VEGETABLES OF BRAZIL - The Squash Family (Abóboras)

Although when speaking English we are accustomed to speaking in terms of butternut or acorn squashes, pumpkins, gourds, marrows, pattypans, zucchinis, etc., as separate foods, in fact all these vegetables are squashes - that is, botanically, they are all members of the genus Curcubita, the squashes. In Brazilian Portuguese, they are all inguistically linked together and called abóbora. To Brazilians a giant pumpkin and a small baby zucchini are both abóboras, although to help consumers along, some types are identified separately by modifiers or unique names. Zucchinis, for example, are generally referred to as abóbora italiana (Italian squash) or abobrinha (little squash). There are also unique regional names which are largely American in origin, such as jerimum, which is a Northeastern term for large pumpkin-type squashes.

The cultivation of squash goes back a very long way in human history, and archeological evidence seems to indicate that squashes were first cultivated in Mesoamerica between 8,000 and 10,000 years ago. Native Americans referred to squashes as one the "three sisters" (the three main native food crops), along with corn (maize) and beans. In native American cultures, all parts of the squash were eaten (as they still are today in the area). The flesh, the seeds and even the blossoms are all essential ingredients in traditional Mexican, Peruvian, Brazilian and other New World cuisines.

Brazilians cook and eat squashes in many forms - in soups, in purees, which can be either savory or sweetened with sugar, salads, in breads and cakes, and in stews and hot-pots. Larger, sturdier squashes, are even used as containers for other foods. In the next few posts on Flavors of Brazil, we'll detail some of the uniquely Brazilian treatments of this important family of vegetables.

More Moonshine - Mocororó

Caju (cashew) fruit

Back in 2010, Flavors of Brazil published a post about a Brazilian drink called aluá, a lightly acoholic concoction made from pinapple peelings, sugar and water. (There's also a version made with soaked dried corn and recipes for both can be found here.) At the time we noted that aluá, which has a very long history, is particularly associated with tradional festivals - the festas juninas of Brazil's northeast, and the feasts that play an integral part in the ceremonies of the Bahian afro-brazilian religion Candomblé.

The folk traditions of northeastern Brazil also include another fruit-based alcoholic beverage, and this one is associated with specific folk rituals as well. The drink is called  mocororó, and drinking it is an important part of a folk dance in that region of the country called torém.

Both the drink, mocororó, and the dance, torém, have been traced back to pre-Columbian indigenous rituals, and both to this day carry connotations of Brazil's first inhabitants. Both are found throughout the northeastern part of Brazil, but are most closely associated to the traditions of the state of Ceará, where Flavors of Brazil is based.

Almost universally, primitive humankind has discovered ways to turn the sugars in fruit drinks into alcohol, and to imbibe the result for ritualistic use or purely for pleasure. Sweet drinks, left in the open air for a few days, become inbued with natural fermenting agents, primarily yeasts, and these agents transform the sugar in the drink into alcohol. What was once fruit juice becomes an alcoholic drink.

Humankind has long since learned how to help this natural process on its way, both by the artificial introduction of fermenting agents, and by the controlling the temperature of the drink so that it remains at a temperature conducive to fermentation. In the production of mocororó, Brazilian Amerindians left the introduction of fermenting agents to nature, but did lend a helping hand once fermentation had begun.

Mocororó is made from juice pressed from the caju fruit (the same fruit which gives us cashew nuts). The juice is left in the open air until fermentation starts, and then it is put into clay or glass containers. At this point, a very clever technique is used to enhance the fermentation process. The containers are buried in hot sand (which is easy to find along the coast and on riverbanks of Ceará) for up to six months. The sand ensures a perfect and consistent temperature for fermentation (and presumably also makes it less easy to "sample" the product before it's ready). After some time, the mocororó is dug up by which time it has quite an alcoholic punch.

 Mocororó is traditionally served in indigenous festivals and ceremonies in which the torém is danced. The Brazilian National Central of Folklore and Popular Culture describes the torém this way:

Group dance with participants of both sexes, who form themselves into a circle with a soloist in the center. It is a ritual dance of indigenous origin, whose participants imitate animals - like the jump of the mullet fish, the fight of raccoons, the song of the parakeet, the lunge of a snake. Shaking an aguiam, a type of maraca, the soloist advances and retreats, quivers, jumps and stamps his feet, often imitating the snake or the lizard, demonstrating his dexterity and flexibility. The other dancers mark the beat by stamping their feet and moving around the circle in a counter-clockwise direction. The music is sung by the soloist and repeated by the chorus of the other dancers. Mocororó is distributed during the dance  Prevalent in the state of Ceará, the torém is danced during the caju harvest season, on social occassions and when indigenous groups meet other tribes.

The drink has stayed close to its origins and there is no commercial production of mocororó in Brazil. As a result, Flavors of Brazil cannot comment on either its flavor nor its alcoholic strength. But we have our eye out for it, and should we ever come across any, we'll report back soon there after (as soon as we recover, that is).

Translation and adaptation of Portuguese text by Flavors of Brazil.

On the Road - Salvador - Pt. 5 - Dona Mariquita's Moqueca do índio

Among the numerous "endangered" dishes to be found on the menu at Restaurante Dona Mariquita in Salvador, Bahia, is an intriguing appetizer called Moqueca do índio (Indian Moqueca). (Click here to read more about endangered dishes) The dish is described on the menu as "Pititinga roasted in banana leaf with toasted manioc crisps", but there's much more to the story of the dish than that.

pititinga

Pititingas are very small silver fish found throughout northeastern Brazil - small enough that they fit in the palm of your hand. In this dish they are combined with spices and hot chili peppers, lots of them, wrapped in fresh banana leaves, roasted over coals in a tin-can oven and served with small crispy manioc crackers as an appetizer. The dish is very spicy, smoky and with a pronounced but not overwhelming fishy flavor that is balanced by the blandness of the manioc crackers. At Dona Mariquita, the moqueca is served with the fish still in its banana leaf, surrounded by crisps. Diners simply place a couple of fish on a crisp and pop the whole thing in their mouth.

According to the restaurant's website, moqueca do índio was once common in Salvador where it was one of the traditional staple dishes of the baianas who have sold acarajé on the streets of the city since time immemorial. Today the dish has completely disappeared from Salvador, except at Dona Mariquita. In the rural districts of Bahia that surround the Bay of All Saints, from which Bahia gets its name, traditional foodways have survived longer than they have in the capital,however, and it was in those districts that Dona Mariquita's owners rescued the recipe and returned it to Salvador, where it once had been so popular.

According to the bible of Brazilian historic gastronomy, História da Alimentação no Brasil, by Luís da Câmara Cascudo, moquecas (roasted or stewed fish and seafood) were eaten by indigenous tribes in Brazil long before the arrival of Europeans in the middle of the second millennium, and can lay claim to be among the most ancient dishes of Brazilian gastronomy. Thanks to the effort of Dona Mariquita you can still eat this most primitive, and most delicious, dish at her eponymous restaurant. It behooves the diner to consider the immense age of this recipe and to hope that although Moqueca do índio may be endangered, it will not become extinct.

UTENSILS OF BRAZIL - Clay Pot (Panela de Barro)

When proto-Brazilians first learned that many foodstuffs were improved, or even simply made edible, by the application of heat, they basically used two ways to apply that heat. In the rain forests of the Amazon basin and the coastal mountains, on the savannahs of western and central Brazil and on the beaches of the the country's immense coastline, Amerindians cooked their food either by direct exposure to fire (grilling, basically) or by indirect exposure. Indirect exposure involved placing the food in some sort of fired clay container and heating the food in liquid inside the pot or pan. Even the most primitive tribes of Amerindians seem to have known the technique of firing clay to make ceramic products and to have learned that once fired, ceramics can be exposed to high levels of heat without damage. Metals were unknown to these tribes, and wood was unsuitable in the presence of fire, so without clay pots they would only have been able to grill food.

Grilling is a technique that is well suited to most meats and seafood, plus some types of vegetables. However, it is less well suited to cooking roots and tubers and other types of vegetables that constitute the basic staple foods of most cultures. In pre-Colombian South America these staples included manioc, potatoes and corn. The most common way for Amerindians to cook them was in clay pots. African slaves also brought with them their own traditions of cooking in clay when they came to Brazil.

Today there is a resurgence in the use of clay cooking pots in Brazilian cooking, even though in rural areas of the country it had never really gone out of style. In the cities of Brazil, in the kitchens of fine restaurants and in the homes of dedicated amateur cooks, there has been a rediscovery of clay cooking utensils. There is something about the way that clay transmits and retains heat that really cannot be duplicated in metal or glass - particularly in relation to heat retention. For dishes that require long cooking at low temperatures, there is nothing better than clay. This rediscovery of clay cooking utensils really is just one more case of "everything old is new again." Today in Brazil, there is nothing more ancient or more avant-garde than cooking in clay.

To buy clay pots and pans in most Brazilian cities, all one needs to do is visit the nearest market in which artisanally produced material can be purchased. There you can find pots of all sizes from miniature to mammoth and in a myriad of shapes and forms. Some are beautifully decorated with incized designs and decorative handles, others are purely utilitarian. But they all work equally well. It's also possible to buy clay pots online in Brazil for those who don't live near a market that sells them.

Clay pots need to be seasoned prior to first use, but once seasoned, they can last a lifetime if properly handled. In the next post here on Flavors of Brazil we'll teach you how to season an unglazed clay pot Brazilian-style, and then we'll highlight some Brazilian recipes which are best cooked in clay.

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 7) - RECIPE - Tacacá

Photo by Adalton Ramos

As with our earlier recipe for pato no tucupi in this series of posts about the Amazonian cuisine of the city of Belém, this recipe for the city's favorite afternoon pick-me-up, tacacá, isn't something that you're likely to try at home. Unless your home is within striking distance of the Amazon River, that is. The main reason is that with the exception of shrimp, the main ingredients of tacacá are just not available outside the rain forest region, even in other parts of Brazil. Trying to find jambu leaves or a bottle of tucupi in your local A&P, Safeway or Waitrose's is an exercise in futility.

Nonetheless, without a recipe for tacacá, this particular edition of Flavors of Brazil On the Road would be incomplete, so here it is, from the pages of Cozinha Regional Brasileira. Keep in mind, that most of the tacacá vendors in Belém have never seen a recipe for the soup, and if asked what quantities of this or that are required would have no idea. They'd say you need just enough manioc starch (goma) to give the broth a nice silky texture, enough chili peppers to liven the dish without burning out the mouth, and just enough jambu leaves to make your tongue and palate tingle but not deaden entirely. But here's the recipe, quantities and all.
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 RECIPE - Tacacá
Serves 2

For the tucupi
4 cups (1 liter) tucupi
3 cloves garlic, peeled
A few leaves, Amazonian chicory
1 bunch Amazonian basil

For the jambu
1 bunch jambu
salt to taste
water
ice

For the shrimp
1 lb (500 gr) dried, salted large shrimp with shells

For the manioc starch
1 cup manioc starch (tapioca flour)
1 cup cold water

For the  tacacá
8 cups (2 liters) water
salt to taste
2 cloves garlic
1 bunch  Amazonian chicory
chili peppers in vinegar (to taste)
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Make the tucupi: In a saucepan combine the tucupi, the garlic the chicory and basil. Bring to a boil over medium heat, then lower the heat and reserve, keeping hot.

Prepare the jambu: Heat plenty of water in a saucepan and when it comes to the boil, add salt to taste. Blanch the jambu for a minute or two in the water and refresh immediately in a bowl of ice water. Reserve.

Prepare the shrimp: Thoroughly clean the shrimps. Soak them in cold water until needed to partially desalinize them. Reserve.

Prepare the manioc starch: In a medium mixing bowl, gradually stir the starch into cold water until it has all dissolved. Reserve.

Make the tacacá: In a third saucepan, mix the water, salt, garlic and chicory. Heat over medium heat and when it comes to the boil remove the garlic and chicory. Slowly add the dissolved manioc starch, stirring constantly with a spoon or whisk to ensure that lumps don't form.

Serving: use hollowed-out dried gourds or deep soup bowls. In each bowl combine the tucupi and the manioc starch in proportions of  3/4 tucupi to 1/4 starch. Add a few jambu leaves and a few shrimp to each bowl, plus chili peppers if desired, and serve immediately, very hot.

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 6) - Tacacá

tacacá

At the end of the afternoon in Belém, around four or five, just after the daily torrential downpour ends, a collective hunger pervades local residents. It's the same hour as tea in London, churros and hot chocolate in Madrid, or coffee and Viennese pastries in Vienna, but nobody in Belém indulges in any of those treats. Here the end of the afternoon means only one thing. It's time to "take tacacá." Although tacacá is a soup, in the local dialect one doesn't drink or eat it, one takes it - tomar tacacá.

One might think that the last thing anyone would want in the muggy heat of an Amazonian afternoon is a steaming hot bowl of soup. But if one thinks that way, one's not from Belém. For Belenenses (inhabitants of Belém), a bowl of tacacá cures all ills and soothes the soul like nothing else. It also tides one over until dinner quite nicely.

tacacazeira

Taking tacacá has long been a ritual all throughout the Amazonian basin, though anthropologists tell us it originated among the Amerindian tribes in the region nearest to Belém. How, when and why it is served are controlled by age-long custom. Among the unwritten rules and regulations: tacacá is street food, purchased and eaten on the street. Tacacá vendors, usually women and known as tacacazeiras, sell their product from carts and stalls situated on the street, on the corner or in a park, just like Salvador's famous baianas and their acarajé. Tacacá must be served in a gourd, never in a plastic or ceramic bowl. The gourd sometimes nestles in a small woven basket to make it easier to pick up when filled with hot tacacá and traditionally decorated gourds are often lovely objets d'arts. Tacacá must be sipped directly from the gourd, not brought to the mouth via a spoon, although a small toothpick is often provided to help pick out the solid ingredients. Finally, and seemingly perversely, tacacá has to be very, very hot.

tacacá gourd

To sit on a small plastic stool on a busy street in Belém at 5 pm, watching the tacacazeira dish out portion after portion of tacacá while sipping from one's own gourd is to participate in the life of the city and to share a culinary ritual that goes back millennia.

proper technique

So what, exactly, is this soup that's so much a part of Belém's identity? For readers who've been following these recent Flavors of Brazil posts on the foods of Belém it won't be a surprise that the basis of tacacá is manioc. The broth that is at the center of tacacá is seasoned tucupi (the liquid that results from squeezing grated manioc root), thickened with manioc starch, also known as tapioca. The broth is enlivened with with a dash of hot chili peppers preserved in tucupi. Cooked in the broth are leaves of the anesthetic jambu, which deadens the mouth and makes the tongue tingle, and dried shrimp. That's all there is to it - spicy broth, jambu leaves and a few shrimp.

But to call tacacá simply a soup with a few shrimps and some greens is to sell it short. A well-prepared tacacá is marvelously delicious and a true end-of-the-afternoon pick-me-up. The spicy liquid, the tingly sensation in the mouth and the rich, salty tang of the shrimp awaken all your senses without leaving you feeling full or over-satiated. It's just what you need to carry you through the end of the day. It's the chicken soup which nourishes the soul of Belém.

On The Road - Belém (Pt.5) - Manioc, Let Me Count the Ways

As we mentioned in last Friday's post about the three cornerstones of the cuisine of Belém, the staple carbohydrate upon which the cuisine in built is the tropical tuber manioc (Manihot esculenta), alternatively known in English as cassava or sometimes yuca. Manioc is to Belenense cooking what rice is to Chinese, wheat is to Italian cooking and the potatoes is to Irish - the supplier of the major portion of the population's daily nutritional intake. In the Amazonian region of Brazil, where Belém is located, up to 33% of the daily caloric intake comes from manioc in some form or another.

Bitter manioc tuber

What is most astonishing about this tuber, first domesticated in the southwestern portion of the Amazonian basin as long as ten thousand years ago, is its chameleon-like nature. Manioc shows up in all kinds of shapes, forms and consistencies in Belém and it's hard to imagine that two dishes as different as the soupy broth called tacacá and the crunchy, gritty flour called farinha that is sprinkled on top of grilled meats share a common ingredient. And that ingredient could only be manioc. Manioc can look like mashed potatoes, as when it tops arrumadinho, the Brazilian take on shepherd's pie. It can look just like french fries. Or it can be an airy, light form of bread - as in Brazilian  pão de queijo. It even makes an appearance at North American dessert tables, disguised as tapioca pudding. Those pearly balls in the pudding are manioc, as are the "bubbles" in Asian bubble tea. It's an infinitely versatile food, and the cooking of Belém would be radically different without it.

Producers, vendors and cooks of manioc in Belém sort manioc plants into two types, normally called sweet (doce) or bitter (amargo). It's a good thing that they do, too, for bitter manioc is highly poisonous in its natural, uncooked form. Both types of manioc contain cyanide poison in their tubers, roots and leaves, but the quantity is much less in sweet manioc. A kilogram of sweet manioc contains approximately 20 mg. of hydrogen cyanide, but the same quantity of bitter manioc can contain 50 times as much. Since as little as 40 mg. of this chemical can be fatal, bitter manioc is toxic indeed.

Fortunately, the toxins present in bitter manioc can be removed by processing and cooking the plant, something that Amerindians discovered at the time they first domesticated manioc. This detoxification can be accomplished by long cooking - the technique that's used when cooking manioc leaves, which must be cooked for an entire week without stopping before they are served. Tubers are processed by mashing or milling the root, then squeezing out the liquid which contains most of the toxins, and cooking the remainder.

Ground manioc leaves, Ver-o-peso market, Belém

Brazilian Portuguese makes it easy to differentiate between sweet manioc and bitter, though there are regional dialectical differences which cloud the picture. The bitter type is called mandioca, from a Tupi word that is also the basis for English manioc. Sweet manioc is called mandioca-doce, mandionca-mansa, macaxeira, or aipim depending on region. In English, dangerously, both bitter and sweet are called manioc or cassava.

Tucupi, Ver-o-peso market, Belém

As we explore the gastronomy of Belém in this series of On The Road posts, we'll run into manioc again and again. It already showed up in a liquid form in yesterday's recipe for pato no tucupi (duck in tucupi). Tucupi is made by squeezing the liquid from bitter manioc tubers, then letting the liquid sit until the starch settles out and can be removed. The remaining liquid is cooked to rid it of poisons, resulting in  tucupi. That settled starch, by the way, is later dried and becomes tapioca. Just one more transformation of this remarkable plant.

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 3) - The Three Cornerstones

The cuisine of Amazonian Brazil, and in particular the cuisine of the city of Belém, is complex and elaborate, even in its most traditional form. Ingredients are transformed almost beyond recognition. In fact, a single ingredient might show up in various metamorphic forms in the same dish. Giant fish are reduced to bite-sized chunks or smoked, dried and grated, nuts are ground into flour, leaves are cooked for a week without stopping to eliminate their poisons, and fruits are dried, pureed or distilled - all in the goal of increasing the flavor on the plate (or banana leaf) that arrives at the table.

No matter how much manipulation and reformation is going on, though, it's clear that the entire culinary culture of Belém rests on three basic types of foodstuffs. Almost every dish, savory or sweet, will have at least one of these groups in its ingredient list, many have two, and often all three groups are represented in a single dish.

Pato no Tucupi

These three groups of food which rest at the bottom of Belém's pyramid of ingredients are manioc in all its many forms, the animal life that abounds on and in the fresh waters of the Amazon River basin, and the cornucopia of fruits and vegetables to be found in the world's largest rain forest. Take, for example, the region's most iconic and famous dish, Pato no Tucupi (Duck in Tucupi). This marvelous and marvelously complex dish consists of river duck (pato) cooked and served in a broth of tucupi (wild manioc root which is peeled, grated and juiced, then cooked to eliminate the toxins) enlivened with the surprisingly anesthetic leaves of the jambu plant, native to the rain forest. All three food groups are represented in a bowl of Pato no Tucupi - manioc in the form or tucupi, riverine duck, and jambu, the exotic harvest of the jungle.

In upcoming posts Flavors of Brazil will highlight each of these categories of food as we explore the cuisine of Belém. But next up, there's the recipe for Pato no Tucupi.

On The Road - Belém (Pt. 1) - The Culinary Importance of Belém

From time to time Flavors of Brazil posts a series of related articles which we call "On The Road". Each series details the gastronomic culture - the culinary history, distinctive ingredients and dishes, and local recipes - of a Brazilian city or region. Each series is based on a visit we've taken to the locale featured, often a city we haven't visited before. In the past, these series have highlighted destinations such as São Luís, Maranhão, Rio de Janeiro and Jericoacoara, Ceará.

Flavors of Brazil has recently returned from a fisrt-time visit to the city of Belém, capital of the Brazilian state of Pará and situated near one of the many mouths of the gigantic Amazon River system, just one degree south of the Equator. It was an eye-opening experience and a crash course in the food of Brazil's north, a culinary culture that is very different from the rest of Brazil. The next few posts on Flavors of Brazil will concentrate on what we saw, heard, smelled and tasted while we were there.

Those readers of this blog who've been with the blog for a while (and who are attentive students of Brazilian gastronomy!) will remember that the tremendously varied and inventive regional cuisines that make up Brazilian food culture are the result on the mixing and meshing of three primary gastronomic influences. These three influences are the tripod from which Brazilian cuisine rises and the various regional cuisines of this country grew from the many possible ways in which these influences can blend and combine. The three major influences are European, primarily Portuguese, food culture, African food culture and Amerindian food culture. European food culture came to Brazil with the various waves of European explorers, colonizers and immigrants. African food culture crossed the Atlantic in the belly of slave ships along with the approximately 10 million Africans forced in slavery in Brazil's sugar plantations and gold mines. And the Amerindian food culture arrived on foot with the very first humans to inhabit Brazil, thousands of years before either Europeans or Africans were aware that the Americas even existed.

Touches of these three primary influences, European, African and Amerindian, are found in most Brazilian regional cuisines, but only in one cuisine is one of these influences of almost exclusive importance. The spicy, rich cuisine of the state of Bahia owes its unique qualities almost entirely to the culinary heritage of Africa. South-central Brazil, the states of São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro and Minas Gerais, is where you'll find cooking that is most strongly influenced by the cuisines of Europe. And the north, the location of the world's largest rain forest and the world's largest river, is where Amerindian food ways most stongly inform the local cuisine. The gastronomic center of Brazil's north is Belém. One can't really know Brazilian cuisine without knowing the food of Belém, just as it's impossible to claim to know Brazilian cuisine without having sampled the African-influenced dishes and delicacies of Salvador, Bahia. The food of Belém and its region is fundamental to Brazilian gastronomy, and so in the next week or so, Flavors of Brazil hopes to open a small window on this fascinating, exotic and largely-unknown cuisine. We hope that reading about the city, its markets, shops, food-stalls and restaurants will give you just a bit of the Flavor of Belém, an important part of the Flavors of Brazil.

RECIPE - Bread Farofa (Farofa de Pão)

Over the past few days, Flavors of Brazil has been featuring a small sampling of the many thousands of recipes for a dish called farofa - a flavored and seasoned mixture of dry manioc flour (farinha) and some form of fat or oil. It's one of the most basic cornerstones of Brazilian cuisine and dates back to the time before the arrival of Europeans on these shores.

One difficulty for cooks outside Brazil who want to discover this versatile and unusual side-dish is sourcing the main ingredient - dry manioc flour. Those who are lucky enough to have a Brazilian food market in their community won't have problems, as every Brazilian market, large and small, in Brazil or outside, sells farinha. Those emigrant Brazilians who live in areas where there isn't a Brazilian community often carry farinha with them - hoping to avoid culinary homesickness.

Fortunately, there are a very few recipes for farofa that don't call for manioc flour, and those can be made easily almost everywhere. What these recipes don't have is the characteristic gritty feel of manioc flour, which Brazilians adore and some non-Brazilians find, to put it politely, less than wonderful. These recipes substitute dried bread crumbs for the manioc, but use the same basic cooking technique as the classic recipe. The flavor profile of the finished dish is very similar to classic farofa, and the dish can serve the same purpose as manioc-based farofa as a side dish. If farinha is completely unavailable to you, give this a try. It's next to "as good as the real stuff" good.
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RECIPE - Bread Farofa (Farofa de Pão)
Serves 6

6 day-old French rolls
6 cloves garlic, chopped
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/3 cup butter
salt to taste
1/2 cup Italian parsley, chopped
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Preheat the oven to 350F (180C).

Cut the rolls into thick slices and lay out the slices on a baking sheet or cookie sheet. Place in the preheated oven and toast until the slices are completely dry and nicely browned.

Remove from the oven and let cool. Grate the bread slices on a box-grater, using the largest holes. Reserve,

In a large frying pan, heat the oil and butter together until the butter is melted and the fat is hot but not smoking. Add the chopped garlic and cook just until it begins to brown. Do not overcook. Add the grated bread crumbs in a steady stream, stirring constantly, until all the crumbs are moistened by the oil and heated through. Season with salt to taste and remove from the heat.

Stir in the chopped parsley and serve immediately, or let cool completely and serve at room temperature.

RECIPE - Water Farofa (Farofa d' Água)

Most recipes for farofa, the Brazilian side-dish made from dry manioc flour toasted with some form of oil or far, aim for a finished dish in which the grains of manioc flour remain separate and retain the particular gritty, sandy crunch of the flour itself. The grain is heated with enough flavored oil and seasonings to give the dish some character, but not enough to cause the grains to clump together.

There is one very old and very traditional recipe for farofa that doesn't abide by the "keep it dry and keep the grains separate" rule of thumb. It's called Farofa d' Água and it adds one step to the traditional recipe. After toasting the manioc flour with oil or far, a relatively small amount of water is added to the pan and the dish is cooked until the water is absorbed. The additional of water causes the grains of manioc to plump up, soften and begin to stick together. The result is a texture something like a poultry stuffing, very different from garden variety farofa.

Farofa d' Água is eaten everywhere in Brazil, but it's particularly popular in the Northeast. Just as with the other recipes for farofa that Flavors of Brazil has been presenting the last few days, it's most commonly served with grilled or roasted fish or meat. It also makes an excellent side dish for meats or fishes cooked in a sauce.
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RECIPE - Water Farofa (Farofa d' Água)
Serves 4

2 cups farinha (dry manioc flour)
2 Tbsp butter
1 small red onion, chopped
1/2 cup hot water
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
1/4 cup green onion, green parts only, chopped
salt to taste
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 Melt the butter in a large, preferably cast-iron frying pan. When the butter is hot and begins to bubble, add the chopped red onion and cook just until the onion is softened. Add the manioc in a steady stream, stirring constantly with a wooden or silicon spoon, making sure that all the grains are covered with butter. Toast for a minute or so, then reduce the heat and slowly pour in the water, stirring constantly to moisten all the grains. Cook for just a minute more, or until the grains are softened and begin to clump together.

Remove from heat, season with salt as desired, and stir in the chopped cilantro and green onions. Serve in a decorative bowl as accompaniment to a main dish of meat or fish.

Recipe translated and adapted from Nordestinos na Cozinha.

Farofa - The Universal Accompaniment

Photo courtesy Come-Se

When Brazilians eat grilled or roasted meat or fish, the side dishes are plain white rice, beans and a golden-colored mixture with a sandy texture called farofa. Eating churrasco, the Brazilian-style mixed grill cooked over charcoal without a dish of farofa to accompany it is considered culinary heresy.

There are infinite variations and thousands of recipes for farofa, but at its most basic farofa is a mixture of dry manioc flour toasted in some sort of fat to flavor and moisten it. The fat can be butter, it can be bacon fat and in Bahia, where African culinary traditions rule, it's like to be be dendê, the brilliant orange palm oil that is the herald of Bahian cooking.

Farinha - dry manioc flour

Manioc itself, of course, is a heritage of Amerindian cooking traditions in Brazil and the only truly native staple food in this country. This protean tuber appears at the Brazilian table in a startlingly large number of forms - so many and so different that it's hard to imagine they all come from the same plant. Manioc can be mashed or french-fried like potatoes, it can be made into breads and pastries, or it can show up as tapioca, which in Brazil means a crepe, not a dessert pudding. But it is as farofa that it's most commonly found on the dinner table.

Besides the use of different forms of fat to vary the basic recipe, Brazilian chefs also occasionally add other flavoring ingredients such as onion, crispy bacon bits or shredded carne de sol (dried jerky). Sometimes fresh herbs, particularly cilantro and chopped green onion, are added to give the farofa a fresh touch. Day-to-day farofa is likely to be more basic, however.

In Brazilian supermarkets it's possible to buy packages of farofa, pre-made. Most Brazilian cooks, though, still make it at home, preferring freshly cooked farofa to the industrially prepared variety.

Just as there are many different ways to cook farofa, there are many different ways to eat it. Some people like to sprinkle farofa directly on the grilled meat or fish. This is particularly popular when eating churrasquinho, Brazil's meat-on-a-stick take on kebabs. Some prefer to mix all the side dishes on their plate, the rice, the beans and the farofa, to make one all-purpose accompaniment to the meal's centerpiece. Others like to dip each forkful of meat into a pile of farofa before popping it into their mouth. And some, farofa's most ardent fans, will eat theirs straight up, not mixing it with anything else.

Because of the characteristically sandy, gritty texture of manioc flour and it's relative lack of flavor, visitors to Brazil are often puzzled by farofa. They don't appreciate the texture, likening it to beach sand, and they don't see what it adds to the dining experience. But non-Brazilians who spend some time in this country often find that the habit of eating farofa eventually sneaks up on them. At at some point in the Brazilianization process, they are likely to discover that a plate of grilled meats without farofa looks bare and incomplete. They've become farofasized.

The manioc flour used to make farofa, called farinha in Portuguese, can be difficult to source outside Brazil, unless you live in an area with a Brazilian immigrant community. In those areas, farinha can be bought in Latin American ethnic markets. Manioc flour is also a common ingredient in many African culinary cultures and African markets are likely to stock it as well.

VEGETABLES OF BRAZIL - Cará

The starchy edible tuber known in Brazil as cará (pronounced ca-RAH) is a member of the yam family and is one of the oldest of all cultivated foods in the American tropics. It's a member of the Dioscorea genus, and the only species in the genus (Dioscorea trifida) to have originated in the New World. Its Old World cousins, including the Philippine purple yam and the large African yam, have made their way to Brazil and are an important part of the Brazilian diet, but it's the native cará that is still the most important member of the family.

In pre-Columbian times, over most of the territory of modern-day Brazil, the staples of the native Amerindian diet were manioc, peanuts, sweet potato and yam (the cará). One of the very earliest Portuguese observers of native culture in Brazil, Padre José de Anchieta, mentioned the cará by name in his writings, praising its nutritional value and its flavor. It is a highly energetic food and contains high levels of various B vitamins.

Brazilians eat this versatile tuber in a variety of ways. It can be served simply boiled or mashed, just as if it were a potato. Another popular way to serve it is insoup - usually some sort of thickened puree. Cará is also an ingredient in a number of breads and cakes, some savory and some sweetened.

In the next few posts on this blog, we'll highlight some typical Brazilian uses of cará. In any recipe for this tuber, you can substitute other members of the yam family. Just don't try to use sweet potato, as sweet potatoes and yams are entirely distinct families of vegetables, a distinction that's often lost on supermarket grocers in the USA and Canada.

SNACKS - Popcorn (Pipoca)

It's commonly known that corn (or maize) was first cultivated for food by native American Indians centuries before the arrival of European explorers in the Western Hemisphere. Corn (Zea mays) was first domesticated in what is today the country of Mexico sometime between 12,000 and 7,500 years ago, and cultivation of corn had spread both northward and southward from there among tribes settled in North and in South America long before Columbus began the process of European colonization in 1492.

What might be less well known is the fact that the Amerindian natives not only ate roasted and boiled ears of corn and dried corn ground into meal, they also, just like today's Cineplex movie-goers, loved popcorn. When and where this eating habit began is totally unknown, but wherever it was, the first time that someone let corn cook too long and it began to explode in the fire must have been a shocking and scary experience. However, the Amerindians soon learned that the explosion that creates popcorn creates a lovely, tasty snack, and by the time Europeans rolled up on these shores, the natives had a serious popcorn habit. A habit which the Europeans picked up as quickly and as permanently as smoking tobacco.

The Portuguese word for popcorn is pipoca (pip-OH-ka). It comes from the native Tupi language, an indication that the food predates Europeans in Brazil. Pipoca is one of Brazil's favorite snack foods, and it hasn't been relegated to cinema and home-theatre fare to the degree it has in North America. Cinema popcorn is available in Brazil, though a much smaller percentage of moviegoers in Brazil eat popcorn than in North America, and the portions are much, much smaller. Most Brazilians, anecdotal evidence would indicate, still buy popcorn freshly popped from street vendors - in parks, on promenades and during fairs and festivals. The vendors' popcorn stands are usually on wheels so they can move about in search of trade, and the popcorn is made the old-fashioned way, in a pot with a small amount of oil to aid the popping process. The popcorn is sold directly from the stand, either salted or with a caramel coating. A bag of popcorn normally costs about R$1, which is USD$0.55.

There is a second form of popcorn in Brazil, which we've not seen anywhere else. It's affectionately known as pipoca de isopor, meaning "styrofoam popcorn." This product is not made on the spot, but instead prepared industrially and sold pre-bagged. It's really not popped corn - a better name would be puffed corn. The process used on the corn kernels is similar to that used on rice and wheat to make puffed cereals like Rice Krispies and Puffed Wheat. The kernel retains its shape, it just expands and becomes airy. Pipoca de isopor is an acquired taste - many people dislike it intensely, though for many Brazilians it is a nostalgic snack, bringing back memories of childhood.

Brazilians don't eat anything like the 58 quarts per person that Americans consume annually on a per capita basis. But their love for this ancient native food miracle is intense, and it continues to pass from generation to generation as it has in this country for many millennia.

Caxiri - An Endangered Beverage

Just as many of the myriad of plant and animal species that flourish in the grand reaches of the Amazonian rain forest are threated with extinction, many of the traditions of the way of life of the Amerindian tribes that live in relative isolation in the forest are equally under threat.

For millennia the women of these tribes have had the responsibility of making a beverage called caxiri - traditionally men are forbidden to make the drink. Making caxiri is both a culinary and a religious task, because the drink plays in important role in shamanistic tribal ceremonies. Made from manioc, caxiri is allowed to ferment naturally for a few days before it is consumed, by which time it has a low level of alcohol. For the Amerindians, caxiri, when drunk, opens a pathway to the supernatural world. Both the drink, and the gourd in which it is served become supernatural entities, and when consumed, they allow the drinker access to their world.

To make caxiri, the women work communally in an isolated location, far from the men of the tribe. Using a griddle, the women prepare a large manioc crepe or pancake, sometimes 6 ft in diameter. When cooked, the crepe is cut into slices or pieces as if it were a large pizza. Then the pieces are put in a large pot and covered with plenty of water. Traditionally a half gourd filled with pineapple leaves is placed at the bottom of the pot before the crepe or the water are added. The liquid mixture is allowed to sit for a few days, during which time it naturally ferments. When the pineapple leaves float to the surface, the caxiri is ready to drink.

The recipe for this traditional ritual drink hasn't changed in thousands of years, nor has the restriction of its use to religious ceremony. What is threatening caxiri today is a result of the increasing contact of tribe members with the greater Brazilian culture and that culture's love of sugar and alcohol. Younger tribe members, many of whom have visited one of the larger cities along the rivers of the Amazon, have learned that if sugar is added to the drink before it ferments, the resulting drink has a much higher alcohol content and can be used to get drunk without thought of ceremony or religion. Or, if one doesn't want to wait even the few days that natural fermentation requires, all one needs to do is add cachaça to make a potent cocktail.

The non-ritual drinking of caxiri, especially in its more potent forms, has caused severe social problems in many tribal homelands and caused an increase in the non-traditional problem of alcohol abuse.

True caxiri, made ritually and consumed ceremonially, is under siege - the adulterated drink, often made by young men in disobedience to ritual tradition, and its use as an intoxicant threatens its original purpose as a route to spiritual enlightenment.

Minas Gerais - Gastronomic Routes

Even though Italian cooking includes such well-known regional styles of cooking as Neapolitan, Sicilian, Venetian, even Sardinian, most gastronomic historians consider the region of Emilia-Romagna to be the true heartland of traditional Italian gastronomy. Containing such gastronomic hot spots as Parma (with its ham and its cheese), Modena (home of balsamic vinegar) and Italy's food capital, Bologna, Emilia-Romagna is at the same time the cradle of traditional cooking and the location of some of the most daring and avant-garde 21st century Italian gastronomy.

In Brazil, which resembles Italy in the number and variation of its regional cuisines, the interior state of Minas Gerais, located in the south-eastern part of Brazil, holds an analogous position in Brazilian gastronomy to that of Emilia-Romagna in Italian. Not as unique as Bahian cooking with its bold mixture of African and European styles and techniques, nor as strictly-European as the cuisines of the south of Brazil, mineiro (meaning from Minas Gerais) gastronomy is to many people the true essence of Brazilian cooking.

The influences that went into the creation of mineiro cooking are those which define all Brazilian cuisine - European, particularly Portuguese, African and native Indian. In the lush highlands of mountainous Minas Gerais these influences were blended, mashed and mixed into something uniquely new and Brazilian - Minas Gerais was the crucible in which Brazilian cooking was forged.

Even today, Minas Gerais is one of the places in Brazil where food and cooking matters most. From the modern capital Belo Horizonte, through exquisitely beautiful baroque cities like Ouro Preto, Tiradentes and Diamantina, and on to the small villages and farms that dot the landscape, people care about what they eat and they honor the foods that have been a part of their diet for years, even centuries. Local cheeses, long-cooked stews, sweets and desserts whose recipes date back to the convents of medieval Portugal - they all play a part in mineiro gastronomy.

Because so much of what makes mineiro cooking such a marvel comes from small towns and villages throughout the state, we at Flavors of Brazil were thrilled to recently come across a website called Sabores de Minas (Flavors of Minas Gerais) and its 69 different gastronomic routes through the state. Each route concentrates on a particular region or a particular speciality of this enormous state (slightly larger than France). For example, route number 32 concentrates of the baroque cities of the 17th Century mineiro gold rush, number 22 is focused on the relatively-unpopulated north of the state, and number 44 on coffee and sweets. For each route, the website publishes a map and a list of 15-18 suggested stops. A stop might be a farm that produces cheese, it might be a long-established local restaurant, or it might even be the home of a cook whose fame has spread beyond her family to include her whole village. Each stop is described in detail, with personal stories of the cooks and producers involved and each includes a recipe.

The site is a treasure-trove for anyone interested in traditional Brazilian gastronomy, and a powerful inducement to book a flight to Belo Horizonte, grab a rental car and head for the hills in search of the soul of mineiro cooking. And the 700+ recipes are enough to keep any amateur cook happy for months in the kitchen at home.

For most non-Brazilians there is one significant problem with the website - it's in Portuguese only. Although Google will offer to translate the page in most browsers, its translator is not yet sufficiently sophisticated to correctly translate this site. Because of that language difficulty, and because of the importance of mineiro cooking to Brazilian gastronomy, tomorrow  Flavors of Brazil will publish the first of s series of occasional reviews/translations of some of the best of Sabores de Minas. We hope it will open some eyes to the beauty of the state and the quality of its food products and cooking.

FISH OF BRAZIL - Tucunaré (Peacock Bass)

You can call the tucunaré, a Brazilian fish native to the fresh waters of the Amazon basin, a peacock bass if you wish, but according to Wikipedia, although the fish IS known in English as the peacock bass, it isn't a bass at all, rather it's a chiclid. Since the first humans to baptize the fish and give it a name were the native indian tribes of the Amazon, the fish's original name is clearly tucunaré, which means "friend of the trees" in Tupi-Guarani. Only at some later date was the fish given a name in English, and then it was given the wrong one, though admittedly the name peacock bass has a nicer ring to it than peacock chiclid, which sounds more like the name for a baby peacock.

Looking at a photo of a tucunaré it's easy to see where the peacock part of the English name comes from. It's not from the color, for the fish isn't blue or green. It's from a large eye-like circle on the tail of the fish which looks rather like the similar forms on a peacock tail.

In Brazil, the tucunaré is known in both the culinary and sports-fishing worlds. The fish is a predatory carnivorous hunter in its native waters, and a fierce fighter when caught on a hook. Sports fisherman travel miles up the tributaries of the Amazon to reach tucunaré fishing grounds, and there are luxurious fishing lodges in some remote backwaters of the region catering to wealthy fishing enthusiasts from all around the world. (Click here for one lodge's website).

Because of their value as a sport-fishing species, tucunaré have been introduced into other tropical waters in Brazil, in the Caribbean and in Florida. Because, they don't have their own predators in these new waters, however, and because of their agressive behavior, the introduction of tucunaré has sometimes resulted in the decimation of local species. And once they've killed off all the native species in new waters, tucunaré have been known to resort to cannibalism, reducing their own stock levels precipitiously.

Fortunately, tucunaré, fierce though they are, are not large enough to dine on humans, and in the human-tucunaré relationship, it's humans who are the predators. Tucunaré are very good eating fish, with firm white flesh and without many bones. They have been an important food source for millennia in the Amazon, and today are served not only in the simple riverside homes of native populations, but in sophisticated restaurants in the large cities of the rain forest, like Manaus or Belém, and further afield in places like Rio de Janeiro or Brasília. The flavor of  has been likened to that of grouper or snapper, and because  grows to somewhere between 1-3 feet (30 - 100 cm) in length, it can be cooked in any way suitable to either of those species.

In upcoming posts, Flavors of Brazil will feature recipes for tucunaré.

The Turtle Returns to the Brazilian Table

For untold centuries, the millions of turtles that inhabited the fresh waters - rivers, ponds and swamps - of the Amazonian rain forest were an important food source for the natives that inhabited the same territory. Because the turtle population was immense and the human population limited there was never an issue of overhunting of turtles. All was in balance.

This balance ended after the arrival of Europeans on this continent. Turtles were hunted as a food source by early explorers without regard as to the survivability of the species, and especially after the technique of canning meat was developed in the 19th century, turtles were hunted almost to the point of extinction in the Amazon. Turtle was considered a delicacy in North America and Europe, particularly turtle soup, and tons of canned turtle meat was exported from Brazil to meet the demands of the Northern Hemisphere.

Turtle numbers dropped drastically in the middle of the 20th century as overhunting brought Amazonian turtles every closer to extinction. In 1967 the Brazilian government, through its environmental protection agency IBAMA totally prohibited commercial hunting for turtles and began a public-awareness campaign to protect the species at risk. Turtles disappeared from menus and store shelves in the entire country.

Farmed Amazonian turtle

In 1992 IBAMA, on a test basis, allowed a small number of turtle farms to be built in the Amazonian region, and in 1997 issued the first commercial license for farmed turtle meat. The limitations and restrictions imposed on these farms meant that for the first ten years or so they were few in number and produced a very small quantity of turtle meat. One significant reason for the slow start for commercial turtle farming is the fact that turtles have a very long life cycle and are not mature to eat until they are at least five years old and are not sexually mature for reproduction until they are fifteen or more.

During the initial phase of the re-introduction of farmed turtle meat into the market distribution was limited to localities within the Amazon regions, where turtles are part of the traditional market. Outside that region, even with product available, it was difficult to convince chefs and consumers to buy turtle meat. The initial public-awareness campaign had been so successful that there was now a prejudice against eating turtles, and another campaign had to be created to partially reverse the results of the earlier one.

Within the past year, though, as the supply has increased (with a resulting reduction in price) and with ever-growing interest in Brazil in regional foods and traditional food sources, the turtle has finally begun to appear once again on restaurant menus and frozen in gourmet grocery stores. Forward-looking chefs from the big cities of Brazil are exploring old and new ways to deal with this meat and to present it to its best advantage.

Ana Luiza Trajano's turtle appetizer

Chef Ana Luisa Trajano, of São Paulo's Brasil a Gosto restaurant has recently added turtle from the Amazonian state of Acre to her menu. She uses the loin, the most tender part of the turtle, in a cold appetizer which combines marinated and low-temperature-cooked turtle with a nut emulsion, Amazonian basil, chicory and crunchy "shoestring" manioc. Celebrity chef Alex Atala plans to put turtle on the menu soon at his restaurant D.O.M. One of his proposed dishes combines a thick broth made from breast and foot meat of the turtle, a farofa of strongly-flavored tutle liver plus deep-fried turtle rinds (similar to pork rinds).

The Brazilian experience with turtles-as-a-food-source shows that when proper environmental protection and anti-poaching regulations are in place and enforced, commercial use of endangered species doesn't necessarily put a species at risk of extinction. In fact, the reverse is true. It can enhance the long-term survivability of the species by increasing the interest in all segments of the market in ensuring that there will continue to be a viable supply of the meat in question. This seems to be happening with Amazonian turtles.

RECIPE - Içá Farofa

Farofa is a recipe category rather than one specific dish when it comes to Brazilian cooking. Farofas are usually a mixture of toasted manioc flour, some sort of fat, plus optionally some other flavoring ingregredient such as onion, garlic, bacon, herbs or spices. They are indispensible accompaniments to Brazilian churrascos (barbeques) and meat stews and range from simple combinations of manioc flour and oil to complex creations with long ingredient lists.

The farofa featured in today's post, Içá Farofa, would be fairly garden-variety if it weren't for one thing - the added flavoring ingredient consists of the abdominal segments of a species of flying ant found only in Brazil. (Click here for more on içá.) Since there is no commercial market for içá outside of roadside stands in rural Brazil and since readers of the blog are unlikely to capture and dismember enough flying ants to make this recipe, we're posting it for its value as a piece of Brazilian culinary history and cultural anthropology. But for those reasons alone, Içá Farofa is worthy of a place on Flavors of Brazil.

NB. We've never tasted Içá Farofa and therefore cannot attest to its gastronomic qualities. Some of the written material on this dish suggests that the flavor of the flying ants resembles that of shrimp. If anyone who's reading this post has ever tried it, please leave a comment and let the blog's readers (and writers) know what it tastes like. Thanks and obrigado!
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RECIPE - Içá Farofa
Serves 4

4 cups içás (flying ants)
2 Tbsp salt
2 Tbsp lard or 3 Tbsp neutral vegetable oil
2 cups manioc flour (farinha)
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Prepare the içás by removing the legs, wings, and the head and thorax segments - retain only the enlarged abdomen segments.Put these segments in a mixing bowl with water to cover and let soak for 30 to 40 minutes.

Drain the segments well. In a large heavy-duty saucepan or cast-iron frying pan melt and heat the lard, or heat the oil until hot but not smoking. Add the segments and cook, stirring constantly until toasted brown and crispy. Add the manioc flour by 1/4 cups, mixing in each addition before continuing.

Remove from heat, season with the salt, and serve immediately, accompanied by strong coffee.

Recipe translated and adapted from Viagem Gastronômica através do Brazil by Caloca Fernandes.

And Now For Something Completely Exotic - Içá

Many of the ingredients that form the backbone of Brazilian cuisine are not all that different from those found in the European or North American pantry. Wheat flour, white sugar, beef, oranges, tomatoes - all these ingredients are shared across the Equator, north and south.

Other ingredients that are indispensable in Brazil are quite unknown in the North - some, like manioc, are inherited from the native American tradition and others, such as dendê oil, came from Africa with the slaves.

One such Brazilian food, which has been appreciated in Brazil since before the arrival of Europeans in 1500, is an exotic protein called içá or tanajura. The scientific name for this little animal is Atta sexdens and it a member of an class of animals that is not even considered to be comestible by most North Americans or Europeans- insects.


In English Atta sexdens  is known as a leafcutter ant and it is only one of the many species of these highly-social ants that farm fungus on bits of leaves that they have collect and bring back to their colony. In parts of Brazil these colonies grow to tremendous size, with up to 8 million workers in a single colony.

roasted içá abdomens

As a source of food, Brazilians are very specific about what is edible and what isn't when it comes to the içá. They don't just help themselves to handfuls of fried worker ants, like Thais love to do. They are much more picky. In early summer (right now in Brazil) içá colonies release thousands of winged females whose task is to reproduce, create new colonies and thus ensure the survival of the species. These females are larger than normal ants in the colony and their third segment, the abdomen, is enlarged and full of nutrients. It is this abdomen, popularly called the ant's "ass" in Portuguese (bundinha), that is the insect caviar that many Brazilians love.


In areas such as the Vale do Paraíba, located between the cities of Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, when the female ants take flight they are chased after and caught by children and adolescents, who either give them to their families for home eating or sell for up to R$20 (USD $12) per kilo. Each ant is carefully prepared for eating by removing and discarding everything except for the round abdomen.

Once separated the abdomens are roasted and then used in a number of dishes. The most common is called farofa de içá, and just in case readers of Flavors of Brazil want to catch some flying ants next summer so they can serve sometime completely exotic to their family or friends, we'll provide a recipe for this dish in our next post on this blog.