Category: My Favorite Dishes

A dish that is important to me would be my favorite meal: Placali. This is a West African dish originated from The Ivory Coast. My mom is from The Ivory Coast while my dad is from Guinea, so I was raised heavily in the traditions and cultures of both of these West African countries. The origin of this dish is one to be debated because online it says it originated from Ghana however, in reality, if you were to ask any West African they would state that Ivory Coast is its origin. Placali is a cassava dip in stew sauce that my family makes specifically. The cassava used to make the actual placali is grounded and beat with water which turns it into a thick paste that is a bit sweet. My mom makes her special sauce from okra and lots of spices. My family and I are extreme spice lovers. Every Ivorian, however, makes the sauce to the placali very different and I only knew this when I purchased a dish from an African restaurant. The only time my mom makes this dish is for holidays or when something great has happened in the family. Placali has become a celebratory dish for me and a dish of happiness. It’s always made with love and extreme joy in the moment.

Source

The last time that my mom made placali was last month when my cousin graduated with her Bachelors from Fordham University. We had a big gathering and my mom brought her big dish of placali that everyone was anticipating. I enjoy placali serving this role in my life because I can never eat it and be in an unhappy state. This dish can cheer me up through anything because it’s effect on me has been imprinted since when I was young. Other natives see placali is just another dish they can eat whenever, but I don’t allow myself to eat it on the regular just because of its great significance to me. 

Here is a picture of some of my family members on the day my older cousin graduated. This picture calls for some Placali.

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Recipe:

Ingredients

• Cassava
• water
• lemon optional

Instructions

1. Soak peeled cassava in water. You may use frozen cassava. Make sure it is fully covered in water. Leave to ferment covered outside for a couple of days. Change water daily.
2. After about 4-5 days remove cassava, it should be soft by now. However, all the cassava does not get soft, don’t sweat it.
3. Cut in small pieces to facilitate blending, if cassava is not too soft.
4. Pulse or blend in batches with a little bit of water in a blender or food processor until puree.
5. You may cook at this point or proceed with the next steps.
6. Using a drainer  squeeze out water from the cassava puree, this helps for storage .
7. Wrap in portions and freeze until ready to use – unfroze before using.
8. Place desired amount of fufu in a sauce pan on a medium heat. Add a little bit of hot water as needed. Keep stirring vigorously until cooked through. This takes about 10-15 minutes depending on the quantity.
9. Then shape them into oval and wrap with thin plastic.

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I submitted it via email in time because I couldn’t figure out how to do it through here. Thanks to Professor Hong help, now I am uploading it here. I am uploading the word document, in which you can see it way better.

Word Document: Journal #1

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Simón Crespo Pérez

July 7^th, 2019

Journal #1: Llapingacho

Paragraph #1: Why do you like this dish and what is the significance of it for you?
Llapingacho, which consists of fried cheese potato pancakes served with rice, sausage, avocado (or salad), fried eggs, fried plantains, and a special peanut sauce, is a dish that is important to me since it represents my cultural and family background. It represents my cultural background because it is originally from Ecuador’s Andes Region, my home country, and it represents my family background because it has been a favorite of my family all the way from previous generations to mine. I remember since I was a little child that we will meet with my whole extended family in the house of my grandmother every Sunday. We would proceed to engage in highly entertaining conversations until around 2:30PM when lunch was served. The menu variated each Sunday between yapingachoand ceviche, which is another delicious dish from my small part of the world. The way the dish is made in my grandmother’s house was so good, we never got tired of it. Sadly, she passed away, but I will try to find her original recipe and frame it because every time I eat a yapingachoI am reminded of her. It would be amazing to hang her hand-written recipe in my room. Clearly, llapingachobrings taste to my mouth, and nostalgia to my heart.

Paragraph #2: Include a photo of the dish and a photo of yourself or family. Please provide the source of the photos if you don’t own the copyright.

Paragraph #3: Research the history, culture, or geographic information relevant to the dish.
For this part of the assignment, I contacted a family friend and also llapingacholover, well-known Ecuadorian historian, José A. Gómez-Iturralde. According to him, the plate is original from Ambato, Ecuador, which is a city in Ecuador’s Andes Region, one of the four regions of Ecuador together with Galapagos Islands, Ecuador’s Coastal Region, and Ecuador’s Amazon Region. It originated in Ambato, or as he calls it the Garden of Ecuador due to its variety of species. All elements of the llapingachocan be found in this region. According to him, it has so many species that there is a Festival of Fruits and Flowers every year to commemorate the anniversary of the earthquake that destroyed the city in the late 1940’s and killed around 6000 citizens. It originated there thanks to the Native Ecuadorians of the region, who made the fried cheese potato pancakes component of the dish even before Columbus arrived to America. The name of the dish comes from the Native Ecuadorian word llapin, which means mashed, just like the fried cheese potato pancakes.

Recipe (Not Included in Page Count): I don’t cook, but I found the best recipe in the following website, https://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/llapingachos-ecuatorianos-ecuadorean-potato-and-cheese-patties.

 

 

 

 

 

          Gillian Crowther discusses how eating is a significant part of people’s cultures in Eating Culture: An Anthropological Guide to Food, but I would go even further to say that as a member of a French and Italian family, eating practically isour culture. One meal in Italy can last hours because Italians typically want you to truly savor the flavor of each bite and connect with others at the table. Food is a big part of both Italian and French cultures. One dish that has been a big part of my life is a soup called gumbo. My grandparents, mom, and dad grew up in Southern Louisiana where gumbo is a staple dish. We eat gumbo anytime of the year, but especially in the cooler months. Although gumbo is made year-round, anytime the smell of the roux and vegetables simmering waft up the stairs to my room, I know it is going to be a great day filled with family, talking, and soul-warming food. Mom usually begins making the roux (equal parts of flour and oil constantly stirred until it is a rich brown color) in the morning. As the roux cooks, my sister and I go down and help cut up all the vegetables and prepare the stock. The aroma is the best wakeup call. We have a great time talking all the while learning about our families’ culture. We often sing and laugh together while working on the meal. Gumbo is often said to represent the people of Louisiana and is actually the official state dish. Much like New York is described as the melting pot of America, gumbo is the melting pot representing the many cultures of South Louisiana. There is a mishmash of ingredients in gumbo, similar to how there is a mishmash of different people in the region. Louisiana has always been a second home to me. Something about the culture of Southern Louisiana makes people feel like they belong. In fact, celebrities often move there because they feel as if they are treated no differently than anyone else because just about everyone is treated the same there.

 

         As a child, I overlooked the value and significance of gumbo in my family. Like many children, I saw it as just another food on the table. I did not see the role it played in my grandparents’ and parents’ lives before me. My grandma grew up impoverished, but gumbo was one hot meal that she could look forward to eating on some days. It was one of the first dishes my mom made my dad when they were newlyweds first living in the unfamiliar cold of Wisconsin. Gumbo was also one of the first dishes my mom showed my siblings and I how to make, wanting us to have a piece of Louisiana culture while growing up in Atlanta away from our extended family. One day we will carry on the tradition of making gumbo and teaching our children how to make this familial comfort food. I think one reason I did not have the same appreciation for gumbo as I do now is because as I have gotten older, I have more memories associated with it which makes the dish fonder to me.I like the depth of flavor that comes with a good gumbo, and a good gumbo is often dependent on a good roux.Roux is the basis of several Cajun foods. Similar to the depth of a gumbo’s roux (if it is made well and is a roux-based gumbo, at least) is the depth of meaning that this dish holds for me. The ingredients and characteristic flavors of gumbo are only a small part of why this dish is so good to me. It is the memories I tie to this dish—the contextual associations—that make it that much better to me. Every Thanksgiving, my family ships in some smoked turkey from Texas and uses the leftover pieces of the turkey to put into a rich gumbo for dinner the next two days. I remember my mom cooking gumbo over the years and giving my sister, brother, and I tips as she went about cooking it, sharing memories and advice on what to do and what not to do when cooking it. We have always laughed about the peculiar name of the Louisiana-brand spice we put into our gumbo, known as Slap Ya Mama. We have joked about the name of the brand in the kitchen while my mom has been cooking since I was little. My mom calls the roux of the gumbo “kitchen napalm” because it burns people when it gets on them, which often happens when cooking the roux. Water alone will not stop the burning, but soap and water together will do the trick. My mom has told me that she could not even begin to count the scars that have formed by making gumbo throughout her life.

 

From top to bottom below: the roux of gumbo; the finished product of gumbo; my family

 

 

 

          Gumbo is a traditional soup served over a small amount of rice. Its origins can be traced back to the various peoples that inhabited Louisiana over the centuries. Gumbo is most often made with what Louisianans call “the holy trinity”—onions, celery, and bell peppers. The influence of rice in the dish comes from Spain, and the influence of okra in the dish comes from Africa. In fact, “gumbo” actually means “okra,” and the name originates from Western Africa, which indicates that gumbo was originally meant to be made with okra. Today, people use either okra or filé powder a thickener for the dish, and sometimes both. Filé powder is crushed sassafras leaves which is an indigenous plant found in many Southern and Mid-Atlantic states. If someone wants the gumbo a little thicker, he or she can always sprinkle some more filé in the soup at the table. Gumbo is likely to have found its way into Louisiana in the 1700s, but the first references to it occurred in the early 1800s. Gumbo is traditionally prepared in a seasoned iron pot, which tends to be passed down through a family’s generations. It is the iron pot and the roux that gives gumbo its distinctive flavor. There are two main types of gumbo. There is seafood gumbo which is often made with the local seafood of Louisiana caught that day, and then there is chicken and andouille sausage gumbo, which is my personal favorite. Winter is colloquially known as “gumbo season” by people in Louisiana with people from all over the state posting pictures on social media of their gumbos on the stovetops with the caption, “It’s gumbo time!” But for my family and I, it is always gumbo time. Everyone makes gumbo a little bit differently, but I know that even seeing the word gumbo on a menu or having the slightest taste of okra mixed into a nice deep roux will remind me of home—it will not be as good as my Mom’s, though.

 

         My mom likes to say that no self-respecting Cajun needs a written recipe for gumbo and it is just something that is thrown together in the kitchen, but the following recipe is from Commander’s Palace in New Orleans, a restaurant often frequented by my family and me during the Christmas holidays. Each gumbo is as different as the individual making it. There is no definitive recipe, but for an authentic gumbo it should have a dark roux, filé powder, the “holy trinity”, okra, a meat, and what Mom says are the most important ingredients: patience and love.

 

INGREDIENTS

3 cups diced onions

2 cups diced green bell peppers

1 28-oz can diced tomatoes

1 cup tomato sauce

1½ tsp thyme, dried

1½ tbsp minced garlic

4 bay leaves

½ tsp salt

½ tsp freshly ground pepper

1½ lbs frozen cut okra, defrosted (or fresh, if you can find it)

2 quarts seafood stock*

2 lbs shrimp, peeled and deveined

2 dozen oysters, shucked

1 lb lump crabmeat

2 tbsp filé powder (ground dried sasafras leaves; available at specialty food stores.)

PREPARATION

Combine onions, peppers, tomatoes with juice and tomato sauce in a heavy, 8-quart pot. Cook on medium heat for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add thyme, garlic, bay leaves, salt and pepper; blend well and simmer for 10 minutes.

Add okra. When okra is bright in colour and is cooked but still crisp, add stock. Bring to a rapid, rolling boil, then lower heat. Add shrimp, oysters and crab meat and simmer for 15 minutes longer.

Combine filé powder with 1 cup of the soup liquid. Remove gumbo from heat and stir in the filé-soup mixture. Correct seasoning to taste. Serve over cooked rice and season to taste with Tabasco sauce.

*Fish or seafood stock can be found at most specialty food stores, including Whole Foods. You can also make your own by boiling shrimp shells and/or fish bones, carrots, celery, salt, pepper and onions in a large pot filled with water to cover. Simmer until the broth is flavourful; strain and use. You may also substitute chicken stock.

 

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Works Cited

 

Dry, Stanley. 2013. A Short History of Gumbo. Southern Foodways Alliance.                   https://www.southernfoodways.org/interview/a-short-history-of-gumbo/,               accessed July 6, 2019.

 

McPhail, Tony. 2015. Commander’s Palace Seafood Gumbo. Western Living                      Recipe Finder. http://westernliving.ca/recipes/2011/11/01/commanders                  palace-seafood-gumbo/, accessed July 5, 2019.

 

 

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My family is from Panama City, Panama and therefore, I grew up with many cultural influences. Panama’s national dish and also what happens to be my favorite dish is Sancocho, a flavorful chicken soup. Growing up, I was a very picky eater and the only way my mother could get vegetables into me was through soup. Lucky for her, I could eat soup all day any day and can still now.

Every year, beginning at age 9, my mother and I have traveled to Panama for at least a week. The moment the plane hits the ground, my mouth begins to water at the thought of that unique flavor hitting my tastebuds. My aunt and uncle, who pick us up, know to drive straight to a restaurant that serves all of the traditional foods that my mother and I have missed, including sancocho. This is also a dish that my entire family enjoys. During family reunions, my mother or one of my aunts will make a large pot and the aroma travels through the entire house leaving everyone’s stomachs rumbling in anticipation. This soup also became my connection to my mother. It is the soup that she makes for me when I don’t feel well. We like to joke that my mother has a soup radar because every time I want soup, it happens to be already simmering on the stove when I get home. Sancocho is traditionally eaten with a side of rice and even though the broth of the sancocho is not particularly heavy, the added rice makes it very filling. The rice can either be mixed into the soup before eating it or a spoonful of the rice is taken and then dipped into the broth. I prefer the latter but many of my family members do the former.

Panamanian sancocho is said to have originated in the Azuero region of the country. However, there are many different types of Sancocho found in different regions of Panama and in many other Latin countries. There is Sancocho chorrerano, made in the city of La Chorrera which is a bit spicier than the traditional kind and Sancocho chiricano the province of Chiriqui, which is made with more ingredients. Every place makes their sancocho a bit different but fundamentally they are the same. It is claimed that eating a hot soup can help to cool down a person in a hot climate such as it always is in Panama. Most Panamanians are accustomed to eating warm foods in the scorching heat and sancocho is no exception. It is often used as a cure for sicknesses such as the common cold or as a cure for hangovers.

Sancocho photo url

Panamanian Sancocho Recipe:

Ingredients:

1. Wash the chicken and pat dry.
2. Rub chicken with Culantro leaves
3. In a small bowl, mix the salt, cilantro, oregano, garlic, culantro and olive oil. Rubthe mix all over the chicken and let it marinate for 10 minutes.
4. In the meantime, peel and chop the yucca and the onion. Set aside.
5. Heat a large pot over medium heat. Place the chicken in the pot, place a lid on it, and let it sweat for about 7 minutes.
6. Add the onion and the chicken stock. Bring the soup to a boil and then let it simmer over medium low heat until the chicken is cooked through and soft.
7. Raise the heat to medium and add the yucca, plantains and corn. Bring the pot to a gentle simmer and cook until the yucca is cooked through (approximately 10 minutes).
8. Serve with white rice on the side that is added into the soup when you are about to eat it.

There are few things in life better than walking into my home on a Saturday night. The comforting pungent aroma and soothing sound of simmering fills my home before dinnertime in preparation for my favourite dish: indo-enchiladas. But before I tell y’all why, let me start with a little background. I was born and raised in Houston, Texas and both my mother and father are of Indian nationality. My older brother and I were raised in a household full of food and love from seven people—us, my parents, my aunt and uncle, and the most important member of the family: my grandmother, who I call Mota (translates to “grandmother” in Gujarati). As Hindu’s, we all practice vegetarianism, and as Indians in Texas, we love our Mexican food extra extra spicy. Our indo-enchiladas are not your average classic Mexican enchilada, but an Indian take on the vegetarian version of the Mexican speciality. Picture a soft corn tortilla rolled around a generous helping of flavorful chunky black beans, and doused in a thick aromatic tomato-based sauce with pungent notes of onion, cumin, and turmeric (a traditional Indian spice), all topped with plentiful Mexican cheese and fresh coriander. And if that description didn’t already convince you (and maybe even make your mouth water) that this is my favorite dish, then allow me to tell you exactly why. The reason my family’s indo-enchiladas are my favourite dish is because it effectively ties together my Indian heritage and my Texas upbringing—two vastly different cultures that represent my identity. This dish is also my father’s favorite as my grandmother made it for him every Saturday since he was a teenager after they immigrated from Mumbai to Houston. That beloved Saturday night tradition is still continuing.  Writing this post and thinking of this dish as a memory led me to an important realization, I’ve stopped thinking of my culture’s cuisine in monolithic terms such as just Indian or Mexican, and I’ve started to appreciate how it truly is a beautiful culmination of several cultures.

In Indian cultures, community is key in the food culture, and food is the key that opens the door to explore any culture. On Saturday nights, when we prepare our indo-enchilada’s, we usually come home to a hefty stockpot on the stove simmering with my grandma’s special sauce. The aroma reaches our nose even before the food reaches our mouth, and we can already taste it. But the sauce my grandma prepares never ends up being the same taste as the sauce that tops our enchiladas in the end—the reason lies in the seven different flavors of taste-buds I live with. Once my grandma makes her sauce, she asks someone to try it, and that person usually adds whatever spice he or she may think is missing. And we all know once my mom gets a spoonful of the sauce, she will be adding plentiful onion, chilies, and turmeric, always giving the sauce that extra Indian kick we were all looking for. Everyone visits the pot, one person after the next, adding whatever they think the sauce could use. And usually, the familial process only stops when someone complains about being starving (which is admittedly usually me). I believe this practice of cooking not only creates strong bonds within my family, but also creates an immense sense of trust in one another (especially when my brother goes in for a taste). Moreover, the family style of eating this dish just makes the memories all the more joyful and warm. Most families prepare enchiladas by baking them in single serving dish. However, we never serve the indo-enchiladas on a single portioned and plated dish, but we all chose to share from a large communal baking pan. 

My grandma shared her love for cooking with me and taught me her secret indo-enchilada recipe. Below is a picture of the dish I prepared for my roommates at Emory last semester using my grandma’s beloved recipe. (My roommates loved the dish, and said they had never tasted anything like it before!) The next image is a picture of my grandmother and I, and the third image is a recent photo of my grandma enjoying indo-enchilada leftovers for dinner the next night!

But, the significance of this dish for me goes as far as the meaning it has to my grandmother and my father. My grandmother comes from a very traditional Indian family in Mumbai, India, where she was born and brought up. Being the oldest sibling of three with busy parents, Mota was forced to learn her way around the kitchen at a very young age. She began cooking intricate, yet classically traditional Indian meals, such as Chole Bhature and Malai Kofta, for her parents, siblings, and even friends when she was only eleven years old. Since then, her unwavering passion for cooking grew and grew, and everyone in town was encouraging her to open up her own catering business. And so she did— and her catering became a local smash hit. When her kids were in high school, she and her husband decided to immigrate to the United States in search of bigger opportunities. My grandmother found immense pleasure and warmth from sharing her cooking with others, so she decided to continue her catering business from the comforts of her home in the wonderfully diverse city of Houston, Texas. Not only was this her first time in the United States, but it was also her first time leaving her own country. Unsurprisingly, she struggled at first given the language barrier and hired a culinarily talented assistant named Rosa, an immigrant from Mexico. While Rosa helped and learned how to prepare heavenly Indian dishes, she also shared her passion for cooking Mexican food with my grandmother. Rosa and Mota didn’t speak each other’s languages, yet food still powerfully connected them— it was a common language they both understood. The first dish Rosa taught my grandmother was her enchiladas— a recipe that had been passed down in Rosa’s family for generations. Rosa, of course, altered the original recipe, which included beef, to meet Mota’s religious dietary restrictions. A beautiful friendship unfolded between my grandmother and Rosa— all based on the premise of food and culture. As Rosa and my grandmother exchanged their recipes, their two cultures began to merge. 

The enchilada was the first recipe my grandmother had tried from culture that was not her own. She was amazed and intrigued by Rosa’s classic preparation of the enchilada, and appreciated Rosa vegatarianizing the dish for her. In celebration, my grandmother began to add her traditional Indian aromatic spices such as turmeric and coriander to Rosa’s Tex-Mex enchilada recipe, dubbing the “indo-enchilada”. Not only was this my grandmother’s first classic Tex-Mex dish, but it was also my father’s (her son) first non-Indian dish. The indo-enchilada quickly became my father’s favorite dish, which was a new and exotic dish for him at the time, and had evolved to become the dish that represents his new home.

Like many would predict, enchiladas originated in Mexico. The dish was first associated with the region of Mexico by the Yucatan in pre-Columbian days. Corn tortillas were a staple of the Mayan people and there is strong evidence that the first enchiladas were tortillas that had fish rolled in it. Back then, the dish was primarily food for the nobles and was said to be served for special occasions. Today, the culture of enchiladas has expanded and the food has since gone international, with most places hosting a variety of different types. Moreover, enchiladas today are not only available at Mexican establishments, but can also be found at most Tex-Mex restaurants, diners and even many supermarkets, which sell either frozen enchiladas or ready-made ingredients for quick preparation. But the true joy in enchiladas comes not only from the taste itself, but also the memories you make while you prepare the dish, which is something my grandma taught me. In Mexico, enchiladas have always held connotations of a familial meal. And over the years, many Mexicans have immigrated to the US, bringing with them their culture that included their delicious foods. Today, the enchilada and other great Mexican foods are continuing to grow in popularity. Due to its easy to make ingredients and plenty of ways to prepare it and add your own culture’s twist, you might even see enchiladas merging with your culture soon.

 

Mota & Rosa’s Indo-enchiladas Recipe Qty: for 4 people

Ingredients for Indo-enchilada sauce: 16 Large fully ripened tomatoes—boiled and grinded into a puree 1 Large white onion—finely chopped  6 Garlic cloves—finely minced 4 Large jalapeños—finely chopped   1/2 Bunch cilantro—finely chopped  1 Teaspoon fresh ginger—finely shredded  2 Tablespoon ghee (Indian twist) 1 Teaspoon salt 1 Teaspoon Jaggery  (Indian twist) 1 Teaspoon cumin powder 1/2 Teaspoon Kashmiri Red chili pepper (Indian twist) Pinch of saffron  (Indian twist) Water as needed Ingredients for Black Beans:  2 Cans of Black Beans—thoroughly washed 1 small white onion—finely chopped 2 Garlic cloves—finely minced  2 small Jalapenos—Finely chopped 2 Tablespoon ghee (Indian twist) 1/2 Teaspoon turmeric (Indian twist) 1/2 Teaspoon  Kashmiri Red chili powder (Indian twist) ½ Teaspoon coriander powder (Indian twist) 1/2 Teaspoon cumin powder  1/4 Teaspoon salt 1/2 Teaspoon sugar 1 Teaspoon lemon juice  Other Items 8 to 10  Corn Tortillas Shredded Mexican cheese

To Make the Indo-enchiladas Sauce: Take a large pot and fill up with the water and start the stove to boil water. Wash tomatoes and jalapenos and add in to the pot. Drain tomatoes and jalapenos once skin is crinkled, which means its fully soft and cooked. After draining, grind tomatoes and jalapenos. Discard the boiled water. Use a same large pot on a stove and add ghee. Once ghee is warm add finely minced garlic and ginger. Soon after that add finely chopped onions and cilantro. You can add cumin powder, Kashmiri red chili powder, and salt once the onions are slightly clear which means it is sautéed well. Once everything is mixed well add grinded tomato  and jalapeno puree in the pot and let it simmer at slow heat for about 20 to 25 minutes. Once fully simmered at slow heat, add pinch of saffron and jaggery. Let it simmer for 5 to 10 more minutes until jaggery is fully melted. Mix well and your sauce is ready. To Prepare the Black Beans: Take a medium size pot and put on a stove at slow heat and add ghee in to the pot. Add turmeric and before turmeric changes the color add minced garlic and ginger. Soon after that add finely chopped onions and jalapenos. Add cumin and coriander powder along with Kashmiri red chili powder and salt once onions are clear and sautéed well. Add washed black beans then add sugar and lemon juice.  Mix it well and let it simmer at slow heat for 15 minutes and beans are ready. To prepare the dish: Preheat the oven at 350 degrees. Add a layer of sauce to coat the bottom of a large baking pan. Roll warm corn tortillas stuffed with black beans and add to the pan. Cover the indo-enchiladas with a thick layer of sauce. Add shredded cheese on top. Place this ovenproof plate in to preheated oven for 10 to 15 minutes. Garnish with fresh coriander and enjoy family style!

 

Rajma is my identity, culture, and a representation of myself. Okay, wow, that’s a bold statement. Sure it is, but give me the next couple minutes to explain myself, starting with where I was born. I was born in 1996, in Mumbai, India, to a Punjabi mother and a Maharashtrian father. While they were both Indian, they grew up in different regions each with their own unique cultural upbringings. One of the biggest differences was not in what they wore, what language they spoke, or even what God they worshipped, rather it was in their food.

One of the most popular traditional dishes in India is rajma, which is essentially red kidney beans in a thick gravy. Sounds rather mundane right? Well, the beauty and uniqueness of rajma lies in the spices used. As my mother is Punjabi, the spices that her family used were native to the Northern region of India, and my Nani (grandmother) on my mother’s side used Punjabi spices like black cardamom, black cumin, nigella seeds, and mace in their rajma preparation. This added a spicy kick to the dish, usually leaving me chugging cups of water and milk. On the other hand, my father’s Maharashtrian family were more accustomed to preparing their rajma with milder, but richer spices, such as turmeric, basil, fresh coriander, and saffron. Each side of the family would put their own traditional twist on it, resulting in vibrant, aromatic flavors representative of both the Northern and Western regions of India. On both sides of my family, the recipe for making rajma had been passed down for generations, evolving over time, and as a result, no one preparation of rajma in India tastes the same. When I was a child, I remember being fascinated by stories of how the rajma that I eat at home today is a mixture of both my mother and father’s sides of the family. It is essentially a middle ground between each of my grandmother’s recipes. Between you and I, the rajma I eat today is really 30% of my dad’s recipe and 70% of my mum’s recipe. My mum hates to admit it, but she just can’t live without her nigella seeds and mace, which add the biggest kick of flavor and heat to any dish I have ever eaten.

Contrary to popular belief, the red kidney bean stew is not actually traditional to India, in fact, this bean was brought over to India by Portuguese traders. The original rajma bean is native to the New World: Mexico and Guatemala. In the 15^th Century, when Spanish and Portuguese conquistadors occupied territories in the New World, they brought back this delicious bean to Europe. These beans, rich in protein for sailors, were soon carried to Portuguese outposts in Africa and Asia. But Rohan, how does this have anything to do with your identity?After I was born in India, my family and I moved around and lived in several different countries. As a result, I gained a significant amount of cultural awareness, and understanding of my cultural identity. Just as how the red kidney bean stew had travelled from Mexico to India, its recipe changing over time, I too have traveled from country to country, broadening my cultural awareness and establishing my cultural identity. As much of a stretch as this may seem, I am the rajma in this story.

Nowadays, every time I visit my grandmothers in India, instead of them making their rajma dishes for me, my parents and I make our fusion rajma dish for them. Not only have they appreciated the role reversal, but they love watching how our family recipe has changed and developed over time, incorporating spices from each side of the family, as well as spices from each country we have lived in. At its core, red kidney bean stew is such a versatile dish, and every culture has put their own twist on it. For a majority of the Western world, the red kidney bean presents itself in the form of the delicious all-time favorite breakfast dish: baked beans. Whereas in Mexico, the red kidney bean is used in popular dishes such as chili con carne. Everywhere I lived and travelled, I tried each countries unique version of the red kidney bean stew. While I enjoyed immersing in their culture, and tasting their exotic take on this delicious dish, my true identity lies with my family’s version of rajma.

Unfortunately, over the past few years, I have found it difficult to travel back to India and spend time with both my grandmothers. I miss them both very much, but thanks to my mum’s frozen food care-packages, my grandmothers don’t seem that far away. Whenever I miss my family back in India, I walk to the fridge and heat up a delicious, bowl of rajma. Tasting each scoop is like traveling back in time to all the countries I have ever lived in, finally landing back to my roots in my grandmothers Punjabi and Maharashtrian recipes. One day, I look forward to seeing how my family’s rajma recipe alters to incorporate the culture of my future life-partner. I am proud of my family’s recipe, and I will cherish the memories that were created because of this dish. Rajma will forever be my identity, culture, and a representation of myself.  

Recipe

Ingredients

To boil:

• 1 cup red kidney beans (rajma), washed and soaked overnight
• 2 bay leaves
• 8 green cardamom
• 3 black cardamom
• 6-8 cloves
• 1-2 cinnamon sticks
• 5 cups water

For the masala:

• 2 small or 1 big onion, grated
• 1 tbsp ginger paste
• 1 tbsp garlic paste
• 2 tbsp oil
• 1 tsp cumin seeds
• 3 roma tomatoes
• 2 tbsp cilantro leaves
• 3-4 green chillies
• ½ tsp coriander powder
• 1 tsp red chilli powder
• ¼ tsp turmeric powder
• 1 tsp aamchoor powder
• 1 tbsp rajma masala/ garam masala
• 1 tbsp kasoori methi, crushed
• 1 tbsp clarified butter/ghee, optional

Instructions

For the Kidney beans:

1. Soak the red kidney beans overnight. Drain the water and wash them. In a pressure cooker, add the red kidney beans, 3.5 cups water, bay leaf, cardamom, black cardamom, cloves and cinnamon stick. Pressure cook with 1 tsp salt till the beans are soft. It usually takes 1-2 whistles for me, but depending on how long you soak the beans and your cooker, it might take more whistles.

The slow cooker version:

1. If you hate cleaning the pressure cooker like I do, I have now started making this in the slow cooker. I am yet to try a version where I dump everything in the slow cooker and let it do all the work, but I do the final part of the cooking in the slow cooker. I do boil the beans with the whole spices on the stove first for 15 minutes to avoid red bean poisoning. Once boiled, I put them with the spice and water in the slow cooker and cook on high with the cooked masala added.

For the masala:

1. In a blender, puree together the tomatoes, coriander leaves and the green chillies.
2. In a wok (kadhai), heat 2 tbsp oil. Add the cumin seeds and let sizzle. Add the grated onions and fry till golden brown, about 8 minutes on medium flame. Add the ginger-garlic paste, turmeric powder, red chilli powder and coriander powder. Sauté for a minute or two on medium flame.
3. Add the pureed tomato mixture and fry till the oil separates (can take about 15-20 minutes). At this point, you can freeze this masala and use it later.

Putting it all together

1. Pour the cooked rajma masala in the cooker with the boiled rajma. Mix. Mash some beans with the back of your ladle. Add salt, if necessary. Add the rajma masala/garam masala powder and the amchoor powder, and 1 tbsp ghee (optional). Add the kasoori methi.
2. Once the masala is poured in with the boiled rajma, you should let cook on medium flame for about 10-15 minutes for all the flavors to be soaked in by the kidney beans.

If using the slow cooker:

1. Add the rajma masala to the partially boiled beans in the slow cooker. Cook on high for 6 hours.
2. Garnish with coriander/cilantro leaves. Serve hot with rice and curd.

Recipe courtesy of: http://www.novicehousewife.com/2010/09/02/punjabi-rajma/

Unfortunately, I do not have any pictures of the rajma my family has cooked, but for your reference, this is a picture of a full preparation of rajma (I wish I could make something that aesthetically pleasing).

Picture credits: https://www.whiskaffair.com/punjabi-rajma-masala/

The following is a picture of my Nani (from my mother’s side) and I in our house in Mumbai, India. I am guessing her big smile is from the delicious rajma I just made for her!

Jollof rice is a very special dish among my family. My family is part of the Yoruba tribe in Nigeria. A significant part of Nigerian culture is celebrating achievements and milestones in a big way. These celebrations could be a baby naming ceremony to a graduation party to a traditional wedding. These events usually involve traditional music, dancing, and food. The food at these celebrations are essential and it is expected to have more than enough for everyone. These events can have from 50 to 100s of people. Therefore to have enough food to accommodate everyone, huge pots of food are made days in advance. One of the main dishes at any Nigerian celebration includes jollof rice.  

I like jollof rice a lot because it has a lot of strong flavors and it’s spicy. When I think of other rice dishes there aren’t many that I have that I could eat that the main part of the entree is the rice. I think because of my enjoyment of having this dish makes me look forward to having dinner with my family. It’s also one of the few dishes that my mom, my sister, and I would make together. The times when we would prepare jollof rice together were a really good bonding time for us. We would play music, dance, and reminisce. Even now as I make the dish on my own I would invite my friends and do the same thing. Jollof rice is a very important dish to me because it brings people together.  

Jollof rice is a dish made throughout West Africa. Each country prepares the dish slightly different but they all have the same essential ingredients: rice, tomatoes, peppers, onions, and broth. The name of the dish Jollof is derived from the Wolof ethnic group in Senegal, Gambia, and Mauritania. The origin of the dish is still highly debated but researchers think it originated from Mali. Though jollof rice might have originated elsewhere the biggest countries known to be the home of jollof rice is Nigeria and Ghana. In Nigeria, jollof rice is served as a main dish at events along with plantains, meat, and vegetables. In Ghana jollof rice is served with spaghetti, plantains, and vegetables, shito, and meat.

One of the most important foods in Mexican tradition and to my family is the tamal.  Tamales are mainly made of masa, or finely ground hominy wrapped and steamed in corn husks or banana leaves. They can have a variety of sweet or savory fillings.  They are very difficult time consuming to prepare and thus are typically served in special occasions.  My family always has tamales on Christmas.  Every year, the women in my family set aside an entire day in the week leading up to Christmas to communally prepare tamales. In order to efficiently make an enormous quantity of them, we form an assembly line, with each family member performing a different step in the process. By the end of the day, we have enough tamales to last everybody several weeks and some to give to our friends.  This process and hard work are a part of my most treasured memories of Christmas and the holidays.  Tamal day is one of the only times every year that everyone is in the same place and it marks a time of celebration.  Tamal day is also the time when you get to hear the best “chisme” (gossip) all year.  All day while we make tamales, the women in my family chat in Spanglish; by the end of this long day we all know everything interesting that has happened to everyone we know since the last time we were all together.  My mother is from a very small Mexican town, so naturally “chisme” plays a significant role in the culture of the town.  You can’t have good chisme without tamal day and close family and friends.

However sexist, in my family and in much of Mexican tamal tradition, only women are taught the tamal making process and enlisted to help out on tamal day.  The process has been passed from mother to daughter or grandmother to granddaughter since beyond anyone in my family’s memory.  This dish and the process of making it also has a strong emotional significance for me because of my memories of my mom slowing teaching me how to make them and becoming slightly more involved every year.  Every time she would teach me a new step in the process she would tell me about when she learned how to do that step from her Nana Clara, and exactly what Nana Clara said to do.  Tamales bring me closer to the people I love and connect me to the distant past of my long-gone ancestors.  Another interesting thing about my family’s tradition of passing down recipes, is that everything is communicated verbally, and pupils learn by doing.  In fact, this is probably the first time this recipe has ever been written down.  Writing an official recipe for these tamales was difficult, as none of the specific amounts or ratios of ingredients have ever been specified.  Everything is measured by sight, taste and prior knowledge.  To truly know how to make my family’s tamales one must be a participant in several tamal days.

Tamales are as ancient as Mexico itself.  The first tamales were made in precolonial Mesoamerica by native Mexicans.  Tamales were often used as ceremonial food on religious holidays and days of celebration.  Corn, being native to the Americas was a vital staple food for the natives of ancient Latin-America.  Corn was such a large contributor to the livelihood of ancient Mesoamericans that many worshipped a corn deity.  The tamal spread from Mexico to much of Central and South America and the Caribbean.  Now, every region has a distinct version of the tamal, however they are all recognizable by their outer layer of corn husk or banana leaf and the masa inside.  Tamales are still made and eaten for the same reasons they have been for thousands of years; to celebrate religious holidays and family.

Receta (recipe):

Ingredients:

2 pounds masa

1 pound lard

6-8 serrano chiles

3 pounds tomatillos

1.5 pounds chicken, boiled and shredded

Salt

½ onion

2 cloves of garlic

Several family members

Procedure:

1. Soak the corn husks in hot water.
2. Shell the tomatillos and cook them in water in a large pot with the chiles until they are soft.
3. While the tomatillos and chiles are cooking, knead the masa in a large bowl for 10 minutes. Add a small amount of melted lard and continue kneading.  Repeat this every few minutes until the masa is fluffy.
4. Use a blender to grind together the cooked tomatillos, onion, and garlic. Add 2-3 chiles at a time, blend, and taste until the sauce is the desired spiciness. It should be VERY spicy but not inedible. Salt to taste
5. Stir the shredded chicken into the tomatillo sauce.
6. Choose the largest corn husks and spread a thin layer of masa on the smooth side of each one. The masa should be spread until there is 1 cm of open husk on the flat end and either side of the husk and it reaches halfway up the length of the husk.
7. Place a small amount of filling (chicken in green sauce) over the masa in each corn husk. Make sure it does not spill over the borders of the masa.
8. Fold the husk. First, fold the right side and left side over the filling so they both completely cover it (in thirds), and then fold the thin end of the husk up.
9. Steam the tamales in a covered tamalera (tamal pot) or large regular pot with a vegetable steamer with water. Line the pot with left over husks before placing the tamales in it. Steam them for 40 minutes to an hour.  Check the water level at regular intervals; it should never touch the tamales, but add more if most of it has evaporated.
10. Serve or refrigerate. Tamales can also be frozen for greater longevity.

CHN 370W

Dr. Hong Li

Dr. Christine Ristaino

Yujin Choi

Mandooguk

          The dish mandooguk has always held a special place in my heart. Mandoo, means dumpling in korean, and guk, means stew, which makes up mandoo-guk, a dumpling soup. Specifically, it is a Korean broth dish eaten during the celebration of Lunar New Year’s. In addition to the dumplings, the soup contains thinly sliced rice cakes called “tteok,” as well as marinated beef, cooked eggs, and pepper for seasoning.

Image of Manduguk (https://tarasmulticulturaltable.com/duk-mandu-guk-korean-rice-cake-and-dumpling-soup-and-lunar-new-year-round-up/)

To talk a bit about the historical and cultural background of mandooguk, the exact origin of eating mandooguk is unknown. The tteok-guk, however, can be found in the 19^th century Korean customs book called Dogguksesigi. Tteok-guk is the same mandooguk dish, just without the dumplings. The customs book states that tteok-guk uses beef or pheasant as its main brother and pepper for seasoning. Culturally, tteok-guk and mandooguk are consumed on Seollal, the Korean Lunar New Year’s day, as a symbolic meal. The whiteness of the rice cake in the mandooguk symbolizes purity and cleanliness, a perfect representation of a fresh start in the New Year’s. The oval shape of the rice cake, represents ancient Korean coin currency, and symbolizes prosperity. It is a tradition that every individual who eats a bowl of tteok-guk gains a year of age. Children, hence, are usually eager to have extra servings, in hopes of becoming older quickly. I remember, however, as a kid I used to dislike eating the tteok, so my mom would always lightly threaten me that I will stay a kid forever while my brother grows until I ate my tteok.

In our family, we always make the mandoos, the dumplings, ourselves for the mandooguk. The night before Lunar New Year’s, our whole extended family of 20 would get together at my grandma’s house and sit around the dining table making dumplings with our bare hands. When my brother and I were just kids, we would compete with our cousins on who could make the biggest dumpling. After several attempts at wrapping the poor thin wrapper around fist-size insides and watching the insides peak out everywhere, we would get scolded by our oldest aunt Tae for wasting her time. We children would then scramble off and hide in our grandma’s bedroom till we slowly came out one by one and started helping the adults, this time for real. My grandmother would also always make her own special spicy sauce that was incorporated in the mandoo each year. I have searched my whole life trying to find a taste similar to it but was unsuccessful. The only time when I could taste such authentic seasoning was Lunar New Year’s at my grandma’s. Our own little traditions make this dish more special and significant in our family.

I love even just thinking about this dish because it always reminds me of home and family. Our special tradition of homemade dumplings and the memories that come with it are something I can never forget. Lunar New Year’s is the only time in the whole where all my extended family come together from faraway places and produce something in teamwork. Even as adults, my cousins and I still sit around the table cooking and laughing at the old times. The fact that this time only comes once a year makes every moment with my family memorable. This mandooguk, in my opinion, also symbolizes family. One would expect such a traditional New Year’s dish to be present in the New Year’s; however, the dish would not come forth without any effort. It takes us around three to four hours to make batches that could fill 20 people. Likewise, one would expect family to be present at a traditional gathering, but only if the family makes effort to come together. It always brightens my day to think that every single member of our family made effort to be together, travelling up to three to four hours to arrive at my grandma’s. I long for the New Year’s every year, not just for the food, but also for the family. Unfortunately, as I entered college, I am unable to make it to the Lunar Year’s gatherings at my grandma’s, because it usually falls on mid-February, when I am already back in town for the second semester. Around every Lunar New Year’s, I terribly miss eating the mandooguk and being with my family; they are always thoughtful enough to Face-Time me during the day and say hello. But I know it won’t be the same till I am back and actually there.

Image of Family

Mandoogook Recipe

(https://www.maangchi.com/recipe/mandu-guk)

• ½ pound beef brisket (about 230 grams), cut into small pieces
• 8 cups of water
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 2 green onions, sliced (or ½ cup sliced large green onion (dae-pa)
• 14 homemade shrimp & Asian chive dumplings
• 1 tablespoon fish sauce
• 1 egg, beaten in a small bowl
• 1 teaspoon sesame oil
• ½ teaspoon ground black pepper

Directions

1. Bring 8 cups of water to a boil over medium-high heat.
2. Add brisket and garlic to the boiling water. Cover and turn the heat down to medium.
3. Boil for 30 minutes. Taste a piece of brisket to check if it’s tender or not. If it’s still a little tough, add more water and cook longer, until the beef turns tender.
4. Add 14 dumplings and turn up the heat to medium-high. Cook until all the dumplings are floating to the surface and have turned translucent. If you use freshly made dumplings, it will take about 7 minutes, but if you use frozen dumplings straight out of the freezer, it will take longer, between 10 to 12 minutes.
5. Add fish sauce and green onion, stir it gently and let it cook for 1 minute.
6. Pour the beaten egg over top of the soup and let it cook for about 20 seconds. Stir it gently.
7. Add sesame oil and ground black pepper.
8. Remove from the heat and serve right away with kimchi and a few more side dishes.

 

Gimbap is one of the most important dishes to me, my family and the Korean culture. In fact, I believe gimbap is one of the most common food for many Korean people. It is often the case where Korean families either get or make gimbap to eat all together. It is also common for Korean students or even adults to bring gimbap with them to school or workplaces to eat as their meal. I believe gimbap to Korean people is very much like a sandwich to American people. Gimbap is one of the best-known Korean food that many people can enjoy as light but a full one-time meal. It is also culturally very significant in that many enjoy not only eating but also making gimbap altogether. Gimbap, in terms of meaning, can be directly translated as seaweed-rice. The translation makes sense in that it is rice with other ingredients wrapped in seaweed. There are a hundred different kinds of gimbap depending on the person who makes it. Although there are guidelines regarding how to make and what to put in gimbap, many Korean people choose to vary what they get as their gimbap ingredients. For example, the most commonly known gimbap includes tuna gimbap, bulgogi gimbap, veggie-gimbap, and sausage gimbap.

 

Regarding the history of gimbap, the basic idea of eating rice with other ingredients originally came from Japanese-sushi. The exact date and location of where Korean gimbap was first made are unknown. Yet, it is said that since the Josun dynasty, seaweed aquaculture was well-known throughout all parts of Korea. Among all regions, Gyangyang, located in the Southern part of the Korean peninsula, paid special attention to seaweed cultivation. People in Gyangyang believed that eating rice with seaweed could better their eye sights and thus had the tradition of eating seaweed with rice during Korean Thanksgiving. Considering the fact that seaweed is rich in vitamin A, Korean ancestor’s belief is indeed based on fact and is reliable. Although there are no exact evidence, it is thought that such belief brought people to develop the idea of eating rice with seaweed and eventually came up with gimbap.

 

Gimbap, to me and my family, is, I believe, more significant compared to any other people. My father always picks gimbap as his favorite food and thus since I was very young, our family would often gather around on weekends to make gimbap altogether. As mentioned before, gimbap is rice and other ingredients wrapped in a big sheet of seaweed. Although, it may look simple, each and single one of the ingredients that go inside require a significant amount of workload. In regard to our family, my father was in charge of putting and spreading rice evenly across the piece of seaweed. My younger brother and I were in charge of putting different ingredient on the rice. The ingredients that go inside always varied depending on what we wanted to eat each day. Fried carrot, spinach, cucumber, and egg garnish always went in as defaults. Yet, we would always argue whether to put bulgogi or cooked beef seasoned with salt. It was almost always the cooked beef that went inside our gimbap as my mother just extremely hated spending another load of time making bulgogi. Then, when my brother and I did our jobs of putting the ingredients neatly on the rice, my mother was in the part that required most skill. She would roll the seaweed so that it wrapped all around the rice and other ingredients. Then, she would gently cut the rolled kimbap into about ten pieces so that we can eat them more easily later. It takes about two hours for our four members to make our way from cooking the rice and preparing the ingredients to finally wrapping seaweed, cutting them and setting them neatly on our plate. Making gimbap together indeed requires a fair amount of teamwork and adequate communication as each one of us need to know when exactly the previous step will be done and be prepared to do our part in order for us to do the work in a time efficient manner. Choosing the ingredients that go inside gimbap also requires all of us to communicate and compromise in order to finally decide our menu. The long process of making gimbap, for our family, was a once-in-a-while family event in which we all gathered around to spend time together and get something accomplished altogether.

 (Picture of my Family)

My family and I used to gather at least once every month to make gimbap together until we got older. Now that I’m living abroad away from my family, and so is my younger brother, I genuinely miss those times where we had so much fun making and then finally eating gimbab.

 (Brought from Korean Bapsang)

<Recipe of Gimbap> (4 servings)

Ingredients:

For wrapping:

• 4 sheets of dried seaweed
• 2 cups of warm cooked rice
• 2 tablespoons of sesame oil
• 3 teaspoon of salt
• 2 teaspoons of vinegar

For fillings:

• 250g of ground beef (marinated with salt and pepper)
• 1 carrot (shredded)
• 1 cucumber (cut into long strips)
• 500g of spinach (boiled and chopped)
• 4 large eggs

Methods:

1. In a medium bowl mix 2 cups of warm cooked rice with a tablespoon of sesame oil, 1 teaspoon of salt, and 2 teaspoons of vinegar.
2. Cook 250g of ground beef (already marinated with salt and pepper) for 5 minutes and place it on a bowl.
3. Stir-fry a carrot (already shredded) with 1 teaspoon of salt.
4. Mix 500g of pre- boiled spinach with 1 teaspoon of salt.
5. Whisk 4 eggs until the color turns yellow and fry it into a flat omelet. Then cut the cooked eggs into 8 long strips.
6. On a bamboo sushi roller, place a dried seaweed sheet.
7. On the dried seaweed sheet, place the rice prepared and spread it evenly across so that the rice fills ¾ of the seaweed sheet.
8. On the rice, and in a single layer, place 2 strips of cooked egg, 1 strip of cucumber, 60g of ground beef, ¼ of the prepared spinach, and ¼ of the shredded carrot.
9. Roll from the bottom pressing gently on the bamboo roll to make the fillings stay in. Roll it all the way to the end of the bamboo mat.
10. Place ¼ teaspoon of sesame oil on the top seam to keep the roll stuck together.
11. Cut the roll of gimbap into about 10 pieces.