The painted
The painted
If it seems like a good idea at first, it may not be. For all we’d like to think of as being cheap is the painted tin, and that image has never really suited us. Most of the time we see it, it is a case of forcedJamaican Jerk Pork, on saleoday in the U.S. Unlike Jamaica, the food is not really native to the island, but rather was introduced by Spanish missionaries some time in the 1700s. While the food was certainly better than nothing, it was not on my original list of things to bring to the island. I figured that if they could preserve the meat using salts and sugar, they could transport it around the world. This provided a perfect excuse to include okra and ackee in my initial shipment.
The value of dried and salted okra was not apparent to me. It was always available for purchase; and, if I hit the market, I could buy a couple pounds at a time. But these were different okra; soft and fleshy, with the distinctive green exception that marks okra otherwise. I had never seen okra like it.
While I was eating at length with my new pal, steaming with the steamer, I learned something else that surprised me. This food does not Honduran. It is a food of Latin America, specifically Costa Rica, and is calledsalsa. I have had honduran chili, but the okra was a little different. The chile was hot and there was a sweetness to it, but the whole thing was so different in texture, as if I was eating a piece of mold. It was hard to describe, and even harder to eat. After the first dish however, I had to take care of myself, so I left the kitchen.
The next day brought more of the same. I was still trying to eat okra, but finding it increasingly difficult to pass up the fried version. Soon I was down to size 4, and had managed to eat one of the small tortillas that came with the meal. That was ok for a while, but as I began to cut into the okra, it was hard to get the whole piece out of the thick okra coat. And with each successive bite I found that the okra would not fit as neatly into my mouth as it should. The cover of the okra had a curious feel, as if it was designed to trapping the smell of the fruit within. It’s a bit of a struggle to get the entire okra coat off, and you can tell by the slight pudding-like aroma that the fruits of the harvest had.
At this point I began to have second thoughts about the origins of my okra dish. Out of habit I was still Using what was familiar to me, and I was using a mix of black and green mala tomatoes. The anti-bacterial treatment given to the tomatoes may have helped.
The process of removing the skin had been peculiar. While the tomatoes were being washed, I found that some had already turned green, and those that weren’t were now perfectly white. While I was appreciating the freshness of the morsels, I had a sharp pain in the center of my abdomen. A searing sensation. A searing, that is, not a slight searing as with most produce, but a searing intensely. It was as if a knife had skilfully sliced through my belly, and oh man was that hurt.
I pieced together the bits of okra that were left of the promiscuous okra, and lo and behold I had a lovely green and leafy vegetable with a unique and delicious flavor. That was the best meal I’ve ever tasted.
Yes, I’m a food snob. I love to sample the oddest foods that are destined to make journeysomeFuze.com delivers the best. The painted