RECIPE - Mashed Squash, Brazilian-style (Purê de Jerimum)

There's something uniquely appealing about mashed vegetables - which is probably why they're often atop lists of favorite "comfort foods". Perhaps it's because they are a throwback to one's early childhood when all solid food was mashed, perhaps it's because of the large amount of fat (dairy, vegetable) that mashed vegetables can carry. Whatever it is, who doesn't like mashed potatoes, or mashed anything for that matter?

Brazilians are no exception to this rule. Mashed potatoes are universally loved in Brazil, and here they really do pack a caloric punch, as they are laden with generous amounts of cream, butter and even cream cheese. But other vegetables get the mashing treatment here, and Flavors of Brazil would venture to guess that "Miss Runner-Up" in the mashed vegetable popularity contest in Brazil would be mashed pumpkin, or as it's called in Brazil, purê de jerimum.

The most common name for pumpkins in Brazil is abóbora, but they are also known, particularly in Brazil's northestern region as jerimum. The etymology of abóbora leads one back to Latin roots, and the word came to Brazil with the Portuguese. Jerimum, however, comes from the Amerindian Tupi-Guarani family of languages, and hearkens back to the vegetable's New World origins.

Like mashed potatoes, purê de jerimum is basically a mixture of mashed, cooked vegetable plus additional liquid and fat. What distinguishes purê de jerimum is that the additional liquid and fat are in the form of coconut milk, which gives the final dish an unusual and distinctive flavor, with the pumpkin's inherent sweetness brought out by the coconut milk. The high fat content of coconut milk also ensures the silky mouth-feel that's so important in mashed veggies.

Try this dish as a new side dish with roasted meats or poultry. It will be a rousing success, we promise. Even if your guests can't identify the flavor of coconut milk in the dish, they'll appreciate what it adds to the flavor profile.
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RECIPE - Mashed Squash, Brazilian-style (Purê de Jerimum)  
Serves 6

1 lb (450 gr) peeled, seeded and cubed pumpkin or other winter squash
1 1/2 cup (375 ml) canned or bottled coconut milk
salt to taste
chopped cilantro (optional)
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Cook the pumpkin in plenty of boiling water until it is very tender. Drain thoroughly in a colander, and then place the cubes in a large mixing bowl.

Using a potato mashed, mash the squash to desired consistency (some people like some texture remaining in the dish, others prefer a smooth puree).

Stir in the coconut milk and mash for a few more seconds until the coconut milk is thoroughly mixed in. Season to taste with salt.

If desired, stir in a handful or two of chopped cilantro.

Put the pumpkin in a decorative serving bowl and serve immediately as a side dish.

Recipe translated and adapted from Namorando na Cozinha blog.

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.

INGREDIENTS OF BRAZIL - Feijão Manteiga (Butter Beans)

If the Lord's Prayer were colloquially translated into Brazilian Portuguese, those who recited it wouldn't ask for their "daily bread" but rather for their "daily rice and beans." In the biblical prayer bread represents the food required to sustain the body, and for millions of Brazilians, rich or poor, it's not bread that they eat every day of their life, it's rice and beans.

The beans that Brazilians eat on a daily basis are not, of course, green beans. They are dried legumes that have been reconstituted and cooked in liquid until tender. In fact, Brazilians don't even use the word feijão (which means bean) when referring to green beans. They have another word, vargem, for this vegetable and don't consider it a bean at all. Beans mean dried beans, full stop.

There are numerous varieties of dried beans eaten in Brazil, ranging from black beans to white ones, and from large kidney beans to small pea-shaped varieties. The choice of bean is often regional, and most people in Brazil do not eat one type of bean on Monday, another on Tuesday, etc. The bean they eat is always the same. If a Brazilian was raised on black beans, that's likely all he or she eats, and if it was carioca beans served at the family table, that'll be the bean of choice forever.

One bean that is very strictly regional is called feijão manteiga, which translated literally into English means butter bean. However, the bean is not the same as the lima bean, which is called butter bean in many regions of the USA. That bean is called feijão-de-lima in Brazil. The bean on which Brazilians have bestowed the moniker feijão manteiga is a medium-size, light brown bean about the size and shape of a pinto bean, but without the mottling that gives that bean its name.

The Brazilian butter bean is well-named, for it has a rich creaminess when properly cooked, and this richness gives it the mouth feel of butter, though there is almost no fat in the bean. The taste is also characteristically nutty with a hint of sweetness. It's one of the most flavorful and delicious of all the thousands of varieties of dried beans.

Feijão manteiga is eaten primarily in Brazil's north and northeast, and in the state of  São Paulo, and is not well known in other regions of the country.

In the next post on Flavors of Brazil, we'll publish a traditional recipe from São Paulo for this delicious legume.

RECIPE - Leg of Lamb, Paraíba-style (Pernil de Cordeiro)

After yesterday's recipe for a shrimp cocktail first course, our three-recipe homage to Chico César continues with this substantial main course from the semi-arid interior of the state of Paraíba.

In the harsh scrub-and-cactus landscape called the sertão, only men, plants and animals that can adapt themselves to hot, dusty and dry conditions can survive. The people of this region are known for their toughness of character and for their stoicism in the face of conditions that would drive more sensitive souls to flee to more benign conditions along the coast. And the animals have to share the same conditions as their owners, so they too share their masters' characteristics.

One domestic animal that is perfectly at home in the sertão is the goat, and the original of this recipe probably was for a goat. However, as goat is not always easy to come by, and because some people don't like the strong gamy taste of goat, here the recipe is adapted for a leg of lamb.

Tomorrow we'll wrap up our three-recipe collection with a dessert from Paraíba.
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RECIPE - Leg of Lamb, Paraíba-style (Pernil de Cordeiro)
Serves 6

1 bone-in leg of lamb, about 3 lbs (1.5 kg)
salt and pepper to taste
1 1/2 cups dry white wine
3 bay leaves
1 medium onion, chopped
1 clove garlic,, crushed
1 medium tomato, seeded and chopped
2 Tbsp canned tomato pulp
1/2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
2 Tbsp honey
8 medium boiling potatoes, peeled and quartered
1/2 cup unsalted butter,melted
chopped Italian parsley (for garnish)
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Season the lamb with salt and pepper to taste. In a small bowl, combine the wine, bay leaves, onion, garlic, tomatoes, tomato pulp and mustard and mix well. Spread this paste over the entire surface of the lamb, then marinade the lamb, refrigerated, for 24 hours.

Preheat the oven tp 350F (180C). Remove the lamb from the refrigerator 30 minutes before beginning cooking. Put the lamb in a large roasting pan, and cover loosely with a tent of aluminum foil. Cook the lamb for 60 minutes, then remove from the oven, and baste with melted butter. Return to the oven, uncovered and let brown for 15 minutes. Remove from the oven and brush with honey. Return to the oven, then again after 10 minutes, remove from oven and brush a final time with honey. Cover the roast with tin foil and let rest for at least 20 minutes.

Put the potatoes in rapidly boiling water and cook while the roast rests until they are just tender. Remove from the heat, drain thoroughly and reserve keeping warm.

Remove the lamb from the roaster and place on a large serving platter. Put the potatoes in the roasting pan and toss them in the roast's juices and sauce. Place them around the lamb on the platte,r, then pour the remaining sauce over all. Sprinkle with parsley and serve immediately, carving at the table.

An Homage - Chico César

Presumably the Brazilian singer/songwriter, journalist, activist and politician Chico César loves to eat, as his music, his lyrics and his writings are full of the absolute delight in sensual enjoyment in all its forms. But, in reality, he has little to do directly with Brazilian gastronomy - the nominal subject of this blog.

However, having attended a stupendous show of this remarkable artist last night in Fortaleza, it's impossible for us not to honor him with his own post here on Flavors of Brazil. Among all the flavors of this vibrant country, he is one of the richest, and certainly among the spiciest.

Chico César comes from Brazil's long-suffering northeast, from the tiny state of Paraíba, and he has long been a champion of his state and of his region. His music reflects the rhythms and dance styles of the northeast - from the frevo of Recife's Carnaval, to the endemic dance rhythm, forró, and on to the tradition of folk ballads from the harsh sertão in the interior of the northeast that punishes those that live in it and love it.

His career began as a journalist in Brazil's biggest city, São Paulo, where he learned to play guitar (marvelously) and began to compose his first tunes. From the beginning his lyrics became known for their linguistic cleverness, complexity and beauty. Unfortunately, as with all poets, his lyrics are practically impossible to translate, at least in all their richness of allusion and connotation. But take it as gospel that they can be beautiful, moving, hilarious, and ascerbic - sometimes all at once.

He was never satisfied just to be a popular musician and composer, though that he was, with success in Brazil and Europe, and in 2009 he returned to the capital of his native Paraíba, João Pessoa, where he assumed the presidency of the city's Cultural Foundation. In 2010, he took the post of Minister of Culture for the state, a position he holds today, even as he continues to write music, release CDs and DVDs and tour.

In honor of this great Brazilian, our blog will feature traditional recipes from Paraíba in the next few posts. In the meantime, do yourself the favor of searching out Chico César on the usual spots on the Internet. You won't be disappointed. To get you started, here's a video of his from YouTube that showcases just a few of the aspects of his artistry. It was filmed in his hometown and co-stars his family and neighbors. It's called Mama Africa and the lyrics are in praise of the African spirit that inhabits and inspires the poor and downtrodden of the northeast.
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One Name, Two Dishes - Paçoca

It's natural that in a country as large as Brazil there would be regional variations in traditional dishes. One region might add tomatoes to a dish and another leave them out. One region might use cream to thicken and enrich a sauce while somewhere else they might use coconut milk for the same purpose.

But regional variations in Brazilian gastronomy go farther than swapping ingredients in a recipe. It's not uncommon to find that in distantly-separated regions one name can be applied to dishes that have absolutely nothing to do with each other - no common ingredients, no common technique, no common heritage.

Knowing a bit of Brazilian history helps to explain why this might be so. In colonial times in Brazil each of the various regions that were settled by Europeans, primarily Portuguese, were separate colonies and had very little contact with each other. Often inter-colony contact was only through Lisbon, the capital of the Portuguese empire. Each region had its own separate administration, an entirely separate economy and a unique culture not shared with other colonies. It was only at the time of independence that the various colonies united to create Brazil, and even then it was not without significant bloodshed.

A good example of this process is paçoca (pronouned pah-SO-ka). The word itself is indigenous in origin, coming from the Tupi word posok meaning smashed or shattered, but in Portuguese it has come to mean one of two very different dishes depending on where one is located.

paçoca nordestina (with carne de sol)

In the northeastern states of Brazil, particularly in Ceará, and Rio Grande do Norte, paçoca is a dish made of shredded carne de sol (sun-dried beef), farinha (manioc flour) and chopped red onion, traditionally all pulverized together with a mortar and pestle (that's the smashing or shattering part by which the dish got its name). In southeast Brazil,  paçoca has nothing to do with beef, manioc or onions - it's a candy very much like peanut brittle. Peanuts are crushed (smashed or shattered) then mixed with sugar and formed into bars. It was a traditional home-made candy in earlier times in Brazil, but now it's usually commercially made and sold in corner markets, candy shops and by streetside vendors.

paçoca with peanuts

In the next posts on Flavors of Brazil, we'll publish recipes for both versions of  - readers can try them both out and find out which they prefer. And if you should find your self in Brazil one day, remember what region you're in when you ask for paçoca. You could be in for a unwanted surprise if your in the wrong part of the country.

VEGETABLES OF BRAZIL - Green Amaranth (Caruru or Bredo)

This plant, which yields delicious green leaves that are often compared to spinach and often prepared in similar ways to spinach, is in the gastronomic sense very peripatetic - its history as a comestible has taken it back and forth across the oceans several times, obscuring its origins and engendering a confusing babel of names.

The scientific name of the plant is Amaranthus viridis, which tells us that it's a member of the large botanical family known as the amaranths. The amaranths are thought to have originated in the highlands of tropical North America, where they were a food source for Amerindians native to that region, such as the Maya. After Cortes' conquest of Mexico, Spaniards returning from the New World to the Old carried with them, among their treasures, newly discovered foods native to the Western Hemisphere. Chocolate, chili peppers, tomatoes and the domestic turkey were among Mexico's gifts to the kitchens of Spain, but so were plants like amaranth. Spanish and Portuguese explorers, colonists and slavers then carried amaranth on to Africa where it flourished and became part of the native diet.

When African slaves were forcefully brought to Brazil to work on sugar plantations and in gold mines, they brought their food traditions and their foods with them. Thus, amaranth recrossed the Atlantic ocean back to Brazil, where it became an integral part of the slaves' diet in colonial times. The route by which amaranth became part of Brazil's gastronomy, therefore, is a long one - Mexico to the Iberian Peninsula, to West Africa and finally back across the ocean to Brazil.

Because amaranth came to Brazil from Africa, not directly from Mexico, it is most strongly associated with the Afro-Brazilian cuisines of Northeastern Brazil, specifically in the state of Bahia where the African influence on cooking is strongest. In Bahia and neighboring states, the plant is normally called bredo in Portuguese. In other regions of Brazil it's better known as caruru. Confusingly, in the region where the term bredo prevails, there is a stew-type dish called caruru, made primarily with okra (quiabo) another vegetable import from Africa.

The plant's journey from Mexico to Brazil is not the only one it's made. From its Mexican origins, it has spread to India, particularly in South India, to Greece, and to the Caribbean, where the Jamaicans know it as callaloo. It has even become part of the Indian tradition of medicine known as Ayurvedic, where it is used as a medicinal herb.

Urbanized caruru/bredo

Even though the plant has significant food value, it has adapted itself so well to soil and climate conditions in Brazil that many farmers consider it invasive - a weed. It has even successfully urbanized itself and knowing foragers often spot it growing in abandoned inner city lots or even in cracks in the pavement. The smartest of these foragers have discovered this bounty and are helping themselves to a free supply of the green.

RECIPE - Drayman's/Maria-Isabel's Rice (Arroz de Carreteiro/Maria-Isabel)

We'll leave it up to the cook how he or she wants to baptize this dish when presenting it at the dinner table or on the buffet. As mentioned in yesterday's post on Flavors of Brazil, in the south of Brazil the dish has one name and in the northeast an entirely different one. The choice is yours. Either name, though, will yield the same delicious result.

More than a traditional side dish (because of the presence of the dried/salted meat) and less than a main course, arroz de carreteiro/arroz Maria-Isabel is nonetheless considered to be a side dish in Brazil, where meals tend to be large and dependent on abundant quantities of protein. If you want to serve it Brazilian style but don't want overkill, it pairs well with a small, thin grilled steak of any kind and a green salad.

The dish requires carne de sol, which is Brazil's traditional salt-preserved beef. It's available in butcher shops and supermarkets everywhere in Brazil, but normally not outside the country. Click here for an earlier article on Flavors of Brazil on how to make a good version of carne de sol in your freezer.

This recipe is for a very traditional, basic dish - very similar to how it might have originally been served. Some modern versions add sausage, other meats and additional seasonings, but this recipe is the stripped-down original.
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RECIPE - Drayman's/Maria-Isabel's Rice (Arroz de Carreteiro/Maria-Isabel)
Serves 6

2 lbs (1 kg) carne de sol (or charque)
4 Tbsp neutral vegetable oil
2 onion, finely chopped
2 cloves, garlic
2 cups long-grain white rice
boiling water
3 Tbsp finely chopped parsley

24 hours befor cooking, cut the meat into small cubes, place in a bowl or ban, cover with cold water at soak in the refrigerator, changing the water at least 3 or 4 times, to desalt the meat. When ready to cook, drain and reserve.

In a heavy deep pan, heat the oil, and then fry the onion and garlic until the onion just begins to brown. Add the meat and continue to cook, stirring very frequently, until the meat is nicely browned.

Add the rice and continue to cook, stirring regularly, until all the rice is coated with the oil and is turning transparent. Pour in boiling water to cover the rice and to reach two fingers' height above the top of the rice. Reduce heat, tightly cover the pan and cook for about 15 minutes, or until the rice has absorbed all the water and is tender. This dish shouldn't be too dry, so if it seems to be so, add a small amount of water at the end of the cooking process, just enough to moisten the grains. Remove from the heat and let stand for ten minutes before serving.

Sprinkle with chopped parsley before serving.

One Dish, Two Names - Drayman's or Maria-Isabel's Rice

Gauchos with drayman's cart

From the southern Brazilian state of Rio Grande do Sul, bordering Uruguay and Argentina, all the way to Brazil's semi-arid northeast is a distance of around 2000 miles (3200 km) as the crow flies and significantly farther by road. So it's not entirely unreasonable that there are large differences between the two regions - economic, racial, meteorological and cultural differences among others.

But there are also similarities shared by these regions at opposite ends of the country. They are united by language, by religion, by politics and by the media. Although they are miles apart, Rio Grande do Sul and the northeast are in many ways more similar than Rio Grande do Sul and either of its next-door neighbors, Uruguay or Argentina.

The proof of this is in the pudding. Or at least, if not in the pudding itself, somewhere in the kitchen. Many dishes, foodstuffs and techniques can be found both in Brazil's south and in its north, yet are absent just across the border in neighboring countries. Sometimes this is evident - a dish is known and loved across Brazil but totally unknown in neighbouring countries - but sometimes it's not. Although Brazilians in different regions might be sitting down to identical dishes at the family dinner table, they might not be aware of that, as they each call the dish something different.

arroz carreteiro

An prime example of this is a very traditional Brazilian dish of rice cooked with salted-dried meat. In southern Brazil it's known as Drayman's Rice (arroz de carreteiro) but in the northeast it's called Maria-Isabel's Rice (arroz Maria-Isabel). Same dish, different names. In fact, even the regional name for the salted-dried meat that is essential to this dish varies - in the south it's called charque (a Portuguese word related to English jerky) and in the north carne de sol (meat of the sun).

History makes it easy to see how southern Brazilians came to call the dish Drayman's Rice or Carter's Rice. This region was originally settled by ranchers who raised vast herds of cattle on the open plains of the region. The cowherds who tended the cattle often spent months out on the plains, far from the nearest ranch. A network of draymen, using ox-driven carts, serviced these remote locations, carrying anything that the cowherds needed that wasn't available locally. These draymen spent months on the trail following the herds, and they needed to be self-sufficient in everything, including food. Charque doesn't require refrigeration, nor does rice. All that's needed to prepare these ingredients is water and heat. Combining the two ingredients into one dish made sense, and once the practice of cooking rice and charque together became established, the dish was baptized Drayman's Rice.

In colonial times, the dry interior or northeast Brazil was also an area of cattle ranching, with the same settlement patterns as in the south. Here, presumably, draymen also travelled the trails of the backland bringing goods to the cowboys and ranchers, and presumably they ate the same dish of rice and dried meat. But for some unkown reason, in this region they chose to honor a certain, unknown Maria-Isabel when it came to naming the dish, ignoring drayman entirely. Who Maria-Isabel was, or what her association with the dish was, is lost to history and likely will never be known. But her name lingers on in the kitchens of northeastern Brazil.

Call it Drayman's Rice or Maria-Isabel's, Brazilians love the dish and it's a standard of traditional Brazilian gastronomy. Not fancy, but filling, nutritionally balanced, and comforting, it's an essential dish in the Brazilian culinary pantheon.

Next post, we'll provide a recipe for the dish.

RECIPE - Brazilian Mussels in Green-Coconut Sauce (Sururu no Molho de Coco Verde)

Whether or not you will be able to make this dish at home will depend on whether you can source green coconuts in your community. When we speak of green coconuts, we mean those coconuts which still have their entire shell (green, obviously) and which are not completely mature. In a green coconut, the consistency of the meat inside the shell is jelly-like and there is abundant water with the shell. In a mature coconut (the brown, "hairy" one) the meat has hardened to the point it can be cut into chunks and grated and if there is residual water, it's very limited in quantity.

This dish depends on both the meat and the water from green coconuts, and mature coconuts cannot be substituted. If you're lucky enough to live where coconuts grow (meaning - you live in the tropics) sourcing green coconuts shouldn't be a problem, And even if you don't live in the tropics, you should be able to find green coconuts in Latin American, African and Southeast Asian grocery stores in cities with immigrant communities.

As we mentioned in our previous posts about the native Brazilian mussel called sururu, if you don't live in Brazil you'll most likely have to substitute some other sort of mussel. That's no problem. But if green coconuts can't be found in your city, you'll just have to move on to another recipe on Flavors of Brazil. Sorry!

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RECIPE - Brazilian Mussels in Green-Coconut Sauce (Sururu no Molho de Coco Verde)
Serves 4

5 medium tomatoes, seeded and coarsely chopped
2 medium onions, coarsely chopped
extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 lb sururu or mussels, meat only, no shells
salt to taste
1 large green coconut
finely chopped cilantro
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In a medium frying pan,  heat the olive oil, then fry the onion until it is soft and transparent. Put the onion, along with the chopped tomatoes in a blender. Blend thoroughly, then reserve in blender.

Cut open the top of the coconut, then drain the water into the blender. Using a long spoon, scoop the meat out of the coconut and add to the blender. Blend again until completely homogenous.

Pour the mixture into a medium saucepan and heat to simmering point. Add the mussels and cook for 15 minutes, or until the mussels have firmed up and the liquid has thickened.Stir in a small handful of chopped cilantro.

Remove from heat, and pour the mussels into the coconut shell for serving, accompanied by white rice.

Recipe translated and adapted from Circuito Gastronomico Sabores da Terra website.

RECIPE - Brazilian Mussel Chowder (Caldo de Sururu)

One of the pleasures of the northeastern Brazilian beach (and there are many) is the sight of a vendor making his or her way along the strand carrying one or two termos bottles, a supply of plastic cups, and perhaps some small containers with hot chili sauce, chopped green onions or chopped cilantro. When you spot one of these coming your way, you know that you're going to be offered a cup of hot soup (caldo in Portuguese). And you know you'll accept. The only question is what kind.

Soup doesn't seem like something you'd want to eat on a topical beach under the blazing sun, but take it on faith, it is. It nourishes without filling, satisfies like a meal does, yet leaves you with room to enjoy a cold beer, caipirinha or soft drink. Surprisingly, it doesn't seem to make you feel any hotter either.

The standard offerings for on-the-beach soups are bean, fish and sururu. If you have read yesterday's post on this blog, you'll know that the sururu is a tiny mussel native to northeast Brazil. It's locally believed to be an aphrodisiac  as well. So if you aren't sure you want your sexual desire to be enhanced, which is after all what aphrodisiacs do, then choose bean or fish. But if the company and the mood are suitable, give sururu a try. At worst, you'll most likely have a delicious cup of soup, at best, one with a spectacular added bonus.

The sururu mussel in found only in tropical waters, primarily in Brazil, but if you want to make this soup at home, you can use any variety of mussel available. Be warned though - there may be no aphrodisiac effect! The recipe also calls for the tropical palm oil known as dendê. There is no acceptable substitute for dendê but you may leave it out entirely if you wish as it's more of a garnish than an ingredient. Outside Brazil dendê can often be found in Latin American or Brazilian grocery stores, or in African grocery stores, where it's called palm oil.
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RECIPE - Brazilian Mussel Chowder (Caldo de Sururu)
Serves 10

1 lb. thoroughly washed mussels, meat only, no shells
2 tomatoes, peeled and seeded
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, smashed
4 cups (1l) water
salt and black pepper to taste
3/4 cup cooked, mashed manioc or potatoes
1/4 cup finely chopped cilantro
 dendê oil to drizzle
lime wedges
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Put the tomatoes, chopped onion and garlic in a blender and liquidize thoroughly. Pour into a large saucepan and cook for 3-4 minutes over medium-high heat.

When the liquid is just at the boiling point, add the mussels, the mashed potatoes or manioc and half the water. Cook for 2 or 3 minutes only, or until the mussels are just firm. Add additional water if needed to reach a rich but pourable soup consistency. Bring just to a boil, then remove from the heat. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Pour into small bowls, cups or drinking glasses. Sprinkle chopped cilantro on top and drizzle a bit of dendê oil over, if desired. Serve immediately accompanied by wedges of fresh lime.

Sururu - Brazil's Homegrown Aphrodiasiac

What foods do you consider aphrodisiacs? The way you answer this question probably depends on your native culture. We all belong to one (or more) cultures, the most common of which are regional and/or ethnic but which can be national, religious or political too. The dictionary defines culture as "the arts and other manifestations of human intellectual achievement regarded collectively" and food and cooking are one of the most important components of any culture.

Almost every culture assigns aphrodisiac quality to certain foods; that is, cultures ascribe the power to increase sexual desire or potency to some foods. Human nature being what it is, foods that are considered to be aphrodisiac are eagerly sought out by those who wish to increase their sexual drive and power (or those of their sexual object.) Such varied foods as arugula, avocado, chocolate, deer penis or antlers, doce de leite, ginseng, oysters, saffron and watermelon are considered to be aphrodisiacs by one or more cultures.

Although Western medical science ascribes no proven aphrodisiac powers to any food, the notion that, say, oysters or ginseng increase one's sexual desire is strong and even the most sceptical diners may choose to eat these foods in the hopes of feeling their aphrodisiac effect.

Sururu

The folk traditions of northeast Brazil all along the Atlantic coast that stretches thousands of miles from southern Bahia state almost to the mouth of the Amazon, share a belief in the aphrodisiac powers of a small member of the mussel family that bears the scientific name Mytella charruana. This miniature mollusk is called sururu in Brazil, and in northeastern Brazilian culture it is believed to pack a powerful aphrodisiac punch. The small bivalve is native to the lagoons and mangrove swamps of the northeastern coast of Brazil and all along the coast, it's cooked into soups, added to coconut-milk based stews called moquecas, even fried up in omelettes. If the aphrodisiac powers ascribed to the sururu are even a tiny bit true, the people of Brazil's northeast are sure to be among the world's horniest inhabitants as collectively they eat a whole lot of the little mussel.

Another mollusk often considered to be an aphrodisiac, the oyster, does contain high levels of zinc, a chemical which aids in the production of the male hormone testosterone. Our research department here at Flavors of Brazil has been unable to determine if sururu also contains zinc, but if it does, that might be a clue as to why it's considered an aphrodisiac in Brazil.

One note of caution - eaten in large quantities, sururu have been shown to have a powerful laxative effect. So if you're looking to increase sexual desire by eating sururu exercise caution, as the effect of an "overdose" might just minimize your sexual desirability at the same time that it increases your desire.You have been warned!

Coming up, we'll publish some traditional northeastern Brazilian recipes for sururu.

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.

RECIPE - Fried Fish Roe (Ovas de Peixe Fritas)

Fish roe, in other words - fish eggs, is considered a delicacy in many cultures in all parts of the world. The fame of Russian or Iranian caviar, and its astronomic price put sturgeon roe at the very top of the list of haut cuisine. Japanese sushi wouldn't be the same without the bright sparkly orange balls of flying fish roe (tobiko in Japanese) that dot the surface of many sushi rolls. Salmon roe has always been highly prized among the Amerindian tribes that lived, and live, along the coast of British Columbia and Alaska.

Brazilian food culture is not exempt from the appeal of fish roe. In coastal regions of Brazil, particularly along the lengthy coast of northeastern Brazil, one of the highlights of the local seafood bounty is fish roe. The roe from all the larger fish of these warm seas, robalo, badejo, pargo and more, is harvested and sold in fish markets right alongside filets, steaks, bones and heads. Nothing is wasted from the catch.

raw fish roe

Fortunately, unlike caviar, fish roe in northeastern Brazil isn't expensive. Because it is fragile and must be eaten shortly after the fish is landed, most of the roe is sold locally. Preserving fish roe for transport over distance requires either canning or salting and drying, both of which increase roe's price. But here in the northeast, roe is abundant, inexpensive and marvelously tasty.

The most common way to serve fish roe is to dust it gently with seasoned flour, then lightly fry it. Pure simplicity. The only seasonings are a bit of salt, plenty of fresh limes, and an optional sprinkling of chopped cilanto. The only trick to properly cooking fish roe is to make sure not to overcook it - a light touch is the right touch when it comes to roe in the frying pan.

This recipe can be used with any type of fish roe, as long as you can find it still in its membranous sac. It doesn't work for loose roe. Roe may not be displayed at your fishmongers, but if you ask, you might just find that there's some available. It's worth asking.
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RECIPE - Fried Fish Roe (Ovas de Peixe Fritas)
serves 2

12 oz (350 gr) fish roe, in its sac
juice of one lime
salt to taste
2 Tbsp all-purpose wheat flour
1 Tbsp neutral vegetable oil
lime wedges to garnish
chopped cilantro leaves to garnish
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Season the roe with salt and lime juice, then dust completely with the flour. Reserve for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile heat the oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. When the oil is hot but not smoking, add the fish roe. Adjust the heat if the oil begins to smoke. Fry the roe for about 8 minutes on one side, then very gently turn the roe over and fry for another 5 minutes.

Remove the roe from the frying pan, place on a serving platter, sprinkle with the optional cilantro of desired and serve with lime wedges.

FRUITS OF BRAZIL - Sapodilla (Sapoti)

It's been a while since Flavors of Brazil has posted an article in our long-running but sporadic series on the fruits of Brazil. If readers of the blog have been thinking that the lack of new entries meant that the blog had covered all the fruits eaten in this country, rest assured that we've only just begun to work our way through the hundreds of Brazilians fruits. There are still many that are untasted and unreported, so keep tuned.

Many of Brazil's typical fruits are as beautiful as they are delicious - fruits like carambola (star fruit) or pitaia (dragon fruit) are showy and exotic. A few are downright ugly, like the homely ata or fruita-do-conde (custard apple). But the fruit called sapoti (sa-po-TCHEE) in Portuguese and Spanish-derived sapodilla in English is a real plain Jane - not gorgeous nor hideous, it's just anonymous and rather boring. A fist-sized ball of mousy brown or light chestnut, the outside of the sapoti is unassuming and a bit dull, kind of like a smooth potato or a larger kiwi fruit - it doesn't "sell" itself like many other fruits do (for perfectly logical botanical reasons). If one of the objects of a fruit is to aid plant reproduction by encouraging animals to eat the fruit and thus spread the seeds, it's a miracle that the sapoti has survived for millions of years. But it has, very successfully.

If the outside of the fruit isn't anything special, the inside certainly is, in visual appeal, in aroma and in taste. The flesh is a lovely muted orange with a grainy texture, sort of like a pear. The flesh encloses the fruit's seeds, which number from two to five, and which have a hook at one end that can catch in the throat if one isn't careful. The fruit has a high sugar content and is exceptionally sweet. Some people claim that the taste is malty or resembles caramel or brown sugar. When the fruit is unripe, its high tannin content gives sapoti a sharp astringent quality which dries out the mouth. In Brazil, sapoti is normally eaten fresh, although it is also processed into jam, juice, ice cream and syrup.

The sapodilla tree (sapotizeiro) is native to the Yucatan peninsula of Mexico, although it spread throughout tropical America and the Caribbean long before the arrival of Europeans. However, its spread to other tropical zones of the world, particularly India, Malaysia and Indonesia, did come about through the agency of European colonizers. Today, the world center of sapodilla cultivation is India.

The sapodilla tree is extensively cultivated not only for the fruit that it bears, but also for the white-gummy latex found in its bark. This rubbery latex is called chicle, and it was the original base material for chewing gum, although natural chicle is now frequently replaced by manufactured substitutes.

Sapoti can grow anywhere in the tropics, but in Brazil it is associated mostly with the northeastern region of the country. Sapoti is often sold by street vendors in cities of the northeast, even at street crossings during red lights. Taken home, chilled for an hour or two, cut open and peeled, a wedge or two of sapoti is refreshing and energizing. Just one more reason why Brazil's one of the world's paradises for fruit lovers.

FRUITS OF BRAZIL - Pitomba

High summer in northeastern Brazil (right about now) brings along a cornucopia of seasonal fruits when it arrives. There are standard commercial fruits that are available all-year-round in Brazil - things like mangoes, papayas, bananas, oranges, etc. - and there are fruits that are only available locally and seasonally. These have more limited commercial potential obviously, and are sometimes only sold by street-side vendors and guys who stand in the median at red lights, but they're often interesting and usually delicious. And summer brings the majority of them with it.

Yesterday, while we were in our car waiting for the light to change, a vendor offered us a small bundle of a fruit called pitomba for which he wanted R$2,00 (about a dollar). We bought a bunch, took it home and stuck it in the fridge to cool, then ate the pitombas for dessert last night. They were marvelous, and absolutely refreshing. And they brought back memories of Canada and Asia (you'll soon see why).

When researching the pitomba on various botanical sites on the internet this morning we found lots of information about the fruit. That it's native to the Amazon Basin, for example, and that it's cultivated in Brazil, Peru, Colombia and Venezuela. That its name, whether you're speaking English, Spanish or Portuguese, is pitomba. But nothing about what to us is the most obvious and interesting thing about pitomba - its relationship to a family of Asian fruits.

Take a look at this photo of a vendor in Fortaleza with a bundle of pitombas. Does the fruit remind you of any fruit that you know? One that you might seen and eaten in Asia, or found in places in North America where there is a significant Asian population? Certainly, having lived for many years in Vancouver, with its various Asian communities, we found the resemblance startling.

To us, pitomba looks like a twin of the fruit we know from Canada as longan. And like a cousin, only slightly less closely related, of the lychee. And when we checked out the taxonomy of the pitomba, the longan and the lychee, all three belong to the same kingdom, division, class, order and family. It's only when you get to the genus and species that they diverge. They're obviously "family."

It seems strange that none of the sources that we checked out, including scientific botanical sites and more popular sites like Wikipedia, mention this relationship. Whether you know their scientific names or not, all you have to do is eat a longan, a lychee and a pitomba and you'll know they're very closely related - in appearance, in size, in color and texture and in flavor. So why doesn't anyone mention this? There must be an interesting evolutionary reason why trees native to East Asia (longan and lychee) and to the jungles of the Amazon (pitomba) are so closely related. We'd be interested to hear the tale. And if no one knows why, it sounds like a perfect botanical puzzle to figure out. Maybe the pitomba is the proof that those who claim that South America was populated directly from Asia by seafaring peoples need to make their case. Who knows?

What we do know, however, is that we love pitombas, and are most happy to see them for sale again, even if it's only for a short time.

Brazil's Basic Cheese - Queijo Coalho

Queijo coalho (Rennet Cheese) is to Brazil what Cheddar cheese is to England, or feta to Greece, or gouda to The Netherlands - it's the cheese that pops into mind when thinking about that particular country's cheeses. This cheese is made artisanally and industrially all around Brazil, and is eaten from one end of the country to the other. It has a number of variations ranging from soft and creamy fresh queijo coalho right up to sharply acidic and pungent aged varieties.

Even though queijo coalho is eaten everywhere in Brazil, it is associated in most people's minds with the northeastern region of the country, and it's there where the most traditional and artisanal methods of production still flourish. In cheese shops in metropolitan areas, in small mom-and-pop grocery stores in villages, and in roadside stands along country roads of the northeast, you'll find farm-fresh homemade queijo coalho for sale.

Queijo coalho is an essential ingredient in many traditional dishes, like the rice-and-bean combination Baião de Dois or the Brazilian version of shepherd's pie, arrumadinho. Because queijo coalho does not melt when exposed to heat, as most cheeses do, it can be grilled or fried. Grilled queijo coalho is a favorite snack for Brazilian beachgoers, who buy pieces of hot grill cheese on a stick from numerous ambulant vendors who pass by offering their wares. In restaurants, grilled queijo coalho is often served as a first course, accompanied by honey or molasses. The hot salty flavors of the cheese combine beautifully with the thick sweetness of the honey or molasses.

In the next post on Flavors of Brazil, we'll give you instructions on how to make your own queijo coalho at home. It's very simple, and doesn't really require any special skills or equipment. Once you've made it, you'll have the opportunity to see how changes in density, aging time, storage temperature and other factors can result in startling different taste experiences from one simple cheese.

INGREDIENTS - Mangaba

In Brazil, a native fruit called mangaba is often confused by non-Portuguese speakers with mango (manga in Portuguese) because of the similarity of their names - mangaba/manga. However there is no botanical connection between the two fruits, and culinarily no connection in flavor. The mango is native to the Indian subcontinent and has spread around the world, being cultivated in almost every tropical area. The mangaba (Hancornia speciosa) is native to Brazil and is almost exclusively cultivated there to this day. Although it's an extremely popular fruit in Brazil, particularly in the northeast, it's almost unknown outside the country.

The mangaba fruit is a round yellow-to-red colored ball about the size of a baseball. The interior of the fruit is white with a number of small seeds. When the fruit is ripe, the pulp is so soft it practically melts in the mouth. The flavor is sweet and the fruit is highly perfumed. In the native Tupi-Guarani language which gave the fruit its name mangaba means (straightforwardly) "fruit that is good to eat." Few contemporary Brazilians would beg to differ with their native ancestors.

The tree which produces the mangaba fruit, known as the mangabeira, is related to the plumeria (or frangipani) tree which is known in places like Hawaii, Florida and Mexico for it's beautiful waxy, perfumed flowers. The mangabeira is also cultivated in Brazil for its beautiful red wood, and its latex produces a pink-hued rubber. It is also very useful in apiculture, as honey bees are attracted to its flowers and their nectar.

In Brazil, mangaba is enjoyed fresh, and also is used in the production of juice, ice cream, sweets and conserves, and in fruit wine. In Sergipe, the small northeastern state which produces the bulk of Brazilian mangaba, mangaba-flavored ice cream and pulp concentrates are the most consumed flavors of any fruit. Fresh mangaba is normally only available in the northeastern region of Brazil, as it is very perishable once ripe, but juices, ice creams and frozen pulp are available everywhere in Brazil.

Mangaba juice can be combined with cachaça to make a delicious caipifruta cocktail. Or it can be drunk as a eye-opener juice first thing in the morning. It's a very easy flavor to like, uncomplicated, sweet and delicious. Just one more Flavor of Brazil that requires a journey to Brazil to know - and it's worth the journey.

RECIPE - Pé-de-moleque (Ragamuffin's Foot), Version 2

Yesterday Flavors of Brazil published a recipe for a peanut brittle-type candy from Brazil called pé-de-moleque. In that post, and in this post all about pé-de-moleque, it was specified that the recipe was for the "southern version" of pé-de-moleque, and that in the north and northeast of Brazil, the name pé-de-moleque was applied to something quite different.

In the more northerly regions of Brazil, locals apply the name pé-de-moleque to a rich and dense spice and nut cake. It's served with afternoon tea throughout the year, and is particularly associated with the Festas Juninas, the season of June festivals. During those festivals, homemade-style pé-de-moleque cake is served at fairs and dances throughout the region.

This cake is made not with wheat flour, as North American and European cooks are used to using, but with manioc flour - available for purchase ready-to-go as a dough in northern Brazil, similar to the ready-to-go pizza dough often available at Italian bakeries. As this dough is an essential ingredient, and it's unlikely that it can be found in North America, Europe or elsewhere, I'm including this recipe only for pure interest - don't try to make this substituting any other type of dough or flour as Flavors of Brazil won't be responsible for the results!
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RECIPE - Pé-de-moleque (Ragamuffin's Foot), Northeastern Version

3 cups ground, roasted cashew nuts
2 1/2 cups boiling water
2 cups canned coconut milk
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1/2 Tbsp. good-quality instant coffee
1/2 Tbsp. powdered cinnamon
1 tsp. ground cloves
1 tsp. ground fennel
1/2 tsp. salt
2.2 lbs (1 kg) premixed manioc (macaxeira) dough
1 lb (500 gr)  rapadura, cut into small pieces
4 eggs
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Put the pieces of rapadura into a blender, pour the boiling water over, then blend at low speed until the sugar is completely dissolved. Be careful when blending hot liquids. Pour the mixture into a large heavy saucepan over medium heat, and bring to a boil. Remove from the heat, add the butter, the coffee, cinnamon, cloves and fennel. Stir to dissolve the butter, then reserve, letting cool completely.

Preheat the oven to 350F (175C).

With a cake mixer, whip the eggs and salt together in a large mixing bowl until light and frothy. Add the manioc flour and blend with the beaten eggs using a wooden spoon. Using the cake mixer, on low speed, add the coconut milk gradually. Continue to mix until you have a homogenous batter. Turn off the cake mixer, add the dissolved rapadura, and stir in with the wooden spoon. Again using the mixer on low speed, beat the batter, gradually adding the ground cashew nuts.

Generously grease a tube-style cake pan with unsalted butter. Pour in the batter, then cook on a center rack for approximately 1 hour, 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the cake comes out clean. Remove from heat, let cool partially in pan, then turn out onto a cake rack to cool completely. If desired, decorate with whole roasted cashew nuts.


Recipe translated and adapted from NordesteWeb.

Ragamuffin's Foot - Pé-de-moleque

One of the most interesting words in common usage in Brazilian Portuguese, to my mind, is moleque. It's pronounced mo-LEH-key, and the word originally came from the African language Kimbundu where it meant simply "boy." In colonial Brazil it took on the meaning of "black boy" or "slave boy", and was used to designate child-slaves who worked in the kitchens and laundries of the owner's mansions on sugar cane plantations. In time, it lost its connotations of race and slave status, and today it generally means a young boy, often a street kid, who is playful, impish, knavish and often dirty - a ragamuffin.

Interesting etymological discussion, you might say, but what does it have to do with Brazilian food culture? Well, one of the most traditional and common sweets in Brazil is called "pé-de-moleque" which when translated into English becomes Ragamuffin's Foot, or Street-urchin's Foot. Legend has it that the name was first applied to the treat in the northeastern State of Pernambuco in the 18th Century. As the story goes, a woman who often made a treat out of rapadura (raw brown sugar) and peanuts was in the habit of leaving it on her kitchen windowsill to harden and cool. There was a street kid who lived in her neighborhood who loved sweets, and who sometimes would run up to the windowsill, grab a piece, and run away. One fine day, the woman happened to see the thief in action, and as he ran barefoot down the street, she leaned out the window and shouted: "Pede, moleque!", which means "Ask for it, kid!". The name stuck, and over time "pede" (ask for) become corrupted and confused with "Pé de" which means "foot of." Thus, "Ask for it, kid!" became "Ragamuffin's foot." Or so the story goes. True or not, it's a charming story and has given a memorable name to this delectable treat.

pé-de-moleque southern-stye

Actually, I should say that it has given it's name to these delectable treats, because today the name pé-de-moleque refers to one of two entirely different sweets, depending on in which region of Brazil one is speaking. In most of Brazil, the south, southeast and center, pé-de-moleque is a mixture of melted rapadura or brown sugar with peanuts - kind of like peanut brittle. Hard, chewy, sticky and very sweet. In the northeastern region of Brazil, however, pé-de-moleque is a dense cake made with rapadura, manioc flour and nuts, similar to a molasses cake. What both versions have in common is the dark, rich raw sugar and the presence of nuts. They differ in whether flour is added to make a cake or not.

pé-de-moleque northeastern-stye

Shortly, I'll post recipes for both styles of pé-de-moleque, as well as a chef's contemporary take on a deconstructed one. Get out your sweet-tooth, as pé-de-moleque is always achingly sweet - just as sweet as that 18th Century street kid who gained immortality by stealing candy from the old lady up the road.