In “The poems of the cook” there are recipes from Latin America and Asia that I began to write in 1996, after having tea with Olga Orozco and telling her that I would never write in my life because I preferred reading. In fact, the tea Olga had given me was evidently made with elves, prayers, fairies and other mysteries.
Prologue by Ivonne Bordelois
The poems of the cook.
Cooking is one of several ways of making love
Miroslav Scheuba greets us out with all his pens, his frying-pans, his palettes, his cosmopolitan inspiration Czech-Chilean-Argentine, to show, to try, to taste and to discover for us the mildness of the sweet oil, the gospel of the flour, the eye of the fire, the sensitive rice, the deceiving oysters, the nightly potatoes, the kindness of the water and the flatter of the black pepper.
His element and condiment is the nourishing metaphor, his taste for life and matter -in literature a kind of unusual work in our days of horrible new ideas and dark and hateful philosophies- the appetite, the vigorous and powerful appetite for living enjoying and sharing life and the innocent pleasure with friends and fellow human beings. Candid and joyful sensuality runs along these pages that offer us fruit and fish, and sea-side meals near the clouds, millenary and fashionable recipes, exotic secrets and other ones coming from the granny’s apron, unexpected combinations of color, flavors, aphrodisiac legend and the praise of jacarandaes and ginger.
Scheuba’s Pan-American inspiration spreads above the unruly Amazon and the corn farm, but his cosmic eagerness leads him overflow freely to Korea, Vietnam, Singapore and Indonesia, looking for new clues in order to renew bouquets and inspiration and pleasure. His praise of the Oriental wines that goes into history across Persia and Greece up to Rome is also a prayer to the tragic Babylon of nowadays, tinted in the red wine of innocent blood. Nevertheless, eating and drinking are accurate images of banquet, of peace, of merriment and reconciliation, in order to acknowledge this «enigmatical abundance of the world» as Borges said. This book is a fervent homage to these words and it is also a perfect diagram of refined beauty.
Like Horace -the learned Latin poet- joining what is useful to that which is graceful, Miroslav Scheuba achieves his lyric effusions -like his fair glorification of the sacred relish for curry- with precise, exact and loving recipes, which are, upon my word, very efficient. Thus, the reader may go happily and confidently into this book because it does not happen, like the wicked literature of our days, to frighten, nor overwhelm or to blind anyone. Let us then be led by his hand, by his eye, by his tongue, into one of the few unfading territories that we still have for harmony and pleasure: dinner with friends and lovers, the opportunity of witty, healthy hedonism and the precise door to the more memorable secrets in friendship and love.
Ivonne Bordelois
ODE TO THE BREAD
Brother, miraculous brother
who has been in the Lord’s hands.
Be never absent from a true family’s table,
nor from the false home of an atheist who equally eats
and not even from the table of the unbeliever,
who equally doubts.
Be always present on the counter
of the follower who dreams with you.
He, with the wind from his hands,
make ranges of mountains
and storms of flour.
When the rivers thaw
he makes a lake
that almost overflows
but he contains it as a master
advancing in his creation
with the knead of every morning.
Ochre, the fragile cloud comes down in a hail
of magic yeast. The ferments warm the earth
with the power of its passions.
Now, the graceful hills
are cut and carried to the womb of a sun
where they engender life. Finally a voice calls out:
Bread is born!
To be shared among all the religions
to be made a doctrine
to receive the thankful kiss of the faithful
who some day will go to sleep in Heaven for an eternal life
or to be received by a blasphemous mouth
that bites and throws it out committing heresy.
Bread from Genesis is a symbol
created as the Word. A word
in this secret and truthful universe.
And Universe is the truthful and secret
name of God.
Ode to the wine
Every traveler owes
the wine something from the Babylon gardens,
Paradise that nowadays has known Hell.
From now on, inside the winery that is a temple
or at any time when we are in front of a glass of wine,
let us drink as if we were very thirsty for peace.
The vine was already written on vellum and papyrus
when it was made
by Chaldean hands
to fulfill its fate of becoming wine
or transported by Assyrian carriages
and sold on Phoenician vessels
cherished as gods
and monuments
had done before in ancient Greece,
where it was the ecstasy of Dionysus,
and some centuries later
to the drunken dancing
of the goddesses of wine.
It is vainly said
that we remember all these things
on a canvas, in the bunch of grapes painted by Caravaggio
that young Bacchus holds in his hands.
In the wine we find the yesterday
and in those yesterdays, Omar Khayyam, when in a tavern,
raised his hands in solemn prayer. In his Rubaiyat,
wine is served as a silent rose. The Persian, when toasting,
is giving it to us to try a red metaphor:
this fleeting ruby is real life.
Today in Rome, London, Prague, Madrid or Buenos Aires
wine remains a relief. Within a castle or without it, the grape juice
is a close friend of the French poet, from Villon to Baudalaire.
In America the first vine shoots were farmed by the Jesuits
who worked at the winery in order to make man’s heart cheerful.
After that, some poets like Neruda at the summit of fine words,
spoke of wineBorges, a fervent man,
on a river bank remembered thatAll civilization invokes
in its food a magic and mysterious prayer.
With bread and wine,
we belong to a civilization that is full of love and mercy.
As a white fighting or a red injured soldier
the brave wine is decorated with medals
like a hero and medal after medal,
he responds, greets and goes on.
Oysters with cultured pearls
Learn to know oysters,
fresh oysters are closed and selfish.
Take into account the mathematics
and do not buy without enthusiasm;
think by the dozen and be glad.
If you are pensive, all alone or blue
leave the oysters for another opportunity
and practice ostracism.
The second flash of lightning is
to learn how to open them.
Prologue by Ivonne Bordelois
The poems of the cook.
Cooking is one of several ways of making love
His element and condiment is the nourishing metaphor, his taste for life and matter -in literature a kind of unusual work in our days of horrible new ideas and dark and hateful philosophies- the appetite, the vigorous and powerful appetite for living enjoying and sharing life and the innocent pleasure with friends and fellow human beings. Candid and joyful sensuality runs along these pages that offer us fruit and fish, and sea-side meals near the clouds, millenary and fashionable recipes, exotic secrets and other ones coming from the granny’s apron, unexpected combinations of color, flavors, aphrodisiac legend and the praise of jacarandaes and ginger.
Scheuba’s Pan-American inspiration spreads above the unruly Amazon and the corn farm, but his cosmic eagerness leads him overflow freely to Korea, Vietnam, Singapore and Indonesia, looking for new clues in order to renew bouquets and inspiration and pleasure. His praise of the Oriental wines that goes into history across Persia and Greece up to Rome is also a prayer to the tragic Babylon of nowadays, tinted in the red wine of innocent blood. Nevertheless, eating and drinking are accurate images of banquet, of peace, of merriment and reconciliation, in order to acknowledge this «enigmatical abundance of the world» as Borges said. This book is a fervent homage to these words and it is also a perfect diagram of refined beauty.
Like Horace -the learned Latin poet- joining what is useful to that which is graceful, Miroslav Scheuba achieves his lyric effusions -like his fair glorification of the sacred relish for curry- with precise, exact and loving recipes, which are, upon my word, very efficient. Thus, the reader may go happily and confidently into this book because it does not happen, like the wicked literature of our days, to frighten, nor overwhelm or to blind anyone. Let us then be led by his hand, by his eye, by his tongue, into one of the few unfading territories that we still have for harmony and pleasure: dinner with friends and lovers, the opportunity of witty, healthy hedonism and the precise door to the more memorable secrets in friendship and love.
Ivonne Bordelois
ODE TO THE BREAD
Brother, miraculous brother
who has been in the Lord’s hands.
Be never absent from a true family’s table,
nor from the false home of an atheist who equally eats
and not even from the table of the unbeliever,
who equally doubts.
Be always present on the counter
of the follower who dreams with you.
He, with the wind from his hands,
make ranges of mountains
and storms of flour.
When the rivers thaw
he makes a lake
that almost overflows
but he contains it as a master
advancing in his creation
with the knead of every morning.
Ochre, the fragile cloud comes down in a hail
of magic yeast. The ferments warm the earth
with the power of its passions.
Now, the graceful hills
are cut and carried to the womb of a sun
where they engender life. Finally a voice calls out:
Bread is born!
To be shared among all the religions
to be made a doctrine
to receive the thankful kiss of the faithful
who some day will go to sleep in Heaven for an eternal life
or to be received by a blasphemous mouth
that bites and throws it out committing heresy.
Bread from Genesis is a symbol
created as the Word. A word
in this secret and truthful universe.
And Universe is the truthful and secret
name of God.
Ode to the wine
Every traveler owes
the wine something from the Babylon gardens,
Paradise that nowadays has known Hell.
From now on, inside the winery that is a temple
or at any time when we are in front of a glass of wine,
let us drink as if we were very thirsty for peace.
The vine was already written on vellum and papyrus
when it was made
by Chaldean hands
to fulfill its fate of becoming wine
or transported by Assyrian carriages
and sold on Phoenician vessels
cherished as gods
and monuments
had done before in ancient Greece,
where it was the ecstasy of Dionysus,
and some centuries later
to the drunken dancing
of the goddesses of wine.
It is vainly said
that we remember all these things
on a canvas, in the bunch of grapes painted by Caravaggio
that young Bacchus holds in his hands.
In the wine we find the yesterday
and in those yesterdays, Omar Khayyam, when in a tavern,
raised his hands in solemn prayer. In his Rubaiyat,
wine is served as a silent rose. The Persian, when toasting,
is giving it to us to try a red metaphor:
this fleeting ruby is real life.
Today in Rome, London, Prague, Madrid or Buenos Aires
wine remains a relief. Within a castle or without it, the grape juice
is a close friend of the French poet, from Villon to Baudalaire.
In America the first vine shoots were farmed by the Jesuits
who worked at the winery in order to make man’s heart cheerful.
After that, some poets like Neruda at the summit of fine words,
spoke of wine
on a river bank remembered that
in its food a magic and mysterious prayer.
With bread and wine,
we belong to a civilization that is full of love and mercy.
As a white fighting or a red injured soldier
the brave wine is decorated with medals
like a hero and medal after medal,
he responds, greets and goes on.
Oysters with cultured pearls
Learn to know oysters,
fresh oysters are closed and selfish.
Take into account the mathematics
and do not buy without enthusiasm;
think by the dozen and be glad.
If you are pensive, all alone or blue
leave the oysters for another opportunity
and practice ostracism.
The second flash of lightning is
to learn how to open them.
It is a work of art.
If you happen to hurt one
If you happen to hurt one
of your fingers, curse.
Then,
Then,
wash the oysters
with the kindness
of the water.
(They are always
(They are always
dirty with sand,
as they
as they
make love
on the beach.)
Try one of those
Try one of those
you consider
suspicious
and if it lies,
and if it lies,
spit it out.
You ought
to remember to have a lot of ice at hand
and do not forget the wine.
to remember to have a lot of ice at hand
and do not forget the wine.
The best is champagne.
Get a string of false pearls
Get a string of false pearls
and let them fall loose
over the nest of broken ice,
over the nest of broken ice,
a wedding bed of oysters and pearls.
In a rush of excitement the false ones
become genuine.
become genuine.
So in the end you become a poet.
Winter recipe
Take an orange trio with plenty of light
and without hesitation slice them slowly.
With less that thirty seeds
send them all into the remorse of a mincer
and put all its aftermath in a bowl as a consequence.
Add to this shaken discovery
three tablespoons
Winter recipe
Take an orange trio with plenty of light
and without hesitation slice them slowly.
With less that thirty seeds
send them all into the remorse of a mincer
and put all its aftermath in a bowl as a consequence.
Add to this shaken discovery
three tablespoons
of evangelizing wheat flour, 
three, of spiritual brown sugar
and only three eggs
three, of spiritual brown sugar
and only three eggs
from a four-figure number.
Join and mix everything for oblivion.
(Turn off the radio or the TV;
Join and mix everything for oblivion.
(Turn off the radio or the TV;
they cut off the memories
and the cream of silence.)
Handle the frying-pan
and the cream of silence.)
Handle the frying-pan
with determination and decision
and put it on the eye of fire
pouring over it sunflower oil in a generous quantity.
Afterwards, pour into the frying-pan the preparation.
If green envy does not abide by its laws
after two or three blinks, take the tortilla
away from fire and wet it with that happiness
called liqueur that may be rum. To try this recipe
it is not necessary to have the consent
of the Union of Gourmets but the consent of a sound,
a painting, or perhaps of a room with a view.
and put it on the eye of fire
pouring over it sunflower oil in a generous quantity.
Afterwards, pour into the frying-pan the preparation.
If green envy does not abide by its laws
after two or three blinks, take the tortilla
away from fire and wet it with that happiness
called liqueur that may be rum. To try this recipe
it is not necessary to have the consent
of the Union of Gourmets but the consent of a sound,
a painting, or perhaps of a room with a view.
"The Chilean Curanto"
Dig a pit of thunder at ground level
and warm up some volcanic rocks. Among them
the “curanto” will be cooked for the next day.
The “mapuches”, apart from opening and eating it,
just wait for a clear sky with no ashes and a river
without lava. Those hands, that now spin time
with cold and hope, were Araucanian
and were long ago burned in history,
those hands made coins that lit the night.
The scars keep on hurting in the voice
of Violeta Parra. Her song tells us that she wants to eat
“curanto” with “chapalele”. In that natural
saucepan where the soul of the black soil is
he land-food and sea-food will be cooked;
white chicken along with the innocent lamb surrounded
by the purity of the celery and the cabbage.
All this will extract the juice of the sea urchin and salts
from squids, clams, limpets and mussels
in an urderground kingdom of the Chiloé Island.
The “chapaleles” -kneaded with nightly potatoes-
today we see that they were a dream and a pillow
for this oceanic delicacy that wakes us up.
and warm up some volcanic rocks. Among them
the “curanto” will be cooked for the next day.
The “mapuches”, apart from opening and eating it,
just wait for a clear sky with no ashes and a river
without lava. Those hands, that now spin time
with cold and hope, were Araucanian
and were long ago burned in history,
those hands made coins that lit the night.
The scars keep on hurting in the voice
of Violeta Parra. Her song tells us that she wants to eat
“curanto” with “chapalele”. In that natural
saucepan where the soul of the black soil is
he land-food and sea-food will be cooked;
white chicken along with the innocent lamb surrounded
by the purity of the celery and the cabbage.
All this will extract the juice of the sea urchin and salts
from squids, clams, limpets and mussels
in an urderground kingdom of the Chiloé Island.
The “chapaleles” -kneaded with nightly potatoes-
today we see that they were a dream and a pillow
for this oceanic delicacy that wakes us up.
The Peruvian “causa”
First of all, Chabuca Granda in a melody,
rare hallmark of Lima, solemn in symphonic mist.
Eleven yellow potatoes must be boiled
and cooked in thermal springs to make a mash with them.
From a jar, pour out the silence of the oil,
from an orchard, the whistle chili; from a desert, the salt.
From a lemon, the juice of its repentance.
As if it were clay knead the millenary course
that will have the shape of a ring.
Remove the Inca offering
and lay it on the social doctrine fountain of the table
irrigating it with the sunflower chili sauce.
(The one that confesses to have committed ten chilies
falling on the temptation of the evaporated milk).
Summon the large oysters (shell) to take position
in the middle and around of the dome of mashed potatoes,
the sea-food must be fried before with tomatoes
and onion sauce and then the native parsley
to its satisfaction. With the tender smile of a shelled
corn on the cob comes this “causa”,
word from Quichua language kausac.
it means nutrition and sustenance
in order to keep going further on.
First of all, Chabuca Granda in a melody,
rare hallmark of Lima, solemn in symphonic mist.
Eleven yellow potatoes must be boiled
and cooked in thermal springs to make a mash with them.
From a jar, pour out the silence of the oil,
from an orchard, the whistle chili; from a desert, the salt.
From a lemon, the juice of its repentance.
As if it were clay knead the millenary course
that will have the shape of a ring.
Remove the Inca offering
and lay it on the social doctrine fountain of the table
irrigating it with the sunflower chili sauce.
(The one that confesses to have committed ten chilies
falling on the temptation of the evaporated milk).
Summon the large oysters (shell) to take position
in the middle and around of the dome of mashed potatoes,
the sea-food must be fried before with tomatoes
and onion sauce and then the native parsley
to its satisfaction. With the tender smile of a shelled
corn on the cob comes this “causa”,
word from Quichua language kausac.
it means nutrition and sustenance
in order to keep going further on.
Herbs and spices for the Bolivian “Quinoa”
The "quinoa" like the "amaranto" are seeds
with the strengh of the gods of the plateau,
because their protean and invigorating power
they are very hard, as hard as a grain of cruelty.
In the goodnes of the water soak it all night long,
so the “quinoa” will be ready for the ferrous construction
of an appetizer, a main course or a dessert
and humanity will no longer go hungry.
This generous American fertility
belongs to the pre-Colombian corn civilization.
Now it is a benefit in the tomato industrialization,
and recently with the right education of the quinoa food too.
Boil it with a little salt while we sing a Bolivian melody.
Meanwhile we prepare a red sauce
with the succulent red tomato
of an appetizer, a main course or a dessert
and humanity will no longer go hungry.
This generous American fertility
belongs to the pre-Colombian corn civilization.
Now it is a benefit in the tomato industrialization,
and recently with the right education of the quinoa food too.
Boil it with a little salt while we sing a Bolivian melody.
Meanwhile we prepare a red sauce
with the succulent red tomato
and chili peppers,
with the little and adolescent
with the little and adolescent
leaves of the oregano
and with the powder
and with the powder
of some different spices,
music and pride in any sauce.
Summon the green
music and pride in any sauce.
Summon the green
and fresh novelty
of that dear godmother
of that dear godmother
called basil,
and do not put aside
and do not put aside
the angry godfather chili,
who is angry for the wrong and hot profession of his mother!
who is angry for the wrong and hot profession of his mother!
Sentence:
Do not wake up if the smoke
of the candles
has come into your dreams.
Ecuatorian ceviche
My first meeting with Ecuador was “Huasipungo” by
the famous indigenous novel who Jorge Icaza wrote.
The second was gastronomical; my father told me
this was impossible because ecology had become
a fashion. The third was this ceviche or cebiche that
I tried at a humble restaurant in Guayaquil. The
cook gave me the recipe.
Ingredients for six people:
150 g of brave shrimps, 150 g of cowardly prawns,
200 g of boned and with a sense of humorous sole,
six shameful tomatoes, two shameless onions, two
spoonful of a shy ketchup, the juice of six cheeky
lemons, plus the grated rind of one of them, a
flirtatious black pepper and a pinch of table salt.
Procedure:
Cook and sieve the tomatoes, add the timid ketchup,
salt, pepper, the juice and the grated lemon rind. Cook
all of this in a pan on a low flame. When it comes to
boil, add the onion thin slices washed in boiling water.
Simmer for some minutes and turn down the fire as
much as possible.
On the counter we have all the sea-food already clean
and shaven. Always steering the above sauce while we
sing, add the shrimps, prawns and the sole cut into
pieces. Take away the pan from fire. Let it rest.
This ceviche is served cold in crystal stem glasses.
The “Bandeja Paisa”
(Colombia)
I have just arrived in the country of magic realism
with a desire for cooking.
If the mercenary gunmen and their Virgin do no stop me
I am going to prepare a delicious “Bandeja Paisa”.
Let millions and millions of red beans,
commanded by Floro Tunubalá,
be cooked with pork legs to the cha cha chá rhythm:
Smoke, my little baby smoke,
don’t ever give up smoking,
you will get to Heaven soon
with your blackened wings.
Let hundred of hands be prepared to grate thousands and thousands of green bananas in order to transport them in wheelbarrows into a football stadium, the giant pan of our continent. As we have a big external debt and a small budget we are going to organize ourselves with imagination and willpower, and so we will ask for the aid of the San Jacinto’s pippers, the Guajira’s smugglers, the Sinu’s ricers, the Guacamayal’s mistress, the Sierpe’s wizards and the Aracataca’s banana workers. (All the people are taken from the Gabriel García Mázquez short story called “The Funerals of Mama Grande”) for preparing tons of pork cracklings, pork and blood sausages. We will also ask for help from the Alvaro Mutis character, “Maqrol -the top sailor-.” in order to get crew and Asian spectators. The oval stage will be enjoyed with a Latin American team of red beans that will cover half the stadium and the Asian rice team the other half. The pork cracklings, pork and blood sausages will take their places at high locations beside the fanatical cheerleader that will carry some fried bananas sliced so large as placards surrounding all the stadium.
Smoke, my little baby smoke...
I want “tamales”in Panama
I believed the Pan-American Route jointed all the continent. I did not have the right information about it. The Pan-American Route does not get to the Panama Canal, the route dies on its way intoxicated by the drug trafficking. As soon as I arrived in the Canal City I began looking for “The enchanted girl of the basin” (*) but she was not there. I went on disappointed to the underworld expecting to meet Pedro Navaja (**) but I did not even see the shadow of the scoundrel. So I was completely discouraged. Afterwards I went to a local restaurant in order to try some tamales, but the delicious tamales were denied to me, they did not have them anymore. I was angry and hungry. Definitely, I could still taste its flavor since the time when I had milk teeth. The Panamanian taste was forbidden for a Latin American like me. In the end, in an international restaurant I was offered the ordinary menu from where I chose a salad with olives.
In fact, I began to think and write about the different flavors in them:
When an olive comes into your mouth,
first, show it all the house.
Let it speak out before you attack it.
If you let it go inside from one place to another,
it will achieve a slow sensual pace.
Listen to it, it has always something to say. It is millenary.
Take its blood pressure, and realize how sad it is.
If it is not tender enough, forgive it, life has become hard for it.
The green olive flavor is like a steam.
of the candles
has come into your dreams.
Ecuatorian ceviche
My first meeting with Ecuador was “Huasipungo” by
the famous indigenous novel who Jorge Icaza wrote.
The second was gastronomical; my father told me
this was impossible because ecology had become
a fashion. The third was this ceviche or cebiche that
I tried at a humble restaurant in Guayaquil. The
cook gave me the recipe.
Ingredients for six people:
150 g of brave shrimps, 150 g of cowardly prawns,
200 g of boned and with a sense of humorous sole,
six shameful tomatoes, two shameless onions, two
spoonful of a shy ketchup, the juice of six cheeky
lemons, plus the grated rind of one of them, a
flirtatious black pepper and a pinch of table salt.
Procedure:
Cook and sieve the tomatoes, add the timid ketchup,
salt, pepper, the juice and the grated lemon rind. Cook
all of this in a pan on a low flame. When it comes to
boil, add the onion thin slices washed in boiling water.
Simmer for some minutes and turn down the fire as
much as possible.
On the counter we have all the sea-food already clean
and shaven. Always steering the above sauce while we
sing, add the shrimps, prawns and the sole cut into
pieces. Take away the pan from fire. Let it rest.
This ceviche is served cold in crystal stem glasses.
The “Bandeja Paisa”
(Colombia)
I have just arrived in the country of magic realism
with a desire for cooking.
If the mercenary gunmen and their Virgin do no stop me
I am going to prepare a delicious “Bandeja Paisa”.
Let millions and millions of red beans,
commanded by Floro Tunubalá,
be cooked with pork legs to the cha cha chá rhythm:
Smoke, my little baby smoke,
don’t ever give up smoking,
you will get to Heaven soon
with your blackened wings.
Let hundred of hands be prepared to grate thousands and thousands of green bananas in order to transport them in wheelbarrows into a football stadium, the giant pan of our continent. As we have a big external debt and a small budget we are going to organize ourselves with imagination and willpower, and so we will ask for the aid of the San Jacinto’s pippers, the Guajira’s smugglers, the Sinu’s ricers, the Guacamayal’s mistress, the Sierpe’s wizards and the Aracataca’s banana workers. (All the people are taken from the Gabriel García Mázquez short story called “The Funerals of Mama Grande”) for preparing tons of pork cracklings, pork and blood sausages. We will also ask for help from the Alvaro Mutis character, “Maqrol -the top sailor-.” in order to get crew and Asian spectators. The oval stage will be enjoyed with a Latin American team of red beans that will cover half the stadium and the Asian rice team the other half. The pork cracklings, pork and blood sausages will take their places at high locations beside the fanatical cheerleader that will carry some fried bananas sliced so large as placards surrounding all the stadium.
Smoke, my little baby smoke...
I want “tamales”in Panama
I believed the Pan-American Route jointed all the continent. I did not have the right information about it. The Pan-American Route does not get to the Panama Canal, the route dies on its way intoxicated by the drug trafficking. As soon as I arrived in the Canal City I began looking for “The enchanted girl of the basin” (*) but she was not there. I went on disappointed to the underworld expecting to meet Pedro Navaja (**) but I did not even see the shadow of the scoundrel. So I was completely discouraged. Afterwards I went to a local restaurant in order to try some tamales, but the delicious tamales were denied to me, they did not have them anymore. I was angry and hungry. Definitely, I could still taste its flavor since the time when I had milk teeth. The Panamanian taste was forbidden for a Latin American like me. In the end, in an international restaurant I was offered the ordinary menu from where I chose a salad with olives.
In fact, I began to think and write about the different flavors in them:
When an olive comes into your mouth,
first, show it all the house.
Let it speak out before you attack it.
If you let it go inside from one place to another,
it will achieve a slow sensual pace.
Listen to it, it has always something to say. It is millenary.
Take its blood pressure, and realize how sad it is.
If it is not tender enough, forgive it, life has become hard for it.
The green olive flavor is like a steam.
Let us sail over it:
1) As a steam,
1) As a steam,
its flavor knows the Mediterranean and other seas.
2) As a traveler it may be able
2) As a traveler it may be able
to recognize the well kept sweet oil.
3) It has also the dark taste of the barrel
with adventures of the desk.
4) It knows the illuminated mist of an orchard.
5) Sometimes it retains
3) It has also the dark taste of the barrel
with adventures of the desk.
4) It knows the illuminated mist of an orchard.
5) Sometimes it retains
the old secret relish of ashes and salt.
6) From the olive color
6) From the olive color
worked by craftsmen, it has the perfume.
7) It speaks with the quiet voice
7) It speaks with the quiet voice
of a Biblian pitcher.
8) It goes along
with the homesickness
of a cruise to the past.
9) Now it is an aftertaste
9) Now it is an aftertaste
of all unhappiness spent.
10) Perhaps it has a swift sense
10) Perhaps it has a swift sense
of a dove of peace, or a carrier pigeon or a mistaken one.
(*) A Sergio González Ruiz play. (**) From the Ruben Blades songbook.
Costa Rica in a course
To the Costa Rica Ambassador, Mr Eduardo Otoya Boulanger
(*) A Sergio González Ruiz play. (**) From the Ruben Blades songbook.
Costa Rica in a course
To the Costa Rica Ambassador, Mr Eduardo Otoya Boulanger
In San Jose, city of international agreements, a first class citizen strongly recommended to me to read “Opened Miracle” by Jorge DeBravo. A cover girl who lives in tourist class made some favorable comments about a CD “Of everybody’s” by “Editus” a music group. In order to find an inexpensive inn I spoke to two gypsy women who knew the best. I went to the economical inn, which ended by being much better than what I had expected: fashionable, clean and pleasant. Of course, I did not make the mistake of introducing myself as a Chef, because in a foreign kitchen it is a threat or a challenge from an outsider. In the menu (on a pair of handwritten pages) there were no courses which brought any bad memories, such as Wellington Tenderloin or any other of the kind, but only home made food. I asked for a typical course and their answer was “the whole menu”. Making some inquires about the national course, they told me: “rice with chicken”. Expecting something more pre-Columbian, in the end I asked for the typical Costa Rica course. It was a pan of paella with a large amount of rice and vegetables such as chopped leeks and red peppers and chicken cut into small pieces covered with sliced fried potatoes. I tried it. I have never eaten such a delicious and fragrant dish. I was sheer ecstasy. I remeber that I was so satisfied that at siesta time I founded the religion of the laurel.
Laurus nobilis
At dawn numerous and microscopical divinities approach eagerly
in order to have their breakfast in the brightness of the crystal of art
or to have a shadowy coffee near the steams of science.
Some of them approach the molecule’s formula
that a researcher has left in stand by.
The best good-looking, remains flickering behind letters and signals
and go as a light into the hidden word.
Ungracefully some comeback to their first drawing like a mystery,
others brave ones, become stone to build the statue of a hero.
The intelligent ones are dissolved
into prophecies and become gold fish
or a prairie divinity of the past
which will turn perhaps tomorrow into Heaven.
Many will fly up to the birds of music
and come down dancing with the melody.
Others will build their nest
with newspapers and branches of sound.
Most of them are busy in the hollow of an hour.
As night falls, flattened by indifference or humidity
they will return to the green eternity
of a scented and wonderful tree called bay.
Singing “nacatamales”
(Nicaragua)
In Managua I had no problem in finding a CD with Luis Enrique’s greatest hits but it was difficult for me to get the New Anthology, by Ernesto Cardenal. By the way, in Managua almost nobody remembered Rubén Darío, the great poet. Talking about something else, a kitchen is like a theatre, none in the audience can go up on the stage, neither can a guest interrupt a play at the kitchen. When the gastronomical ceremony is over, you can applaud, but praising the actor’s performance is completely out of the question, unless you are a regular customer. That was my case. They prepared the best “nacatamales” in the world. Upon the squares of banana tree leaves, they put the mixture of corn pancakes, and over it, ham and bacon cut into pieces, a spoonful of a soaked rice surrounded by potatoes cut in halves. On the rice they put one or two olives, many raisins, many capers, half a tomato, half an onion, half a red pepper (they call it “chiltoma”) and a little bunch of mint (to add mint is like adding poetry). All this poured into a chili sauce, and covered with another square of banana tree leaf, folded, packed up and tied with a thread of the leaf, in the end, they put these gifts to boil in a pot with water and salt, while watching three Mexican afternoon soap-operas.
The
caper
was
a
beautiful
freckle
that
out of
greed
was
punished
and
transformed
into
a
Laurus nobilis
At dawn numerous and microscopical divinities approach eagerly
in order to have their breakfast in the brightness of the crystal of art
or to have a shadowy coffee near the steams of science.
Some of them approach the molecule’s formula
that a researcher has left in stand by.
The best good-looking, remains flickering behind letters and signals
and go as a light into the hidden word.
Ungracefully some comeback to their first drawing like a mystery,
others brave ones, become stone to build the statue of a hero.
The intelligent ones are dissolved
into prophecies and become gold fish
or a prairie divinity of the past
which will turn perhaps tomorrow into Heaven.
Many will fly up to the birds of music
and come down dancing with the melody.
Others will build their nest
with newspapers and branches of sound.
Most of them are busy in the hollow of an hour.
As night falls, flattened by indifference or humidity
they will return to the green eternity
of a scented and wonderful tree called bay.
Singing “nacatamales”
(Nicaragua)
In Managua I had no problem in finding a CD with Luis Enrique’s greatest hits but it was difficult for me to get the New Anthology, by Ernesto Cardenal. By the way, in Managua almost nobody remembered Rubén Darío, the great poet. Talking about something else, a kitchen is like a theatre, none in the audience can go up on the stage, neither can a guest interrupt a play at the kitchen. When the gastronomical ceremony is over, you can applaud, but praising the actor’s performance is completely out of the question, unless you are a regular customer. That was my case. They prepared the best “nacatamales” in the world. Upon the squares of banana tree leaves, they put the mixture of corn pancakes, and over it, ham and bacon cut into pieces, a spoonful of a soaked rice surrounded by potatoes cut in halves. On the rice they put one or two olives, many raisins, many capers, half a tomato, half an onion, half a red pepper (they call it “chiltoma”) and a little bunch of mint (to add mint is like adding poetry). All this poured into a chili sauce, and covered with another square of banana tree leaf, folded, packed up and tied with a thread of the leaf, in the end, they put these gifts to boil in a pot with water and salt, while watching three Mexican afternoon soap-operas.
The
caper
was
a
beautiful
freckle
that
out of
greed
was
punished
and
transformed
into
a
caper.
Nobody knows when the caper will change into a beautiful freckle again.
Filling “montucas”
(Honduras)
With the devotion that the pilgrims have when walking to a chapel or to a church, in Tegucigalpa was I looking for inns and canteens. I try to look like be an ordinary person but sometimes I cannot succeed, so I go deep into an inn, rather prudent at first, but always very humble. That is how I learnt in a modest restaurant, the way of the filling “montucas” properly . They play some music while they work. The sound of “Smuggler love” by Moses Canelo was in the air. In Honduras people call the corn on the cobs “elotes”. They had already been shredded and ground with milk and water in order to make a paste hard enough to be cooked in butter, salt and pepper. An assistant (wearing glasses) was making the “sofrito” (fried onions with tomato sauce) and adding ham and chilies cut into pieces and paprika (called “achiote”) dissolved in water and seasoned with cumin, pepper and salt. While he was working I asked the young man with glasses which the last national book he had read was. He answered “The Nationality”, an interesting essay about migrations and immigrations by Efrain Moncada Silva. I also talked to the other assistant in the inn about Caribbean music, while they prepared the leaves of the banana tree (called “homas”) which would be later filled in with a small portion of the paste and a single portion of the “sofrito”. They tied the “homas” with threads from the same dry leaf of the banana tree. Finally they put all the “homas” into a pot with water and a little salt to boil for an hour
Ode to the salt
Fall
traveler salt
upon my hand;
I must measure and weigh you
in this song.
Sometimes we forget each other;
not today my friend and my enemy
because I sweat while I am cooking
your biblical taste.
Timid crystal of the desert
you leave me although you follow me
just in a tear, almost at the edge of an abyss.
Making “pupusas”
(El Salvador)
I realize now that those who invented algebra were nomads or travelers who had a formula in order to take advantage of their resources better and not waste their time. My balance to keep on travelling around the Caribbean, has been this one:
Countries + recipes + songs x my book
Travel inexpensive
From El Salvador I brought the songs by Glenda Gaby and a novel by Ramón Gonzalez Montavo called “The Jars”, which I will comment later on. Here I bring a Salvadorian recipe, which is not easy to make, so I will try to be clear. The base for making the “pupusas” is a small pancake made with “Maseca” corn flour. It must be a ten centimeter diameter pancake. At the canteen I saw how the woman who was cooking made a stew with dark beans with pork cracklings that she flattened down with a fork in order to make the filling. With magic ability she put the pancake on her left hand palm and made a ball, that was hollow and closed. With her thumb she made a hole, where she put a small portion of the filling and closed it. With her two palms she made the “pupusa” rotate in order to make a kind of “empanada”. Next she put the “pupusas” on a hot “comal” till they were brown. The “comal” reminded me of our griddle. The “pupusas” are very delicious and have the taste of a caress. If you add a touch of pickles and pepper, it is more than a caress.
Ode to the pepper
Perhaps through heroic and commercial seas
looking for a new route to the Indias,
a grain of black pepper could achieve as much as a decision.
Your public taste
I have in mind while I am the director
and you are a crafty and witty actress.
We understand each other well
In every play
I am suffering but enjoy your acting.
When you die upon the stage
the curtain
falls.
Nobody knows when the caper will change into a beautiful freckle again.
Filling “montucas”
(Honduras)
With the devotion that the pilgrims have when walking to a chapel or to a church, in Tegucigalpa was I looking for inns and canteens. I try to look like be an ordinary person but sometimes I cannot succeed, so I go deep into an inn, rather prudent at first, but always very humble. That is how I learnt in a modest restaurant, the way of the filling “montucas” properly . They play some music while they work. The sound of “Smuggler love” by Moses Canelo was in the air. In Honduras people call the corn on the cobs “elotes”. They had already been shredded and ground with milk and water in order to make a paste hard enough to be cooked in butter, salt and pepper. An assistant (wearing glasses) was making the “sofrito” (fried onions with tomato sauce) and adding ham and chilies cut into pieces and paprika (called “achiote”) dissolved in water and seasoned with cumin, pepper and salt. While he was working I asked the young man with glasses which the last national book he had read was. He answered “The Nationality”, an interesting essay about migrations and immigrations by Efrain Moncada Silva. I also talked to the other assistant in the inn about Caribbean music, while they prepared the leaves of the banana tree (called “homas”) which would be later filled in with a small portion of the paste and a single portion of the “sofrito”. They tied the “homas” with threads from the same dry leaf of the banana tree. Finally they put all the “homas” into a pot with water and a little salt to boil for an hour
Ode to the salt
Fall
traveler salt
upon my hand;
I must measure and weigh you
in this song.
Sometimes we forget each other;
not today my friend and my enemy
because I sweat while I am cooking
your biblical taste.
Timid crystal of the desert
you leave me although you follow me
just in a tear, almost at the edge of an abyss.
Making “pupusas”
(El Salvador)
I realize now that those who invented algebra were nomads or travelers who had a formula in order to take advantage of their resources better and not waste their time. My balance to keep on travelling around the Caribbean, has been this one:
Countries + recipes + songs x my book
Travel inexpensive
From El Salvador I brought the songs by Glenda Gaby and a novel by Ramón Gonzalez Montavo called “The Jars”, which I will comment later on. Here I bring a Salvadorian recipe, which is not easy to make, so I will try to be clear. The base for making the “pupusas” is a small pancake made with “Maseca” corn flour. It must be a ten centimeter diameter pancake. At the canteen I saw how the woman who was cooking made a stew with dark beans with pork cracklings that she flattened down with a fork in order to make the filling. With magic ability she put the pancake on her left hand palm and made a ball, that was hollow and closed. With her thumb she made a hole, where she put a small portion of the filling and closed it. With her two palms she made the “pupusa” rotate in order to make a kind of “empanada”. Next she put the “pupusas” on a hot “comal” till they were brown. The “comal” reminded me of our griddle. The “pupusas” are very delicious and have the taste of a caress. If you add a touch of pickles and pepper, it is more than a caress.
Ode to the pepper
Perhaps through heroic and commercial seas
looking for a new route to the Indias,
a grain of black pepper could achieve as much as a decision.
Your public taste
I have in mind while I am the director
and you are a crafty and witty actress.
We understand each other well
In every play
I am suffering but enjoy your acting.
When you die upon the stage
the curtain
falls.
Guatemala
The corn pancake we have its comes from the Mayas
From the city of Antigua we will travel along roads of the
Popol Vuh,the written legend of the spider-monkeys.
Nobles, priests, people and slaves between the Grijalva
and the Lempa rivers. It is already known that another
river of ciphers, figures and stars has been created.
Over there the zero is floating and the calendar has
the power. Someone asks, why drown virgins in deep
tunnels? or why the power is breathed only by the True
Man? Or inquire about their losses in the hallucination
of the alcohol they drink till the words of their
friendly language make them grow, bloom and
bear fruit like brothers of the cocoa and the
honey. They later come back to theirs huts
with the luxury of jewels and pigments.
Upon the fire is the “comal”. On the
“comal” the corn pancakes that will go
through body and soul, like spirits
they keep on being part of the infinite
Heaven, as if they had studied it
in the signals, in the dreams,
in the moon, in the sun.
The corn pancake we have its comes from the Mayas
From the city of Antigua we will travel along roads of the
Popol Vuh,the written legend of the spider-monkeys.
Nobles, priests, people and slaves between the Grijalva
and the Lempa rivers. It is already known that another
river of ciphers, figures and stars has been created.
Over there the zero is floating and the calendar has
the power. Someone asks, why drown virgins in deep
tunnels? or why the power is breathed only by the True
Man? Or inquire about their losses in the hallucination
of the alcohol they drink till the words of their
friendly language make them grow, bloom and
bear fruit like brothers of the cocoa and the
honey. They later come back to theirs huts
with the luxury of jewels and pigments.
Upon the fire is the “comal”. On the
“comal” the corn pancakes that will go
through body and soul, like spirits
they keep on being part of the infinite
Heaven, as if they had studied it
in the signals, in the dreams,
in the moon, in the sun.
Mexico
Turkey with “poblano” sauce
in order to reach to the Aztecas
For a turkey, cook forty “pasillas” chilies,
soaked and browned, four pieces of bread
and a corn pancake browned in butter,
two bars of chocolate, of all the spices just a little and brown
sesame too; all of these well ground, soaked and fried in butter.
Finish seasoning with cinnamon, a little bit of vinegar
and some sugar. Add the turkey cut in quarters.”
The recipe belongs to Alfonso Reyes. Someone
plays a cane and another one scolds many monkeys in
the Nahualt’’s language. Ixcoalt dominates the jungle
and the tribus. The sun dominated him. The bloody sun
is hunger for war and thirsty for prisoners.
Without forest, there are no jaguars
and with war there is no harvest.
Moctezuma organizes tournaments.
If there is no war,
the sun will still have a meal.
All the Aztecs live
in the flowing of the water,
in the infinite of the sky,
in the battle of the fire
and in the dazzling
stars of a glass
of “pulque".
Turkey with “poblano” sauce
in order to reach to the Aztecas
For a turkey, cook forty “pasillas” chilies,
soaked and browned, four pieces of bread
and a corn pancake browned in butter,
two bars of chocolate, of all the spices just a little and brown
sesame too; all of these well ground, soaked and fried in butter.
Finish seasoning with cinnamon, a little bit of vinegar
and some sugar. Add the turkey cut in quarters.”
The recipe belongs to Alfonso Reyes. Someone
plays a cane and another one scolds many monkeys in
the Nahualt’’s language. Ixcoalt dominates the jungle
and the tribus. The sun dominated him. The bloody sun
is hunger for war and thirsty for prisoners.
Without forest, there are no jaguars
and with war there is no harvest.
Moctezuma organizes tournaments.
If there is no war,
the sun will still have a meal.
All the Aztecs live
in the flowing of the water,
in the infinite of the sky,
in the battle of the fire
and in the dazzling
stars of a glass
of “pulque".
“Moors and Christians”
(Cuba)
This course is called “arroz congrí” by the Cubans. There are many ways of cooking it. We start with one that recommends “Fidelity” because everything has a rule. By previous appointment in a gastronomical school in Habana , somebody was waiting for me. The room was similar to a maternity hospital but OH it was a classroom–kitchen. Through the loudspeakers someone was reading a paragraph MINT from “The slave Cimarrón” (it means lazy but clever), a novel by Miguel Barnett. SCENT When the reading ended we heard some songs from a CD by Isaac Delgado WITH YOUR LIGHT GREEN called “Malecon”. THE LITTLE HUMANITY THAT WE HAVE LEFT. On an electric stove the red beans previously soaked were being cooked. The teacher dictated –with scientific rigor- the ingredients of the “sofrito”, showing them at the same time: sliced onion, chopped garlic, a leaf of bay, a small amount of sweet oil, some grams of salt and paprika, a breeze of oregano and just a pinch of free will of cumin. After that, she put half cup of rice and two cups of beans to cook in another pan. We could watch how the rice was acquiring a gray intellectual color . Finally, the teacher joined the two pottages. We tried them and applauded. I realized that the red beans had been cooked with pork but I kept the secret. I returned to the hotel and asked for a daiquiri at the bar. I watched its preparation: ice, white rum, the lima juice and the leaf of mint. I drank it. Before the third I stopped: In front of the law we are all equal; in front of alcohol, some of us, are more equal than others.
Recipe for the chictay
(HAITÍ)
To get a good smoked herring
You do not need walk so much in Port au Prince.
As I am saving money, I bargain all the prices;
my wallet is almost empty
and I have not bought the Barbancourt yet,
the best rum in Haiti.
I must still go to the bookstore where “Bon Dieu rie” by Saint
Amand
is waiting for me.
I also want the CD “Haitiando” (I Y II)
by Bolo Valcourt. I have just arrived in time
to free the herring from all its moments of skin
and all its moments of fishbone. This world
is covered with thorn and grief. Why so many?
Now I frying in olive oil –not only my doubts-
but also a meticulous portion of shallots
that I cut with Gemini symmetry.
I deliver the herring, cut in small pieces, to the fire
plus some hot chilies to make it different.
I stir and try. I think and I exist.
What a “mangú”!
Dominican Republic
And now it is your fault,
because in a Dominican course
you should never forget to add
the mashed green banana or “mangú”.
(Cuba)
This course is called “arroz congrí” by the Cubans. There are many ways of cooking it. We start with one that recommends “Fidelity” because everything has a rule. By previous appointment in a gastronomical school in Habana , somebody was waiting for me. The room was similar to a maternity hospital but OH it was a classroom–kitchen. Through the loudspeakers someone was reading a paragraph MINT from “The slave Cimarrón” (it means lazy but clever), a novel by Miguel Barnett. SCENT When the reading ended we heard some songs from a CD by Isaac Delgado WITH YOUR LIGHT GREEN called “Malecon”. THE LITTLE HUMANITY THAT WE HAVE LEFT. On an electric stove the red beans previously soaked were being cooked. The teacher dictated –with scientific rigor- the ingredients of the “sofrito”, showing them at the same time: sliced onion, chopped garlic, a leaf of bay, a small amount of sweet oil, some grams of salt and paprika, a breeze of oregano and just a pinch of free will of cumin. After that, she put half cup of rice and two cups of beans to cook in another pan. We could watch how the rice was acquiring a gray intellectual color . Finally, the teacher joined the two pottages. We tried them and applauded. I realized that the red beans had been cooked with pork but I kept the secret. I returned to the hotel and asked for a daiquiri at the bar. I watched its preparation: ice, white rum, the lima juice and the leaf of mint. I drank it. Before the third I stopped: In front of the law we are all equal; in front of alcohol, some of us, are more equal than others.
Recipe for the chictay
(HAITÍ)
To get a good smoked herring
You do not need walk so much in Port au Prince.
As I am saving money, I bargain all the prices;
my wallet is almost empty
and I have not bought the Barbancourt yet,
the best rum in Haiti.
I must still go to the bookstore where “Bon Dieu rie” by Saint
Amand
is waiting for me.
I also want the CD “Haitiando” (I Y II)
by Bolo Valcourt. I have just arrived in time
to free the herring from all its moments of skin
and all its moments of fishbone. This world
is covered with thorn and grief. Why so many?
Now I frying in olive oil –not only my doubts-
but also a meticulous portion of shallots
that I cut with Gemini symmetry.
I deliver the herring, cut in small pieces, to the fire
plus some hot chilies to make it different.
I stir and try. I think and I exist.
What a “mangú”!
Dominican Republic
And now it is your fault,
because in a Dominican course
you should never forget to add
the mashed green banana or “mangú”.
The jacaranda music
What is a tree but the time that it has grown,
what is time but an old tree that has a past
and what is a leaf but something gone at last
which you have forgotten offspring of oblivion.
What is the jacaranda but music and life
and what is life but a nice flower in flame,
light blue or lilac its color like the fame
coming up from the roots to be high and wise.
And now what is left out to write about this land
when it is no more a land while felling wood,
where the cruel saw has worked under its hood.
A poet is a fallen tree. So I understand
that was soon banished regardless of our pain.
Adam was cast forth from Paradise again.
“Pabellón criollo”
(Venezuela)
Cook a kilo of rice in a clean and decent pan
and pay attention as if you were in an experimental lab,
that the rice is just cooked to its right point.
Do not forget this gastronomical wish:
In another pan (It does not matter which)
make a stew with a sentimental kilo and a half of “caraotas”,
these are beans, that being so black, look almost blue,
(This is the Carthesian reason to soak them first).
For this stew it is better to use “common sense”
such as Descartes used to say in his “Discours de la Méthode”,
the method is not to be mean with some chopped onions,
with a pair of cloves of garlic (the right antidote for all bad metaphysics)
and a small portion of mushed tomatoes,
that will make this course outstanding.
Empty the first pan, clear and decent, where you cooked the rice
And it is place, put two kilos of veal beef neatly chopped,
Lead them carefully to a bed of onions perfumed with sweet oil
and simmer all to the sound of slow and unforgettable music.
Put everything in an oval fountain -silent and elegant-
the emotional rice on one side,
and on the other, with the tempting meat in the middle the beans
that have succeeded
in bringing together all the Latin American Countries.
A Pabellón Criollo,
What is a tree but the time that it has grown,
what is time but an old tree that has a past
and what is a leaf but something gone at last
which you have forgotten offspring of oblivion.
What is the jacaranda but music and life
and what is life but a nice flower in flame,
light blue or lilac its color like the fame
coming up from the roots to be high and wise.
And now what is left out to write about this land
when it is no more a land while felling wood,
where the cruel saw has worked under its hood.
A poet is a fallen tree. So I understand
that was soon banished regardless of our pain.
Adam was cast forth from Paradise again.
“Pabellón criollo”
(Venezuela)
Cook a kilo of rice in a clean and decent pan
and pay attention as if you were in an experimental lab,
that the rice is just cooked to its right point.
Do not forget this gastronomical wish:
make a stew with a sentimental kilo and a half of “caraotas”,
these are beans, that being so black, look almost blue,
(This is the Carthesian reason to soak them first).
For this stew it is better to use “common sense”
such as Descartes used to say in his “Discours de la Méthode”,
the method is not to be mean with some chopped onions,
with a pair of cloves of garlic (the right antidote for all bad metaphysics)
and a small portion of mushed tomatoes,
that will make this course outstanding.
Empty the first pan, clear and decent, where you cooked the rice
And it is place, put two kilos of veal beef neatly chopped,
Lead them carefully to a bed of onions perfumed with sweet oil
and simmer all to the sound of slow and unforgettable music.
Put everything in an oval fountain -silent and elegant-
the emotional rice on one side,
and on the other, with the tempting meat in the middle the beans
that have succeeded
in bringing together all the Latin American Countries.
A Pabellón Criollo,
hallacas and arepa's photo:
Brazilian “feijoada”
Ingredients:
A kilo of black beans (soaked the day before) 100 g of pork skin, some tails and pork legs, 200 g of bacon, two onions, 4 cloves of garlic, ½ kilo of rice, ¼ cup of sweet oil, 200 g of manioc flour, 2 spoonful of butter, bay leaves, pepper, salt and cauliflower leaves.
Preparation:
Cook the soaked bean in their water with the pork skin, tails and pork legs during 20 minutes, add the bacon and the spices and cook for15 more minutes. On a frying pan, fry the sliced onions, two cloves of garlic and two cups (taken out) from the first pan. Make a paste with all of this and put it back into the first pan.
The rice is prepared in another pan this way: Simmer the sweet oil pouring the rice over it, always stirring until it is brown, then add a liter of boiled water. Lower the fire, and cook for 10 minutes and the rice will be ready.
Preparation of the “farofa”:
On a frying pan warm the two spoonful of butter, powdering the manioc on it, add two cloves of ground garlic and a teaspoon of table salt. Brown the manioc in order to get the “farofa”.
The “feijoda” is served in a fountain with chopped cauliflower leaves. The “farofa” is offered in a bowl aside as well as the pepper made a sauce with Tabasco.
Amazon Prayer
Oh Lord! from the ailing heart of the Amazon
we, the Indians of South America,
raise this prayer to You:
Although You do not see us,
in the jungle
we look at You while we look at the sky.
Although You do not hear us,
in the cave
we listen to You in silence.
Although You do not speak to us,
from the middle of the flood
we talk to You with our thoughts.
We are those who have many names:
Praying for the Brazilian tribes, we are the Xavantes.
Praying for the Colombian tribes, we are the Caucanos.
Praying for the tribes of Venezuela, we are the Yanomamis.
Although others put stones in our road
with our prayers we have found the way to say thanks.
Thank You for the lianas of Faith
although others without any warning give us the electric lianas.
Thank You for the rivers of Hope,
rivers that they are more polluted every day.
Thank You for the trees of Patience
though others are cut and burned.
Thanks You for the air we breathe
though sometimes it is blacker than smoke,
nevertheless we share all as we share water and bread.
Thank You for teaching us to pray
for us, for others and for the Amazon river,
a river worthy of praise and worthy of forgiveness.
PARAGUAYAN POEM
With the soil and the rain the oven bird
makes its house, it is the other life
of the Guaraní, in water, clouds and sky.
Tapean, Itatinian, Curupaitinian are branches
of the ñandubay tree. It is the unexpected
that breathes in their names. Behind the rainbow
they live in the green Amazonian roar.
Suddenly...they fall into the mercenary
nets of the Portuguese hirelings.
American slaves caught in a net
with African slaves. The conquest
and the conqueror have
the same essential value as the Parana river,
where the Guarany looks at his reflection in its water
and paints his body according to the night
he has spent as a jaguar
or at daybreak as a wild boar.
In the opening of the forest
they farm the war,
the corn
and the little pumpkin,
that dry, empty and clean
is devoted to the “terere”,
the drink
that they prepare
with the “caa” herb,
-the mate-.
From the Jesuit’s hand, they receive the Gospel
and the jungle until the stones
that they have carved into angels
are all pulled down. What a sacrilege!
PARAGUAYAN SOUP
600 g of corn flour
½ k of sliced onion,
350 g cream cheese,
1 l of milk,
8 eggs,
½ half cup of butter
½ half cup of water
and the salt of life.
Remove the milk from fire,
add in a rush,
all the corn flour
stirring quickly.
In a frying pan
put the butter to warm
and add the onions.
Cover it.
Leave it to soften,
till the onions are brown,
add salt and water.
Add this preparation
to the other one
together with the cream cheese in pieces
and the stirred eggs.
Put everything in a buttered pan
and simmer
for an hour.
Ingredients:
A kilo of black beans (soaked the day before) 100 g of pork skin, some tails and pork legs, 200 g of bacon, two onions, 4 cloves of garlic, ½ kilo of rice, ¼ cup of sweet oil, 200 g of manioc flour, 2 spoonful of butter, bay leaves, pepper, salt and cauliflower leaves.
Preparation:
Cook the soaked bean in their water with the pork skin, tails and pork legs during 20 minutes, add the bacon and the spices and cook for15 more minutes. On a frying pan, fry the sliced onions, two cloves of garlic and two cups (taken out) from the first pan. Make a paste with all of this and put it back into the first pan.
The rice is prepared in another pan this way: Simmer the sweet oil pouring the rice over it, always stirring until it is brown, then add a liter of boiled water. Lower the fire, and cook for 10 minutes and the rice will be ready.
Preparation of the “farofa”:
On a frying pan warm the two spoonful of butter, powdering the manioc on it, add two cloves of ground garlic and a teaspoon of table salt. Brown the manioc in order to get the “farofa”.
The “feijoda” is served in a fountain with chopped cauliflower leaves. The “farofa” is offered in a bowl aside as well as the pepper made a sauce with Tabasco.
Amazon Prayer
Oh Lord! from the ailing heart of the Amazon
we, the Indians of South America,
raise this prayer to You:
Although You do not see us,
in the jungle
we look at You while we look at the sky.
Although You do not hear us,
in the cave
we listen to You in silence.
Although You do not speak to us,
from the middle of the flood
we talk to You with our thoughts.
We are those who have many names:
Praying for the Brazilian tribes, we are the Xavantes.
Praying for the Colombian tribes, we are the Caucanos.
Praying for the tribes of Venezuela, we are the Yanomamis.
Although others put stones in our road
with our prayers we have found the way to say thanks.
Thank You for the lianas of Faith
although others without any warning give us the electric lianas.
Thank You for the rivers of Hope,
rivers that they are more polluted every day.
Thank You for the trees of Patience
though others are cut and burned.
Thanks You for the air we breathe
though sometimes it is blacker than smoke,
nevertheless we share all as we share water and bread.
Thank You for teaching us to pray
for us, for others and for the Amazon river,
a river worthy of praise and worthy of forgiveness.
PARAGUAYAN POEM
With the soil and the rain the oven bird
makes its house, it is the other life
of the Guaraní, in water, clouds and sky.
Tapean, Itatinian, Curupaitinian are branches
of the ñandubay tree. It is the unexpected
that breathes in their names. Behind the rainbow
they live in the green Amazonian roar.
Suddenly...they fall into the mercenary
nets of the Portuguese hirelings.
American slaves caught in a net
with African slaves. The conquest
and the conqueror have
the same essential value as the Parana river,
where the Guarany looks at his reflection in its water
and paints his body according to the night
he has spent as a jaguar
or at daybreak as a wild boar.
In the opening of the forest
they farm the war,
the corn
and the little pumpkin,
that dry, empty and clean
is devoted to the “terere”,
the drink
that they prepare
with the “caa” herb,
-the mate-.
From the Jesuit’s hand, they receive the Gospel
and the jungle until the stones
that they have carved into angels
are all pulled down. What a sacrilege!
PARAGUAYAN SOUP
600 g of corn flour
½ k of sliced onion,
350 g cream cheese,
1 l of milk,
8 eggs,
½ half cup of butter
½ half cup of water
and the salt of life.
Remove the milk from fire,
add in a rush,
all the corn flour
stirring quickly.
In a frying pan
put the butter to warm
and add the onions.
Cover it.
Leave it to soften,
till the onions are brown,
add salt and water.
Add this preparation
to the other one
together with the cream cheese in pieces
and the stirred eggs.
Put everything in a buttered pan
and simmer
for an hour.
Uruguayan sandwiches
Cut some slices from a
vertical roast, wide and
tender thin slabs of beef.
Open in halves, the round
smooth and spongy bread.
Put inside the beef with
lettuce, tomatoes and eggs.
Finally put slices of red
onion and some slices of
cucumber.
Cut some slices from a
vertical roast, wide and
tender thin slabs of beef.
Open in halves, the round
smooth and spongy bread.
Put inside the beef with
lettuce, tomatoes and eggs.
Finally put slices of red
onion and some slices of
cucumber.
The “Charruas”
The Charruas natives are born
on the eastern bank of the most silent river of the world.
They grow up inside, outside, up and under of the “ceibo” tree.
They exist under a woolen knitted sky by the wind.
They evolve from the sound of animals,
frightened by its wild music.
They roast the meat in an upright stick lit by the fire.
They talk to a drink made of wild honey
which makes them to dream with war.
They decide that Spaniards and
Portuguese do not deserve to ride.
They speak in a night dream
guarded by warriors. Flying on
their horses, nobody sees them,
but they arrive. At that moment
they do not move, they do not
breathe, but they do not fail. They
wake up and the Uruguay river
combs their hair and bathes their
wounds. The “Charruas” put
feathers on their heads, feathers
as white as pride. They accept
casualties and polygamy
and they are extremely cunning.
They punish adultery, toothache, and flatulence.
“Charruas” are taken ill, they rave, they call for the quack.
Medicines are accepted from that chemist called Nature.
They feel better and they die.
They are buried by an old woman.
A “Charrua” kills his horse and is buried with it and his weapons.
The will reincarnate as birds that will sing like the water.
Argentinean barbecue
The making of barbecue
may be disturbed by a later unexpected appointment.
Not all butchers’ shops have been closed for ever,
some ribs and flanks can still be got
as well as sausages, blood sausages and sweetbreads;
in some way, all of them belong to the same old dream.
This tradition of the “gauchos” comes from the “pampas”,
the natives that hunted deers with spears and hunting slings
near the troughs in the open plains.
The Spaniards brought their horses and cows.
Twice they founded Buenos Ayres.
Violent clouds of dust were seen from the “mangrullos”
-high towers made of sticks-
while fear clutched at the bars of doors
and windows: a “malon”,
a horde of savage Indians were attacking.
It was the devil himself with his magic making fires. Echeverria,
our inspired poet, terrified us with a “malon”
in his novel “The Captive woman”.
The plough in time has robbed them of their violent dream,
so they had to learn –among many other bad habits- to trade
their stolen cows. In nature they are not completely lost.
The Indian “pampa” dies of old age or by a shot,
but in the early morning he comes flying back:
is a thrush singing sweetly.
Oson
Vapor heated stuffed fish from Korea
Fry for 2 minutes a bunch of shredded carrots, another of green beans, some mushrooms and a few dry mushrooms in a wok with little oil. After putting all these vegetables on a dish, spray over them some sesame oil and soy sauce. Salt and pepper some sole fillets and powder corn flour on only one side. In a frying-pan put 2 egg whites in order to obtain a pale o
melette, which will be cut in stripes; then fry the two yolks to repeat the procedure. On each fillet, on the side which is free from flour, place some of the vegetables, and with the stripes of omelettes, making rolls which will be steam cooked in a bamboo basket.
Preparation of the sauce: Put in a bowl 2 tablespoons of rice vinegar, 2 of soy sauce and 1 of sesame oil. Add 2 chopped chilies, and some chopped nut pines. Mix everything, stirring with Korean energy. Pour it into a gravy bowl.
Serve the fish hot on a layer of green leaves, that can be radicchio, arugula or watercress. Do not forget the sauce.
Ode to soy sauce
Dark and strong
like an old key or a well kept secret.
Rich and valuable
like the wonderful history of Orient.
Respectable
like a worthy old lady;
fair
like the tradition of ancient community.
Tasty and necessary
like the philosophy of Confucius.
Deep and precise
like a ceremony.
Muc Don Thit
The stuffed squids of Vietnam
You can easily make this Vietnamese dish if you are able to get at the Chinese market, cellophane vermicelli, also called glass noodles, because they are made with the starch of white beans. It would also be very useful if
you can get at that market, some gold needles, which are the dry shoots of white lilies. Besides, do not forget to buy shitake mushrooms.
Clean 3 big squids and cut its tentacles, which will be part of the stuffing. Get a handful of vermicelli (60 g) and after leaving them in boiling water 5 minutes, drain and dry them with a kitchen paper; then with a pair of scissors cut them in short pieces. In a pot, prepare the stuffing by frying 4 sliced thin spring onions, 2 chopped cloves of garlic, 3 tablespoons of fish stock, a beaten egg, and ¼ teaspoon of salt. Add the cut vermicelli, the 15 g of gold needles (cut and soaked) the 10 g of shitake mushrooms (previously soaked too) and the chopped tentacles. Fry the squids in a wok with little oil during 5 minutes and then stuff them. Close the end with toothpicks to be able to cut them. In another pan, heat the cellophane vermicelli that will be served with the squid slices.
Ode to the cellophane vermicelli
Fragile and transparent
like a well hidden truth.
Light and smooth
like a smile or a silk ribbon.
Hopeful
like this world.
Ephemeral
like this life.
Glittering and wished-for
as a gift or an adventure;
strange and different
like a language, a traveler, or one’s own self.
Ikan Masak Molek
The fish curry of Malasia
In a food processor put 5 cm of small lemon in pieces, a cup of coconut milk, 3 chopped chilies, 4 shallots, a 3 cm. piece of ginger, peeled and grated, 3 cm of fresh and chopped galanga, 8 chopped almonds previously peeled, 1 tablespoon of curry, 2 tablespoons of tamarind
water, 1 teaspoon of salt, a few grams of pepper ground at that moment. Cook this even mixture in a wok for 5 minutes. (You will see how the oil separates from the coconut milk). Stir and add 1 lt. of coconut milk; keep on cooking and stirring for half hour, till the preparation is reduced to half its amount. That is the moment to add the trouts or the chernias or pargos clean and scaled. Cook for seven minutes, though the trout needs only 5 minutes. Before serving pour over the fish, 2 tablespoons of crispy fried onions and some chopped parsley.
The Ikan Masak Molek can be served with boiled rice or with slices of quimbombo. If your honored guest is from Malasia, offer him the head of the fish, which will be gratefully accepted, following the tradition.
Ode to the curry
From afar
for the color,
near by
for the texture; from above
for the apex of your fragrance,
from below
by the importance of your weight.
From inside for your mystery,
from outside for your elephants,
for me, as well as for others perhaps,
you have a taste almost sacred,
a mixture of circus
and much of religion.
Homok Talay
Shellfish in coconut milk from Thailand
To offer a Homoh Talay for 4 people, we should get and prepare the following seafood: 2 big squids boiled in water with a little salt for 5 minutes, 8 scallops, 8 shrimps, 12 mussels and 4 crabs claws. Boil the mussels for a minute, put out the fire and let them rest, to get rid of all the sand. To make the sauce, heat in a pot with a thick bottom, 3 tablespoons
of vegetable oil, and fry a chopped medium size onion, 2 shallots and 3 cloves of garlic. If we have a small lemon, we can add its stem finely cut, plus a pair of chopped chilies and a piece of grated ginger. Stirring all the time, we add ½ tablespoon of turmeric, a dash of black pepper some seeds of cardamom, 2 fresh leaves of sweet kaffir lime, 1 teaspoon of salt, another of sugar and 2 tablespoon of tamarind water. We stir and add almost 1 l (900 ml) of coconut milk, quite thick. When the sauce comes to a boil, we keep on cooking on a low fire for 30 minutes. Almost at the end (five minutes before) we add all the seafood and a few leaves of basil and mint. We take out the sweet kaffir lime leaves, and then it can be served.
Ode to the ginger
You bear the signature and seal of many hands
that marked and reincarnated you.
Fragrant
cavern
and bubbles of a dream
envisaged in the lethargic slumber of a pleasant frenzy.
In the essence of many distances and centuries,
from meal to meal, from mouth to mouth,
asleep or awake,
you are the distorted figure head of the boat
sailing through the senses against all odds,
more than looking like a twisted root
by caresses or by scorn.
Gado-Gado
Vegetables cooked in peanut sauce from Indonesia
More than the national dish from Indonesia the Gado-Gado is the classic dish from Java. It is main feature is to have well cooked vegetables, but not too much, so with 5 minutes boiling should be enough for the 200 g of cabbage cut in Julienne style, ¼ k of spring beans cut in 2 cm. pieces, 125 g sliced carrots finely dented, 125 g of cauliflower scattered in small bunches. Once the vegetables are cooked, they should be kept hot in the pot.
Peanut sauce: Heat in a pot 30 ml. of peanut sauce before putting it into small brocks. ( If you do not get the ready made peanut sauce, prepare it with 375 g of pealed peanut, cook them in a wok with 175 ml of vegetable oil; drain and process 2 tablespoons of soy sauce, plus 4 chopped shallots, 4 garlic cloves, 1 tablespoon of paprika and 2 tablespoons of coconut oil. Cook this for 5 minutes, add 1 cup of boiling water, stir and cook 5 minutes more.) Gado-Gado should be served with watercress, boiled potatoes cut into quarters, a boiled egg cut in four, a dash of crispy onion, all decorated with dry prawn crackers that can be obtained in the Oriental markets; those from Indonesia are called krupuk.
Ode to the peanut
Innocent,
naked
or dressed.
Quiet
or noisy,
happy
or angry,
we will always have you
restless and vital,
bold and daring
like a child, little Tom Thumb or Petit Napoleon.
Pork satay
Pork brochette from Singapore
For 18 brochettes satay style you need 1 Kg. of cooked pork ham cut in pieces 2x 3 cm, 125 g of bacon cut in the same way. For the marinade get 4 chopped garlic cloves, 1 tablespoon of ground black pepper, 1 tablespoon of ground Sichuan pepper, 2 tablespoons of 5 kind of species: cassia, fennel, starred anise, anise pepper and clove. 2 tablespoons of light soy, 2 of honey and ¼ teaspoon of table salt.
Having put all these ingredients on a dish, we add the cut pork, then we let it rest in the fridge all night, so it be well soaked. It would be better to leave a note: “Don’t touch”.
The following day is the great day. On each brochette place 4 pieces of pork and 3 pieces of bacon alternately. Next put the 18 brochettes on the grill in the oven and cook 30 minutes to 180º C. Serve right away.
Ode to the satay
Of ancient silver
or old iron.
Humble and jagged,
sharp and elegant,
aristocratic
or wanderer.
Of ivory
or bambu.
Oh!…satay!
You will never stop doing,
not without a certain syncretism,
a good deed for Humanity.
Plea Tray
Fish salad from Cambodia
This Cambodian recipe is made with 400 g of smoked salmon cut in fine strips, marinated for 3 hours in a sauce made with the juice of a lime, 2 chopped stems of small lemon and 1 tablespoon of grated galanga, 2 tablespoons of fish sauce (use the neighboring Vietnamese sauce called Muoc Mam which can be bought in the Chinese market) 1 tablespoon of sugar and ¼ teaspoon of salt.
In a glass bowl prepare the Cambodian salad with a small sliced cucumber, 2 shallots finely cut, 1 red pepper without seed cut in thin long elegant strips, 3 leaves of cabbage lettuce, also cut in strips, and 2 bunches of mint (both kinds if it is possible) With drawn the fish from the marinade and add it to the fragrant salad.
Ode to the mint
Restless like a bell
or quiet like a fence.
Fresh like water
or dry like a road track.
Young like a virgin
or old like a legend.
Brilliant like an emerald
or pale like the sand.
You have always been,
you always will be
so, you always are
humble like a star.
Bara-Zushi
Sushi rice with Julienne omelette from Japan
The clue to the Bara Zuchi is to soak 60 g of dry Shitake mushrooms with its stems and then cook them in the same water for 15 minutes.
Ingredients: 500 g of Japanese rice (short grain) that will be previously washed several t
imes and drained for a half hour. 250 ml of the mushroom broth above mentioned, 1 tablespoon of mirin, 1 tablespoon of soy sauce, 125 g of fried tofu (it is the curd of the soy beans, they can be obtained at the Chinese market) 30 g prawns, 8 pealed shrimps cut in two lengthwise, 60 g dry Shitake mushrooms (the same ones above mentioned), 125 g of fresh Shitake mushroom without the stems, 125 g green beans cut in halves, 2 tablespoons of peanut oil, 2 eggs to make the omelette, that will be cut in thin strips.
Dressing: 2 tablespoons of confectioner’s sugar, solved in ½ a cup of water, 1 teaspoon of salt and 50 ml of rice vinegar.
Cook the rice in a uncovered pot, till the right proportion of water is absorbed (2 parts of water and 1 of rice), then remove it from the fire , let the rice rest for 5 minutes, after that put it on a glass dish. Heat the mushroom broth during 2 minutes with the mirin and the soy sauce. When it is almost boiling add the tofu and the prawns and cook for 3 minutes. Sieve this preparation (leaving the prawns and tofú apart) Pour the liquid into a frying pan and cook the shrimps for 1 minute. Put into the frying pan all the mushrooms and the spring beans, cook them for 2 minutes stirring all the time. Add the tofu and the rice.
Decorate each dish by putting the rice at the bottom, then a layer of omelette strips over them, and the shrimps with the spring beans. On the edges lay the prawns with the rest of the mushrooms.
Poem for mushrooms
For good luck I have prepared these words:
For all the mushrooms around; to them all.
The good and the edible ones,
and to the terrible and poisonous too!
Baak Ging Ap
The Pekin duck in Mandarin pancakes with hoisin sauce
Take the duck out of the freezer the day before and in the morning give it a good shower with boiling water. Buy the following in China Town: 2 Mandarin pancake for each guest. (Or you might prepare them yourself with common flour, water and sesame oil), hoisin sauce (made with soy beans, wheat flour, vinegar, garlic and sesame oil). Also buy Shaoshing wine, red Chinese vinegar, ginger, 10 spring onions and 1 cucumber. You will also need 1 cup of honey to mix with the red vinegar, 3 tablespoons of Chinese wine and 1 cup of boiling water, in order to paint all the duck, that will be hanging from a hook a whole day long, in the shade and cold place. At night fall, heat the oven 160° C to cook the duck with its breast upwards, having previously painted it for the last time (with the mix of honey, vinegar and so on). Sprinkle some salt over it, 5 cm ginger finely grated and the green parts of the spring onions. After half an hour turn the duck over to brown the other part, and later, turn it over again. To increase the brown color of the breast it is necessary to roast at 180° C the last 10 minutes.
In a pot heat the hoisin sauce and warm the pancakes in the oven, they will later receive the duck stuffing, slices of the white parts of the spring onions, strips of cucumber and the hoisin sauce.
Ode to the Mandarin pancake
What happened to the dynasties
That tasted and praised you,
but forgot you easily
when painting porcelains?
The dynasties
With its warriors,
its screens
and its dragons
are over,
but you
out lived them swimming in palatial China plates.
Rogan Josh
Lamb with hot pepper sauce and yoghurt, a dish from India
2 Kg of lamb shoulder blade will be enough to make this dish. Cut the meat in small cubes, 2 x 2 cm, cover them with grated pepper and salt.
For the final sauce of this dish, process 4 garlic cloves, a piece of 3 cm of grated ginger, 3 chilies without their seeds, and add these ingredients well ground in a mortar: 10 g of black pepper , 1 cm twig of cinnamon, 2 tablespoons of coriander seeds, 1 tablespoon of cumin, 3 cloves, 3 tablespoons of paprika, and one of salt.
In a big pot heat ½ cup of peanut oil, in order to fry ½ k of onions cut like feathers. When the onion is brown, incorporate the lamb cubes and fry for 1 minute. Then add 6 green pods of cardamom and 2 bay leaves. Stir and fry everything for another minute. Lower the fire, cover the pot and let the meat cook for 10 minutes. When it is ready, add 120 ml of natural yoghurt mixed with 3 tablespoons of tamarind water and a cup of recently boiled water; stir, cover the pot, and let it cook in low fire for 1 hour.; but half an hour before, uncover and add a tablespoon of Garam Masala, stir and let the cooking go on. In the meantime, in another pot, boil enough Basmati rice (to the right point) to go with the lamb. By the way, before serving, withdraw the religious pod of cardamom and the glorious bay leaves.
Ode to the yoghurt
Old as the spirit of the snow,
but still quite new like the ground of the moon.
Asleep like oblivion or awake like a reminder
on the quiet of hope you are kept,
in the wisdom of a creative gift,
in the virtue and proximity of a flawless love.
The Charruas natives are born
on the eastern bank of the most silent river of the world.
They grow up inside, outside, up and under of the “ceibo” tree.
They exist under a woolen knitted sky by the wind.
They evolve from the sound of animals,
frightened by its wild music.
They roast the meat in an upright stick lit by the fire.
They talk to a drink made of wild honey
which makes them to dream with war.
They decide that Spaniards and
Portuguese do not deserve to ride.
They speak in a night dream
guarded by warriors. Flying on
their horses, nobody sees them,
but they arrive. At that moment
they do not move, they do not
breathe, but they do not fail. They
wake up and the Uruguay river
combs their hair and bathes their
wounds. The “Charruas” put
feathers on their heads, feathers
as white as pride. They accept
casualties and polygamy
and they are extremely cunning.
They punish adultery, toothache, and flatulence.
“Charruas” are taken ill, they rave, they call for the quack.
Medicines are accepted from that chemist called Nature.
They feel better and they die.
They are buried by an old woman.
A “Charrua” kills his horse and is buried with it and his weapons.
The will reincarnate as birds that will sing like the water.
Argentinean barbecue
The making of barbecue
may be disturbed by a later unexpected appointment.
Not all butchers’ shops have been closed for ever,
some ribs and flanks can still be got
as well as sausages, blood sausages and sweetbreads;
in some way, all of them belong to the same old dream.
This tradition of the “gauchos” comes from the “pampas”,
the natives that hunted deers with spears and hunting slings
near the troughs in the open plains.
The Spaniards brought their horses and cows.
Twice they founded Buenos Ayres.
Violent clouds of dust were seen from the “mangrullos”
-high towers made of sticks-
while fear clutched at the bars of doors
and windows: a “malon”,
a horde of savage Indians were attacking.
It was the devil himself with his magic making fires. Echeverria,
our inspired poet, terrified us with a “malon”
in his novel “The Captive woman”.
The plough in time has robbed them of their violent dream,
so they had to learn –among many other bad habits- to trade
their stolen cows. In nature they are not completely lost.
The Indian “pampa” dies of old age or by a shot,
but in the early morning he comes flying back:
is a thrush singing sweetly.
Oson
Vapor heated stuffed fish from Korea
Fry for 2 minutes a bunch of shredded carrots, another of green beans, some mushrooms and a few dry mushrooms in a wok with little oil. After putting all these vegetables on a dish, spray over them some sesame oil and soy sauce. Salt and pepper some sole fillets and powder corn flour on only one side. In a frying-pan put 2 egg whites in order to obtain a pale o
melette, which will be cut in stripes; then fry the two yolks to repeat the procedure. On each fillet, on the side which is free from flour, place some of the vegetables, and with the stripes of omelettes, making rolls which will be steam cooked in a bamboo basket.Preparation of the sauce: Put in a bowl 2 tablespoons of rice vinegar, 2 of soy sauce and 1 of sesame oil. Add 2 chopped chilies, and some chopped nut pines. Mix everything, stirring with Korean energy. Pour it into a gravy bowl.
Serve the fish hot on a layer of green leaves, that can be radicchio, arugula or watercress. Do not forget the sauce.
Ode to soy sauce
Dark and strong
like an old key or a well kept secret.
Rich and valuable
like the wonderful history of Orient.
Respectable
like a worthy old lady;
fair
like the tradition of ancient community.
Tasty and necessary
like the philosophy of Confucius.
Deep and precise
like a ceremony.
Muc Don Thit
The stuffed squids of Vietnam
You can easily make this Vietnamese dish if you are able to get at the Chinese market, cellophane vermicelli, also called glass noodles, because they are made with the starch of white beans. It would also be very useful if
you can get at that market, some gold needles, which are the dry shoots of white lilies. Besides, do not forget to buy shitake mushrooms.Clean 3 big squids and cut its tentacles, which will be part of the stuffing. Get a handful of vermicelli (60 g) and after leaving them in boiling water 5 minutes, drain and dry them with a kitchen paper; then with a pair of scissors cut them in short pieces. In a pot, prepare the stuffing by frying 4 sliced thin spring onions, 2 chopped cloves of garlic, 3 tablespoons of fish stock, a beaten egg, and ¼ teaspoon of salt. Add the cut vermicelli, the 15 g of gold needles (cut and soaked) the 10 g of shitake mushrooms (previously soaked too) and the chopped tentacles. Fry the squids in a wok with little oil during 5 minutes and then stuff them. Close the end with toothpicks to be able to cut them. In another pan, heat the cellophane vermicelli that will be served with the squid slices.
Ode to the cellophane vermicelli
Fragile and transparent
like a well hidden truth.
Light and smooth
like a smile or a silk ribbon.
Hopeful
like this world.
Ephemeral
like this life.
Glittering and wished-for
as a gift or an adventure;
strange and different
like a language, a traveler, or one’s own self.
Ikan Masak Molek
The fish curry of Malasia
In a food processor put 5 cm of small lemon in pieces, a cup of coconut milk, 3 chopped chilies, 4 shallots, a 3 cm. piece of ginger, peeled and grated, 3 cm of fresh and chopped galanga, 8 chopped almonds previously peeled, 1 tablespoon of curry, 2 tablespoons of tamarind
water, 1 teaspoon of salt, a few grams of pepper ground at that moment. Cook this even mixture in a wok for 5 minutes. (You will see how the oil separates from the coconut milk). Stir and add 1 lt. of coconut milk; keep on cooking and stirring for half hour, till the preparation is reduced to half its amount. That is the moment to add the trouts or the chernias or pargos clean and scaled. Cook for seven minutes, though the trout needs only 5 minutes. Before serving pour over the fish, 2 tablespoons of crispy fried onions and some chopped parsley.The Ikan Masak Molek can be served with boiled rice or with slices of quimbombo. If your honored guest is from Malasia, offer him the head of the fish, which will be gratefully accepted, following the tradition.
Ode to the curry
From afar
for the color,
near by
for the texture; from above
for the apex of your fragrance,
from below
by the importance of your weight.
From inside for your mystery,
from outside for your elephants,
for me, as well as for others perhaps,
you have a taste almost sacred,
a mixture of circus
and much of religion.
Homok Talay
Shellfish in coconut milk from Thailand
To offer a Homoh Talay for 4 people, we should get and prepare the following seafood: 2 big squids boiled in water with a little salt for 5 minutes, 8 scallops, 8 shrimps, 12 mussels and 4 crabs claws. Boil the mussels for a minute, put out the fire and let them rest, to get rid of all the sand. To make the sauce, heat in a pot with a thick bottom, 3 tablespoons
of vegetable oil, and fry a chopped medium size onion, 2 shallots and 3 cloves of garlic. If we have a small lemon, we can add its stem finely cut, plus a pair of chopped chilies and a piece of grated ginger. Stirring all the time, we add ½ tablespoon of turmeric, a dash of black pepper some seeds of cardamom, 2 fresh leaves of sweet kaffir lime, 1 teaspoon of salt, another of sugar and 2 tablespoon of tamarind water. We stir and add almost 1 l (900 ml) of coconut milk, quite thick. When the sauce comes to a boil, we keep on cooking on a low fire for 30 minutes. Almost at the end (five minutes before) we add all the seafood and a few leaves of basil and mint. We take out the sweet kaffir lime leaves, and then it can be served.Ode to the ginger
You bear the signature and seal of many hands
that marked and reincarnated you.
Fragrant
cavern
and bubbles of a dream
envisaged in the lethargic slumber of a pleasant frenzy.
In the essence of many distances and centuries,
from meal to meal, from mouth to mouth,
asleep or awake,
you are the distorted figure head of the boat
sailing through the senses against all odds,
more than looking like a twisted root
by caresses or by scorn.
Gado-Gado
Vegetables cooked in peanut sauce from Indonesia
More than the national dish from Indonesia the Gado-Gado is the classic dish from Java. It is main feature is to have well cooked vegetables, but not too much, so with 5 minutes boiling should be enough for the 200 g of cabbage cut in Julienne style, ¼ k of spring beans cut in 2 cm. pieces, 125 g sliced carrots finely dented, 125 g of cauliflower scattered in small bunches. Once the vegetables are cooked, they should be kept hot in the pot.
Peanut sauce: Heat in a pot 30 ml. of peanut sauce before putting it into small brocks. ( If you do not get the ready made peanut sauce, prepare it with 375 g of pealed peanut, cook them in a wok with 175 ml of vegetable oil; drain and process 2 tablespoons of soy sauce, plus 4 chopped shallots, 4 garlic cloves, 1 tablespoon of paprika and 2 tablespoons of coconut oil. Cook this for 5 minutes, add 1 cup of boiling water, stir and cook 5 minutes more.) Gado-Gado should be served with watercress, boiled potatoes cut into quarters, a boiled egg cut in four, a dash of crispy onion, all decorated with dry prawn crackers that can be obtained in the Oriental markets; those from Indonesia are called krupuk.
Ode to the peanut
Innocent,
naked
or dressed.
Quiet
or noisy,
happy
or angry,
we will always have you
restless and vital,
bold and daring
like a child, little Tom Thumb or Petit Napoleon.
Pork satay
Pork brochette from Singapore
For 18 brochettes satay style you need 1 Kg. of cooked pork ham cut in pieces 2x 3 cm, 125 g of bacon cut in the same way. For the marinade get 4 chopped garlic cloves, 1 tablespoon of ground black pepper, 1 tablespoon of ground Sichuan pepper, 2 tablespoons of 5 kind of species: cassia, fennel, starred anise, anise pepper and clove. 2 tablespoons of light soy, 2 of honey and ¼ teaspoon of table salt.
Having put all these ingredients on a dish, we add the cut pork, then we let it rest in the fridge all night, so it be well soaked. It would be better to leave a note: “Don’t touch”.
The following day is the great day. On each brochette place 4 pieces of pork and 3 pieces of bacon alternately. Next put the 18 brochettes on the grill in the oven and cook 30 minutes to 180º C. Serve right away.
Ode to the satay
Of ancient silver
or old iron.
Humble and jagged,
sharp and elegant,
aristocratic
or wanderer.
Of ivory
or bambu.
Oh!…satay!
You will never stop doing,
not without a certain syncretism,
a good deed for Humanity.
Plea Tray
Fish salad from Cambodia
This Cambodian recipe is made with 400 g of smoked salmon cut in fine strips, marinated for 3 hours in a sauce made with the juice of a lime, 2 chopped stems of small lemon and 1 tablespoon of grated galanga, 2 tablespoons of fish sauce (use the neighboring Vietnamese sauce called Muoc Mam which can be bought in the Chinese market) 1 tablespoon of sugar and ¼ teaspoon of salt.
In a glass bowl prepare the Cambodian salad with a small sliced cucumber, 2 shallots finely cut, 1 red pepper without seed cut in thin long elegant strips, 3 leaves of cabbage lettuce, also cut in strips, and 2 bunches of mint (both kinds if it is possible) With drawn the fish from the marinade and add it to the fragrant salad.
Ode to the mint
Restless like a bell
or quiet like a fence.
Fresh like water
or dry like a road track.
Young like a virgin
or old like a legend.
Brilliant like an emerald
or pale like the sand.
You have always been,
you always will be
so, you always are
humble like a star.
Bara-Zushi
Sushi rice with Julienne omelette from Japan
The clue to the Bara Zuchi is to soak 60 g of dry Shitake mushrooms with its stems and then cook them in the same water for 15 minutes.
Ingredients: 500 g of Japanese rice (short grain) that will be previously washed several t
imes and drained for a half hour. 250 ml of the mushroom broth above mentioned, 1 tablespoon of mirin, 1 tablespoon of soy sauce, 125 g of fried tofu (it is the curd of the soy beans, they can be obtained at the Chinese market) 30 g prawns, 8 pealed shrimps cut in two lengthwise, 60 g dry Shitake mushrooms (the same ones above mentioned), 125 g of fresh Shitake mushroom without the stems, 125 g green beans cut in halves, 2 tablespoons of peanut oil, 2 eggs to make the omelette, that will be cut in thin strips.Dressing: 2 tablespoons of confectioner’s sugar, solved in ½ a cup of water, 1 teaspoon of salt and 50 ml of rice vinegar.
Cook the rice in a uncovered pot, till the right proportion of water is absorbed (2 parts of water and 1 of rice), then remove it from the fire , let the rice rest for 5 minutes, after that put it on a glass dish. Heat the mushroom broth during 2 minutes with the mirin and the soy sauce. When it is almost boiling add the tofu and the prawns and cook for 3 minutes. Sieve this preparation (leaving the prawns and tofú apart) Pour the liquid into a frying pan and cook the shrimps for 1 minute. Put into the frying pan all the mushrooms and the spring beans, cook them for 2 minutes stirring all the time. Add the tofu and the rice.
Decorate each dish by putting the rice at the bottom, then a layer of omelette strips over them, and the shrimps with the spring beans. On the edges lay the prawns with the rest of the mushrooms.
Poem for mushrooms
For good luck I have prepared these words:
For all the mushrooms around; to them all.
The good and the edible ones,
and to the terrible and poisonous too!
Baak Ging Ap
The Pekin duck in Mandarin pancakes with hoisin sauce
Take the duck out of the freezer the day before and in the morning give it a good shower with boiling water. Buy the following in China Town: 2 Mandarin pancake for each guest. (Or you might prepare them yourself with common flour, water and sesame oil), hoisin sauce (made with soy beans, wheat flour, vinegar, garlic and sesame oil). Also buy Shaoshing wine, red Chinese vinegar, ginger, 10 spring onions and 1 cucumber. You will also need 1 cup of honey to mix with the red vinegar, 3 tablespoons of Chinese wine and 1 cup of boiling water, in order to paint all the duck, that will be hanging from a hook a whole day long, in the shade and cold place. At night fall, heat the oven 160° C to cook the duck with its breast upwards, having previously painted it for the last time (with the mix of honey, vinegar and so on). Sprinkle some salt over it, 5 cm ginger finely grated and the green parts of the spring onions. After half an hour turn the duck over to brown the other part, and later, turn it over again. To increase the brown color of the breast it is necessary to roast at 180° C the last 10 minutes.
In a pot heat the hoisin sauce and warm the pancakes in the oven, they will later receive the duck stuffing, slices of the white parts of the spring onions, strips of cucumber and the hoisin sauce.
Ode to the Mandarin pancake
What happened to the dynasties
That tasted and praised you,
but forgot you easily
when painting porcelains?
The dynasties
With its warriors,
its screens
and its dragons
are over,
but you
out lived them swimming in palatial China plates.
Rogan Josh
Lamb with hot pepper sauce and yoghurt, a dish from India
2 Kg of lamb shoulder blade will be enough to make this dish. Cut the meat in small cubes, 2 x 2 cm, cover them with grated pepper and salt.
For the final sauce of this dish, process 4 garlic cloves, a piece of 3 cm of grated ginger, 3 chilies without their seeds, and add these ingredients well ground in a mortar: 10 g of black pepper , 1 cm twig of cinnamon, 2 tablespoons of coriander seeds, 1 tablespoon of cumin, 3 cloves, 3 tablespoons of paprika, and one of salt.
In a big pot heat ½ cup of peanut oil, in order to fry ½ k of onions cut like feathers. When the onion is brown, incorporate the lamb cubes and fry for 1 minute. Then add 6 green pods of cardamom and 2 bay leaves. Stir and fry everything for another minute. Lower the fire, cover the pot and let the meat cook for 10 minutes. When it is ready, add 120 ml of natural yoghurt mixed with 3 tablespoons of tamarind water and a cup of recently boiled water; stir, cover the pot, and let it cook in low fire for 1 hour.; but half an hour before, uncover and add a tablespoon of Garam Masala, stir and let the cooking go on. In the meantime, in another pot, boil enough Basmati rice (to the right point) to go with the lamb. By the way, before serving, withdraw the religious pod of cardamom and the glorious bay leaves.
Ode to the yoghurt
Old as the spirit of the snow,
but still quite new like the ground of the moon.
Asleep like oblivion or awake like a reminder
on the quiet of hope you are kept,
in the wisdom of a creative gift,
in the virtue and proximity of a flawless love.
