Eating Chilean pepinos dulces

It’s July, mid winter in Santiago: a mix of sunny days in the 60s, rain in the 50s and cloudy days in between.  Not like mid winter in Illinois, but it’s still winter. 

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The feria (“farmer’s market,” thought the vendors are not farmers) is no longer full of peaches, membrillos, melons, papayas, corn and cranberry beans; though some summer crops (tomatoes, zucchini, eggplants, etc.) from northern Chile and Peru are still available.  Instead we have lots of spinach, broccoli, cauliflower, fennel bulls, Brussels sprouts, beets, and so on; no cause for complaint, but the fruit is a little limited.  Below is my recent haul:  you recognize citrus, apples, pears, avocados, tomatoes, grapes, kiwis, and bananas.  But what are the odd purple and yellow things in the right front of the basket?

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They are pepinos dulces (Solanum muricatum), literally “sweet cucumbers,” but marketed in English as ”pepinos” or “pepino melons,” and incidentally the only fruit in the basket domesticated in South America.[1]

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More closely related to tomatoes and eggplant than cucumbers, pepinos are sweet, juicy and refreshing, similar in texture and taste to honeydew melons. When ripe, as in the picture above, they are firm and turn from green to yellowish.  They peel easily with a vegetable peeler, and the soft core can be removed with a paring knife.  Here in Chile they are available year round at reasonable prices; currently between 500 and 1000 CLP/kg ($.45 - .90/lb).

History

It is usually something of a struggle to learn about the origins and history of Chilean foods, but pepinos evidently have their fans.  In 1996 professors Jaime Prophens,  Juan J. Ruiz, and Fernando Nuez of  the Department of Biotechnology, Universidad  Politécnica  de  Valencia, Spain published “The Pepino  (Solanium mumcarvm, Solanaceae):  A "new" crop  with  a  history” in Economic Botany [50(4):355-368] telling us all we want to know (and perhaps more) about the pepino.  

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They report that pepinos, called cachum in Quechua, were domesticated in the Andes sometime before 500 BC, when ceramic representations of the fruit appear in the archaeological record. 

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         Mochica                                                                           Nazca                                      

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The Spanish were favorably impressed, and named them pepinos, “cucumbers” due evidently to the taste of the green fruit, and perhaps because of their shape—some were longer than round.  Jesuit José de Acosta wrote:

Some of them, the majority, have the length and round similar to cucumbers from Spain, but in the  rest  they  differ,  because  their colour is not green, but purple,  or yellow, or white...  and although because of their shape they are called pepinos, most of them are  round  in all, and others  are of a  different shape,  in such a way, that neither the shape  do they have of cucumber.[2] 

Francisco Pizarro, was also an admirer: .

And there is another fruit that these Indians call cachan that we, the Spanish, have given the name pepino [cucumber], because when they are green they have in a way the flavor of cucumber…  It is a ripe fruit so soft and sweet that one could not speak more highly of anything…. It has a ollexito [peel?] like paper, removing this ollexito there is nothing more to desire.[3] [my translation] .

Later, during the 17^th century, pepinos suffered a strange fate, presumably because of their Spanish name.  In Spanish folklore cucumbers are reputed to cause death if eaten after drinking liquor, thus under Peruvian Viceroy Melchor de Navarra Indians were forbidden to “comer pepinos” (eat cucumbers/pepinos) and pepinos came to be called mataserranos, “highlander killers.” [4]

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Professor Prophens and his colleagues also report that: .

As  cucumber  is  also  said  to  be  hard  to  digest,  the  same  was  attributed  to  pepino.  This caused  pepino  consumption  to  be  restricted  to Indians,  this  fact  leading  to  a  "social marginalization"  of  pepino. For  example,  the  chronicler  Cobo  wrote  that  "it  is  not  a  refined  fruit  of  those  having  an  appeal  and  esteemed  by  dainty people,  because  it  is  thought  to  be  hard  to  digest."  And  in  the  late  18th  century,  the botanist Ruiz  mentioned  another  false  negative property  of  pepino,  writing  that  "if  many  are eaten,  they  cause  fevers  and  blood  stools." 

And they suggest that these beliefs—along with some cultivation problems--may explanation the failure of pepinos to spread much beyond the Andes.  They are cultivated in New Zealand, and have been exported to Japan at high prices, but in spite of their introduction to much of Europe and North Africa in the 18^th century and to California in the 19^th they have achieved little popularity outside South America.  

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Specialty Produce, the web site of a San Diego based produce distributor comments that: 

The extremely pale flavor of the Pepino melon does not yet seem to fit in with American tastes although many agree its fragrance is memorable. The Japanese especially value this low-key fruit. In South America and Japan, the pepino is enjoyed just as it is, that's it. New Zealand cuisine serves it every way imaginable, as a garnish for soups, fish, or meats; sauced; with prosciutto; as a seafood and fruit salad ingredient; and in desserts. 

It’s a shame they have not achieved greater popularity because they are an attractive fruit, tasty (I don’t find the flavor to be “pale”), low in calories and higher in vitamin C than most citrus—and they would be a valuable addition to the Chilean and Peruvian export economies. 

Meanwhile, if you are Chile (or Peru or Ecuador) enjoy them, and if you are my faithful reader in Southern California, you can expect some seeds in the mail (thought they are usually grown from cuttings) early next spring.

 

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[1] The wild ancestor of the tomato seems to be Peruvian, but evidently the plant was transported to Mexico where it was domesticated.  There is no evidence of tomato cultivation in Peru prior to the Spanish Conquest.  Smith, Andrew F (1994). The tomato in America: early history, culture, and cookery. Columbia, S.C, USA: University of South Carolina Press as quoted in Wikipedia, Tomato, online at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tomato. Avocados were domesticated in Mexico but spread to South America by 900 AD.  Galindo-Tovar,  Marca ElenaOgata-Aguilar,  NisaoArzate-FerncLndez,  Amaury M.   2008 Some aspects of avocado (Persea americana Mill.) diversity and domestication in Mesoamerica.  Genetic resources and crop evolution. Vol.55 (No.3) . on line at http://www.wlbcenter.org/drawer/journalclub/Galindo-Tovar%20et%20al%20208.pdf

[2] Acosta,  J.  1987.  Historia  natural  y  moral  de  las  Indias.  Vol.  1. Hispano-Americana  de  Publicaciones, Sevilla, Spain as quoted in  Prohens, Jaime; Juan  J.  Ruiz, and Fernando Nuez.  1996. The Pepino  (Solanium Mumcarum, Solanaceae):  A "New" Crop  with  a  History.  Economic Botany 50(4):355-368 on line at http://www.springerlink.com/content/41t281268876738x/

[3] Romero Gualda, María Victoria. 1983. Indoamericanismos Léxicos En La Crónica De Pedro Pizarro. Thesaurus: Boletín del instituto Caro y Cuervo, Tomo 38, Nº 1:1-34, on line at http://cvc.cervantes.es/lengua/thesaurus/pdf/38/TH_38_001_001_1.pdf  

[4] Hernández Bermejo, J.E. and J. León. 1994. Neglected crops 1492 from a different perspective. Pepino: Solanium Mumcarum.  On line at http://www.fao.org/docrep/t0646e/T0646E0i.htm

Machas a la parmesana

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Machas a la parmesana, (surf clams au gratin) one of the classics of Chilean cuisine, was created 50 years ago in Viña del Mar by an Italian immigrant, Edoardo Melotti Ferrari, at left with his Spaghetti Tutto di Mare.

Don Edoardo says:

Machas a la parmesana don’t exist in Italy, and in Chile there is no reference to them before the 50s! I made other au gratin dishes, and had parmigiano to put on pasta, and from this, one day it occurred to me to try it with machas. I tested it around four times and then added them to the menu.[1]

Felicidades a Don Edorado! Cheese with seafood is a definite no-no in traditional Italian cooking: it overpowers the taste of the seafood; it is not done, “Not in our culture. No. Never.”[2] But expatriates and immigrants are different; we break with tradition, speak (more or less) foreign languages, live where summer is winter, marry exotic Chilenas, and put cheese on our seafood. So Don Edorado’s dish became a Chilean classic: delicious and served everywhere, including his Ristorante San Marco, where 200 kg. of machas a week are served a la parmesana.

Machas (Mesodesma donacium), surf clams, have, of course, been part of Amerindian cuisine forever: Archaeologists refer to the “Machas Phase,” 10,600 to 8,000 BP (years before present) of southern coastal Peru, based their frequency in coastal middens of that period.[3]




They inhabit sandy beaches from northern Peru to Chiloe Island in south-cental Chile, in the surf to depths of about 5 meters. Historically they were harvested by wading “orilleros” (shoreliners) who were limited to depths of 1.5 m (5 feet) or so, but starting in the 1970s “hookah” divers breathing through air lines began to harvest the clam beds working from boats just outside the surf line. By 1989 the Chilean harvest was over 17,000 metric tons, but three years later it had fallen to about 11,000 tons and by 2000 to only 1,250 tons. While over-exploitation by divers is partly responsible, El Niño events—warming of surface waters along the South American Pacific coast—seem to be more significant in the “boom and bust fishery” of machas.[4] (Machas are not threatened [5] and I found no suggestions that we should avoid eating them.)


A good thing, because they are really good, and although I assume that they are much more expensive than in the past, they are currently available in supermarkets and the local ferias at 1500 to 2000 CLP/kg. ($1.30-1.70/lb), or precooked and frozen at about $20 a lb. Fresh is better, and you get the shells (30-35 to the kg.).


So, how does one go from live clams to machas a la parmesana? They should be refrigerated until ready to use, and then opened with a small sturdy knife. Inside is the muscular “tongue” (anatomically the “foot” used to dig through the sand) and the body. All is eatable, but only the tongue is used for this dish, so strip away the rest with your fingers and discard (or save for broth). Wash away any sand, pound the tongue gently with a knife handle to relax the muscle, and squeeze out any black substance at the base.

The result will look like this:

Don Edoardo’s original recipe returned the tongues to the half shell, added a dollop of butter and a spoon of grated parmesan, baked them in a hot oven for a few minutes and served them with wedges of lemon.








Today’s variations include:

• Adding a little lemon juice or white wine before baking
• Adding cream
• Using other cheese—usually Chilean queso mantecoso
•  Adding a sliver of garlic (un-Chilean, but like Don Edoardo, I’m an immigrant and don’t always follow the rules.)

When cooked, the tongues turn pink--hence “pink clams” as they are sometimes marketed to English speakers.

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As good as machas a la parmesana are, machas are versatile and can be prepared like other shellfish. For Spaghetti Tutto di Mare, in the photo with Don Edorado, they are combined with tuna, mussels, clams, shrimp, squid, and locos (Chilean abalone) and a light buttery marinara sauce, served over pasta and, of course, topped with grated parmesan (and cilantro). They are also served in classic Chilean style with salsa verde (onion, parsley, lemon juice and oil) or mayonnaise, in fried empanadas, in soups with milk or beer, with pesto, and even in Bloody Marys.

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[1] Fredes, César. Almorzando con el padre de las machas a la parmesana. La Nación Magazine, Jan. 18, 2009. http://www.lanacion.cl/prontus_noticias_v2/site/artic/20090117/pags/20090117192601.htm

[2] Trachtenberg, Robert. Just Grate. Food: The Way We Eat. New York times Magazine, March 30, 2008

in line at http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/30/magazine/30food-t.html

[3] Sandweiss, D.H., 2008. Early Fishing Societies in Western South America, Handbook of South American Archaeology, Helaine Silverman and William Isbell, eds. New York: Springer Science. p. 150.

[4] Perez E, Eduardo P Y Chavez V, Javier E. Modelaje Del Comportamiento Dinámico A Corto Plazo De La Pesquería Del Bivalvo Mesodesma Donacium En El Norte De Chile Usando Hipótesis De Capturabilidad Estática Y Dinámica. INCI. [online]. abr. 2004, vol.29, no.4 [citado 12 Junio 2009], p.193-198. on line at <http://www.scielo.org.ve/scielo.php?script=sci_arttext&pid=S0378-18442004000400006&lng=es&nrm=iso>;

Illanes Bücher, Juan Enrique. 2002 Acuicultura Para La Recuperacion Del Recurso Macha Mesodesma Donacium (Lamarck, 1818) En Areas De Manejo De Comunidades Artesanales. on line at http://ri.conicyt.cl/575/article-11007.html; and

Thiel, Martin et al 2007. The Humboldt Current System of Northern And Central Chile Oceanographic Processes, Ecological Interactions and Socioeconomic Feedback in Oceanography and Marine Biology: An Annual Review ,2007, 45:195-344 © R. N. Gibson, R. J. A. Atkinson, and J. D. M. Gordon, Editors. Taylor & Francis on line at

http://www.ieb-chile.cl/publications/pdf/Thiel_et_al_2007_OMBAR.pdf

[5] Not on the IUCN, (the International Union For Conservation Of Nature) Red List of threatened species Mesodesma donacium, Seabase. On line at http://www.sealifebase.org/summary/SpeciesSummary.php?id=83778

Eating Chilean membrillos (quince)

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In late summer, this nondescript bush in my wife’s garden was full of hard yellow fruit with cottony fluff on the outside and a heavenly smell.  “Membrillos” was the answer to my obvious question; “you have to cook them in water before you can eat them.”    

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So I did. I washed off the fluff, peeled them with a vegetable peeler, and cut one in half with a heavy French cook’s knife—necessary because they are hard, like winter squash.  Inside was an apple-like core, but my paring knife was inadequate for the task, and for the rest I ended up cutting off the flesh, leaving the square core behind. (Some recipes suggest a sturdy melon baller for coring them.)

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I added sugar, cinnamon sticks, cloves and a little water—just like apple sauce—and simmered them. 

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And they turned red!

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The sauce was great; tart and much more flavorful than apple sauce, and although my wife liked it too, she was surprised.  She was expecting light colored sliced fruit in syrup, which is what you get when they are cooked with sugar in a large quantity of water.

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As it turns out, what I had done was prepare the first steps in making quince paste, called “dulce de membrillo” here in Chile and “ate” (ah-tay) in Mexico, where I had eaten it before.  To make the final product (see recipe), one must strain or blend  the sauce, add more sugar and cook until very thick, another hour or more, and then bake in a low over for another hour or so to dry and firm even more.  Next year I’ll try it—although the commercial variety is very good, widely available, and not especially expensive here in Chile. And it’s great served with a sharp cheese for desert.

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Quinces (Cydonia oblongata or C. vulgaris or sometimes Pyrus cydonia), I learned, are an old world fruit, native to the Caucasis, but cultivated widely from India to New Zealand to the east and throughout Europe and Latin America to the west.[1]  They were popular in the United States in the early 18^th century, but fell from favor as apples spread across the continent.  In Latin America, they are wide spread and popular, especially as dulce de membrillo, the paste as a filling for empanadas, as  jelly, and as preserved fruit.  Here in Chile they are cultivated throughout the north and central part of the country, especially in the metropolitan region (Santiago), Region VI (Rancagua) and Region VII (Talca) and are in the markets from February through May where they sell for 200 to 300 CLP per kilo ($.20-.30/lb.) [2]  They are yellow and very fragrant when fully ripe.

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Recipes for quinces come from around the world, but especially from the Mediterranean and Middle East and are are widely available on the internet;  Simply Recipes has a dozen or so and Historic Food has some interesting recipes from the 18th century. Or just follow my instructions above, for a simple quince sauce.

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[1] Quince at a Glance, Vegetarians in paradise on line at http://www.vegparadise.com/highestperch51.html 

[2] Kania, Erica. 1999. El Cultivo Del Membrillo En Chile on line at http://agronomia.uchile.cl/webcursos/cmd/11999/erikukan/index.htm

Charquicán, tomaticán and other “—cáns”

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Such tasty charquicán!

With beans and corn

parsley and oregano

tempting to the least sweet toothed.

And at the height of happiness

onion, pickled chili,

and, instead of sociable wine

a bottle of cider.[1]


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Not infrequently, these posts start when my wife, “mas chilena que los porotos” (more Chilean than beans), wants a dish from her childhood. This time it was charquicán (char-key-kán). As the household cook (since I’m retired and she has a real job), I hit the cookbooks and the internet, and came up with something pretty close to her family dish: ground beef hash with potatoes, onion, squash, tomatoes, and corn, and an egg on top.
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And that, evidently, is pretty much what 21^st century charquicán is all about. But, of course, it has history—a long history.

The name comes from two indigenous American languages, the Quecuha "charqui" (“dry meat,” also the origin of the English “jerky”) and from the Mapuche "cancan" (or kaήkan, “roast”). And, since charqui has been adopted into Chilean Spanish, the origin of the name seems to be Chilean, probably Mapuche, from the colonial era.[2]

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As in other areas of the Americas (Argentina, Uruguay, California, and the North American south west) cattle introduced by the Spanish in the early colonial period prospered:

…the ten cattle that Don Francisco de Alvarado imported in 1548 multiplied so rapidly that… there were no hacienda owners in the colony who did not have “some six, some eight, some ten and some twelve thousand and more cows.” [3]

Charqui chilenlo

Cattle were so plentiful that:

…in the first years of the eighteenth century they were worth no more that 2 to 4 pesos and very often they were killed to take the tallow and the hide; the rest was thrown out as almost useless, or else they cut the defatted meat in thin strips, and sold the sun dried strips under the name charqui. This entirely indigenous method of conserving meat, characteristic of dry and burning climates, has since spread, developed greatly, and has become one of the most fruitful industries of the country.[4]

Thus, by the eighteenth century, charqui was one of the basics of Chilean diet, along with flour, “beans with salt and ají, or dry chili.”[5]
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But when carquicán became popular is unclear. The earliest references I’ve found come from the independence period when in 1817, South American liberator, General José de San Martín supplied a variety of charquicán to his soldiers on their way across the Andes from Argentina to attack the Spanish forces in Santiago:

Needing a nutritious and healthy preserved food which would serve to restore the strength of soldiers and be adequate to the frigid temperatures that they had to endure, it was found in a popular preparation called charquicán, composed of sun-dried meat, toasted and ground, and seasoned with grease and hot chili. When well compacted, a week’s ration can be transported in backpacks or suitcases, and with only the addition of hot water and toasted maize meal, it provides a dish as nutritious as it is pleasant. [6]

Just how pleasant may be a matter of taste, but the home-cooked variety found favor with the Englishwoman Maria Graham (later Lady Maria Callcott), widow of an English Naval officer who found herself in Valparaiso in 1822:

…a large dish of charqui-can was placed before us. It consists of fresh beef very much boiled, with pieces of charqui or dried beef, slices of dried tongue, and pumkin, cabbage, potatoes, and other vegetables, in the same dish. Our hostess immediately began eating from the dish with her fingers, and invited us to do the same; but one of her daughters brought us each a plate and fork, saying she knew that such was our custom. However, the old lady persisted in putting delicate pieces on our plates with her thumb and finger. The dish was good, and well cooked. [7]

By the late 19^th century, charquicán had become a national institution, immortalized in popular poetry and song[8].

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So… a recipe? The Nuevo Manual de Cocina (New Cook Book) of 1882 provides the following:

Charquicán from fresh meat or jerky: Roast a piece of beef roast or loin and when it is done, pound it and shred it well; boil squash, green beans, peas, potatoes; then fry this [the vegetables] in “color” [fat colored with chili] with onion and corn cut from the cob; add the meat to this and fry for a moment, then add the necessary water and allow go boil. If it is jerky, wash it and toast it, pound it and for the rest, continue as with the meat. [9]

Most of today’s recipies don’t use jerky, finding the flavor too strong, and ground beef is a reasonable alternative to leftover roast, but otherwise the recipe is not too far from mine, compiled from a variety of sources and my wife’s suggestions:

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But charquicán is not all: there are other “ –cans”

….common among the Quechuas and Mapuches, like tomaticán; corn cut from the cob, chopped tomatoes, fried meat, chopped onion, and chili; charquicán, minced vegetables, kernels of corn, ground or shredded jerky, served with a sprinkle of parsley and accompanied with a beef rib or, if you wish, a pickled onion, luchicán with luche [laver, seaweed] and fried onion; sangricán, blood with potatoes and fried onion; and chercán, based on toasted wheat flour.[10]

While I haven’t tried luchicán or cherán, and doubt that I will be called on to make sangricán, I did have a request for tomaticán, below.

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While the family tomaticán is made from beef, and is topped with hard boiled egg and parsley, the recipe in the Atlantic Online (Aug. 18, 1999) review of Ruth Van Waerebeek-Gonzalez book The Chilean Kitchen, is pretty close to the dish above. Try it.

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[1] El Padre Padilla, Feb. 11, 1886, quoted in Palma Alvarado, Daniel. De apititos y cañas, El consumo de alimentos y bebidas en Santiago al fines del siglo XIX. Historia No. 37, Vol II, July-December, 2004: 391-417 in line at http://www.scielo.cl/pdf/historia/v37n2/art05.pdf (all translations are mine)

[2] Etimología de Charquicán, Etimologias de Chile on line at http://etimologias.dechile.net/?charquica.n

[3] Vergara, Luis Correa. 1938 Agricultura Chilena, Vol. II p. 145. Santiago: Imprenta Nascimento on line at http://www.memoriachilena.cl/temas/documento_detalle.asp?id=MC0027745

[4] Gay, Claudia 1862 Agricultura Vol 1, p. 20. Chile: Museo de Historia Natural de Santiago online at http://www.memoriachilena.cl//temas/documento_detalle.asp?id=MC0002687

[5] Archivo Nacional, Archivo Vidal Gormaz, Vol. 14. Papeles de Felipe

Rauzá, as quoted in Pereira Salas, Eugenio. 1977 (1943) Apuntes para la historia de la cocina chilena. P. 60. Santiago : Universitaria

[6] Mitre, Bartolomé. 1887. Historia del Libertador José de San Martín y de la Emancipación de América on line at http://www.asociacioncondor.com.ar/sanmartin/elhombre-invenciones.php. (And on the well researched blog La Tinta de Mi Lapis: Charquicán, by Javiera González on line a http://latintademilapiz.blogspot.com/2008/03/charquican.html)

[7] Graham, Maria (later Callcott, Maria, Lady) 1824. Journal of a residence in Chile, during the year 1822. And a voyage from Chile to Brazil in 1823. p. 160. London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, Brown, And Green on line at http://www.archive.org/details/journalofresiden01call

[8] Letras de canciones, Repertorio Del Grupo Chile De Aches, Asociación de Chilenos en España, on line at http://www.geocities.com/cantolindo/grupochile.html (also discovered in the blog La Tinta de Mi Lapis: Charquicán, by Javiera González on line a http://latintademilapiz.blogspot.com/2008/03/charquican.html)

[9] Manual de Cocina. 1882. Valparaiso: Libereria del Mercuruo de Oresrtes L.Tornero. p. 45. on line at http://www.memoriachilena.cl//temas/documento_detalle.asp?id=MC0003181

[10] Plath, Oreste. 1962. Geografía gastronómica de Chile, En viaje / Empresa de los Ferrocarriles del Estado. Santiago : La Empresa, 1933-1973. v., año XXIX, n° 343, (mayo 1962), p. 181–184. On line at http://www.memoriachilena.cl/archivos2/pdfs/MC0023119.pdf