On the Road - Salvador - Pt. 2 - The Joy of Abará

As Julie Andrews once warbled, "Let's start at the very beginning, A very good place to start...". So, we're beginning our reportage on our recent visit to Salvador, Bahia with the item that's always first (alphabetically, at least) in any list of traditional Bahian dishes - abará. It's hard to think of anything that might proceed abará in an alphabetical listing of dishes - except aardvark, and they don't eat aardvarks in Bahia.

 Abará  is one of the foods that is most closely associated with the Afro-Brazilian religion of Bahia, Candomblé, and it's also one of the items that can always be found for sale by baianas, the traditionally-dressed black women who sell Bahian food, most notably acarajé, on streets, squares and beachfronts of Salvador.

Iansã

In the rituals of Candomblé, which preserve the religious traditions brought from Africa to Brazil by slaves, abará is a favorite food of the orixá (divinity) Iansã, and offerings of food made to her invariably include abará. Iansã is the orixá of the River Niger in Africa, and of the wind, hurricanes and tempests. She is considered to be one of the most agressive of the female orixás and has dominion over the dead. In the syncretic tradition of linking orixás with saints of the Catholic church, she is identified with Santa Barbara and is worshiped as such in the Catholic churches of Bahia.

 There's nothing complex or complicated about abará - it's not a fancy or delicate food. But it does combine many of the most important ingredients of the Bahian pantry, which was large inherited from Africa. Basically, an abará is a soft batter made from black-eyed pears, flavored with bright orange dendê palm oil and cooked by being steams in a banana-leaf package. Sometimes ground dried shrimps are added to the batter for additional flavoring, but this isn't obligatory. Readers familiar with Mexican tamales will have a very good idea of what an abará is, as the two dishes are very similar. They differ in the mass used to create the dough - ground corn in the case of tamales and ground black-eyed peas in the case of abará. Although tamales are often stuff with a meat or chicken filling, abarás are not and resemble most closely those unstuffed tamales called "blind."

The list of ingredients that go into making abará is almost identical to acarajé. Both are based on the same batter, though in acarajé the batter is deep-fried in dendê whereas abará is steamed rather than fried and a small amount of dendê is stirred into the batter to flavor it. This makes abará slightly more healthy eating than acarajé, though it could never be considered health food.

In Salvador we sampled  abará at the famed Bahian buffet of SENAC, the public-private vocational school that can be found in any city in Brazil. In our next post, we'll look at the 40+ dish SENAC buffet in more detail. It's an edible encyclopedia of Bahian cuisine and an essential part of the Salvador experience.

(Click here for a recipe for abará  from an earlier posting on Flavors of Brazil).

RECIPE - Abará

The Afro-Brazilian dish from the state of Bahia called abará is based on a dough or paste made from mashed black-eyed peas. This same dough is also the starting point for the most famous of Bahian dishes acarajé. In the case of acarajé the dough is formed into a ball and deep-fried in a fragrant palm oil known as dendê, while acarajé is made by wrapping the dough into packets inside banana leaves, then steaming them.

While making the dough from dried black-eyed peas may seem like a simple task, and certainly reads like one in a recipe, it's far from fast-n-easy. I once decided to treat some Canadian friends to homemade acarajé at a dinner party, a decision which I regretted almost immediately, and which I'll never repeat. To make either acarajé or abará a pound of dried beans must be soaked for twenty-four hours, and then the skins must be taken off them - bean by bean! I have no idea how many beans make up a pound, but taking off those skins takes hours and hours of labor. Some slide off easily and some do not. I seriously do not know how the women who sell acarajé at streetside stands do it every day - they must have armies of bean-skinners at home removing those little black-eyed skins. So, if you do decide to try the following recipe for abará, don't say you haven't been warned. You'll be de-skinning for hours and it'll be weeks before your fingertips lose their "prunes." If you do decide to go ahead, you're in for a absolutely delicious plate of food, with all the soul of Afro-Brazilian tradition. Making abará is a lose-win situation. Go ahead, give it a try.

abará dough

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RECIPE - Abará

1 lb (500 gr) dried black-eyed peas
1  large yellow onion, coarsely grated
1 cup small dried shrimp (available in Asian and Latin American markets)
2 small red Thai chilis (1 serrano chili can be substituted), seeded and chopped
1/2 cup dendê oil (available in Latin American and African markets, often labelled "palm oil")
banana leaves to wrap (available in Asian and Latin American markets)
kitchen twine
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The evening before serving place the black-eyed peas in cold water to cover, with 3 inches of water above the top of the beans. Let soak overnight. In the morning, they will be soft and swollen.

De-skin the black-eyed peas, bean by bean, removing the papery skin and the "black eye". Put the peas through a meat grinder, using the finest grind, or process briefly, in batches, in a food processor. Do not overprocess, or the dough will become sticky and pasty.

Put the dough in a large mixing bowl, and beat with a large wooden spoon until it become light and airy. Add the dried shrimp, the chili and the dendê oil. Beat again to thoroughly mix.

Cut the banana leaves with scissors into squares of approximately 8 inches (20 cm) on a side. Place a wooden-spoonful of dough in the center of a square, fold over each side to make a square package, and then tie with kitchen twine. Continue until you have wrapped all the dough in banana leaves.

Steam the packages in a large covered stockpot or other steaming device, cooking them for about 25-30 minutes. Remove from heat, let cool completely.

Serve the abará at room temperature, still in their banana-leaf packages, accompanied by some sort of fresh made hot chili sauce.

Recipe translated and adapted from Receitas tradicionais da cozinha baiana by Ligia Junqueira.

Abará - Bahia's Version of a Pamonha/Tamal

In yesterday's post on Flavors of Brazil, while discussing how important the black-eyed pea (feijão-fradinho) has always been in traditional Brazilian gastronomy, I mentioned that it was particularly associated with the regional cuisine of the state of Bahia, the center of Brazil's Afro-Brazilian culture. Salvador, the capital of Bahia, was the capital of all of Brazil during earlier colonial times, and was the center of a vast area of sugar-cane cultivation. The agriculture of sugar cane requires a tremendous amount of human labor, a need which was met with the transportation of millions of Africans to work in the fields as slaves. Among the things that arrived in Brazil in their meager belongings must have been some black-eyed peas, which were planted and which thrived in Bahia.

In addition to eating these legumes cooked but whole, the black cooks of Bahia learned to de-skin black-eyed peas, mash them, and use the mashed beans to create a number of dishes, some of which have become iconic dishes of Afro-Brazilian cuisine. The most famous, without a doubt, is acarajé, a fritter made of frying mashed black-eyed peas in dendê palm oil. (Click here to read about acarajé on Flavors of Brazil.) Another dish made with the same mashed beans is called abará, and it's related both to Mexico's tamales, and to the Brazilian cornmeal dish pamonha.  What all three dishes have in common is that they share the common technique of wrapping a moist paste in banana leaves, and then steaming them. This technique is common throughout Latin American, and these are not the only examples. But it does show how a shared method of cooking is modified and adapted to local conditions - in the case of abará, by substituting mashed black-eyed peas for cornmeal.

Like acarajé, abará is not just a well-loved traditional dish. It is also intensely associated with the Afro-Brazilian religion Candomblé, and in that religious tradition it is one of the ritual foods offered to the gods and goddesses of Candomblé, the Orixás, during ceremonial occasions.