauce, this was quite a heady dessert. And yes, the berries went quite well.

We came back to New York the next day, and did a Georgian feast soon after that. The writeup is coming soon!