Public markets and cat calls

Last month, we packed up and moved from Panama to Brazil. During our last weeks in Panama, we celebrated with friends, said our goodbyes to the high rise that I had a tumultuous relationship with for two years, and visited the public market. I've always said public markets are the essence of a city, which is why I chose this place to say my goodbyes to Panama. 

Watermelon vendors, Panama 2014

Markets are where you buy delicious food, and also receive cat-calls that either make you or break you. Being a tough cookie, I generally respond well to cat-calls because I find them anthropologically fascinating. They transcend racial and class lines, and, if they are harmless, PG-rated, and fall along the lines of "you look as delicious as these watermelons", I find them endearing.

A week after visiting Panama's mercado de abastos, which literally translates to provisions market, I went to visit my sister in New York City. The public market scene in NYC is different than that in Panama because markets in NYC are usually cleaner and more expensive. I've also never received cat-calls in NYC farmer's markets. Actually, I receive significantly less cat calls in the US than in Latin America, or other countries.Despite these differences, markets do have some things in common. You have to talk to someone to buy your food.

There's something valuable and appealing about speaking to another person to ask for the items you want to buy, having to communicate with someone instead of simply grabbing a pear at the grocery store produce section and rushing, anonymously, to the check-out counter. I love that a conversation with a fruit vendor about seasonal cherries very often becomes a conversation about something else completely unrelated to a cherry.

It's hip to buy locally-grown stuff at a farmer's market. I think the popularity of farmer's markets is due to the element of human interaction and not just about the quality of the produce. Despite our addiction to anti-social smart phones and our need-to-grab-our-food-and-go culture, I believe we like the idea of stepping outdoors and talking to a vendor about their watermelons…even if they begin the conversation by telling you that you look as tasty as their bounty. Or perhaps you're lured to their stall because that's how they started the conversation in the first place.

This marks my last entry about my life and culinary pursuits in Panama. Watch for entries about my new adventures living in Brazil... and whether or not I'll get cat-calls at Brazilian markets.

A palenquera fruit vendor holding my son. Cartagena, Colombia, 2009

I mean, how could you NOT buy couscous and lamb from this guy? Marrakech, Morocco, 2011

Here are some photos of some lovely public market vendors I've come across in my travels.

Feeling warm in Port of Spain, Trinidad & Tobago, 2009

Coconut vendor by the Savanah, Port of Spain. When I shared this photo on a blog post, my friend's mom recognized this vendor. She was raised in Trinidad and left more than 40 years ago. He's still selling coconuts.

Beautiful boy, beautiful pomeracs, Port of Spain, 2010

My shark vendor in Port of Spain. She had bright red hair and always a smile on her face. Trinidad and Tobago, 2010

Moroccan mint tea server in Marrakech, Morocco, 2011

Fried red snapper, Embera Drua indian community, Panama, 2012

Mr. Best fish curry in the world, New Delhi, India, 2013

A Week in Morocco Part III - Couscous

For my final entry about Moroccan cuisine, I'll share chef Fouzia Habrich's couscous recipe. 

The chef began by showing me the difference between several varieties of couscous. The one photographed above is a Berber couscous - its grains are teeny tiny. This is the one we cooked, and the result was fantastic because it was light, fluffy, and full of taste.

In Morocco, couscous must always be served with at least seven vegetables, and this recipe includes nine. 


1 red onion, finely sliced
olive oil*
beef
tomato
pepper
coriander
paprika
all-spice
salt
carrot
daikon radish
cabbage
zucchini
tomato paste
pumpkin
eggplant
chickpeas
fava beans
couscous


The chef used what looked like a double steamer to make this dish. The lower part is like a regular pot, and the top is a special colander-type apparatus that steams the couscous perfectly. In the bottom pot, sweat sliced red onion in olive oil, add quartered tomato, and season with pepper, coriander, paprika, and all-spice. Sweat well, add water and salt, and cover. Slice carrot, daikon radish, and zucchini into long, thick strips, and add to pan along with cabbage cut in quarters. Add tomato paste, your preferred cut of beef, chickpeas and fava beans. Let cook for about one hour, or until the beef is tender.


In a separate pot, bring water to a boil. Place the couscous in a bowl and season with salt, pepper, good olive oil and a bit of the boiling water. Mix with a spatula, and add a bit more of the boiling water. Place couscous in the steamer apparatus and let that aromas from the vegetables and beef cook the couscous. Do not cover the pot. The steam will be enough to cook the couscous and will prevent it from turning it into balls. 


This is the trick to powdery, fluffy, delicious couscous. 

*The chef used the best olive oil I've ever had. And believe me, I've had some darn good olive oil in Italy, Spain, Croatia, southern France, and Israel. This one came in a jar, without a label, and chef refused to tell me where it had come from or how I could get some. All he said was that it was home-made, and that it was the best olive oil in the world. He was right.

the best olive oil i've ever had - no idea where it came from, but good enough to drink on its own

A week in Morocco Part II - Tagine

When the sun goes down in Marrakech, dozens of food stalls pop up in the main square, Djemaa el Fna. In order to take full advantage of the gastronomical magnificence that this place has to offer, we visited the stalls and had delicious meals. However, I wanted to learn how to make these dishes myself, so I took a class with chef Fouzia Habrich, cuisine chef at Dar les Cigognes, a riad turned boutique hotel in Marrakech.

rooftop terrace for dinner at dar les cigognes, marrakech

Many foreigners have purchased large townhouses in the Marrakech and Fez medinas and turned them into boutique hotels. This one in particular is gorgeous and the service is incomparable to any hotel I've ever stayed. The staff were doting on our son, offering us delicious mint tea at all hours of the day, helping us arrange the day's tourism adventures, and serving us wonderful food. 

My morning with the riad's chef began with a food market tour, where he introduced me to Moroccan spices and ingredients. 

He taught me how to make tagine and couscous, the real mccoy. When Moroccans say they will make "tagine" for dinner, they are not talking about the receptacle in which it is made, which also has this name. They are talking about the dish, which includes at least seven vegetables and a protein, either chicken, lamb, beef, etc. I will share his recipe for chicken tagine with you. 

tagine

*If using a tagine, this dish will take 3-4 hours. Chef used a pressure cooker to quicken the process, but I believe it is safer to use a slow cooker or a tagine.

Ingredients:

parsley

cilantro

red onion

2 garlic cloves

pepper

ground ginger

paprika

saffron

cumin

salt

lemon confit **

olive oil

chicken breast and/or thighs

red olives

In a pressure cooker, sweat finely chopped red onion, add garlic cloves and sweat. Season with salt and pepper. Add chicken and saute for about 15 minutes at low heat. Add chopped parsley, cilantro, paprika, ground ginger, saffron, cumin, and lemon confit and a bit of water and close the pressure cooker and let cook for about 30 minutes. Add red olives and close the pressure cooker for a final 20 minutes. 

**Lemon confit is a new ingredient for me. It is used widely in Moroccan cuisine, and I saw it everywhere in the markets. It gives these dishes an interesting citrus/salty flavor, and I was told no tagine is complete without it. Here's the recipe for lemon confit:

Sterilize a glass jar and fill with water, salt, and whole lemons. Close jar and keep for 4-6 months.

lemon confit

chicken tajine with lemon confit and red olives

Next Moroccan blog entry: couscous.

A week in Morocco

I spent last week with my boys in Marrakech and Fez. It was my first time in Morocco and I loved it. My main impressions include being in awe of the discipline of Ramadan, humbled by the silence and openness of the desert, the way people share common city spaces, the camouflaged strength of women, the meaning of true hospitality, and the everyday greatness of making a living with a chisel or with the help of a mule.


During Ramadan, muslim Moroccans do not eat or drink between sunrise and sunset. Not even in the scorching 40 degree heat can devout muslims drink water. That, my friends, is devotion. That, as my Moroccan friend said, is will. 


Everywhere we visited, there seemed to be strong will. A will to work, a will to help, a will to speak, a will to play, a will to create, a will to share, and, lucky enough for me and my healthy obsession with food, a will to prepare food.


I'm sure it must have taken a lot of will to abstain from drinking Moroccan mint tea, which has been added to my list of new favorite things. It is sublime. It's prepared in a tea kettle like the one pictured below, and served like this in order to aerate the tea:

The secret to making this delicious tea is to use a lot of fresh mint - literally fill the content of the tea pot with fresh mint stems and leaves. Also use green tea, and a couple of cubes of sugar. The other important step to making this tea is to let the water heat gently for about 7 minutes, as opposed to taking the water to the boil and then submerging the tea and mint leaves.


Next entry will be about my experience cooking a tagine and couscous with a Moroccan chef.