Sweet Hands: Island Cooking

LOST Magazine - A Taste for Tonka

2010-11-01T08:15:00.000-07:00

A Taste for Tonka

by Ramin Ganeshram

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Trinidad has three mountain ranges, offshoots of the Andes that race down the South American continent from Venezuela, from a Trinidad that was rent millennia ago. From a boat far into the sea, the perspective and sheer size of these ranges make them loom large, appearing as three single peaks, when in fact they are razor-backed ridges that segregate the north, central, and southern regions of the island from each other. This mirage led Columbus to name the island La Trinidad, or the Trinity.

The cool valleys in the crevices of these many peaks make ideal cocoa country: it's shady enough to protect Trinidad's prized trinatario cocoa, the world's finest cocoa, from the blistering equatorial sun. Here live the descendants of the cocoa paynols (a pidgin version of the word cocoa espagnoles), laborers who came from Venezuela in the 18th century to pick the prized cacao that today lies mostly foundering in the fields as Trinidad's fortunes now come from its rich oil and gas reserves.

Theirs are bygone ways. These paynols — the cocoa Spanianards — still speak a smattering of old-world Spanish, their troubadour music is an entrenched part of local culture, and bush medicine is practiced here. Cocoa remains king, particularly in the cocoa tea they drink — a mixture of pure cacao beans and local spices, like cinnamon, nutmeg, bay leaf, and tonka bean.

Tonka bean grows in pods on an ancient hardwood tree valued for building and for smoking meats in the true Trinidadian boucanee (buccaneer) style. The seed is white and pulpy and must be allowed to dry, wizen and darken until it looks like an obscenely huge, hard, black raisin.

It is not so foreign, really. If you've ever bought a vanilla-scented candle or perfume, you know tonka bean. Sometimes it is called "vanillin," a name that cheapens it for it is not a mere copy of vanilla but a self-contained microcosm of heady scent redolent of pear, warm spices, rich soil and, yes, vanilla. Once it was used to flavor tobacco, before the FDA determined that it contains a toxic substance and banned it for food import.

Tonka bean contains coumarin, a blood thinner that, in large quantities, can be deadly. But used traditionally, in micrograins to flavor cocoa tea, or steeped in rum to provide a unique scent and taste to baked goods, it surely cannot harm. In all the years I traveled to the island with my Trinidadian father, I never heard of anyone dying from ingesting the small quantities of tonka used.

Still, now that it is a forbidden fruit, few people use tonka in Trinidad, and those who do certainly don't admit to it. Now Trinidadians use something called "mixed essence," an entirely artificial substance that can even be found in Caribbean grocery stores in the U.S. In the UK and France, however, Trinidad tonka bean is sold to any gourmand willing to pay roughly a dollar for the one-inch seed. Limit two per customer.

As a chef, culture writer, Trinidadian, and person obsessed with foods I can't have, I've gone to extreme lengths to secure this precious pod, traveling into the mountainous cocoa paynol enclaves to secure five or six, then mixing them into a bag of homemade granola replete with Brazil nuts, which are roughly the same size. The granola was a ruse to smuggle the tonka back home to the U.S., and it worked. But when I got them here and carefully fished them out from the mix, my courage failed me. For months, I worked on getting up the nerve to use them, but the warnings of sudden death kept floating through my head, and eventually they became so stale it was a lost cause.

Still, it plagued me that the commercial mixed essence that most West Indians associate with our baked goods was, in fact, a lie. Having eaten goodies made with real tonka, I know mixed essence is just a pitiful copy of the lost elixir that our grandparents used readily.

I realized I could do the purveyors of the culinary fakery that is "mixed essence" one better — by making my own. Using pure vanilla extract, warm tropical spices, and other pure essences, I could alchemize my own approximation of the tonka tisane.

It's been an experiment that has gone on for years.

Just when I think I've gotten it right, I go back to Trinidad and wrangle a taste of something secretly made with "the real thing" and I know my blend is just not there yet. It has become my white whale, my Rachmaninoff piano concerto, my Gordian knot. Perhaps, one day, I'll master it. Or, if I can ever get my hands on some again, I'll get up the nerve to toss them in rum and make the real thing myself.

For now, though, I keep trying, hoping my taste memory serves me well enough to realize when I've finally achieved a close approximation of the fleeting flavor. Below is my version — for now at least.

Faux Tonka Essence (Trinidadian Mixed Essence)

Makes 1 cup

1 cinnamon stick
¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
2 tablespoons dark rum
½ cup pure vanilla extract
¼ cup pear essence
¼ cup almond extract
2 drops orange blossom water

1. Using a mortar and pestle, crush the cinnamon stick into small pieces about 1/3-inch long. Place the cinnamon in a small, sealable container with the grated nutmeg and the rum. Set aside for at least one week and up to two. Check the mixture every couple of days to ensure the rum is not evaporating. If necessary, add a bit more rum and reseal to reduce air flow.

2. Strain the rum mixture into a sealable, dark-colored glass jar and add the remaining ingredients. Seal and shake gently.

3. Store in a cool, dry place. Use in baked goods in place of vanilla.

AUTHOR BIO:

RAMIN GANESHRAM is a journalist and professional chef and the author of Sweet Hands: Island Cooking From Trinidad & Tobago (Hippocrene NY 2006; 2nd expanded edition 2010) andStir It Up (Scholastic 2010) and The Pass It Down Cookbook(Smiley books/Hay House 2010). In addition to contributing to a variety of food publications including Saveur, Gourmet, Bon Appetit, and epicurious.com, Ganeshram has written food/culture/travel articles for Islands (as contributing editor);National Geographic Traveler; Forbes Traveler; Forbes Four Seasons and many others. She is a contributor to theEncyclopedia of World Foods (Greenwood Press 2010) and has been a peer review for the Journal of Food, Culture and Society.

For two years she volunteered as a reporter, writer and editor for Molly O’Neill’s magnum One Big Table (Simon & Schuster, November 2010) exploring the foodways of real Americans through history and today.

Nouvelle Irish Trinidad: The Ice Cream Caper

2010-07-22T16:23:00.000-07:00

Today my colleague and fellow Stuyvesant HS alum, noted food writer Melissa Clark of the New York Times posted a Facebook query about thickening ice cream sans eggs. To achieve this, normally, I use a traditional gelatin like Knox brand for the purpose. It's something I do when I don't want the yolk flavor to dominate a more delicate profile like that of coconut.

But today Melissa's query made me think.

In Trinidad--and Jamaica, Montesserat and Barbados for that matter--islands with a colonial history of Irish indentureship we have something called Sea Moss drink. It's made using carrageen, or Irish Moss. In Ireland, a milk pudding called Carrageen Pudding is made with the stuff. The seaweed is dried and tossed into the scalding milk and sugar that is the first step to making the dessert. The moss contains a gelatin akin to agar agar, and when the milk mixture is cooled it becomes firms.

When I met the inimitable Myrtle Allen of Ballymaloe House a few years ago, she served me this treat, made from carrageen that she had gathered from the County Cork shores near her home and then dried herself. Later it occurred to met hat Sea Moss Drink, like our Christmas Black Cake, were the last remnants of the Irish influence on Caribbean culture.

So, today I decided to mash the two recipes together and give Coconut Ice Cream a go, using Irish Sea Moss or Carrageen as the thickener.

It worked just fine.

Here's the recipe (and one for Sea Moss Drink) from my book Sweet Hands: Island Cooking from Trinidad & Tobago (Hippocrene Books 2010)

Thanks Melissa!

Coconut Ice Cream (Thickened with Carrageen)

4 ounces Irish Sea Moss (Carrageen) or 1 envelope unlfavored Knox gelatin

2 tablespoons whole milk

2 cups heavy cream

2 cups coconut milk

3/4 cup sugar

1/2 cup unsweetened shredded coconut

1/2 teaspoon mixed essence or vanilla extract

1 teaspoon coconut extract

Sweetened shredded coconut flakes, for garnish

If using gelatin, Sprinkle the gelatin over the whole milk and set aside to dissolve.

If using sea moss, place it with the cream and coconut milk in a saucepan along with the sugar. Mix well and bring to a boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Reduce the heat to a simmer and continue to stir until the sugar is totally dissolved.

Remove the pan from the heat and add the shredded coconut,, mixed essence and coconut essence. Add the gelatin mixture (if using Knox brand) and mix until totally dissolved.

Allow the mixture to cool completely in the refrigerator, remove the carrageen stems, if using, then pour into an ice cream maker. Freeze, following the manufacturer’s directions.
Pack ice cream into 2 quart containers and freeze overnight until solid. Serve garnished with coconut flakes, if desired.

Sea Moss Drink

4 10 ounce servings

To me, what’s most interesting about Sea Moss or Irish Moss drink is that it seems to be one of the few remaining connections to the Irish indentured laborers that were prevalent on Trinidad, Jamaica, Montserrat, and other English colonies in the Caribbean. On a trip to Ireland, I tasted Carrageen Pudding. made from milk, sugar, and thickened with dried Irish Sea moss. From the first spoonful, I noticed the resemblance to Sea Moss drink that is version of the same pudding using evaporated versus fresh milk with a shake-like consistency. Both the pudding and the drink is something of an acquired taste and is thought to be a constitution fortifier in both lands.

2 ounces dried sea moss (available in Caribbean markets)

Juice of 1/2 lime

4 cups evaporated milk

1/2 cup sugar

2 teaspoons Angostura Bitters

1. Place the sea moss in a bowl with the lime juice and 1/2 cup of water. Allow to soak overnight.

2. Drain, place in a saucepan with 2 cups of water, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer until the sea moss looks like a wad of jelly. Remove the pan from the heat and cool.

3. Place the sea moss mixture in a blender with the evaporated milk and sugar. Puree for 1 minute, or until smooth. Add the bitters and serve over crushed ice.

Sweet Hands 2nd Edition Available July 19th!

2010-06-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

Props to a Great Caribbean Chef

2010-06-10T17:41:00.000-07:00

Puerto Rico, being part of the United States, is often forgotten as a member of the Caribbean. I'm fortunate enough to be friends with--and sampled the amazing dishes of--a wonderful Puerto Rican chef, who I also count as a Caribbean sister: Chef Daisy Martinez

Daisy is a truly amazing person. One who is not only talented in the kitchen but truly kind of heart--I know this first hand from her generous emcee'ing services for the Food4Haiti fundraiser I put together after the earthquake early this year.

Since I'm a believer in "what comes around", I've started a petition to the committee of the New York Puerto Rican Day Parade to consider Daisy--a native daughter of NYC of Puerto Rican descent--as a candidate for Grand Marshall in 2011.

You can sign the petition here: ChefDaisy4GrandMarsh

Or join the facebook page here: Chef Daisy Martinez for PR Parade 2011 Grand Marshall

Please consider joining and signing...One Love!

A Special Toast!

2010-05-26T09:11:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day Weekend is the unofficial beginning of the celebratory feel of summer. If you are looking for a good libation that is juicy, fruity, sweet, sparkly--in short, everything that summer really is, check out this recipe for Rum Punch.

And while your sipping, please raise a toast to Kamla Persad-Bissessar the first Female Prime Minister of Trinidad & Tobago! Here's to you Madame Prime Minister!!

Trinidad Rum Punch

20 (4-ounce) servings

Rum punch is a standard party libation, and in 2004, Angostura, the bottlers of the famous bitters and a major rum manufacturer, began bottling various versions for mass distribution. Convenient though this may be, a rum punch recipe is a family tradition and I doubt many folks will abandon theirs. Here is mine.

1 small mango, peeled and chopped, or 1 cup frozen ripe mango, thawed

1 cup sliced fresh or frozen strawberries

1 cup fresh or canned pineapple chunks

1 (4-ounce) can mandarin orange slices with juice

1/4 cup maraschino cherries

1/2 teaspoon coconut extract

1/4 teaspoon mixed essence

2 teaspoons Angostura bitters

1/2 pint dark rum (such as Old Oak or Myer’s), chilled

2 cups tropical fruit juice (such as Welch’s Tropical Passion Juice from concentrate)

1/2 pint coconut rum, chilled

1 liter ginger ale, chilled

2 cups sparkling white wine (such as Freixenet), chilled

1 navel orange, unpeeled and sliced into 1/4-inch rounds

1 star fruit, sliced horizontally (1/4 inch thick)

1. In a large punch bowl, combine the mango, strawberries, pineapple chunks, mandarin orange slices with their juice, and maraschino cherries. Add the coconut extract, mixed essence, Angostura bitters, and rum. Place the bowl in the refrigerator or set over crushed ice, and allow the fruit to macerate for at least 1 hour and up to overnight.

2. Stir the tropical fruit juice into the fruit mixture. Gently pour in the ginger ale and sparkling wine so as not to lose too much carbonation. Float the orange slices and star fruit slices on top. Serve over crushed ice.

Cocoa Short Ribs

2010-04-18T18:05:00.000-07:00

Braised short ribs are a classic French preparation and I've seen many a continental and Asian twist on the form. Working on my new book--a culinary mystery with recipes--I came up with this version as part of a five course meal served at a posh fictional dinner party in Port of Spain. Precious Trinidad cocoa, among the finest and most sought after in the world, make up the rich flavor that is the backbone of the dish. I suggest serving it with "stiff polenta" or Coo Coo as we call it: cornmeal with okra. Enjoy.

Trinidad Cocoa Short Ribs

Makes 6 to 8 servings

2 tablespoons canola oil

6 pounds bone-in short ribs

1 1/2 cups finely chopped onions

1/4 cup finely chopped shallots

1/4 cup finely chopped celery

1/4 cup finely chopped peeled carrots

3 garlic cloves, minced

1 cups dry red wine

1 cup good quality dark rum, such as Trinidad Royal oak

1 tablespoon Angostura Bitters

3 cups low-salt chicken broth

2 cups chopped drained canned diced tomatoes

2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

1 very large fresh thyme sprig

2 leaves Mexican culantro (shado beni) chopped roughly

1 bay leaf

1 cinnamon stick

3 tablespoons shaved or grated bittersweet Triniatario chocolate such as AMadei Trinidad Dark bar

2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder (preferably Dutch-process)

1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh rosemary

1. 1. Heat heavy large pot over medium heat. Add canola oil. Sprinkle ribs with salt and pepper. Working in batches, brown ribs in pot over medium-high heat until brown on all sides, about 8 minutes per batch. Transfer to plate.

2. 2. Add onions and next 4 ingredients to pot. Cover, reduce heat to medium, and cook until vegetables are soft, stirring occasionally, about 10 minutes. Add wine, rum and Angostura Bitters. Boil uncovered until liquid is reduced by half, scraping up browned bits, about 5 minutes.

3. 3. Add broth, tomatoes, parsley, thyme, culantro (shado beni), bay leaf, and cinnamon. Return ribs to pot, cover partially, and simmer 1 1/2 hours. Uncover and simmer until rib meat is tender, stirring occasionally, about 1 1/2 hours longer.

4. 4. Transfer ribs to plate; discard bay leaf and cinnamon stick. Spoon fat from surface of sauce. Boil sauce until beginning to thicken, about 8 minutes. Reduce heat to medium.

5. 5. Add chocolate, cocoa powder, and rosemary; stir until chocolate melts. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Return ribs to pot. Simmer to rewarm, about 5 minutes.

Coo Coo (Stiff Polenta with Okra)

4 servings

This thick cornmeal cake is a delicious if heavy side dish that is ideal for sopping up the juices of stewed meats.

1 cup coconut milk

12 okras, stemmed and sliced into 1/2-inch pieces, or 1 cup frozen, sliced okra

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 cup cornmeal

1. Lightly grease a 2-quart bowl and set aside.

2. Mix 1 cup of water and the coconut milk in a saucepan. Add the okra and bring to a boil. Lower the heat to a simmer and cook until soft, about 5 minutes.

3. Add the salt and black pepper, and mix well Add the cornmeal slowly, mixing constantly. Continue stirring vigorously while cooking over medium-low heat. Cook until the mixture holds a stiff peak, about 15 to 20 minutes.

4. Pour into the greased bowl and smooth the top. Allow to set for 1 to 2 minutes, then invert onto a plate. Slice and serve.

How To Make Rice

2010-04-08T12:00:00.000-07:00

Rice is a huge staple in Trinidadian cuisine. This is because of the huge (nearly 50%) East Indian descent population that lives on the island. Growing up, we ate rice nearly every day. This was not only because of Trinidad heritage but because my mother was Iranian--another culture that could exist on rice alone.

Being of mixed rice stock, I've learned one thing. While others may eat rice prodigiously, Iranians are easily the master rice makers of the world. As a result, I use the Iranian rice-cooking method whenever I make this grain--even in classic Caribbean cuisine. The method can vary from complex to fairly simple. Chelo, a method that requires washing and presoaking the rice, then parboiling and steaming, takes time and patience but produces beautiful results. However, the short method, which still requires washing, but less cooking time is incredibly easy and virtually no fail for fluffy grains--as long as it is followed precisely.

Here is the simple method--called kateh in Farsi. The real key is to make sure the rice is washed well. Additionally, I use high quality basmati rice, and Lal Qilla brand is my favorite.

Plain Rice

1 1/2 cup basmati or other long grain white rice

2 teaspoon canola oil or ghee

1 1/2 teaspoon salt

1. Place rice in a deep bowl and add enough cold water to cover by 1 or 2 inches. Swirl rice around with your hand until the water becomes cloudy and then gently pour off the water being careful not to pour out the rice. Repeat this process 2-3 times or until the rice washing water runs clear. Drain rice.

2. Place rice in a 2 quart saucepan (preferably nonstick) and add enough water to cover the rice by 1/2 inch from its surface.

3. Add the canola oil or ghee and the salt. Mix well and place over a medium heat.

4. When the rice begins to simmer, mix well one more time and watch carefully. When almost all the water is absorbed and “crab holes” begin to form in the rice, lower heat to low and place a doubled up paper towel or clean dish towel over the top of the pot. Place the pot lid firmly over this, pressing down to make a tight seal.

5. Cook rice, allowing it to steam, for 15-20 minutes more. Remove lid and fluff.

How To Crack A Coconut

2010-04-05T23:59:00.000-07:00

Last week I did a post about my friend Nancie McDermott's luscious coconut cake. Another friend, and former student Roger Kimpton, asked how one exactly cracks a coconut. In response, I am posting the essay on how to do just this, from my book Sweet Hands: Island Cooking from Trinidad & Tobago. Once the coconut is cracked and peeled, you can grate on a box grater or using a food processor's grater wheel.

Photo, courtesy ehow.com

Watching my father crack open a coconut was one of the most terrifying experiences of my childhood. Like most West Indians, my father split the coconut’s hard shell with a long cutlass, wide and curved at the tip and nearly two feet long. It resembled something out of Aladdin and it was scary.

If the coconut was green—a delicacy only to be had on trips to Trinidad—he would hold it in his palm and level its head with the cutlass in a smooth slicing motion. Or, he might take angular chops around the crown.

The purpose of either method cut was to create an opening large enough to pour out the sweet young coconut water, which is said to have high nutritional value, especially for pregnant women with morning sickness. After the water is drained, the coconut jelly is scooped out and eaten with a spoon fashioned from the chopped shell. This jelly is what hardens into the white coconut flesh as the fruit ages.

If the coconut was already aged, removing it from the green outer husk required deep slashes with the cutlass and then enormous strength to peel away the skin. In the States we only got dry, husked coconuts—if we were lucky—in the supermarket, but more often on a trip to the Caribbean neighborhoods of Brooklyn and Queens. Today, both green coconuts and dry coconuts are readily available in many gourmet supermarkets.

To crack a dry coconut, my father again pulled out that cutlass. He held the coconut in one hand and whacked down on it with the cutlass held in the other. Every time he did this, I was sure he would cut himself, or worse, cut off his hand. He never did. Wielding a cutlass is a talent that Trinidadians seem to manage with aplomb.

I myself am far too afraid to have anything to do with cutlasses, machetes, or butcher knives screaming toward objects held in my opposite hand--so I’ve developed my own method for draining and cracking coconuts.

Dry coconuts have three “eyes,” one of which is always soft and easily pierced with a paring knife. Sometimes a second eye can be pierced as well, but this is less often the case. Once the eye is pierced, I invert the coconut onto a heavy glass or pitcher that can prop up the fruit while catching the draining liquid. I reserve this water for flavorings in breads and sauces.

To crack the coconut, I leave it in a 400°F degree oven until the heat cracks the hard shell. Granted, this does change the flavor of the coconut a bit, but it is fine for baked goods since the grated coconut will be cooked anyway.

When whole coconuts can’t be had, I opt for packaged, unsweetened shredded coconut—fresh-frozen is better than dry and is easily found in Middle Eastern, Indian, and Caribbean markets. Coconut water is also available canned. Goya is one popular brand.

Strong Drink

2010-04-05T07:07:00.000-07:00

My friend John Field is a rum lover which, in my opinion, puts him ahead of the curve. I've long said that boutique sipping rums are the next big drink trend. Think of it it in the way high-end tequila and vodka have become de rigeur. I wrote about this a few years back for epicurious.com but given that the rum is finally getting its day, I think the article bears reposting here. You'll find some tips on boutique rums, pairings with chocolate, and more than a bit of its rumbunctious history.

Since the article was written a number of American rum manufacturers have hit the scene including Tuthilltown Spirits (New York); Graham Barnes (Texas); Celebration Distilleries (New Orleans); Newport Distilling (Rhode Island) and many more which you can read about at one of the best sources for rum on the web or elsewhere: Ministry of Rum.

Surprised? You shouldn't be. Rum was not originally a major product of the Caribbean--until Bacardi came on the scene. Sugar cane was shipped to the American colonies were it was to be processed into sugar but more often became rum. Rum was a distinctly North American drink. These distillers are just reprising a historical movement. To learn more read on, and have a try at my new drink recipe below. It's as yet untested--let me know what you think!

Born to Rum

Discover a Caribbean revival
By Ramin Ganeshram

L ong before tiki glasses or cocktails topped with bright paper umbrellas hit the scene, rum was a cultural power player. The quintessential New World spirit, rum has colonial origins that well predate other liquors of the Americas, such as bourbon or American whiskeys.
In its 400-plus years of production, this spirit has been everything from currency to political trump card, and not only its history is complex. Today, rum may be best known as the single most-mixed liquor in the bartending world, but many distillers are returning to the libation's rich history of refined production by creating aged, specialty, and hand-mixed rums that even the most sophisticated liquor connoisseur can enjoy.

A Sweet History

When Christopher Columbus first brought sugarcane to the Caribbean, little did he know that he was also revolutionizing the drinking world. It didn't take long for producers to realize that they could ferment the molasses that was a by-product of sugar production then distill it into a high-proof flavored spirit called "rum"—most likely a contraction of the word "rumbullion," meaning strong liquor.
So popular was this new drink that it became the basis for a wide variety of beverages, including punches; the demand for it skyrocketed. The British Royal Navy even issued a private rum to all its sailors. This daily ration of Pusser's British Navy Rum, called "grog," was comprised of agricole rums (made by fermenting free-run sugarcane juice) from several locales including Trinidad, Guyana, and the British Virgin Islands. It remained a tradition for three centuries, until 1970, and is available on the general market today.
The demand for rum was so great that at one point the British had to enact laws to ensure that cane was not entirely consumed to make rum but also used to make sugar, for which it was the primary source.
In those early days, a good portion of rum production occurred outside the West Indies. Distillers in Britain and the colonies in New England purchased molasses and made rum on-site. The rum served a twofold purpose: a medium both for trade with Native Americans and for export to Europe, which in turn bartered it for human cargo.
Seeking cheaper sources for their molasses, the Americans began to buy a treaclelike by-product from the French and Portuguese colonies, thereby undercutting their motherland counterparts. To limit these activities, the Crown placed heavy taxes on molasses imports in a series of acts that were the actual basis for the movement toward independence.
Post-Revolution free access to West Indian molasses was short-lived. British naval blockades during the War of 1812 heralded the death of the American rum industry. The majority of rum production reverted to the American South, while Australia, Hawaii, and Tahiti produced rums of their own.

More than a Mai Tai

In its earliest days, rum was most often used in mixed beverages and punch for a reason: It was simply too rough on the palate to sip enjoyably. As production, aging, and flavoring processes improved, a more sophisticated variety of rums came to the fore.
By the early 19th century, a continuous-distillation process was perfected in England, replacing the old method of pot-still aging. The result was a nearly tasteless but uniform product that could be enhanced by flavoring and coloring methods as well as oak-cask aging for at least one year.
Some decades later, in Cuba during the 1860s, Don Facundo Bacardi founded what was to one day become a rum empire. Perfecting white rum for mixing, as well as aged, sipping rums, the Bacardi firm eventually moved to Puerto Rico and continues to make the majority of rum consumed in the United States and elsewhere.
Among the types of mass-produced rums are light rums, also called white or silver, which are like vodka—clear, odorless, and nearly flavorless. Distillers sometimes filter light rums or age them in stainless-steel tanks to achieve purity. Gold or amber rums are aged in oak and sometimes spiced by infusing the rum with a variety of ingredients, including cinnamon and nutmeg. Caramel or other food coloring can be added to achieve the right hue. Dark or black rum is aged in charred barrels and features a molasses or burnt-sugar overtone. It is the type of rum most often used in culinary preparations.
"Over-proof" or "puncheon" rums, typically unavailable in the United States, have alcohol content of greater than 75 percent and are often the basis for strong rum punches. Cachaça, Brazilian rum made from free-run cane juice, is aged lightly in fruitwood casks.
Yet, even as mechanization created more consistent products, premium or añejo (aged) rums maintained a certain niche. Made in limited quantities, each is often a hand-drawn product of several rums that is carefully mixed and then aged in oak. Aged rums have corks rather than screw caps. Pot-still fermentation, which creates richer flavor, fuller body, and darker tone, is also a characteristic of premium rums.

A New Mix

A relatively untouched industry since its inception, rum has in recent years (like vodka) gone through new incarnations, including versions flavored with coconut, pineapple, citrus, and apple. These head primarily into mixed drinks. Companies such as Angostura Limited of Trinidad, makers of the world-famous bitters, are now bottling rum punch in a variety of flavors for commercial sale, as well as specialty products like Rum Cream, made from rum, spices, and heavy cream.
Just as premium tequila now enjoys a following among gourmands, boutique brands of premium rums are rapidly gaining a place in the market among connoisseurs. Jamaica's Appleton Estate 21-year-aged and V/X rums fall into this category. So do Anguilla Pyrat Cask 23, blended from fine rums aged up to 40 years, Haiti's Rhum Barbancourt, released in limited quantity, and Trinidad's Angostura 1824, a dark rum aged 12 years.
Whatever your preference—rums for mixing or sipping—take the time to taste the rum as you would wine, exploring its many complexities of flavor, aroma, and color.

Recommended Rums

Most drinkers are quite familiar with white and amber rums used primarily for mixed drinks. Varieties from Bacardi and Captain Morgan are solid examples of the type.
Below is a roundup of some excellent premium rums that rival cognacs, single-malt scotches, and aged tequila for sipping.
Bacardi 8 Reserve ($22)
Deep, clear-amber, Cuban-style mixed rum from Puerto Rico. An excellent introduction to sipping rums that tasters will find has the familiar Bacardi Gold taste, although fuller-bodied, with smoother finish.
Pusser's British Navy Rum ($25)
Light copper color, similar in hue and depth to brandy. This full but mellow rum from Trinidad, Guyana, and British Virgin Islands has a delicately spicy nose.
Rhum Barbancourt 15-Year Reserve ($34)
Dark, reddish gold from Haiti, it has lightly spiced notes and a pleasantly sharp finish.
Santa Teresa, Antigua de Solera Rum ($37)
Dry rum from Venezuela with hints of vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
Angostura 1824 ($44)
Hand-drawn and casked, this Trinidadian is aged in charred oak casks for 12 years. Its rich flavor and sweet nose is bottled in a handblown glass decanter.
Neisson Rum Agricole Reserve Special ($70)
Blended and aged in oak barrels, this Martinique-made rum has a prominent taste of dark fruit and nuts.
Appleton Estate 21-Year-Old Rum ($100)
Hand-blended, using rums aged a minimum of 21 years. Made in Jamaica, it has a medium body, with delicate nose and easy finish.
Pyrat Cask 23 ($300)
More like cognac than rum: It is a hand-mixed combination of fine, aged rums from throughout the Caribbean. It has a limited production, is bottled in handblown glass, and packaged in incense cedar.

An Uncommon Pairing: Rum & Chocolate

Like rum, chocolate is a product of the Caribbean, and, like sugarcane, cocoa plants are highly affected by the specific terroir in which they are grown. As a result, premium single-source chocolate made with a high percentage of the delicate and rare Criollo bean or the highly prized Trinitario bean can make for a simple yet excellent dessert pairing with fine rum. Try Pyrat's Cask 23 with a nibble of Grenada Chocolate Company's 71-percent Dark Chocolate, or taste Valrhona's Gran Couva, made with authentic Trinidadian Trinitario beans, with a snifter of Angostura 1824. Rhum Barbancourt is well matched with Michel Cluizel's Hacienda Los Ancones 67-percent-cacao squares.

Bitters Revenge

4 (6 ounce) servings

1 cup package soursop (guanabana) pulp, thawed

1 cup evaporated milk

1/2 cup Angostura 1919 Rum

1/2 cup Amarula Liquor

2 tablespoons sweetened condensed milk

2 tablespoons Angostura Bitters

1/8 teaspoon, cayenne pepper powder

Pink Himalayan salt for garnish

Place all the ingredients in a blender with 2 cups crushed ice and puree until smooth. Serve in Margarita or Hurricane glasses. Garnish each drink with a few crystals of Pink Salt.

Resurrection: Haiti

2010-04-04T03:00:00.000-07:00

Today is Easter, the day of the resurrection. Even if you aren't Christian, the rising of the earth again in spring is cause for great celebrations. We Persians (the other half of my heritage) mark are biggest holiday on the Spring Equinox. The renewal of the land is a holy experience for us all--regardless of religion.

One land that is in most desperate need of renewal--both figurative and literal is our sister island of Haiti. The misery and devastation of the January 12 earthquake goes on and waves of aid are still needed. Please remember Haiti today and consider donating to worthy charities like the UN World Food Programme that is doing on the ground work on the island to feed the hungry. Food4Haiti, a nonprofit organization I founded with some amazing women here in Westport: Edina Field, Maria Proto, Ellen DeHuff and Dana Silverstein in NY is still working to raise funds for Haiti Food relief as well.

Whether you can send funds or send prayers, all help is appreciated and will be needed for some time to come. Perhaps the greatest gift will be to one day think of Haiti in its beauty and renewal rather than its ruins.

So, here's a toast to that sweet day: A recipe for Haitian Peanut Brittle.

Haitian Peanut Brittle

1/2 cup water
1 cup light corn syrup
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 cups peanut halves, roasted

5 tablespoons grated fresh ginger, or 1 tablespoon ground ginger
2 cups light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon mixed essence
2 tablespoons butter, softened
1 teaspoon baking soda

1. Grease a large cookie sheet. Set aside.
2. In a heavy 4 quart saucepan, bring water, corn syrup, salt, peanuts, ginger and sugar to a boil, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon. Clamp a candy thermometer on the side of the pan and cook on medium heat until the thermometer registers 300 degrees F.
3. Remove from heat and mix in the mixed essence, butter and baking soda. The mixture will fizz up, continue stirirng vigorously for 30 seconds.
4. Drop by tablespoonfuls onto the cookie sheet an cool completely. Store in an airtight container.
Makes about 2 pounds of brittle

The Good (Friday) Fish

2010-04-01T12:00:00.000-07:00

My dad was born on Good Friday, April 5, 1924 so the day holds a special place in my heart, over and above any religious significance.

In his home island of Trinidad, religion is almost a mix and match affair. It's not uncommon to see a Hindu puja altar equally crowded with Christian saints. Korans and Bibles co-exist in many a home, because of the cultural amalgam that is par for the course in our culture. For those religious Christians (particularly in the Lenten season) keeping with the tradition of fish on Friday is pretty easy in our laden island waters.

While seafood recipes can be quite elaborate in the West Indies, this fried fish recipe is fairly common on most islands, and one which my dad made often, not just on Good Friday. For my money, the best fish fryers are found in Barbados. Oistin Town's Fish Fry, every Friday night, is part outdoor market (that morning's catch is what's hitting the oil) and part festival where cold beer, hot fish, and plenty of spice keep the mood high. In Jamaica, you won't find fresher fish that at Prendy's On the Beach, a bar/fish stand in Hellshire village. Proprietor Donnette Prendergast's husband is a career fisherman, and he docks on the beach that fronts the restaurant throughout the day, with his fresh catch. You can read more about Prendy's as part of my article The Flavor of Jamaica for Islands Magazine

Fried Fish

6 servings

The best fish for this recipe is flying fish, a sweet fish found largely in the waters between Tobago and Barbados. Flying fish can sometimes be found frozen in West Indian markets, but if you can’t find it, substitute any firm-fleshed white fish fillet, such as tilapia or catfish.

Fish

2 pounds flying fish fillets (or other firm-fleshed white fish)

2 tablespoons green seasoning (recipe below)

1 teaspoon garlic powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Breading

1 1/2 cups dry bread crumbs

1 teaspoon dried, ground oregano

1 teaspoon dried parsley

1/2 teaspoon dried thyme

1/2 teaspoon paprika

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon garlic powder

1 teaspoon onion powder

1/2 cup canola oil, for frying

Sliced tomato for garnish (optional)

Lime wedges, for garnish (optional)

1. Rinse the fish and pat dry. Mix the green seasoning with the garlic powder, salt, and black pepper, then rub into the fish. Place the fish in a nonreactive dish, covered in the refrigerator for 20 minutes.

2. For the breading, mix all the ingredients in a shallow bowl.

3. Remove the fish from the refrigerator and dip in the breading mixture, coating both sides of each fillet evenly. Place the fillets on a clean plate and refrigerate again for 15 minutes.

Heat the oil in a deep frying pan and add the fish fillets, frying until golden brown on both sides. Do not crowd the pan. Remove and drain on a wire rack set over a baking sheet or on paper towels.
Serve on a platter garnished with the tomato slices and lime wedges, with peas and rice (recipe below), or a green salad, or on sandwich rolls.

Paramin Green Seasoning

Makes 1 cup

The area of Paramin, perched breathtakingly high atop the mountains of Trinidad’s Northern Range, is the herb basket of the country. The steeply sloped hillsides and cool mountain air, make the region ideal for growing herbs like shado beni, chives, thyme, and parsley. The Creole-descent farmers who cultivate these plants are the go-to guys for every Trinidadian cook, since their spices are an absolute necessity for the local pantry. The addition of shallots, onions, and vinegar, and the omission of oregano, makes it a bit different from standard green seasoning although you can substitute one for the another.

4 large shallots, peeled, and coarsely chopped

1 bunch chives, minced (about 1 cup)

1 small bunch fresh thyme, minced (about 1/4 cup)
1/4 cup stemmed and chopped flat leaf parsley

2 tablespoons minced shado beni or cilantro

1 medium-size onion, peeled and coarsely chopped

4 cloves garlic

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons white vinegar

Place all the ingredients in the bowl of a food processor or blender and puree, adding vinegar as needed to achieve a smooth, somewhat liquid paste.
Store in a sealed container in the refrigerator for up to 1 week.

Pigeon Peas and Rice

Makes 8 servings

Often simply called “peas and rice” this dish can be a meal unto itself with the addition of salt pork or ham. Even omitting the meat, peas and rice form a complete protein—a vegetarian’s delight. You may want to increase the amount of salt if you omit the salt pork.

1 1/2 cups dry or 1 (15-ounce) can pigeon peas or pinto beans

1 tablespoon canola oil

1/2 pound salt pork or cured ham, cut into 1/2-inch cubes (optional)

1 small onion, chopped

1 small green bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and chopped

1 small red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and copped

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 teaspoon chopped parsley

1 sprig thyme

2 cups long-grain rice

1/2 Scotch bonnet pepper, stemmed, seeded, and minced

1 teaspoon salt or to taste

If using dry beans, soak them overnight in 5 1/2 cups of cold water. Drain and set aside. If using canned beans, rinse well under cold running water and set aside.
Heat the oil in a deep saucepan and add the salt pork. Fry for 1 minute. Add the onion and fry for 1 minute more, then add the green and red bell pepper. Sauté until the onions are soft, then stir in the garlic. Cook for 30 seconds.
Add the peas, parsley, and thyme, and stir well to combine.
Wash the rice by placing it in a deep bowl and adding enough cold water to cover. Swirl the rice with your hand until the water is cloudy and then pour off the water, taking care not pour out the rice. Repeat 3-4 times or until the washing water becomes clear. Gently stir in the rice so as not to break the rice grains. Add enough water to rise above the surface of the rice mixture by 1/2 inch, about 2 1/2 cups.
Stir in the salt and reduce the heat to a low simmer. Cook, covered, for 30 minutes, or until the rice is cooked but not sticky. All the water should be absorbed.
Fluff with a fork and remove the thyme. Spoon the rice onto a serving platter. Garnish with fresh thyme sprigs if desired.

Crazy for Coconut

2010-04-01T09:08:00.000-07:00

Coconut is my hands down favorite flavor of all time. I don't like ice cream, for example: except for coconut. If you present me a dish of ingredients I'd normally shun, and tell me it also has coconut, I'll give it a second look. That's the great thing about being Caribbean: coconut is, to us, what vanilla is to the rest of the world. So, a trip "home" to Trinidad means that I can eat all the coconut bread, ice cream, cookies, candies, shakes and otherwise you-name-its that I want.

The one thing I really love about Easter here at my real home in the US, is the seasonal appreciation for a good coconut cake, particularly among my Southern friends. I'm not quite sure why coconut cake is an Easter fave--except perhaps that its complexity and use of the once-rare ingredient of coconut would have made for a special holiday confection. Or maybe the fluffy white frosting with coconut flakes called to mind a fluffy white lamb.

I can't really answer the question, but maybe my friend Nancie McDermott, cookbook author extraordinaire can. Her book Southern Cakes: Sweet and Irresistible recipes for Every Day Occasions should not be missed. Like all of her books (and there are many) every recipe is perfect and perfectly delectable--plus she's an all around great gal.

You can try her recipe for Classic Coconut Cake below, it's a staple at our house. And you can learn more about Nancie, including her library of stupendous books here.

Classic Coconut Cake

from Southern Cakes by Nancie McDermott

3	cups all-purpose flour

2	teaspoons baking powder

½	teaspoon salt

1	teaspoon vanilla extract

1	cup milk, or juice from a fresh coconut plus enough milk added to make 1 cup

1	cup (2 sticks) butter, softened

2	cups sugar

4	eggs

	White Mountain coconut icing (recipe follows)

3	cups freshly grated coconut or sweetened shredded coconut

Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease and flour two 9-inch cake pans and set aside. In a medium bowl, combine the flour, baking powder and salt and use a fork to mix them together. Stir the vanilla into the milk.
In a large bowl, beat the softened butter with a mixer at medium speed until creamy. Add the sugar and continue beating, stopping to scrape down the sides, until the mixture is light and evenly combined. Add the eggs, one by one, beating well each time, until the mixture is thick and smooth.

Add about 1/3 of the flour mixture to the batter and beat well at low speed. Then add about half the milk to the batter, beating well. Continue beating as you add another third of the flour mixture, followed by the rest of the milk, and then the remaining flour mixture, beating well each time until the batter is very thick and smooth. Quickly scrape the batter into the prepared cake pans, dividing it evenly, and place them in the oven.

Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until the cakes are golden-brown, spring back when touched lightly in the center, and begin to pull away from the sides of the pans.
Remove from the oven and cool in the pans on wire racks or folded kitchen towels for 10 minutes. Then turn out the cakes onto wire racks or plates, turn the layers top side up and cool completely. You could also split the layers horizontally to make 4 thin layers of cake.

Make White Mountain coconut icing; set aside.

To ice the cake, place one cake layer, top side down, on a cake stand or serving plate. Cover it generously with icing and sprinkle with some of the coconut. Place the second layer on top of the iced layer, top side up. First, ice the sides to help keep the cake steady, and then spread icing generously over the top, completely covering the cake.

Place the cake stand or serving plate on a cookie sheet to catch loose coconut as you shower the cake. Sprinkle coconut all over the cake, and then gently pat handfuls of coconut onto the sides and top to cover bare spots. Transfer leftover coconut to a jar or resealable plastic bag and store it in the freezer. Makes 8 to 10 servings.

White Mountain coconut icing: Stir 1 cup sugar into 1/2 cup water to dissolve it. Bring the mixture to a gentle boil and cook without stirring for 3 minutes. Then boil for 5 to 10 minutes more, stirring often, until the syrup has thickened and will form itself into a thread about 2 inches long when poured from a spoon back into the pot. Set the syrup aside.
Beat 2 egg whites in a large bowl with a mixer at high speed until they are bright white, shiny and pillow into voluminous clouds. While beating at high speed, slowly pour the cooked syrup into the egg whites to blend them into a fluffy white icing, 4 to 5 minutes.

Caribbean Passover Continued: Curacao Exodus

2010-03-31T14:00:00.000-07:00

One of the lesser Antilles, the ABC (Antigua, Bonaire, Curacao) Islands have a food and culture that is a rich amalgam of Dutch, Spanish, French and African influence. Curacao also happens to be the home of the oldest Jewish Synagogue in the Caribbean --if not the oldest in the New World. In its own way, Curacao became part of a ongoing exodus from persecution that Jews the world over have found themselves facing since that original flight from Egypt. Sephardic Jews arrived in Curacao in 1634 and by the 1800s Jews comprised half the non-slave population on the island. As an nod to their fascinating history I give you the Curacaoan national dish: Keshi Yena, or stuffed Edam cheese. Omit the chicken for it to be Kosher and veggie (though not vegan). This recipe comes from the LA Times, and has been adapted from the original old school method of hollowing out a large, dried Edam cheese and cooking the stew inside it. Still it is as good an adaptation as any I've ever seen. You can find also find it here.

Keshi Yena

Servings: 6 to 8

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 cup sliced onion

1 teaspoon minced garlic

1/3cup chopped bell pepper

1scant teaspoon seeded, stemmed, minced habañero chile

2 tablespoons sliced green olives

1 1/2 teaspoons capers

1 1/2 teaspoons chopped parsley

1/4 cup raisins

2 teaspoons tomato paste

2 canned peeled tomatoes, chopped

1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

1 tablespoon ketchup

1 tablespoon mustard

1 pound cooked shredded chicken

Salt and pepper to taste

2 eggs

1 whole (2-pound) Edam cheese

1. Heat the oil in a medium skillet. Cook the onion, garlic, bell pepper and habañero until soft, about 6 to 7 minutes. Stir in the olives, capers, parsley, raisins, tomato paste, chopped tomatoes, Worcestershire sauce, ketchup, mustard and chicken. Cover and simmer on low heat for 20 minutes, stirring often to avoid burning the bottom. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Cool to room temperature, then beat the eggs and stir in.

2. Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Cut the cheese into slices one-fourth inch thick. Line the bottom and sides of an 11-inch x 11-inch (2 1/2-quart) baking dish with two-thirds of the slices. Spoon the filling over. Cover the top with the remaining cheese slices.

3. Place the baking dish in the oven and bake 40 minutes, until the cheese is soft and golden brown.

4. Serve hot with toasted French bread slices or tortillas.

Each of 8 servings: 588 calories;

46 grams protein; 10 grams carbohydrates; 1 gram fiber; 40 grams fat; 22 grams saturated fat; 201 mg. cholesterol; 1,277 mg. sodium.

Passover Dessert: Caribbean Style

2010-03-31T00:00:00.000-07:00

Growing up in New York City, I've attended my share of Passover seders. I'm always happy to volunteer to bring a dessert because there are so many flour-free options in the Caribbean repertoire, like this Stewed Guava or the simple coconut "cakes" that are an interesting variation from macaroons. Both are from my book Sweet Hands: Island Cooking from Trinidad & Tobago. It's simple, sinfully delicious, but exotic enough to be the star of the show. Try them and let me know what you think.

Sugar Cakes

Makes 40

This simple confection is heavenly, especially if you are a coconut lover like I am. In my experience, freshly grated coconut is really the only way to go with this recipe, though fresh frozen will also work. Don’t use sweetened shredded coconut or dried coconut however—the consistency just won’t be the same. Sometimes this sweet is called “chip chip,” after the popular local clams, but no one is sure why since one does not resemble the other.

1 cup sugar

4 cups grated unsweetened coconut

1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar

1 teaspoon mixed essence

1. Grease a baking sheet and set aside.

2. Bring the sugar and 1 cup of water to a boil and cook until small bubbles appear and the mixture forms a light syrup.

3. Add the coconut and cream of tartar. Cook, stirring constantly, until the coconut mixture comes away easily from the sides of the pan. Remove the pan from the heat and stir vigorously for 3 to 4 minutes. Stir in the mixed essence.

4. Drop tablespoonfuls of the coconut mixture onto the prepared baking sheet. Allow to dry and set completely, about 6 hours. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 1 week.

Stewed Guava

4 servings

Stewed or, really, poached fresh fruits are a simple but delicious Trinidadian dessert. Use seasonal fruits from your own area to make the most of this recipe, choosing soft-fleshed, noncitrus fruit. Cooking fruit in sugar syrup acts as a preservative, so you can store poached fruit in a tightly sealed container in the refrigerator for up to three days.

3/4 cup sugar

1 pound ripe guavas, peeled, seeded and cut into 1-inch chunks

1 cup heavy cream

1/8 teaspoon mixed essence (found in Caribbean markets)

Combine the sugar and 1 cup of water in a saucepan and simmer for 4 to 5 minutes. Add the guava and continue to simmer until the fruit is fork tender.

In a small bowl, combine the cream and mixed essence.

Divide the fruit and syrup among four bowls and drizzle with the cream, as desired.

The Milky Way

2010-03-30T13:09:00.000-07:00

You may have read the recent article in the New York Times, touting the culinary versatility of sweetened condensed milk. In the American kitchen, a can of sweetened condensed milk might hang out for years, used for a few key recipes. As Times writer Julia Moskin points out--key lime pie is one. But in the Caribbean, South and central America, and much of the rest of the world sweetened condensed milk is a pantry staple, used daily in everything from tea and coffee to elaborate desserts. The reason is simple: few places have the vast prairies required to keep massive herd of dairy cows and fresh milk products are fairly seasonal and often rare. Tinned milks--and later asceptic packaged milks like Paramalat--made the creamy goodness of milk available to all levels of folks all over the world.

But here in the US, sweetened condensed milk can confound the home cook as a daily concern. To solve that, I give you some sweetened condensed milk recipes from my book Sweet Hands: Island Cooking from Trinidad & Tobago (2nd edition, June 2010, Hippocrene, NY) in which nearly every dessert recipe makes use of milky, sweet stuff.

Soursop Punch

8 (5-ounce) servings

Soursop is also known as guanabana. While the fresh fruit isn’t always readily available, companies such as Goya offer the frozen pulp and juice. I have adapted this recipe accordingly to make use of the frozen fruit.

1 (14-ounce) package soursop pulp, thawed

2 cups evaporated milk

1/4 cup sugar

Pinch of salt

6 tablespoons sweetened condensed milk

2 tablespoons Angostura Bitters

Place all the ingredients in a blender with 2 cups of water and puree until smooth. Serve over crushed ice.

Carrot Barfi

6 to 8 servings

This confection is sometimes called carrot halwa. You can substitute freshly grated coconut for the carrot and garnish each piece with a candied cherry, raisin, or slice of almond.

1 1/4 cups sugar

2 tablespoons ghee

5 large carrots, peeled and grated finely

1/4 cup condensed milk

1 cup heavy cream

20 cashews, chopped or almond slivers (optional)

1. Grease an 8-inch square baking dish and set aside.

2. Combine the sugar and 1/2 cup of water in a small saucepan and simmer until the mixture reaches the consistency of a syrup, about 5 minutes. Set aside.

3. Heat the ghee in a deep saucepan and add the carrots. Stir well, cover, and cook over medium-low heat until the carrots are soft and there is no liquid left in the pan.

4. Stir in the condensed milk, cream, and sugar syrup. Mix well and add the nuts. Continue to cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture comes away from the sides of the pan to form a ball.

5. Pour the carrot mixture into the prepared baking dish and spread evenly with the back of a large spoon. Allow to cool, then cut into squares or other shapes.

Ponche Crema

5(6-ounce) servings

Ponche crema is a type of eggnog popular throughout the Caribbean. It is delicious served over ice as a creamy summer cocktail.

4 eggs

1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk

1 1/4 cup evaporated milk

3/4 cup good-quality dark rum, such as Myer’s

1 teaspoon Angostura Bitters

1/4 teaspoon mixed essence

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon ground cloves

Whipped cream, for garnish

Ground cinnamon, for garnish

Blend the eggs in a blender at high speed for 20 seconds. Add the condensed milk, evaporated milk and about half the rum.
Mix again for 10 seconds. Add the remaining rum, bitters, mixed essence, nutmeg, and cloves. Pulse in the blender once more.
Refrigerate and serve cold, over ice cubes, with a dollop of whipped cream, dusted with cinnamon.

Black Cake

2009-12-01T11:48:00.000-08:00

Excerpted from Sweet Hands: Island Cooking from Trinidad & Tobago

For many years I thought Black Cake was a variation on English plum pudding brought to the Trinidad by English colonists. On a research trip to Ireland in 2008, I came to learn about Christmas Cake, a confection of liquor soaked dried fruits made specifically for the winter holidays. Sure enough, further research, revealed that Trinidad was among those English colonial islands that had a fairly large population of Irish indentured laborers. Jamaica, Barbados and Montesserat are the notable others. While subsumed by the larger Indian and African populations certain Irish throwbacks remain like a love for Guinness, Sea Moss Drink, and Black Cake which only differs from Irish versions by the liquor used and the use of burn sugar syrup to make the cake dark.

This unusual cake has led many a culinarian to wax prolific about its rich aromatic flavors and unusual texture that is something between a plum pudding and a pound cake. Although it could technically be called a fruitcake because of the candied and dried fruits that comprise its bulk, no fruitcake ever tasted this good!

Special credit must be given here to Mrs. Irma Hannays of Woodbrook, a former librarian-turned-pastry chef who is noted throughout Trinidad and many other Caribbean Islands for her sweet hands when it comes to making wedding and other special occasion cakes. Mrs. Hannays, who turns out tens of Black Cakes every year for friends, family and clients, developed the fast-soaking variation offered below which is a great boon to Black Cake lovers who want to have their cake and eat it too “now for now” as we say in Trinidad.

RECIPE (Don't forget to check out the video below!)

1 pound raisins

1 pound currants

1 pound prunes

1/4 pound mixed citrus peel

1/2 pound candied cherries

4 cups cherry brandy or cherry wine

4 cups dark rum, such as Old Oak

1 cinnamon stick

2 star anise pods

1/2 vanilla bean

Cake

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon ground allspice

2 sticks butter, softened

1 cup dark brown sugar

6 eggs

1/2 teaspoon mixed essence

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 tablespoon burnt sugar syrup*

Basting Liquid

1/4 cup dark rum

1/4 cup cherry brandy

2 tablespoons sherry

**If using quick-soak method use the reserved steeping liquid for basting the cakes.

Place the fruit in a gallon jar that can be tightly sealed—preferably with a suction lid. Add the raisins, currants, prunes, peel, candied cherries, cherry brandy, rum, cinnamon stick, and star anise pods. Split the vanilla bean and scrape out the seeds. Add these to the jar, along with the bean. Mix very well and seal. Store, unrefrigerated, in a cool, dark place for at least 3 weeks or up to 1 year.

2. To soak fruits for black cake quickly: Combine 1 cup raisins, 1 cup currants, 1 cup pitted prunes, 3 tablespoons mixed citrus peel, and 1 cup candied cherries in a large sauce pan with 1 1/2 cup cherry brandy and 1 1/2 cups rum. Place saucepan over a medium heat and bring the mixture to a simmer. Simmer for 10 minutes, then cover and remove from heat. Allow to cool completely.3. To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 350°F and grease two 9-inch round cake pans. Set aside.

4. Sift together the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice.

5. Place the butter and sugar a bowl, and cream with an electric mixer until fluffy, about 4 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the mixed essence and vanilla.

6. Using a slotted spoon, remove 5 cups of the soaking fruit from the jar or remove all of the steeped fruits from the saucepan, reserving liquid. Place in the bowl of a food processor, and pulse to a coarse paste. Remove from the food processor and beat well into the butter mixture.

7. Add the flour 1/2 cup at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the burnt sugar syrup and mix well.

8. Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans and bake for 40 minutes, then lower the heat to 250°F and bake for another 45 minute to an hour, or until a cake tester inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean.

9. Remove from the oven and cool for 20 minutes in the pan. Combine the rum, brandy, and sherry, for basting, or if using the quick-soak method use the reserved liquid and evenly brush the cooled cakes with this mixture. Allow the cakes to cool completely.

10. Remove from the pans. Wrap tightly in plastic wrap and then tinfoil. You may also place the loaves in a tightly lidded plastic container. Store in a cool, dry place for at least 3 days before eating.

11. Black cake can be stored for up to 3 months in the refrigerator. If doing so, rebaste with the rum mixture, once every 2 weeks.

TIP: Commercially prepared burnt sugar syrup is available in West Indian markets. If you cannot find it, you can make your own by placing 2 tablespoons of dark brown sugar and 1 tablespoon of water in a dry frying pan over medium-low heat. Heat slowly, swirling the sugar in the pan until it starts to caramelize. Continue swirling until the sugar syrup becomes very dark brown—almost black. Add to batter as needed.