Elizabeth N.
Herder of cats
I have gotten a tiny taste of a new cuisine and it is yummolicious. Couple of links that appear to give relatively accurate recipes: http://recipes.wikia.com/wiki/Liberian_Cuisine and http://www.africa.upenn.edu/Cookbook/Liberia.html .
Mr. EN and I were recently treated to the real thing as guests of Liberian friends, and I immediately had to made some small attempt to recreate the phenomenal goodness. There are as many variations on the theme of beans + smoked fish + dried fish + pigs feet + "insert whatever other critter bits are available" + greens + HOTHOTHOT peppers over rice as there are Liberians
.
These ingredients are absolutely delightful. If you have access to an African or international grocery store, go there, find someone with whom you can communicate and ask about West African food. The dried fish is generally something like Norwegian salt cod. The smoked fish is usually also dried and rather bony. Both of these items reconstitute in a wonderfully flavorful way, I promise. It's worth eating around the fish bones, I promise. They are fairly big, and any little ones you miss will give you a bit of added nutrition.
The pigs feet are either untreated or smoked. Do not substitute those pickled things *gag*.
True African greens are sweet potato greens, known locally as potato greens. OMG WORTH LOOKING FOR. If you know someone who grows sweet potatoes, make buddies with them and snag yourself all the greens you can get. Blanch, chop and freeze. But any other greens of choice work well, especially kale and other robustly flavored ones.
The legumes vary somewhat. My friends used, and I found, some little bitty dark red things with a black dot that are reminiscent of black eyed peas but not at all identical. They retain some chewiness no matter how thoroughly they are cooked.
My grocery shopping road trip was a kick. My friends are a husband and wife with an incredible story of how they and all five of their children survived the civil wars that destroyed Liberia and rocked all of West Africa. Husband has been in the USA about 12 years, wife just over a year, and three of their five children came in between the two of them. (The oldest two elected to remain in Liberia, are safe and have relatively stable lives.)
Husband is widely connected to the regional African community, which numbers in the hundreds of thousands if you reach from Philadelphia to Trenton to Camden. He insisted, when I asked for a good Liberian grocery store, that I needed to go to this place in Trenton. Wife worried at him that I would be scared or get hurt in Trenton. I laughed at her and told her she worried too much, that I'd been in NJ long enough to know how to find my way during the day just fine in both Trenton and Camden. Her response? "Not if you follow my husband's directions. He can't give directions."
Slight marital tiff ensued, in two or possibly three languages. I was a bit bummed that I could only understand a few bits LOL. They are really funny people, awesome humor.
Eventually I said to husband, "Okay, just tell me how to get there. I'll figure it out."
Wife was right, her husband can't give directions worth beans. If I did not know that part of Trenton pretty well I'd have wound up in Princeton. Don't get me started on the potholes. I trailed around the Capitol, managed to stay on the NJ side of the river by doing an illegal U-turn rather than go across the "Trenton Makes" bridge, and eventually discerned that the hubby routinely confused left and right turns and use the street names on the opposite side of the direction I was supposed to turn.
You see, one of Trenton's unique charms is that you come in on an arterial roadway that turns into a city street. (This trend repeats itself on multiple such big roads.) At the point where the artery becomes a street (aka a capillary), there is a big ass intersection with a street that has one name if you turn left and another name if you turn right.
It's a Jersey thing, along with jughandles for left turns. This is why people who want to come here in pickups pulling campers get told by people like me "ARE YOU FUCKING OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?!!!!" No. Park somewhere in Lancaster County (about 120 miles to the west in PA), rent a mini car and continue your road trip, okay? Oh, and pray for truckers that have to navigate this shit.
Did I mention there was still a shitload of ice and snow from the recent storm? Oh, and did I mention potholes that reach into the underground railroad?
I digress. (The Adderall will kick in soon and then I will go do math homework.)
Um, oh yeah, the right/left turns and changing street names. My friend's somewhat dyslexic (not to mention very Liberian) way of giving directions, combined with the name issue, meant something like this:
Friend: "When you get to State Street, turn left onto Market Street. Then you go through *pausing to count and using both hands* five...six...seven traffic lights."
Reality: It's not State Street at all. It's a different artery entirely. And Market Street is a right turn. The left turn is a different name. And it's three blocks from the Delaware River with one traffic light. If I had not already known that, it would have been a lot worse. So I mentally changed left turn to right turn and realized I would count a bunch of lights. Okay.
Me: "Ah okay, I know where you are. So now give me some landmarks. What will I pass on my way to the shop?"
Friend: *names several valid landmarks* and then, "When you see a store on the right hand corner (said while gesturing to the left) with a sign that says The Point, it's at the next light."
Wife: *shudders and shakes her head violently* NO NO NO NO.....
Me: "Oh, okay, can you explain it to me?"
Wife: "No, I can only go there. Let me go there with you."
Me: "Oh please, I can't inconvenience you like that...."
Wife: *looks really worried*
Me: "What's the sign that I have gone too far?"
Friend: "Oh, if you get to the traffic circle it's too far."
Me: *thinks about how many traffic circles that could be between Bristol and Trenton and decides to wing it*
Fast forward to almost an hour and a half later. I have figured out the correct street because of landmarks he described and am picking my way around those fucking potholes and slithering like a snake on the many layers of ice on the untreated supposedly MAIN DRAG street and reminding myself that it's only a couple more years till Montana for good *please God*.
Voila! Sign over store "The Point." Wahoo I'm almost there! Couple more blocks and...WTF? It's the traffic circle. What have I missed? So I do a U turn and creep back down that mess, watching on my right.
Serendipity strikes! I see a tiny little concrete block shop with the sign, "Trenton Meat Market." Ooooo, that looks interesting, and I bet they can give me directions..... In I go and WOWZERS it's smoked meat HEAVEN, I mean piled two feet high behind about six feet of glass case. God only knows how many different critter bits are there and what kind of critters are represented. So I play it safe and get two pounds of smoked turkey wings, which they insist on whacking into soup sized chunks on the spot for me. Dang, what service.....For $1.59 a pound?! Whoa baby, this trip has been worth it.
The proprietors, who are West African Pentecostals (evident in what's on the walls and on their t shirts), are delighted at my delight and give me some sausage samples that guarantee my return business. I ask them about the "Liberian grocery store." "Oh it's right there on the corner!" "What corner?" "THAT corner, right there!"
Turns out "The Point" is not a landmark, it's my destination. I will be razzing my friend about his direction giving abilities for a long time.
I park on the edge of the biggest damned pothole and skate around the edges. Someone yells, "Watch out wait let me help you!!" I am promptly escorted by two ladies who look a lot less steady on their feet than I am, but they have pegged me as Not From There and wish to be hospitable. So I allow myself to be escorted across the alley and into the shop.
OOOOOOO the gazillion smells all at once! Not for the faint of stomach, but not because it's not clean or fresh, it's just all very intense and different. I identify myself as wanting to cook Liberian food all by myself and promptly get invited to dinner by folks hanging out. No, no, I just want the groceries, can you help me out?
It was great, I had so much fun.
Anyhow, here's how I did a crockpot version of "meat, greens and gravy:"
--small sized dried beans of choice, I used those tiny red ones I mentioned above (black beans or navy beans would be about the right size), probably a pound dry
--loads of chopped onion and garlic
-- I used the smoked turkey wings (instead of pig feet and smoked fish)
--a handful of the Norwegian salt cod, soaked for about half an hour and drained (removed most of the salt)
--chopped chipotle pepper, the kind that comes in the can with adobo sauce (because I knew how much heat I was adding with that stuff and I'd never used those really scary hot colorful tiny peppers--bonnies, I think they're called by Jamaicans who make jerk sauce)
--a quart size ziplock back of frozen chopped sweet potato greens, about a pound
Threw all that in the big crockpot, topped it off with water, and cooked all day. Served it over bowls of rice.
To. Die. For.
Good thing I know where to get fantastic smoked meat in MT and that salt cod is easy to mail order.
Mr. EN and I were recently treated to the real thing as guests of Liberian friends, and I immediately had to made some small attempt to recreate the phenomenal goodness. There are as many variations on the theme of beans + smoked fish + dried fish + pigs feet + "insert whatever other critter bits are available" + greens + HOTHOTHOT peppers over rice as there are Liberians
.These ingredients are absolutely delightful. If you have access to an African or international grocery store, go there, find someone with whom you can communicate and ask about West African food. The dried fish is generally something like Norwegian salt cod. The smoked fish is usually also dried and rather bony. Both of these items reconstitute in a wonderfully flavorful way, I promise. It's worth eating around the fish bones, I promise. They are fairly big, and any little ones you miss will give you a bit of added nutrition.
The pigs feet are either untreated or smoked. Do not substitute those pickled things *gag*.
True African greens are sweet potato greens, known locally as potato greens. OMG WORTH LOOKING FOR. If you know someone who grows sweet potatoes, make buddies with them and snag yourself all the greens you can get. Blanch, chop and freeze. But any other greens of choice work well, especially kale and other robustly flavored ones.
The legumes vary somewhat. My friends used, and I found, some little bitty dark red things with a black dot that are reminiscent of black eyed peas but not at all identical. They retain some chewiness no matter how thoroughly they are cooked.
My grocery shopping road trip was a kick. My friends are a husband and wife with an incredible story of how they and all five of their children survived the civil wars that destroyed Liberia and rocked all of West Africa. Husband has been in the USA about 12 years, wife just over a year, and three of their five children came in between the two of them. (The oldest two elected to remain in Liberia, are safe and have relatively stable lives.)
Husband is widely connected to the regional African community, which numbers in the hundreds of thousands if you reach from Philadelphia to Trenton to Camden. He insisted, when I asked for a good Liberian grocery store, that I needed to go to this place in Trenton. Wife worried at him that I would be scared or get hurt in Trenton. I laughed at her and told her she worried too much, that I'd been in NJ long enough to know how to find my way during the day just fine in both Trenton and Camden. Her response? "Not if you follow my husband's directions. He can't give directions."
Slight marital tiff ensued, in two or possibly three languages. I was a bit bummed that I could only understand a few bits LOL. They are really funny people, awesome humor.
Eventually I said to husband, "Okay, just tell me how to get there. I'll figure it out."
Wife was right, her husband can't give directions worth beans. If I did not know that part of Trenton pretty well I'd have wound up in Princeton. Don't get me started on the potholes. I trailed around the Capitol, managed to stay on the NJ side of the river by doing an illegal U-turn rather than go across the "Trenton Makes" bridge, and eventually discerned that the hubby routinely confused left and right turns and use the street names on the opposite side of the direction I was supposed to turn.
You see, one of Trenton's unique charms is that you come in on an arterial roadway that turns into a city street. (This trend repeats itself on multiple such big roads.) At the point where the artery becomes a street (aka a capillary), there is a big ass intersection with a street that has one name if you turn left and another name if you turn right.
It's a Jersey thing, along with jughandles for left turns. This is why people who want to come here in pickups pulling campers get told by people like me "ARE YOU FUCKING OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?!!!!" No. Park somewhere in Lancaster County (about 120 miles to the west in PA), rent a mini car and continue your road trip, okay? Oh, and pray for truckers that have to navigate this shit.
Did I mention there was still a shitload of ice and snow from the recent storm? Oh, and did I mention potholes that reach into the underground railroad?
I digress. (The Adderall will kick in soon and then I will go do math homework.)
Um, oh yeah, the right/left turns and changing street names. My friend's somewhat dyslexic (not to mention very Liberian) way of giving directions, combined with the name issue, meant something like this:
Friend: "When you get to State Street, turn left onto Market Street. Then you go through *pausing to count and using both hands* five...six...seven traffic lights."
Reality: It's not State Street at all. It's a different artery entirely. And Market Street is a right turn. The left turn is a different name. And it's three blocks from the Delaware River with one traffic light. If I had not already known that, it would have been a lot worse. So I mentally changed left turn to right turn and realized I would count a bunch of lights. Okay.
Me: "Ah okay, I know where you are. So now give me some landmarks. What will I pass on my way to the shop?"
Friend: *names several valid landmarks* and then, "When you see a store on the right hand corner (said while gesturing to the left) with a sign that says The Point, it's at the next light."
Wife: *shudders and shakes her head violently* NO NO NO NO.....
Me: "Oh, okay, can you explain it to me?"
Wife: "No, I can only go there. Let me go there with you."
Me: "Oh please, I can't inconvenience you like that...."
Wife: *looks really worried*
Me: "What's the sign that I have gone too far?"
Friend: "Oh, if you get to the traffic circle it's too far."
Me: *thinks about how many traffic circles that could be between Bristol and Trenton and decides to wing it*
Fast forward to almost an hour and a half later. I have figured out the correct street because of landmarks he described and am picking my way around those fucking potholes and slithering like a snake on the many layers of ice on the untreated supposedly MAIN DRAG street and reminding myself that it's only a couple more years till Montana for good *please God*.
Voila! Sign over store "The Point." Wahoo I'm almost there! Couple more blocks and...WTF? It's the traffic circle. What have I missed? So I do a U turn and creep back down that mess, watching on my right.
Serendipity strikes! I see a tiny little concrete block shop with the sign, "Trenton Meat Market." Ooooo, that looks interesting, and I bet they can give me directions..... In I go and WOWZERS it's smoked meat HEAVEN, I mean piled two feet high behind about six feet of glass case. God only knows how many different critter bits are there and what kind of critters are represented. So I play it safe and get two pounds of smoked turkey wings, which they insist on whacking into soup sized chunks on the spot for me. Dang, what service.....For $1.59 a pound?! Whoa baby, this trip has been worth it.
The proprietors, who are West African Pentecostals (evident in what's on the walls and on their t shirts), are delighted at my delight and give me some sausage samples that guarantee my return business. I ask them about the "Liberian grocery store." "Oh it's right there on the corner!" "What corner?" "THAT corner, right there!"
Turns out "The Point" is not a landmark, it's my destination. I will be razzing my friend about his direction giving abilities for a long time
.I park on the edge of the biggest damned pothole and skate around the edges. Someone yells, "Watch out wait let me help you!!" I am promptly escorted by two ladies who look a lot less steady on their feet than I am, but they have pegged me as Not From There and wish to be hospitable. So I allow myself to be escorted across the alley and into the shop.
OOOOOOO the gazillion smells all at once! Not for the faint of stomach, but not because it's not clean or fresh, it's just all very intense and different. I identify myself as wanting to cook Liberian food all by myself and promptly get invited to dinner by folks hanging out. No, no, I just want the groceries, can you help me out?
It was great, I had so much fun
.Anyhow, here's how I did a crockpot version of "meat, greens and gravy:"
--small sized dried beans of choice, I used those tiny red ones I mentioned above (black beans or navy beans would be about the right size), probably a pound dry
--loads of chopped onion and garlic
-- I used the smoked turkey wings (instead of pig feet and smoked fish)
--a handful of the Norwegian salt cod, soaked for about half an hour and drained (removed most of the salt)
--chopped chipotle pepper, the kind that comes in the can with adobo sauce (because I knew how much heat I was adding with that stuff and I'd never used those really scary hot colorful tiny peppers--bonnies, I think they're called by Jamaicans who make jerk sauce)
--a quart size ziplock back of frozen chopped sweet potato greens, about a pound
Threw all that in the big crockpot, topped it off with water, and cooked all day. Served it over bowls of rice.
To. Die. For.
Good thing I know where to get fantastic smoked meat in MT and that salt cod is easy to mail order.
