Eating Iquique: Seafood and Ají

I was wrong. There is picante Chilean food. (see "Do they eat chili in Chile?"). But you have to go a long way north to find it.

 

The dish above, Pescado a la Huara-Huara, is a filet of fish sautéed in olive oil with chilies, whole garlic cloves, spring onions and potatoes from the Restaurant El Viejo Wagon, in Iquique.  The sauce was delicious, rich with olive oil, garlic, wine and chilies, but not excessively hot, if one wisely left the chilies and garlic uneaten. But of course I ate the chilies; not all of them, but the sweet red ones (páprikas,) and some of the greenish yellow ones (ají verde), and one of the round rocotos; but only a little of the golden Peruvian ajís amarillos.  Unfortunately, that pretty well flamed my taste buds for the fish, a panyagua, said to be one of the most flavorful of the region; but it was worth it.  I hadn’t overdosed on chilies for years; it still feels good.

panyagua Hemilutjanus macropthalmos,

Grape-eye seabass 

It wasn’t simply coincidence that I ate this dish in Iquique.  Although thoroughly Chilean, 125 years after being “liberated” (along with the nitrate mines) from Peru, there is still a Peruvian tang to its cuisine.   A port city of 225,000 plus, Iquique is Chile’s most cosmopolitan city, with a foreign-born population of almost 10%:  ¾  Peruvians and Bolivians attracted by the availability of employment, but also Chinese and South Asians associated with the “Zofri,” Iquique’s duty free zone and a scattering of Americans from  the mining industry.[1]  And there is also a strong dash of the international from Chileans of English, American, Spanish, Greek, Croatian, Chinese origin whose ancestors immigrated in the 19^th and early 20^th centuries. 

But regardless ethnic origin, the real highlight of Iquique’s cuisine is the seafood.  Our first meal, and one of the best, was at the ornate Restauran Casino Española, built in 1904 in Moorish style as a club for Spanish owners and managers of the nitrate mines.   My choice was easy; the menu included mulata. one of many Chilean fishes that seldom appear on menus in Santiago. I had never tried it; its average size of 3 or 4 kg. in the fish market is too big for us and I had never seen it in fillets.  But from talking to the fish men, I knew it to be a firm fish, good grilled or sauteed.  On the menu it was Basque style, with a sauce of sautéed onions, cream, white wine, and saffron—and topped with freshly fried potato rounds, only slightly thicker than chips.  A good choice, a fine dish, and a restaurant not to be missed in Iquique.

Mulata, Graus nigra

Our next seafood meal was at Puerto Camaron, a small restaurant on the pedestrian mall in the historic city center:  An abundant shrimp salad and a shrimp pasta Alfredo.  Good, though probably with frozen shrimp from Ecuador.  We saw no fresh shrimp at the fish markets

The most common fish in Iquique this summer is palometa (Coryphaena hippurus, dolphin fish or mahi mahi), the whole fish and filets to the right below.  (The large center sections of fish to the left are albacorilla or toyo, Mustelus mento, a popular shark, known for its mild bone-free steaks.)

  

Everyone seemed to have an abundant supply of palometa, including Doña Margarita, filleting one below, who said they were locally available only in summer.  They were selling for 1,500 pesos a kg. ($3/lb) for whole fish; a low price for fresh fish in Chile (frozen filets are available in the US at $15.50 a lb.—plus shipping, fresh runs $25 a lb.)

Fried palometa at El Wagon

 

A highly recommended Iquique fish we did not try is cabrilla (Paralabrax humeralis), an inshore rock fish shown below on a local sport fisherman’s stringer (with an unidentified orange “rock cod”).   Turestel (Chile’s excellent guide book), recommends that you have it al agua, evidently in a Chinese inspired soup (?) with green onion, rocoto chilies, ginger, and soy sauce. 

Cabrilla (Paralabrax humeralis)       

Cabrilla at the Neptuno

Another Turestel recommendation is peje sapo al vapor, steamed toad fish. I saw it on the menu at the Neptuno, a champion Iquique fish restaurant with a huge menu of seafood and reasonable prices, but didn’t order it.  Said to be “extremely tasty” though a little soft” and full of small bones, it seems to be most commonly served in soups.  I’ll have to try it next time.

Peje sapo común, common clingfish, Sicyases sanguineus

The Neptuno, where my wife had fried empanadas and locos con mayo (Chilean abalone with mayonnaise) and I had ceviche de dorado (yellowtail marinated in lime juice) followed by fried palometa (mahi mahi).

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[1] Iquique tiene casi el 10% de su población extranjera y es la ciudad más cosmopolita del país. Plataforma Urbana. Oct. 25, 2009.  On line at http://www.plataformaurbana.cl/archive/2009/10/25/iquique-tiene-casi-el-10-de-su-poblacion-extranjera-y-es-la-ciudad-mas-cosmopolita-del-pais/

Chili in Chile is Ají

It is a little confusing, but Chile, the country, has no relation to chili (or chile), the pepper (Capsicum sp.) The name of the republic probably came from the Inca, and referred to the name of a local chief, …or a local valley. Or perhaps it came from the language of the Mapuche, in which there are several similar words, of various meanings, that the Spanish might have been adopted.[1] Or perhaps…

…perhaps I should return to the subject:  Chili, the pepper; in Chile, the nation; is called ají (pronounced ah-hé).  Ají (or axí in older Spanish) is from the language of the Taínos, the aboriginal peoples of the Antilles where Columbus landed. In 1526, Fernándes de Oviedo in his General and Natural History of the Indies wrote:

Axí is a very well known and used plant in all parts of these Indies, islands and mainland, it is very useful and necessary because it is hot and gives very good flavor and is appetizing with other foods, with fish as much as with meat: and it is the pepper of the Indians, and they make much use of it as there is an abundance of ají [sic] because in all their farms and orchards they plant it and raise it with great diligence and attention,… And it is no less pleasant to the Christians, nor do they use less of it that the Indian because besides being a very good spice it gives good flavor and heat to the stomach; and it is healthy, but very hot this axí.[2]

The Spanish who went with Cortez to Mexico found plenty of ají, and called it by the Nahuatl word hilli or xilli—today’s chile. But the conquistadors who came to Peru and ultimately to Chile came by way of Panama, not Mexico. So today the Taíno word ají is used from Panama throughout Spanish South America.

Photo. Southwest Heaven

Besides there being no relation between Chile the nation, and chili the spice, today’s Chileans are not overly fond of spicy food (see Do they eat chili in Chile?) and picante (hot or spicy) also means “tacky--lower class.” But here and there among Chile’s mildly seasoned dishes are a few that will satisfy your cravings for spice. 

The basics, of course, are the chilies themselves, the raw materials.

Here, from upper left to lower right, are the most common hot chilies in Chile:

• Ají verde--green chili (aka ají cristal); (Capsicum baccatum) The most common chili in Chile, it is moderately hot, similar to the jalapeño or a little milder.  Used in in Chilean pebre (see below) and enslalada chilena.
• Ají cacho de cabra—Goat’s horn chili, a Capsicum annuum variety, is the other indigenous Chilean chili, used in cooking and in the Mapuche chili powder merken, below.
• Ají Amarillo—Yellow chili. Capsicum baccatum, in the top part of the bin.  The most popular chili in Peru, available in Santiago ferias (farmer’s markets) and in La Vega, the central market.  Moderately hot.  Not used in Chilean dishes.
• Rocoto—Another Peruvian chili (Capsicum pubescens), lower in the bin. Very hot with the veins and seeds, but mild enough to serve stuffed when they are removed. Not used in Chilean dishes.  (See my post on Peruvian cuisine.)
• More Ají Amarillo and rocotos, lower left bin.
• Chile jalapeño, top, a Mexican and US favorite; and below probably red and green cayenne peppers. Neither are used in classic Chilean dishes.  And in the bins to the left are cucumbers, key limes (limón de pica), and garlic—also a somewhat suspect seasoning in Chilean cuisine.

Also common are: Bell peppers, red and green, called pimentónes or morrónes, and red pimentos, often sold interchangeably with red bell peppers.

Among condiments using chilies, the most common are:

• Ají de color—paprika, very popular and widely used in Chilean Creole dishes. Very mild.
• Ají Chilena—Chilean hot sauce, common as a table condiment, made of “red chili,” vinegar and salt, plus the usual preservatives.  It is thick and quite hot.  Popular (among chili eaters) on empanadas, hot dogs, etc.

  

Photo:  wanaku

And then there is merkén.

  

The Mapuche, indigenous Chileans, produce this artisanal spice blend from dried, smoked cabra de cacho chilies, ground toasted coriander seeds and salt, and occasionally oregano or cumin.  It has a wonderful smoky aroma, is only moderately picante—on the order of hot paprika or Spanish pimentón—and can be used, moderating the quantities,  in any recipe that calls for powdered chilies, American chili powder, hot paprika or cayenne.  It is also great as a table condiment, shaken on anything from scrambled eggs to fired potatoes.

Suffering from the double stigma of being picante and Indian, merkén (or merquén) largely escaped the notice of Chilean culinary culture until recently.  It is defined in the 1875 Diccionario de Chilenismos as “a mixture of chili and salt that is carried on journeys to season the meals improvised in lodgings…  in the southern provinces, especially in the communities near the Araucarian frontier.”  But Eugenio Pereira Salas makes no mention of it in his well researched Notes for the History of Chilean Cuisine[3] (1943), and it does not appear in the classic Chilean cookbook, La Gran Cocina Chilena (2000). Now however, in true foodie fashion, it has made the New York Times, which includes mail order sources in the US.

José Manuel Rebolledo, writes glowingly of its virtues:

…few could have anticipated that one of the ingredients most rooted in the Mapuche kitchen would become a true “hit” of the national high gastronomy.  I speak of merkén, ….which in the last years has occupied a place of honor in the most elegant and cutting edge kitchens of the country.

Merkén stamps its own authentic ethnic seal through the matchless complexity of its flavors and the particular aromas of earth and smoke.  The modern creations based on meats like tuna, lamb, pork or duck (to name some), with that delicate picante touch perfected with the sweet shades of preserves or fruits are, without a doubt, ”a trophy for the senses.”  Its perfume harmonizes splendidly with king crab and other sea foods and is a great condiment in ceviches and tartars.  Potatoes, winter squash, and vegetables are also fine complements, becoming true delicacies when infused with its flavor.[4]

As of now, however, the place of honor that it occupies in those cutting edge restaurants is mostly as a sprinkle of color adding to an elegant presentation, but some are going a cautious step further. 

Salmon al merquén. Salmon Chile [Recipe summary:  Dust the salmon with merquén and sear in hot oil.  Reduce balsamic vinegar with a little sugar to the consistency of a sauce.]

Fettuccini al merkén with Patagonian lamb and a reduction of merlot,  Chef Sebastián Lizana, restaurant  Divino Pecado, Viña del Mar. [Recipe summary:  add a teaspoon of merkén to homemade pasta dough, dust lamb with merkén before sautéing.]

 

Octopus and calamari Quiche [Recipe summary: Sauté onion in butter, add octopus (previously cooked) and calamari, season with salt, pepper and merkén; mix cream, milk and eggs and combine with seafood mix in un-cooked quiche crust, bake 45 min.]

And pebre, 

My wife’s pebre

Although very few Chilean main dishes are spicy, a small dish of pebre—a salsa of onion, garlic, cilantro and chili, with a bit of vinegar and oil, and sometimes tomatoes—is served with bread and butter as soon as you are seated at most Chilean restaurants.   It can range from very mild to moderately hot.   It is also served at asados (barbeques) to be eaten with meat, sausages or even on boiled potatoes.

  

Oh…. and rinsing the onions in cold water?  A common practice; it tones down the onion, more in keeping with Chilean taste.  According to Roberto Marín’s Secrets of the Chilean Kitchen:

Chilean garlic and onions are stronger and more flavorful than those in the rest of the world.  Make them milder by placing the chopped onions in a colander and rinsing repeatedly before use.[5]

Or could it be that Chilean taste is more “refined?”   

While the dish itself is fairly straight forward, similar to Argentinean chimichurri and other Latin American table sauces, it’s history is a bit strange.  Zorobabel Rodriquez’ 1875 Dictionary of Chilensmos says:

Pebre:  in Spain pebre is a sauce made to season some foods, made from pepper and other spices.  In Chile it is a dish of mashed potatoes. [!][6]

And so it was. The New Kitchen Manual of 1882 gives this recipe:

Pebre in milk—with a spoon break up peeled potatoes until they are like dough; add milk until they reach the consistency of a pudding.  Heat in a casserole with a piece of butter, and then put in the over to brown.[7]

How the Spanish sauce pebre (from the Latin for pepper) became oven browned mashed potatoes in Chile is a mystery. (If you know, please share.)  But even if Zorababel Rodriquez didn’t know it, it was also a Chilean sauce.  The New Kitchen Manual also suggest that lamb tongue should be served with “a pebre of oil, parsley, bay leaf, mint and vinegar;” not too different from today’s pebre.

What else is spicy in Chilean cuisine? 

Not much, at least here in central Chile.  But there are a couple of dishes worth noting, with recipes:

• Pure picante :  Mashed potatoes with ají Chilena or merkén added, enough to give a slight pink color and a bit of heat—but only a bit.  Part of the Creole cuisine often served with pork spareribs.
• Seafood Pilpil:  Scallops, shrimp, octopus, and occasionally even beef filet cooked in abundant olive oil, garlic and hot chili, and some times white wine.  Pilpil is a Basque dish, originally made with salt cod, but now clearly a part of Chilean Creole cuisine thanks to Basque immigrants.

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[1] Chile. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. On line at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chile

[2] As quoted in Zottia, Carlos.  2009.  Historia del pimiento, guindilla, chili, axí o ají. Historia de la Cocina. On line at http://www.historiacocina.com/historia/articulos/pimiento.htm

[3] Pereira Salas, Eugenio.  1977. Apuntes para la historia de la cocina chilena.  Santiago : Universitaria.  On line at http://www.memoriachilena.cl/temas/documento_detalle.asp?id=MC0006512

[4] Rebolledo C., José Manuel. 2005 v Merken, con todo el sabor ancestral. AtinaChile, on line at http://www.atinachile.cl/content/view/3097

[5] Martin, Roberto. 2006.  Secretos de la Cocina Chilena.  Santiago:  Edeciones Origo. p. 29.

[6] Zorobabel Rodriquez.  1875.  Diccionario de Chilenismos.  Santiago: El Independente.

[7] Anonymous. 1882.  Nuevo manual de cocina: conteniendo 377 recetas de guisos escojidos de las cocinas francesas, española, chilena, inglesa e italiana: arregladas para el uso de las familias del país. Valparaíso : Libr. del Mercurio de Orestes L. Tornero

Do Chileans eat chili?

I like spicy food.  Strong flavors: ginger, garlic, mustard, pepper, anchovies, ripe cheese, horseradish, and especially chilies have a special attraction for me.  Among my favorite cuisines are Mexican, Thai, Korean, and Louisiana Creole-Cajun.  Food that English speakers call “hot;” picante in Spanish.

At this point you have probably realized that I am not Chilean: these are not qualities that Chileans look for in food.  In Chilean Spanish “picante” means not only spicy, but “‘tacky’; low class or bad quality [1].”  It is not popular.  (but see "In Chile, chili is aji")

 

But it was not always so.  Eugenio Pereira Salas, in his Notes for the History of Chilean Cuisine, writes that in the early colonial period:

Meats and vegetables were seasoned with chili. “There is no doubt—notes Gómez de Vidaurre [a Chilean Jesuit, 1737-1818]—that for one not accustomed to it, the first time it will cause great suffering from the burning that one feels in the lips and palate, but becoming accustomed to it after a short time, one looks for the good effects that it provides.” [2]

Pereira Salas speaks of popular picante Chilean foods such as:  valican “a great tray of shellfish stewed with chili” and the ancestor of charquican and all the “-cans”);” “ñache, warm sheep’s blood collected in a glass with plenty of ground chili, onion and cilantro;” polmay, a dish of shellfish steamed in the shell and seasoned with chili, onion and other spices; “flour, jerky, and beans with salt and chili or pepper;” “the Creole empanada baked with fat and filled with pinu, a hash of meat, onion, raisins, eggs and chilies;” “cut olives with chili;” “a very substantial beef soup, seasoned with chili, and thickened with corn flour; ” “sanco or chercán, a countryman’s snack made of toasted wheat flour, fat, onion, chili, salt and hot water:” “oak sprouts shaped like cauliflower [3] with bread crumbs and chili;” etc., etc., 

Chili continued to be basic to the Chilean diet into the 19^th and early 20^th centuries, especially among working class families, urban and rural.  Claudio Gay (1800-1873), a French botanist and naturalist who visited Chile during the 1830s and wrote widely concerning its geography, natural history, and agriculture found that:

The food of the country people is very simple, but in needs to be prepared with pepper capable of invigorating the fibers relaxed by the heat and the water they drink; this pepper is the chili, consumed in great quantity.  In general their laziness and indolence cause them to live very badly, eating mostly vegetables and above all potatoes, beans, peas, wheat and corn, sometimes as rice is eaten or in the form of toasted flour, and in rare cases meat, preferring to sell the animals that they raise and never lack.  When it is the hacienda owner who feeds them they seem to still be in the Middle Ages for the uniformity of their foods, only a plate of beans in the north and of peas in the south, simply cooked in water with a little grease or cracklings.  This is the year-round diet that they prefer and request, imagining that it makes them strong and fit for their work, which the results seem to confirm. [4] 

A working class Santiago family in (below), subject of a 1902 study conducted by two students of Political Economy, had a similar diet, similarly rich in chili.  The students concluded that:

The basis of [the diet], generally composed of vegetables such as beans, potatoes and wheat, is healthy and nutritious, but its preparation makes it dangerous.  To its irregular cooking are added innumerable irritating condiments, such as chili, pepper, and grease which make it difficult to digest.  …the abundance of condiments such as the one they call “color,” which is a mix of ordinary grease and chili or paprika, that they use without measure, distorts the goodness of their frugivorous [sic] diet, and makes the carnivorous more defective.[5]

 But change was afoot.

 From the last third of the 19^th century until the first three decades of the 20^th, Latin America experienced a period of unprecedented economic growth sustained by exports of raw materials and foods.  Among the relevant processes during these years was the growth of cities (mainly the capitals); centers radiating “progress,” “civilization” and “decency.”  There the elites’ cultural gaze was fixed firmly on the other side of the Atlantic, from which they took models of behavior and consumption that dominated in the most prominent social circles.  “The upper class adopted English and French turns and rejected the comme ci, comme ça people, desiring to maintain their touch with the snobs [siúticos].”[6]

English influence…

made itself felt permanently in masculine styles, in the sporting life, in the modest and elegant etiquette and the rules of a refined urbanity which brought a distinguished tone to the existence of the elites.  …In gastronomy, we owe them ….the habit of tea that gained popular favor, pushing aside the Creole mate of the isolated agricultural regions.  …and the breakfast of “Quaker” [oatmeal]  …and cocoa, which gained acceptance among children and the elderly.[7]

And French chefs imported for the dining rooms of the best hotels resulted in an “belle époque” of French gastronomy, “when, without doubt, all the wealthy families kept a cook initiated in the mysteries of the Cordon Bleu.”[8]  Adoption of European styles by the elites, which spread to the middle classes, led to a more refined Chilean cuisine, less Creole, less picante, more international, and often in French.  “And when the dish was Creole and there was no Gallic equivalent, it was frenchified; chicken cazuela, for example, was called cazuelá de volailles.”[9]  

But while Chilean elites were experiencing the belle époque, workers were hungry and “the majority of the population was in misery.”  Food exports led to high prices, without concomitant increases in wages of the poor. 

What occurred in Chile at the end of the 19^th century was a reflection of the existing social abyss. While some anchored themselves to European culinary traditions, eager to differentiate themselves from the “loutish masses” [rotosa plebe], others had to figure out how to subsist with what fell into their hands, combining indigenous and Spanish tastes. Never the less, the two identities forged on these bases had something important in common:  delight in the pleasures of the table [la buena mesa] and the exaltation of food; sophisticated and exotic for some, scarce but always appetizing for others.[10]

   “The two peoples in the September celebrations.” El Padre Cobos, September 18, 1882

A related influence may have been evolving social Darwinian concepts that reflected the widening gap between elites and workers, and gave a “scientific” basis to the differentiation between “decent people” and the “loutish masses.”  In the United States, reaction to increasing immigration led nativists to distain not only the immigrants, but their cuisines, thought to be unhealthy and to lead to immorality:

To a thoroughly normal and unperverted taste, irritating condiments of all sorts are very obnoxious. It is true that Nature accommodates herself to their use with food to such a degree that they may be employed for years without apparently producing very grave results; but this very condition is a source of injury, since it is nothing more nor less than the going to sleep of the sentinels which nature has posted at the portal of the body, for the purpose of giving warning of danger. The nerves of sensibility have become benumbed to such a degree that they no longer offer remonstrance against irritating substances, and allow the enemy to enter into the citadel of life.   …The use of condiments is unquestionably a strong auxiliary to the formation of a habit of using intoxicating drinks. Persons addicted to the use of intoxicating liquors are, as a rule, fond of stimulating and highly seasoned foods; and although the converse is not always true, yet it is apparent to every thoughtful person, that the use of a diet composed of highly seasoned and irritating food, institutes the conditions necessary for the acquirement of a taste for intoxicating liquors. [11]

The extent to which this kind of thinking—directed at lower classes rather than to immigrants--existed in Chile is unclear, but the change in emphasis from Gay’s observation in the 1870s (above) that workers’ diet seemingly “makes them strong and fit” to that of the 1902 study which found their diet “distorted” by the addition of “irritating condiments,” is suggestive.  And it certainly mirrors culinary and social perspectives of the Chilean upper and middle classes in the 20th century.  

Some indication of the change can be seen in historic Chilean cookbooks (many of which are available on-line through Memoria Chilena).  While literacy, and especially cookbook reading, was limited to upper and middle classes whose taste was already evolving, the 1882 New Cooking Manual:  Containing 377 dishes selected from the cuisines of France, Spain, Chile, England and Italy [12] (which, in spite of the title, is predominantly Chilean, and in Spanish) occasionally includes ají and garlic and color (lard or beef tallow colored with paprika) are frequent ingredients.

  

By contrast, the 1911Chilean cookbook, La Negrita Doddy, is strongly French.  Among the soups alone are: Consommé a la Charley, Soup al Conde de Paris, …of asparagus le Crecy, …of fish a la Provenzal (Bouillabaise); …of leeks and lettuce, …of fish or chicken quenelles, and …of Vertepré.   Her recipes include color only twice, both times in cazuelas, and plain lard is always given as an alternative.  Ají occurs in ajiaco, and valdiviano, two soups with early colonial roots which, to her credit, she says “should be picante,” and in only two other dishes, one Peruvian. Garlic is now recommended rarely, with onion sometimes given as an alternative, “according to your taste.”    And the classic Creole charquican now contains neither color nor chili, but English Worchester sauce.[13]

  

Finally in 1951 we have Famous Recipes of the Hotel Crillón [14], at the height of French influence on Chilean cuisine, which includes no color, no ají and in fact, no Chilean recipes—although in true French fashion, a bit of garlic.

Chilean cuisine today and tomorrow.

While the French influence has waned and Creole cuisine is now featured mainly in restaurants specializing in Comida Típica, most Chilean restaurant cuisine continues to avoid strong flavors.  Neither chili nor garlic is in evidence on most menus (outside of the pebre, Chilean salsa, served with bread upon being seated), and ethnic cuisines are, for the most part, adapted to Chilean taste.  Chilean Chinese food is usually innocent of ginger, garlic and chili; Mexican food is blander than in Iowa; sushi has avocado and cream cheese rather than raw fish, and most Indian and Thai are almost unrecognizable.  (Korean food is the exception, but it’s so far out of sync with Chilean taste that no modification will make it popular—thank goodness!)

But there are glimmers of change.   Peruvian cuisine is very popular in Santiago and seems true to what is served in Peru, at least in restaurants catering to tourists; the Mexican Taquería El Ranchero is pretty authentic and offers 16 salsas, including some hot ones; the restaurant Zanzibar offers an international menu with dishes that have some semblance to the spicy originals; and the China Village comes closer to international style Cantonese that anywhere else I’ve eaten in Santiago.

And tomorrow?  French influence in 1900 could hardly be greater than the  globalized American influence that dominates Chilean taste today, and Chileans are traveling and presumable eating more internationally than ever before.  Meanwhile foodie magazines and cable TV’s ElGourmet.com are bringing international taste for chili, garlic, ginger, and other strong flavors into thousands of middle and upper class Chilean homes.   In the 50’s US cuisine was also adverse to garlic and chili:  today salsa Mexicana is more popular than catsup.  And “curry has grown to be referred to as ‘Britain’s national dish.' "[15]  

Will globalization bring chili to Chile?  Vamos a ver.

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[1] Brennan, John & Alvaro Taboada.  2006.  How to Survive in the Chilean Jungle Santiago: Area Zero.

[2] Pereira Salas, Eugenio.  1977. Apuntes para la historia de la cocina chilena.  Santiago : Universitaria.  p. 23 on line at http://www.memoriachilena.cl/temas/documento_detalle.asp?id=MC0006512 

[3] Could this be the Chilean wild mushroom gargal which is shaped like a cauliflower?

[4] Gay, Claudio. 1882. Agricultura, Vol. 1 p. 160. París: En casa del autor; Chile: Museo de Historia Natural de Santiago.

[5] Eyzaguirre Rouse, Guillermo. 1903. Monografía de una familia obrera de Santiago. Santiago, Chile : Imprenta Barcelona. On line at http://www.memoriachilena.cl/temas/documento_detalle.asp?id=MC0001500

[  6] Palma Alvarado, Daniel. 2004 De apetitos y de cañas. El consumo de alimentos y bebidas en Santiago a fines del siglo XIX. P. 394.  Historia No 37, Vol. II, julio-diciembre 2004: 391-417 on line at http://www.scielo.cl/scielo.php?pid=S0717-71942004000200005&script=sci_arttext

[7] Pereira Salas,  p. 96

[8] Pereira Salas,  p.  107

[9] Palma Alvarado, p. 396

[10] Palma Alvarado, p. 401

[11] Kellogg, A. M. 1893 Science in the Kitchen. A Scientific Treatise on Food Substances and their Dietetic Properties, together with a Practical Explanation of the Principles of Healthful Cookery, and a Large Number of Original, Palatable, and Wholesome Recipes. Chicago, Ill:  Modern Medicine Publishing Co. on line at http://digital.lib.msu.edu/projects/cookbooks/books/sciencekitchen/scie.html.

[12]Anonymous. 1882.  Nuevo manual de cocina: conteniendo 377 recetas de guisos escojidos de las cocinas francesas, española, chilena, inglesa e italiana : arregladas para el uso de las familias del país. Valparaíso : Libr. del Mercurio de Orestes L. Tornero

[13] Lawe.  1911 La negrita Doddy : nuevo libro de cocina, enseñanza completa de la cocina casera i parte de la gran cocina : con un apéndice de recetas útiles i de los deberes de una dueña de casa. Santiago : Soc. Impr. y Litogr., Universo.  On line at http://www.memoriachilena.cl/temas/documento_detalle.asp?id=MC0012281

[14]Anonymous 1951.  Famosas recetas del Hotel Crillón.  Santiago. On line at http://www.memoriachilena.cl/temas/documento_detalle.asp?id=MC0003223

[15] National Curry Week in Great Britain.  Food Reference.com.  On line at http://www.foodreference.com/html/a23-curry-week.html.