Back to Beignet: Installment 3

Clothes shopping is always fun. Especially in Dakar. Trillions of different colors, cuts, and types of cloth can be found throughout the city, which can then be easily taken to your local tailor and made into beautiful Senegalese and Western styles alike. While cloth is everywhere in the capital city and fashion is clearly a central element of life here, the best place to get all your clothing needs is the Market HLM. And this is the real reason why clothes shopping is even better here than anywhere else. Because at this sprawling open-air market for cloth, I have found the most delicious beignet. 

The Coconut beignet. 

A simple concept really, I'm pretty sure its the normal, more cake-like batter of the traditional bigger beignet for 25CFA, then rolled in shredded coconut before frying. They are incredible. You find them on the HLM's main road passing by the market, with women assembling these towers of golden-fried dough balls on small stands on the side of the road. A perfect treat to accompany your Saturday afternoon shopping. 

Yet another interruption from beignet.

There was a local food fair in Dakar. I had to write a post on it. One of these days I'll get back on track with my beignet story.

FIARA 2012, or le Foire Internationale de l'Agriculture et des Ressources Animales - the International Agricultural and Animal Resources Fair - took place about a week ago in Dakar. And it was about a half mile from our house. I love this city.

The FIARA is basically like a giant farmer's market, as well as a place for farmers and people in the agricultural field to get together and share new technologies and techniques. It was amazing, and I think our apartment is now stocked up in staples (LOCAL staples) from now until I leave. I love food in Dakar, as you've probably noticed. But it has always bothered me that I can't be sure where the food I buy comes from. Even in the open-air markets where I know the local economy benefits in someway because the money is passing through local vendors , the produce often comes from the exterior. And its hard, especially as a foreigner, to pick through things to find the local.

This is the beauty of the FIARA. The focus is on local markets, small farmers, and women's cooperatives. I really wish this could be organized on more than an annual basis, because everyone benefits. These smaller groups get a lot of face-time and publicity, it showcases local produce and grains that are harder to find, and it offers all of it to the consumer for a much cheaper price.

One of the halls lined with stalls at the FIARA

So I thought I would use this blog to just walk everyone through what I bought. Some of it was familiar to me, some of it I had never heard of. 

Here we have Giulia, my roomate, picking through the many different varieties of local rice. As I mentioned in another blog, Senegal grows a lot of rice, however, most people still prefer the lower-quality, more expensive imported rice from Asia. We picked out a bag to share - 6 kilos of rice for 2000CFA (about $4) coming from the St. Louis region in the north. We've tried it, and its delicious.

The next picture is of a local organization from the Saloum Delta (just south of the Dakar peninsula) who makes, with the help of a Canadian NGO, my absolute favorite product of the fair. Peanut Butter Cream. Yes, that's right. Envision the inside of a Nutter Butter, except creamier, all natural, and whipped to perfection. My first time to the fair I bought one tub. It was gone in 3 days. I went back and bought 6 more tubs. Some are for friends in the States, theoretically.

Here's a picture of almost everything I bought.

The famed peanut butter cream.

Ok, this one needs a bit more explaining. Processed, pre-cooked grains were everywhere at this fair. This was really nice, because a lot of them take a long time to process/make by hand, and of course, I have no idea how to do it. So the lighter grains here are attieké, which are cassava (sometimes called manioc or yucca)  pounded down into cous-cous. It has a slightly acidic taste and is a lot lighter than a semolina cous-cous. The darker grain in the bag up front is ceere, the millet cous-cous I wrote about in another post. However, this is not your ordinary millet cous-cous; its made from sweet potato. We had a sample at the fair. Lighter and more glutinous than ceere, it is going to make a delicious treat once I break down and open it (trying to save it for home).

The bag on the left is fonio, another grain I talked about in a previous post. 2 kilos of it for 1000CFA ($2). And then on the right is a unusual mixture of flours. I can't remember the name of it in Wolof, so I'll post an update once I ask someone. But its a 20% black-eyed pea flour, which is pretty common here, 10% sugar, 12% peanut flour, 32% corn flour, 25% millet flour, with a bit of salt. The result is another delicious take on the inside of a Nutter Butter. You eat it like cereal, putting it in milk and then eating as is.

SNACKS! At 500CFA ($1), I couldn't resist. Plantain chips on the bottom left, sugared peanuts (so many peanut products in Senegal), a version of beef jerky, and bouye sticks, called zara. These I hadn't seen before, but they're the fruit of the Boabab tree pounded into a paste (the fruit is a bit chalky) and then sweetened with sugar and dried into sticks. The description's not super intriguing, but they were so good!

So now I'm really stocked up for the rest of my time here. With all this food, plus a 5 kilo jug of fresh-pressed peanut oil, I'm good to go! 

A short interruption from beignet

I couldn't help it. I was going to try to stick to my series on beignet, and then I went to Soumbidioune, the largest fish market in Dakar. Right on the water in the early evenings, fishermen bring their boats in and sell fish and seafood in the nearby stalls. The end result is this lovely scene pictured below of croix rouge fish (in French), sea urchins, and mussels all purchased for a total of about $6. I was too happy not to write about it. A couple of guys down by the water also grilled the mussels and urchins for me on the spot. Where else can you get something like this?? 

Installment 2: Beignet Banane

Think banana bread rolled into balls and deep fried. I know, totally awesome.

The best I've had are at my beignet lady's corner in Mermoz, though they're hard to come by unless you're there right at 5pm when she opens. Those are the ones that always go first. She makes them slightly bigger than the regular beignet (and accordingly charges 25CFA instead of 10CFA, making them about 10 cents each). Their larger size and the the moisture from the banana make them a much softer, denser alternative to the smaller and crispier originals. Its more like a cake dognut from the States, only way better.

My beignet banana come nowhere near to the high standard set by the beignet lady of Mermoz, however, this recipe I've been using from a Senegalese women's magazine (La Senegalaise) is quite tasty:

Beignet banane

3 very ripe bananas (large bananas, add one more if small)

.25 L milk

.5 kg flour

1 packet of baking powder (probably about 1 tsp in American measurements)

1 spoon of vanilla

grated nutmeg or cinnamon to taste (I always use nutmeg)

lemon zest to taste
2 eggs

Makes about 100 small beignet.

The recipe itself is super simple – it reminds me a lot of making pancake batter in the States.

Mash the bananas and then mix in the flour. Add milk and mix thoroughly; then add the eggs, baking powder, vanilla, nutmeg or cinnamon, and the zest. Here’s the resulting batter – it should be thin, but not quite as thin as normal pancake batter.

Using a large spoon, gently ladle a spoonful of batter into pre-heated oil (should fill a pan about 2-3 inches deep with oil). Repeat this quickly with equally-sized spoonfuls, until you’ve filled up the pan – the beignet should start floating to the top as they fry.

After a couple minutes, flip them each over, let them fry for a couple more minutes, and then transfer them to a plate lined with paper towel to absorb some of the oil. 

Final product! Sprinkle them with sugar while hot and enjoy. 

They're also REALLY good with fresh papaya jam. 

A Series on Beignet!!

INSTALLMENT 1:

I have been wanting to write an entry on these guys for a long time. Beignet being my absolute favorite street food, I wanted to get this post right. So I’ve been out in the streets “collecting data” if you will – i.e. basically just eating A LOT of beignet – in an attempt to really get at the heart of these deep-fried, delectable dough balls. And after the number of different types, flavors, textures, and ingredients I found, I decided there was only one way to do this subject justice.

So, without further ado, I present to you Neex Na Lool’s series on beignet. This extravaganza of everything doughy, fried, and rolled in sugar will be a collection of the ways I enjoy beignet on the streets of Dakar almost every single day.

Let me begin with just a brief introduction. According to Wikipedia, beignet is simply an umbrella term in French for everything that falls under the category of fried dough. With this rather ambiguous definition, it seems that Francophone peoples have liberally adapted the beignet the world over to suit the ingredients and tastes of that specific part of the world. For example, beignet in New Orleans are very different from Moroccan beignet or from the many varieties found in Senegal. But they do all share the component of dough deep-fried in a ton of oil. If interested about the history of beignet, check out this link from EHow.

For the first installment, I had to begin with the classic. When I first came to Senegal, I had no beignets in my life. Then I met a conveniently located beignet-maker who set up shop right in front of my host family’s house every night, except on Sundays. Her classic beignet and beignet banane changed my life. Fried right in front of you, the classic beignet are about the diameter of a quarter, not too sweet on their own, and a mere 10CFA each (about 2 cents) – a dangerously cheap price for the consumer, let me tell you. Then she puts your order in a pouch of newspaper, liberally spoons sugar over the top, and shakes it all up. Absolute perfection.

My original beignet lady has since stopped working her corner, however, a relative has since then taken her place. The whole neighborhood knows her and her hours – starting from about 5pm until 10pm six nights a week. Here she is pictured with her stand below. 

Beignet and accra, a sort of savory beignet, are kept in the box on the far left
Beignet banane in the central box
and pre-packaged beignet closest to the camera
In the far corner by the van you can catch a glimpse of the just-fried beignet kept in the
iron steamer they were fried in

And here’s some classic beignet in all their glory. 

Beets and Celery!

Locally grown beets and celery discovered today at the market! Cheap, delicious, and best yet, reminds me of home. Thank you dry season.

Caldou in the Casamance

Fish and rice. There’s just so much you can do with it, and living on the coast of Sénégal, I get a lot of it. Living in Dakar, a city situated on the Cap Vert peninsula, it makes sense that fish is not only widely available but serves as a critical part of the food economy of the country. I mean, the national dish of Sénégal is ceebu jën - which literally means rice and fish. For this reason, too, the background of this blog is the classic red ceebu jën. Having eaten both the red and white versions of the dish countless times, I thought I had a pretty good grasp on the concept. But, as I mentioned in a previous entry, I am always learning through my experiences with food. Turns out, fish and rice is no an exception to the rule.

On a recent trip to the Casamance, I discovered caldou. Before getting into the food, though, let me take a moment give you some context. The Casamance is the southern-most region of Sénégal just below the Gambia. Since ­­­­1982 the region has been in open rebellion, with the majority ethnic group of the region, the Joola, claiming that the Casamance should be its own independent state separate from Wolof-dominated Sénégal. Despite this ongoing conflict, the government has taken measures to ensure that much of the Basse-Casamance (click here for a map) is secure in order to protect the thriving tourist industry. Recently, a couple of my friends and I headed there by boat and in many ways, it was genuinely like entering a new country. The Joola, a largely Christian population while 95% of the country remains Muslim, clearly have a much stronger presence in the region. This dynamic along with the fact that the climate is more tropical and receives more rain than in most other parts of the country, creates quite a distinct food culture.

So back to the food.  Caldou is essentially the same concept as ceebu jën – that is, it’s fish and rice – and yet, it is a completely different dish.  Pierre Thiam, a Senegalese chef and author of Yolele! Recipes from the Heart of Senegal, explains that caldou is derived from the Portuguese name for clear soup, called caldo. With a mild and relatively simple onion sauce in comparison to the spicy and complex flavors of ceebu jën, caldou is lighter on the oil too. Instead, its heavy on the lemon and pepper and when we had it, the onions were cooked for a long time with more water and a bit of tomato, so that they melted in your mouth and blended well with the sauce and rice. The picture below is of my first caldou experience. Judging from the glow of the room and my face, the dish was pretty awesome. However, it does also make it a bit hard to see the food.

Here's a better picture of the actual food from our second day of caldou. 

Let’s break down the two main components of the dish. The fish we ate on the trip was incredible, and contributed to my instant love of caldou. We mostly stuck around the Casamance River, which meant most of the fish we ate also came from this salt-water body of water. At one of the student hotels we stayed in on the Island of Karabane in the river, I was lucky enough to see one of the hotel workers reel in two giant fish right off the beach. They’re pictured here.

On the left: A 'Law croaker' (awesome), known in Wolof as taunon and in French as otolithe 

On the right: A 'Lesser African threadfin,' known in Wolof as siket mbao and in French as capitaine.

Another new thing for me – rice from the Casamance. Since the region gets a lot more rain than in other parts of the country, many people rely on cultivating rice, and we were lucky to have gotten to eat some. The rice was much fluffier and lighter, and you could definitely taste its freshness, unlike the broken rice in Dakar that is often imported from Asia (broken rice pictured on the right).

 I thought it was kind of strange that such delicious rice was available locally in Casamance and yet was still not reaching the markets of Dakar. I asked a couple of people about it, and while people from the area are not likely the most objective sources, they seemed frustrated that not more was being done on the part of the government to make this local rice more widely available and reduce Senegal’s foreign dependence on rice.

Politics aside, I’m now back in Dakar and craving some caldou. So I went to the market and someone selling fish helped me pick out a good type for caldou. Courtesy of Peter Thiam and his cookbook, Yolele! Recipes from the Heart Senegal, here’s the recipe I followed for the dish (pictures are my own):

2 firm, white-flesh fish (carp, tilapia, or bass) (1 1/2 pounds each)

I used a small, white-fleshed fish with a Wolof name
I've already forgotten

salt and freshly ground black pepper

juice of 2 lemons

3 cups water

2 cups basmati rice I used the broken white rice found in Dakar

1 tablespoon peanut or canola oil

1 small onion, sliced into ¼-inch rounds

1 tomato, chopped

1 tablespoon fish sauce or one 2-inch piece guedj (dried, smoked fish)

5 to 6 okra pods (optional) I didn’t use them

1 habanero pepper or really any other really hot pepper

1. With a sharp knife, cut 2 or 3 slashes on each side of the fish (about 1 in deep). Rub salt, pepper, and 1 tablespoon of the lemon juice onto the outside of the fish and inside the slashes. Allow to marinate 1 hour in the refrigerator.

2. 

2. Meanhwhile, bring 3 cups water to a boil in a pot with a lid. Add the rice, return to a boil, lower the heat, cover and simmer until water is absorbed, 10 to 20 minutes, depending on the variety. Remove from heat.

3. Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Sauté the onion and tomato until onion is soft but not brown.

4. Add the fish and enough water to cover. Bring to a boil.

5. Reduce heat and add the fish sauce or guedj. Simmer until half-cooked, about 10 minutes. Add the okra pods and the habanero and continue cooking until tender, about 15 minutes. Remove from heat and add the remaining lemon juice to the pan.

6. Serve the fish on a platter with the sauce, vegetables, and rice on the side. 

Bisimillah! 

Moon nanu ceere ak Oumoul (Making ceere with Oumoul)

I have always wanted to learn how to make Senegalese couscous, known as ceere. Turning sunguf (the millet flour) into ceere is quite an ardous and lengthy process, traditionally done by hand by women. As a result the art of ceree making, known as moon, is slowly dying out in the city, as more and more women who work or go to school during the day opt for purchasing ready-made ceere that you can purchase in the markets or in the evenings around the neighborhoods. Knowing full-well that this skill is clearly not something that could be learned overnight, I decided nonetheless to push the suggestion made casually by my Wolof teacher to use one of our class periods to learn how to make Senegalese couscous by hand.

Sunguf, purchased from the market by the kilo and wrapped up in a brown paper bag to take home. 

So I recently went to the market and bought 2 kilos of sunguf, borrowed an inde (a metal steamer to rest on top of boiling water) from the boutique down the street from us, and invited Oumoul, our Wolof teacher, to Giulia and my house for class. We still didn’t have all the right materials, as we were missing a giant calabash (a bowl made from a huge gourd), to manually mix the flour with a bit of water to make the individual couscous balls. As a result, Giulia and I simply ended up watching Oumoul struggle with a poor substitute for a calabass while trying to explain what she was doing. When asked how much water to add for the right consistency, she said you just have to know. When asked how long to steam the ceere over water, she said you just have to know. Clearly, this is not something a toubab can take one lesson on, write down the recipe, and then be able to replicate it next time. Oh well, for now at least, I will have to settle for the still-delicious option of buying ready-made ceere from the lady down the street from us. Plus, we still have great step-by-step pictures of the process. 

This is Oumoul, looking beautiful and hiding well the fact that she's super frustrated we don't have a calabash. 

The process of moon, mixing the sunguf and water by hand until reaching the right consistency and balls start to form.  

Then, the balls were transferred to a sifter that we shook to even out the size of the couscous balls and make them all more uniform.

This is the ideal size of ceere post-sifting.

Finally, the ceere was placed in the inde over boiling water and covered with a cloth to let steam. At some point Oumoul turned the ceere over to make sure both sides were evenly steamed. 

This account is way over-simplified and does not do ceere nor the process of moon justice. Clearly, learning about Senegalese food is a constant work-in-progress. But fortunately, there continues to be more and more delicious reasons to keep trying. Here’s the final result of our ceere endeavors: ceere with a tomato-based sauce of chicken with cassava, carrots, turnips, squash, and cabbage. And of course, a lot of fresh hot pepper. Bon appétit! 

FOOD!

FOOD. Its what I think about everytime I have a spare moment and it just so happens that the food culture in Senegal seems to really support that mentality, so why not translate these thoughts into writing? So, voila, my wonderful experiences of growth and knowledge - through food, that is.

I couldn't begin a post like this anywhere but in the markets. Markets were one of the first things I mentioned in my previous blogs, but my love for them has only grown and deepened with time. And while I am kind of joking, I also really am not. Markets, for me, continue to be a way to engage with and participate in my community here, something that I am starting to realize is incredibly valuable for me in order to feel rooted to a place – especially when that place is not home. It is also an excellent opportunity for me to practice Wolof, as that is completely the language of these markets. Plus, people seem to think at worst, that I am some kind of hilarious joke when I start off in Wolof (which is really fine by me at this point, especially if it gets me a good deal), or at best, someone who is invested in figuring out how food and market systems work in Dakar. And I’m sure in most instances both portrayals are pretty accurate.

I think I have already posted these two photos already in a previous blog, but I’ll bring them back just so that you all can have a visual idea, at least, of these markets.

My friend and roommate Giulia and I are weekly shopping buddies at Marché Tilène, not too far from the large university where I attend classes. Now 4 months into my year here, we have our weekly “vegetable ladies,” 2 wonderful women (one pictured above with my mom), who give us fair, reasonable prices on a full selection of veggies and who always throw in something free for us. Last week, I spent 2,000 CFA on produce (about $4) for the entire week, and got a bag of free, fresh hot peppers thrown into the deal. Now that is what I call fair and reasonable prices.  

  

These green beans are in season right now. On a recent trip back from St. Louis (a city on an island in northern Senegal), I bought these on the side of the road for 500CFA/kilo (about $1).

Giulia is pictured here next to the stand of the woman who she buys her “feuille” (greens) from. Since Giulia first bought from her for our Thanksgiving meal in November, she has not only been helping Giulia out with recipes, but has been actually leading her about the market to help her find the other ingredients. Now I feel like everytime we go, we find a new group of people who help the “toubabs” (white people) discover yet another little nuance about Senegalese cooking.

The latest addition to my steadily growing knowledge on Senegalese and West African food has been the variety of grains available to us at these markets, outside of rice. While the national dish 'ceebu jën' (fish and rice) kind of sets the tone for a culture that definitely loves its rice, there are so many other grains and carbs available at the market that I am just starting to discover. I thought I'd provide you all with a little on what I’ve been learning about:

1. Fonio – recently found some dried this week. Its apparently one of the oldest native grains of Africa, and for some reason, still relatively unknown.  This seems weird to me, especially given its potential for alleviating the growing issues of food security in this part of the world. Apparently, the Dogon people of Mali believed that the universe grew out of a single fonio seed, to give you a sense of the importance this grain has had for many peoples in West Africa. It is also highly nutritious, grows well in typically difficult growing conditions, and grows ridiculously fast – reaching maturity in as little as 6-8 weeks. We ate it like couscous (and the taste kind of reminds of what a whole-grain couscous might taste like) the night I cooked it, with a spicy peanut and eggplant sauce. I didn't think to take a picture, so here's one courtesy of Google Images: 

2. Casava – also known as yucca or manioc. Prior to my arrival in Senegal, I had no idea how important this crop is to much of Sub-Saharan Africa. There are just so many things you can do with it! The tuberous root is used as a vegetable in a lot of Senegalese dishes, but it can also be pound into flour, coucous, and processed into a variety of other products. The leaves are eaten too, particularly in the “sauce feuilles” (greens sauce) that Giulia likes to make so much. Anyway, this week in the market, I asked someone about cassava flour because I wanted to try and make fufu, a West African side dish that is either a yam, cassava, or plantain paste then rolled into balls. Its super yummy. Anyway, I asked one woman who directed me to a certain part of the market, where a couple other men finally directed me to a Guinean vendor (b/c fufu is West African, but not really Senegalese) who thought it was both wonderful and hysterical that I wanted yucca flour to make fufu.  I have a picture of it here, though this is actually yam fufu.

3. Millet – one of my favorite grains here. Healthy, lots of fiber, and super filling. Typically in Dakar and throughout Senegal, millet is eaten in the form of a couscous called ‘ceere’ (roughly pronounced like ‘ch-ai-ray’), or a number of different porridges eaten with sweetened yogurt that really only differ by the size of the cousous that is used. (called ‘laax,’ ‘funde,’ or ‘thiakry’ in order of largest couscous size to smallest and pictured below).  All options are delicious, though the process to make the couscous is long and laborious. However, you’ll have to wait for my next blog post to read more about this process, as my Wolof teacher, Giulia, and I are planning a Wolof class where we learn to make the couscous by hand. More details to follow!

funde ('fun-day'), with sweetened yogurt 

called sow ('so')

laax, (pronunciation: la-kh)

       thiakry ('chalk-rie')

The Foodie in Me

After routinely using my Rotary blog as a way to pontificate on the subject of food, I have finally decided to face my obsession head-on and start a food blog. I hope to use this platform as a way to document my culinary experiences in Senegal and share them with the blogger world (or at least my family and friends), as I delve deeper into Senegalese culture through food.

The last post from my "Shani in Senegal" blog could not, in good faith, remain where it was. I had to move it to this blog with all the others to follow on food. So, without further ado, I present to you my first post for the new blog, aptly named: 'FOOD'!

P.S. How many times can I use the word 'food' in a post??