Ditch the cinnamon sticks and sweet fragrance of warm spice. Replace it with heat and heart. Crisscross apple sauce….you’ll have no regrets.

I love apples. The firmness and smoothness of their ’rounds’, the crispness that accompanies some bites, and the sweet juice trickling down chins. I like them in cakes and bakes, tarts and curds, hanging off trees and nestled in a corner of my bag.

But I have not quite gotten the fever that has raged from age to age……and that culminates in a frenzy of canning, buttering and all manners of apple delights from autumn to winter.

Food historians tell us sauces made with apples and related recipes [stewed apples, apple pudding] were made by medieval European cooks. These sauces could be made from tart to sweet and were served as accompaniments to a variety of foods.

In early times, they were called by different names, often with regards to its use as sauce for meat. The applesauce recipe in Elizabeth Raffald’s Experienced English Housekeeper (London:1769) is titled “To make Sauce for a Goose.”

The Oxford English Dictionary traces the first use of the word applesause in print to Eliza Smith’s Compleat Housewife, 9th edition, [London:1739]. Many 18th century British and American cookbooks contain recipes for applesause, confirming its popularity.

When I was at University, I enjoyed the occasional pork roast with some chunky applesauce, made from tart English Bramleys and bottled by Colemans. But it was when I arrived The Netherlands, suitcase, heart and all that applemoes (apple sauce) and I made an acquaintance.

Apple sauce used to be a food prepared for winter, since it keeps well. It is often an accompaniment to a main course. Swedes, for instance, usually eat apple sauce as a condiment for roast pork. In Germany it accompanies potato pancakes. In the Netherlands, children often eat it with their fries; ”patat met appelmoes” is a traditional dish at children’s birthday parties. It is also a popular accompaniment in the United States of America and is sometimes served as a dessert there as well. In France, it is viewed solely as a dessert and referred to as compote.

I half expected my ‘Nigerian’  children to embrace apple sauce as they had pancakes and poffertjes. You can tell how sour that one went, can’t you?

Fast forward to 2012. A pork tenderloin. Garlicky green beans. Freshly cooked white Jasmine rice and apple sauce to die for. Inspired by Mrs Wheelbarrow’s Plum sauce on food52, I crept into the kitchen late at night – my absolute favourite time to cook. When all is still and I can conjure up magic in my kitchen. No guilt because the kids are awake….or that the husband’s alone…..this time, kids were in bed, husband was watching Footie and I could go on with eased heart.

I could have gotten plums but I had apples. Crisp, sweet, juicy, just-tart apples from South Africa. Perfect for out of hand eating and saucing.

Cracking mustard seeds in a mortar and pestle is an art – one I haven’t quite mustared ! I found the seeds kept trying to escape. In the end I managed to crush some by placing my palm over the top of the mortar, desperate as I was to release their spice and pungency.Did you know that mustard seeds don’t become pungent until they are cracked and mixed with a liquid, like vinegar. Alternatives to mortar-crushing are ‘frying’, Indian style till they ‘pop’.

How to

Bring all ingredients except the chopped apples to a boil. Stir in the apples and water then reduce the heat and simmer very slowly until thick and syrupy, about 30 – 40 minutes.

Using an immersion blender/potato masher,  get the sauce to your desired consistency (I like mine with the occasional apple chunk).

Refrigerate and use as desired.

—–♥♥♥♥♥—–

As soon as we sit down to eat, and I mentioned apple sauce, daughter #1 who remembers (American) School Thanksgiving dinners past and offers of some sauce with her Turkey declines……but I, knowing fully well how this tart, hot  sauce differs from anything she’s ever encountered eggs her on.

I am very convincing, because she dollops some on….and throughout the meal keeps going back for more. The son and daughter #2 are far from convinced. But I will bide my time – they are young…and I am full of hope! Once upon a time, they didn’t eat blueberries or strawberries or pineapple – hope will flare eternal.

The husband and I loved it.

Sweet, not sugary. Hot…but not burning, and chock full of flavour and scents. And a colour somewhere between Motts apple sauce and sweet caramel.

What is left over I will serve with meatloaf….or maybe make a chicken pie. Or some apple-mustard butter. Endless options really.

What’s your ‘take’ on apple sauce. Leave it? Or love it?

—–♥♥♥♥♥—–

None of my memories, sleeping or waking…have been consumed with artichokes of any sort. Globe or Jerusalem, pickled, boiled, fried or grilled. Australia’s cooking doyenne, Stephanie Alexander says in her book, ‘The Cook’s Companion’, a compendium of ingredients and recipes for the Australian kitchen ‘Artichokes have a reputation of being tricky to prepare and fiddly to eat. As a result, many food lovers have yet to tackle their first boiled artichoke’.

Carciofi alla Giudia with Fried Lemon

She spoke of me. A food lover terrified by thistles and thorns….of the artichokes.

I’ve tackled Mr. Lobster, almost fearlessly. I’ve even endured the sliminess of pulpo aka octopus…..and cleaned an entire one. Forget that I could not bring myself to eat it. But the artichoke, thorny veg that it is, scared me silly. Till I went to bed one night in July thinking, ‘Oh the artichoke, what fun it would be to cook one’.

Did you know that the artichoke is a large bud, harvested before it has a chance to bloom? And of course edible. And did you know that baby artichokes are not immature artichokes (like most baby vegetables), they are simply smaller versions grown lower on the plant.

So here we are. And even though I’d never actually cooked artichokes before, I have had numerous brushes with them. And I say brushes because the encounters have been brief, with no memorable experiences to stretch the event beyond the ‘then’.

Artichokes at Hobbemaplein, a market in Den Haag

A bowl of pickled artichoke hearts purchased from the Mediterranean deli makes its way into a salad at home. And as with some pickled things, the sense of the true taste is lost, gone forever and replaced by the slight tang and souring of vinegar, lemon of whatever pickling liquids have been employed. Truly, I have nothing against pickles. They serve a purpose in their own right…..purpose though which I will not allow guide me on this voyage of discovering all about artichokes.

I remember months ago, Food52 had an artichoke contest and quite unlike me, I stayed well away. To me it was like meeting a complete stranger – one I had absolutely nothing in common with, and was done  judging….. from a distance.

As vegetables go, the Artichoke is among the most fascinating visually. It is as beautiful as it is delightful to eat. You may be interested to know that the Artichoke is actually the bud of a plant from the thistle family and at full maturity, the plant grows to a width of about six feet and a height of three to four. If not harvested from the plant, the bud will eventually blossom into a beautiful, blue-violet flower, which is not edible.

The globe artichoke (Cynara cardunculus var. scolymus) is a perennial thistle of the Cynara genus originating in Southern Europe around the Mediterranean. It grows to 1.4–2 metres (4.6–6.6 ft) tall, with arching, deeply lobed, silvery, glaucous-green leaves 50–82 centimetres (20–32 in) long. The flowers develop in a large head from an edible bud about 8–15 centimetres (3.1–5.9 in) diameter with numerous triangular scales; the individual florets are purple. The edible portion of the buds consists primarily of the fleshy lower portions of the involucral bracts and the base, known as the “heart”; the mass of immature florets in the center of the bud is called the “choke” or beard. These are inedible in older larger flowers.

Once you know how, they are quiet easy to prepare.

1. First, take a look at this diagram and the photo below to familiarize yourself with the anatomy of an artichoke. Note that the choke is inedible. Some people eat the stem after removing the fibrous outsides of it.
2. Rinse the artichoke in the sink, and tap it, pointy-side down to remove any critters that may be hiding in the leaves, especially if you purchased organically-grown artichokes.
3. Now, cut off the top quarter of the artichoke with a knife. Then, cut off the stem if you want. Some people like to leave it on because it tastes good!
4. Using kitchen shears, snip off the pointy ends of each leaf; you don’t want to get pricked!

In Italy, before women buy their artichokes or carciofo, they rub two together. If the artichokes squeak on contact, they are deemed ‘fresh’, if they stay muto (silent), they are not.

Source: The Cooks Essential Dictionary, 2004

My friend E tells me a story from when she was young and they had artichokes at a large family meal. While everyone ate theirs artichoke petals, dumping the remnants in a pile and chatted, she sat quietly eating the entire petal, one after the other. At the end of the meal when it was time to clear up, everyone had nice dignified piles of half-eaten petals on the side and E?….Well, her plate was clean. 30 years later she still gets looks of disbelief and wonderment from her cousins….all because she left little of her artichoke behind!

Top Tips:

• Artichokes should never be cooked in aluminum pans or they’ll discolour the pan.
• To preserve their colour and bring out the flavour, artichokes are often cooked with a pinch of sugar, lemon juice, apple cider or white wine vinegar with salt.
• Cut artichokes will quickly turn grey when exposed to air. To prevent this, submerge them in acidulated  water (which has some lemon juice).

Finally I am ready to tackle it in varied forms.

#1 Steamed Whole Artichoke

First the classic steamed or boiled, whole. Simply does it.

Once ready, I sat at a table. The artichoke petals were plucked off and dipped in melted butter as I worked my way from rim to centre.

To eat, you dip the bottom/end of the petal which is thick and meaty and full of soft pulp into your condiment of choice (melted butter, olive oil, mayonnaise or some other sauce) while gripping the thin, upper (formerly thorny tip)  end.

You place the dipped end in your mouth, clamping down your teeth and pulling the petal through to remove the soft, pulpy, delicious portion of the petal. Then you discard what’s left (which isn’t much but tough petal). When I had peeled off all the petals, I sat down to finish off the heart which while meaty, I did not find as tasty as the petals. Odd, I thought to myself.

#2 Carciofi alla Giudia with Fried Lemon, fried artichokes, from Food52

It involved cleaning and quartering the artichokes and then frying in olive oil. When ready, I salted the artichokes and sat down to dip the petals in a chickpea puree.

This was a stunner for me. The petals took on a delicious caramelized flavour – transforming the sweet pulp and raising it way beyond just steamed. The heart was nice but again, it was the petals that shone and took the ‘star’ spot.

Recipe available on food52.com, by Arielle Clementine

#3 Heart of Gold, from Food52

My final trial was a  recipe of breaded and pan fried ‘hearts’…

…. served with a cumin-lime dip. Which combined some of my favourite flavours ever. The fragrance of the lime and the smokiness of the cumin. Heaven.

I wondered from the start if this would reverse my view on the hearts. And oh boy, did it do just that. These were delicious.

Recipe available on food52.com, by Dymnyno

—–♥♥♥♥♥—–

I loved discovering artichokes; the ‘meat’ on the petals reminds me of avocados-sweet potatoes-yams.

And the finish/aftertaste? Fine….till you drink something and then your mouth tastes sweet. Reminds me a bit of the liquorice effect.

Overall, my favourite recipe was #2 – I loved the fried petals – something wonderful happens in hot oil – caramel notes develop and there is a fullness of the artichoke flesh which turns to ‘cream’. I could see myself eating my way through a dozen artichokes petals!

Strangely, the hearts were nice but I’m not fully converted. I found it too meaty…my palate preferring the simple ‘teeth and eat’ petals.

Are you an artichoke lover? What is your favourite artichoke recipe! Hope your week is going well.

Granted, those weren’t the first strawberries we’d had since our return. In December, we were in Lagos at a delightful French shop, L’Epicerie when I spotted strawberries and Lemon melisse. The rest was history. Pricey history no doubt but one that soothed the bellies and souls of my red-berry crazed bunch. They were imported from some country. Israel perhaps.

Not the ones I took receipt of last week – those are grown here, ….. in Nigeria. In the central-northern region of Jos, which is mountainous and temperate and able to grow a range of ‘Western’  fruits and veggies – Cauliflower and Broccoli amongst them.

At an altitude of 4,062 feet (1,217 m) above sea level, Jos enjoys a more temperate climate than much of the rest of Nigeria. Average monthly temperatures range from 70° to 77°F or 21° to 25°C,from mid-November to late January, and night-time temperatures may drop as low as 8°C resulting in chilly nights. Hail is common during the rainy season, owing to the cool high-altitude weather.These cooler temperatures have meant that from colonial times until present day, Jos has been a favourite holiday location for both tourists and expatriates based in Nigeria. Situated almost at the geographical centre of Nigeria and about 179 km (111 mi) from Abuja, the nation’s capital, Jos is linked by road, rail and air to the rest of the country.

And considering their ‘foreigness’, they aren’t that expensive – they cost roughly 4 euros/punnet. And I in my possession have 4!

A “punnet” is a small shallow basket which in the past was used as an old country measure of volume. In the United Kingdom, a punnet of strawberries weighs about 450g, roughly a pound. 

As you do when you have loads of strawberries (about 1.6kg/4 punnets), you get some cream.

Whip it to delightful peaks with the finest vanilla powder known to man – don’t forget the caster sugar.

You make some wafers (or cookies….or buy some). Macerate loads of strawberries and call a party that includes friends and neighbours.

You lay out petite verrine glasses and long stemmed spoons and the party begins. First the strawberries, then dollops of sweet, light cream. To top? Shredded mint leaves and the fine zest of a fresh lemon. The kids are oohing and aahing and saying, ‘These strawberries taste exactly like the ones from Holland’. We have some guests who just moved back from the UK and they say ‘These strawberries taste exactly like the ones in London’. And they do. They are sweet and meaty, infused with strawberry fragrance. Ok, they are not the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen but what they lack in looks they more than make up for in flavour.

In no time, the dish is empty, licked clean, juices drunk…..and everyone’s happy.

But that’s half of the story. The other half? Turns into Strawberry-White Chocolate-Peppermint ice cream. You heard me. 1 cup of my new favourite frosting made of white chocolate, cream and mint essence meets 1 cup of leftover whipped cream, and 1 cup of strawberry puree made by passing hulled strawberries through my potato ricer.

An overnight chill follows while my ice cream bowl freezes….And then on the 2nd day, churn, churn and our pink delight is ready. Rosy-hued, creamy, fresh with mint and rich with flecks of strawberry fruit! The strawberry flavour emerges clearly and not overly sweet. We love it. However, I believe the white chocolate/mint combo would work well on its own, not necessarily with my strawberries, plus there is a slight grittiness that is on the ‘finish’. I say all this but we loved the ice cream – next  time, I’ll stick to just strawberries.

There are so many reasons to be grateful. Strawberries and cream, with lemon and mint….in Nigeria is only one of them.

What are you thankful for?

Memory slates are wiped clean. Were they not, human children would recollect the encouragement from ‘bothering’ parents to sleep early ….the night before. ‘Oh Mama, only 5 more minutes of Disney channel. I want to finish my book. I can’t find my teddy bear. Dinosaur. Hair band’. Numerous pleadings soon turn insistent – ‘You have to go to bed now!’ And the ritual begins. I coast up and down the halls, settling one in one bedroom, kissing the other, going back to the first room to turn on air-conditioning, put out lights and mute all discussions that could easily fill an hour.

And then it is morning. Sunrise and its magical tropical warmth are accompanied by gentle morning taps and nudges. The wake-up calls are often rewarded with ‘I didn’t sleep one bit last night. I couldn’t even sleep. I was awake the whole night. I’m tired. I don’t want to go to school’. Often the one question that envelopes me in laughter comes from a certain 4 year old who will open an eyelid, one singular eye covering to ask ‘Do I have PE (Physical Education aka opportunity to play, run and jump) today? If it is a Tuesday or Thursday, he gets up the instant I whisper into his ears ‘Yes, you have PE today’.

He needs no bidding. He rouses himself with passion, heads to the bathroom and then once his morning routine is executed, marches to me for the rest. On any other day though, the son is usually not pleased; especially on Mondays and Fridays when his sisters are kitted in red and white sports clothes, for their own day of PE. But then again, he is a growing young man whose needs for physical activity have been awoken…and need nourishing. I’ve learnt well and so on most Mondays now, I say to him ‘You have PE tomorrow’ and this rouses him…and makes him smile. We cuddle and laugh and he arises. He understands.

After weeks of getting worked up, I begin to nod in agreement when the morning discussions begin. Time has taught me the foolishness of doing otherwise. And in all honesty, I know the feelings of tiredness for numerous times I’ve woken up broken, as though I never laid my head down to sleep.  An additional antidote is tickling….which I’ve begun to employ…and which is working too.

That morning’s conversation (months ago), held between the fire of dawn and the rising sun is all about Maple syrup. Daughter #2 long ago pledged allegiance to Canada, loving both its symbol of Independence – the maple leaf and the syrup produced from its trees. Her pancake-eating and French-toast quaffing days however were in steep decline. She said, ‘Mama’, pulling her white socks up…’I miss Maple syrup. I can’t eat pancakes without them and I want to’, the other sock going on, and the soft white cottonness folded down, as if underlining the importance of her profound statement. This is from a child who isn’t a weekday ‘morning’ person.

At that point, I announced the arrival of our container and personal belongings; and she asks again if her bottles of Maple syrup are there. I said yes, and she wanted to know how many ‘litre’ bottles there were. When I said five, she flashed the widest rising-dawn smile I’d seen in recent times. And gave me a hug. And proceeded to tell me with as much seriousness as she could muster, which for this particular child is no difficult task; she said as she donned her white cotton shirt, school logo flashing in red, that she wanted to change her name. To ‘Maple Syrup’.

I laughed, a hearty laugh. And then tell her it is not possible. That name is protected, and in many parts of the world is a ‘produit du terrior’. Even if it weren’t, I’d rather she bore the name we so loving gave her, which means ‘Only God knows what he’s doing’.

I like the sound of terrior though, which in typical French fashion sounds immeasurably more sophisticated than it is…to begin with. It roughly translates as ‘Taste of a place’, and if you’ve ever had a Greek Salad at a Grecian restaurant on an island in the Mediterranean and gone on to try the same dish in London, you might understand what I mean. Often the atmosphere, quality and something else is captured in that place, the origin, the fulcrum and centre. A ‘je nais se quoi’ quality.

And so I tell my wonderful daughter that much as I’d like to immortalize her in history, I can’t magically convert her to another type of liquid gold. To a syrup fit for dousing pancakes. What I can do for her though is let her arise on a weekend morning to the sweet smell of a freshly baked loaf, fit only for princes and princesses, with all the richness, warmth and sweetness of her beloved maple syrup. And that’s exactly what I did.

This loaf was perfect in winter even if it speaks of the best of autumn and fall – the sweetness of the maple and the orangeness of pumpkin puree. The softness of heart and the nostalgia that come upon us when all around are scattered leaves and blazing skies.

The crust was golden, soft and fudgy with a maple butter glaze and maple flakes. Heaven. And the interior – soft, supple, rich, tender, chewy, and shred-y.

Ingredients

Directions

Scald milk and pour into a large bowl. To it, add the maple syrup, butter, pumpkin puree, stirring till the butter is melted. Then add the egg, rolled oats and salt. Allow to cool to lukewarm.

Combine the flour and yeast and using a dough whisk or a wooden spoon, then gradually add the flour mix to the cooled ‘liquid’. You may not need all 3 cups. The result dough should hold together, with no flour lumps/patches. It should be soft/loose but should not be liquid!

In typical lazy (and successful, might I add), no-knead fashion, cover with a lid/loosely with plastic wrap and refrigerate for a minimum of 2 hours or overnight. The resulting dough does not rise much.

Turn out the chilled dough on a floured work surface and knead or fold and turn the dough slightly. Cut dough into 12 balls. Press each ball into a flat rectangle with your fingers, then roll up and tuck ends under.

Place seam-side down in a well-buttered 9 inch round pan.

Brush all over with ½ of the melted butter-maple mix and sprinkle with the maple flakes. Let rise until doubled in size in a warm place, about two hours. I find my microwave is the best spot for ‘rising dough’ not to mention safe and away from hands and other random objects falling out of the sky full cupboards!

Preheat oven to 170°C (350° F). Bake for 35-40 minutes or until rolls are nicely browned and sound hollow when you tap their tops. The internal temperature should be 190 degrees (I used my meat thermometer to check this!).

Remove from the pans and brush generously with melted butter – maple mix. Let cool on a rack for 5-10 minutes.

Serve warm…with salted butter, jam and anything else that tips your scales!

—–♥♥♥♥♥—–

All said and done, I see a trip to Canada is in the offing….. I’ll have to get your recommendations (at some point in the future) for a maple-tapping camp so I can take the kids to get the real experience.

What is your favourite bread roll recipe? And your favourite way to use maple syrup?

And yes, 11 days in a country makes me an expert. Of sorts.

Local names are written in italics and I’ve done my best to share the correct pronunciations.

Where available, I’ve included photographs – enjoy!

Banku

An example of the variation of fufu (a sticky ball of cooked/pounded dough) is the banku and kenkey, dumplings formed from fermented cornmeal dough. Banku are boiled while kenkey are partly boiled then finished by steaming in banana leaves

Coconuts

Every street corner has a coconut cart, where able bodied men wielding machetes are happy to slice off the head of a young coconut so one can drink of its youth-giving waters. Once you’re done, they are also happy to break the nut open and  make a scoop with which you can consume the young flesh. According to our tour guide, if a hospital runs out of saline waters for ‘drips’, the waters from a carefully opened coconut can be used to restore life and vitality to the ill man.

Chocolate

If there’s one product Ghanaians are proud of, it is their cocoa and chocolate. My children fell in love with the ‘GoldTree brand’ of chocolate which is so beautifully packed and branded, with the strip of the Kente cloth – the symbol of Africa’s cultural Heritage the world over, and not only of Ghana .

Akuafo Bar: This blend of milk chocolate flavoured with lemon is a tribute to the hard-working cocoa farmers in Ghana who produce the priceless beans that are the base ingredient for any good chocolate. “Akuafo” is an Akan word for farmers. Akuafo bar GoldenTree chocolate is therefore a dedication to farmers whose hard work and sweat sustain the Ghanaian economy

There are various flavours – lemon, orange, coffee and of course the regular milk and dark. So what does it taste like?  ’Just refined’. What do I mean? It tastes of cocoa in a rich, chocolatey way. The initial texture is not as smooth as perhaps the finest Swiss chocolate but it does have a great ‘finish’ . I love the fact that it is hard, and each bite has a pleasant crunch that lends subtance to the whole choccing experience. And the orange version is absolutely wonderful!

To this day, cocoa is produced primarily by independent local farmers with small to moderate-sized holdings, not on the large plantations used in many parts of the world and the chocolate bars produced by the Ghanaian Cocoa Processing Companies, one of the largest chocolate companies bears this witness as the names are tributes to farmers).

Corn Grits

I had these for breakfast, with milk and sugar. In direct contrast to the way the Americans have it, which is always savoury and never sweet. The first time I came across corn grits was in a recipe in Momofuku, the cookbook which threw me completely. See to me, corn grits was similar to oats, and confined to the sweet side of the breakfast table. But no, in the cookbook, David serves them up with Shrimps. I was totally put off. Now, after trying them, I am willing…..if somewhat reluctant to try the savoury version!

Fish

There is an amazing variety of fish off the Ghanaian coast, including Salmon, Tuna and Herring. It is a sight to watch the fishing nets pulled in, hours after fishing boats have reached the shores, pulled in by men, women and children, singing songs to strengthen the resolve to fight sea and bring in the catch. At the Ankobrah beach, close to the border with Ivory Coast, we looked on as a catch was made, and sold to market women by the basin.

The Day's Catch

Fresh Pepper Sauce

This is a simple, uncooked sauce made of ground tomatoes, onions and fresh green scotch bonnets. In Nigeria, it forms the base of our ‘stews’. In Ghana, it is served at lunch or dinner with Banku, and grilled Tilapia. I was sceptical till I tried it! Wow, I couldn’t stop eating it. It is meant to be served ‘raw’ and only lightly seasoned with some salt. It was hard for me to believe that a blend of ingredients which I normally cook to smithereens could yield a different sort of deliciousness served in the ‘nude’.

Fufu

A mixture of pounded cassava and boiled plantains, essential to Ghanaian cuisine. It is typically a lunch/dinner preparation and is often made from scratch. Part of the evening villagescapes have women and helpers, sitting outside with few words – most of the sounds are produced by the heaving, lifting and dropping of a flat-bottomed pestle.

Fufu ball in light soup and game (aka bushmeat), Ghanaian style

Gari Foto

According to the Betumi Blog, ‘Gari foto is also called gari jollof, and is similar to classic West African jollof rice, which is a one-pot stew and rice dish. The main difference is that gari foto is faster, since you don’t have to wait for it to cook as you would rice. While it was once a humble end-of-the-week-leftovers dish, today it is just as likely to be served at dinner parties in Ghana.’

Gari, is a cassava meal made from fermented cassava, and ground into a dry, grainy mixture. It can be soaked in cold water, cooked in hot, sprinkled over foods dry…and incorporated in baking recipes. It has a slightly sour, sweet flavour and is loved across much of West Africa.

Foto, in the Ga (Kwa) language of Ghana means ‘to mix’, thus gari foto means mixed gari.

There are various versions – some which incorporate diced vegetables and fried eggs and a simple ‘Students staple’. See shito entry

Jollof Rice

A one-pot, tomato-sauced/stewed rice; commonly made in Ghana with Jasmine rice. The best Jollof we had in Ghana was made in a Spanish ‘cafe’ and appeared to be stir-fried in the manner of Chinese Fried Rice.

Kelewele

Popular, evening street food of cubed, ripe (sweet) plantains, tossed in a mixture of spices like fresh/dried ginger powder, black pepper, chilli powder and deep fried. Delicious!

Kenkey

Dumplings formed from a mixture of fermented maize (cornmeal) dough and raw maize dough. Kenkey are partly boiled then finished by steaming in banana leaves, in contrast with Banku which is boiled. It is populary served with Fresh Pepper Sauce and Grilled Tilapia for lunch or dinner.

Iconic blue bags of Fante Kenkey from Yamoransa, being hawked

Our travels took us past the town of Yamoransa where the best Fante kenkey is found and of course we purchased some…which I haven’t yet tried. As it keeps for months, mine are currently stashed at the back of my rfidge – let it be known that when I unfold the package, you will catch a glimpse!

Keta School Boys

Anchovies/Herrings found in the Volta region of Ghana and sold dried, fried and fresh!

Dried 'Keta School Boys'

Minerals

There is a funny West African and Irish tradition of calling soft drinks ‘Minerals’. In the West, it stemmed from the addition of fizz/carbonation/’minerals’  to water and colloquially means any bottled carbonated water or soda water.

A receipt for 'minerals'

A model for Sprite below…..after a long canopy walk in the Kakum Rain Forest!

My daughter, could work in advertising.....for 'Cocacola'

Octopus, Grilled

You can find octopus everywhere, sold in wooden and gladd boxes, and hawked by women; packed in small bags…readily available at toll gates. If you want some on the spot, there is usually a pot of shito with the seller….

Selecting grilled octopus tentacles - not my finger!

Palaver Sauce

A sauce of spinach and meats common in many parts of West Africa, with various additions and thickeners.

Leafy green sauce is Palaver sauce

Palmwine

Affectionately called Pammy, in Nigeria. The sap of a palm tree that starts out fresh and sweet, off the tree and progressively gets fermented and thus stronger and more capable of knocking out light-headed fellows. Like me. I got some at the beach but had to ditch more than half of the bottle – I was flying home that day. With three kids in tow…and without a penchant for alcohol drinking….I thought giving drunkeness a miss was in order

Palmwine at Labadi Pleasure Beach in Accra

Pineapple (Long variety)

Two weeks before we headed to Ghana, I was in Lagos shopping at a new French shop, L’Epicerie, when I came across these long pineapples, different in the general slimmness of the fruit and the length of it. I didn’t get any but they were touted as ‘sweet pineapples’.

Did I ever mention my pineapple allergy, which I developed in my late teens? Well, once I was ill and had pineapple and reacted badly. So for more than a decade, I’ve avoided what used to be my favourite fruit. Till Ghana.

In Ghana I saw masses of sweet pineapples which cured me of any allergy – I ate them to my fill and they were wonderfully juicy and sweet. Apparently, they were a big Ghanaian export, till western countries began to complain about the high sugar levels in the fruit, and its impact on Diabetes…..

I currently have 2 heads of the said pineapple variety in my budding garden – time will tell.

Red, Red

A dish which gets its name from the 2 elements that it is comprised of, both being ‘red’ once cooked. The dish is composed of stewed black-eyed beans in a tomato sauce, often with palm oil added (Red), served with fried, ripe plantains (Red).

Rice

Though local rice is common, everywhere we went, we had wonderful steamed Thai Jasmine rice, of the finest sort. Fragrant, sweet and most delicious with Shito (next on the list)

Shito

A fragrant, hot pepper sauce available at every table in Ghana. It is made of dried seafood: fish and shrimps,  ground and fried in lots of oil with ground dried red chilli peppers and other seasoning. It is an accompaniment to everything good and nice.

I had it in every conceivable way possible to man, except with my bowl of corn grits….It is delicious with plain white rice, spices up stews, is perfect with fish, chicken, boiled eggs, fried yams…..I could go on an on. Suffice it to say, we came back with 4 jars – thanks to my husband who contracted the chef at one of the hotels we stayed in to make us some! Smart man I married, wouldn’t you say. The shito at that hotel was perfect – the right amount of heat and none too fishy…..which was a character of many versions I tried.

I made pilgrimage to this pot several times in a single meal!

Our tour guide told us that growing up, she would always take shito to school, where they called it the ‘Student’s companion’  as it was a staple in school cupboards and could last a ‘term’ (3 months). Their school version of Gari Foto consisted of soaked gari mixed with a healthy portion of shito and eaten…..hunger never completely took over!

Soups

Most soups in Ghana, in contrast to thickened Nigerian soups are ‘light’ in consistency and serve dual purposes of dipping and drinking. Also, almost every soup has fresh tomatoes as essential on the ingredients list.

Tilapia, Grilled

We spent all of the 11 days of our holiday on the coast, where there is no shortage of fresh fish. Grilled Tilapia is a permanent fixture on menu cards and boards across town, from the local eateries to the finest restaurants. At one hotel we stayed at in Accra, we got the recipe for the wonderful marinade which was slathered on the fish. In true African style, the ingredients list came without measurements – fresh ginger, fresh green chillies (scotch bonnets), mustard and Maggi (beef bouillon) cubes.

The best Tilapia I had in Ghana, at a restaurant in Takoradi

Tom Brown

A breakfast porridge made from toasted corn, which is ground into a meal/flour and cooked with water to form a porridge. It is served with milk and sugar (or sweetners) . It has the appearance of cooked wholemeal flour, with flecks of toasted/dark brown grain. It does taste nice, with hints of ‘toffee’ and caramel. Apparently, it also exists in my home country, Nigeria where it is made from dried corn, soya beans and fried peanuts.

Waakye

Pronouced ‘Waatchy’ or ‘Waatchi’  - a ‘red’ breakfast/lunch combo of cooked rice and black-eyed beans, with the red colour produced by a dye from millet leaves, in authentic recipes. Truth be told though, there are many ways to make it – In the rice cooker. On the stove top. Endless possibilities.

Werewere Soup

This is a palm oil soup that tastes a lot like Owo soup, albiet thinner. In Nigeria, Owo soup is made with oil and potash, which lends a peculiar flavour to the whole dish that is well balanced, with a hint of salt and an almost imperceptible chalkiness. I can only imagine that the Ghanaian version is made in the same way, if more liquid.

Yam Croquettes/Balls

These are similar to croquettes, mashed potatoes and ragout, rolled in breadcrumbs and deep fried, except these are made with boiled, mashed yams. Delicious with shito.

Hope you enjoyed my culinary records of Ghana.

Have you tried any of the dishes mentioned, Ghanaian style? Or are their similar dishes in your cuisine?

Drawing on the sand

1. Treat myself with true & honest kindness – including the occasional manicure and pedicure. And also continue to swim, run, sleep and most of all eat right. Women, Food and God by Geneen Roth has shown me why this is important.
2. Travel. See Nigeria and Africa (Gabon. Cameroun, Sierra Leone and The Gambia are top on my list) and if possible add a trip to New York. It’s also part of #1.
3. Write two books. One book on Nigerian cuisine which I would love to be crowd-sourced from the ‘Cook Naija’ monthly get together I’ll ‘launch’ soon. The other book is a toss between a cookbook and a photo book of Africa. Time will tell which.
4. Create a portfolio/start an image gallery for my photographs (if you know how to go about this with some ease, please let me know!)
5. Be more respectful of people, especially my children. Half of the world’s problems as I see it are based on a fundamental lack of human respect. I will not knowingly contribute to this.
6. Sew.
7. Paint. In watercolours.
8. Make a gingerbread house. In February. Or at Easter. Whatever happens, before Christmas 2012!
9. Finish my writing course….which I began in 2010…..
10. Read. Everything that catches my fancy. Road signs, patterned toilet paper. News. The Real Simple Magazine. Books. African authors. You.
11. Do something for less-fortunate women. Have a bake sale. Organise an event. But do something. To help women somewhere.
12. Pondering number 12. Any suggestions?

Are you one for resolutions? Any of your own to share? Excitedly waiting.

Sunset on the water

Dear friends, readers, strangers and loved ones. Thank you for the wonders that 2011 held for me – the loss of a friend, a country move, lots of food and still intense passion about cooking and learning and sharing.

I feel blessed to be me, surrounded by a world of amazing people – you. Every single one of you made and make a difference, every kind word soothed my aching soul, every shared remembrance filled me with joy. Thank you.

I haven’t been a diligent blog reader as in the past. I still love you.

In 2012, I have plans of starting of a monthly ‘Cook Naija tour’, where I introduce one recipe from my beloved country and we experiment with it. At the moment, the details are sketchy. I’m off on holiday to Ghana, the first time I’m visiting an African country apart from Nigeria. I am excited. However, I will not be taking my laptop and so will not be blogging…meaning my proposed Cook Naija thing may not happen till February.

Regardless, I hope to do more with my love and passion for food in 2012.

Here’s to lots of love, laughter, peace and joy to you and yours, I hope you continue to find fulfillment and comfort in knowing that there are ties that bind us all – they are as strong as family bonds and as full of promise as we desire.

With love X X X

I grew up with Fruitcakes every Christmas, lovingly made by Mrs O, a friend of my mum’s. A master baker, she would start her preparations months before the cakes were delivered, gratefully received and devoured.

Slices of cake don't come more perfect than this, do they?

But I? I have days to spare (with no reference whatsoever to my opening lines). I have decided that we will and we must take a fruit cake with us this Christmas on our travels.

All the fruitiness of Christmas, packed into this little chunk

In the last few months, I’ve escaped a hammer thumb and acquired ‘cardboard brown’ fatigue. Considering all the nailing I’ve done, the pictures hung up, I’ve been pretty lucky. I know where most things are….and it was in the process of acquainting myself with the contents of my living room drawers that I came across the Good Food Magazine’s ’80 Best-Ever Recipes’ from 2009. I flicked through the pages, sure there were no gems that would interest me. What a lie - this small booklet woke me up, at almost midnight! 

It is called ‘The Simmer and Stir’ Christmas cake, one that will keep in a cupboard for 3 months and in the freezer for 6.

And it is December 9th. I’ve only just decided this is the one….for the 25th. In between, there are parties, a weekend away and lest I forget….there is work. You know, that thing I do that makes everything else possible.

I peruse the recipe and all its cardinal points, and then slowly map out my version.

I consider adding a veggie sweetness and moistness with left-over pumpkin puree. I consider marron glaces (candied chestnuts), which for the equivalent of 10 euros and 5 minutes walk, I can be the proud holder/owner of a box. Then my mind wanders to candied peel. And by the time I’m done, I’m weary and the cake has not even been begun. Its then I remember some dried fruit I’ve had for ages – whole kumquats and tamarillos.

I feel better already, I’ll not be buying many things after all, using up old stash. Suddenly, I feel good about being less wasteful, feel energized to get to work. Thankful too that 14 days before we board a plane, I’ll have made a cake. And will travel, tin in hand.

Beautiful Tin

I had to get some ‘oranges’. Which in Nigeria don’t quite have the Valencia orange skin on the outside. Imagine the utter shock for my kids when we arrived in August and I gave them some oranges. They were totally confused by the lack of Orange colour.

A nigerian orange...though it's actually yellow-green. Some confusion for my kids ensued at first sight

the 'orange' is somewhat orange inside, don't judge a fruit by its peel!

This is an EASY cake for the stunning results it gives. It tastes EXACTLY like the cakes Mrs O made. My only regret? Not making one to send to my mum! Even if I made this on one of the busiest Saturdays in my life ever .

The recipe was straightforward. Fruit, brandy, sugar and butter in pan, along with fragrant citrus zests…..simmer. Stir.

Other ingredients in pot. The brandy smelt heavenly, like liquid mince pies….and so my excitement doubled.

Butter, ready to do my bidding

So much that I neglected to compare the size of my baking tin and my planned storage tin, which I was intent on using.

I went for the hotter end of the spectrum when it came to ‘spicing’  the mix up. Cardamom powder – freshly crushed seeds, 3 shakes of the powdered ginger jar and half a teaspoon of vanilla powder. But my absolute favorite part was when the fruit, fresh from simmering plumped up and glossed over, shiny with promise. I was so tempted to scoop spoonfuls and ladle over vanilla ice-cream. But I resisted admirably, didn’t I?

See I feel that for my American experience to be complete, I have to go to certain places – New York City is one of them. A place I’ve long associated with fun, fashion and gastronomy. Whenever  I think of New York, I think Blueberry muffins, hot dogs, bagels and a mean espresso. And though I haven’t quite made it that far yet, I was willing to search for the heady, fresh baked flavours of ‘New Amsterdam’.

I found gorgeous bagels at Bagel Alley in The Netherlands and quickly acquired a taste for them. This café celebrates the yeasty bread treat – a touch heavy and chewy with that distinct, light sour taste and shiny top. I was astonished at the variety of bagel recipes on the menu – everything from the standard cream cheese to a ‘pizza’ and a BLT (Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato).

Burrata, Fig Jam on a Poppy Seed Bagel

And then a few weeks before we moved, working hard and all, I deigned to visit the office cafeteria…ok restaurant for lunch. For the four years I worked in The Netherlands, I took my own lunch to work almost everyday. Anyhow, they were out of the delicious pistolets which I’d somehow become addicted to in my irregular visits there. and so from the bread pile, I pulled out a plain, bronzed bagel, packed it in a bag and walked back to my desk where I proceeded to have the most delicious bagel for lunch I’d ever had – but that isn’t saying much considering the paucity of bagel experiences this woman has had. Regardless, it beat the ones from Bagel Alley hands down. Or maybe not. Perhaps I was just hungry.

In actual fact, I’ve taken to making bread dough like I do with pancake batter – by eye, sans measurements. Who would have imagined that was possible? Certainly not me. I’ve known since March though that I would make bagels, when mademoiselle delicieuse mentioned the connection between bagel and pretzel bathing.

But it wasn’t till a Sunday in July that I acted upon it. This particular batch of bread dough had produced some chilli pretzel rolls, stuffed with cheese and a few friendly pizzas. When suddenly the thought popped into my head – how about bagels?

Cheesy Chilli Pretzel Rolls

And when I sat behind the computer to execute Step 1 (finding a good recipe), I came across the New Yorker’s guide to Bagels aka Peter Reinhart’s recipe for bagels on Smitten Kitchen. A two-day recipe, but then I’m no stranger to recipes which take a week.

Reading the recipe left me perplexed, confused and a bit dismayed, not because of the ingredient list or the barley malt syrup, which strangely enough I possessed. It was Step 8 of Day one’s instructions, with its command to ‘retard’ the bagels that was at the root of my less-than-confident state. Having never encountered this word in my culinary education to date, I read carefully.

8. Check to see if the bagels are ready to be retarded in the refrigerator by using the “float test”. Fill a small bowl with cool or room-temperature water. The bagels are ready to be retarded when they float within 10 seconds of being dropped into the water. Take one bagel and test it. If it floats, immediately return the tester bagel to the pan, pat it dry, cover the pan, and place it in the refrigerator overnight (it can stay in the refrigerator for up to 2 days). If the bagel does not float. Return it to the pan and continue to proof the dough at room temperature, checking back every 10 to 20 minutes or so until a tester floats. The time needed to accomplish the float will vary, depending on the ambient temperature and the stiffness of the dough.

Since my dough was ready I got started shaping them. When it comes to shaping bagels, there are two schools of thought:

• Rope-and-loop: You form a snake shape, loop it around your hand, and roll it on the counter to seal it together.

• Stretch-and-poke: You shape the dough portion into a rough bagel shape, sort of stretch it out, and poke a hole in it with your finger

Stretch and poke it was to me. Do you ever have dreams of becoming Italian and spinning some pizza dough in your palm, till it stretches thin, ready to be fired in a 300 degree centigrade oven? If you habour those dreams, then you’ll understand why it was stretch-and-poke- and-whirl it around my little finger.

 Before long it was Step 8, and the test. There’s usually a test to long and complicated recipes, aye? I gave it a go……and guess what? My bagels were fully ‘retarded’! Joy, unspeakable joy.

'Retarding' Bagel

On day 2, I boiled my bagels in a water bath of baking soda and barley malt syrup. Now some would argue that a bagel is not a bagel if it doesn’t take a lye bath. Not me. I’m not German, not used to the smell of warm, authentic, lye soaked bagels. Pardon me please.

I preheated the oven, while I topped some with chia seeds, others with poppy seeds, some were left plain and one or two had freshly ground black pepper.

Ten to twelve minutes later, me and my bagels were done.

Deliciously so.

I enjoyed them. Everyday for a whole week.

Plain with butter and salt;

With burrata and fig jam;

With burrata, fig jam and coppa.

Every combination was enjoyed. Thoroughly.

And my longing for NYC, abated. For a while. Till the Blueberry Muffin bug catches on.

Get the recipe for Peter Reinhart’s bagels on Leite’s Culinaria and Smitten Kitchen - the same recipe in two places. How lucky can you get!

 Sinterklaas related Posts

• Really celebrating Sinterklaas
• Sinterklaas comes to town
• A great Dutch Tradition

Sinterklaas Factfile

Sinterklaas is a Dutch tradition that has been celebrated for at least 350 years, testimony is given by the ‘The Feast of Saint Nicholas’, a painting by the Dutch Master, Jan Steen in 1665. This painting is one of his best and happiest and depicts a family celebrating the feast of Saint Nicholas.

It captures all the tales about Sinterklaas – the communal nature, the gifts or lack of for both good and not-so-good children

What strikes me is the basket of goodies full of biscuits and bread and what looks like a large speculaas cookie.