Isolated Iguana

Valentine’s Day Menu 2009

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 21:54:00 +0000

Amuse Bouche

Roasted Eggplant Soup
Black Truffle Crema and Chervil

1st Course

Fanny Bay Oyster
Kir Royal Jellies and Sevruga Caviar

Or

Seared Foie Gras Sandwich
Cinnamon Spiced Maduros, Jalapeno Pesto,
Toasted Cuban Bread and Sherry reduction

2nd Course

Burratina
Grape Must, Extra-Virgin Olive Oil,
Blackberry Vinegar and Heirloom Tomatoes

Or

Spinach Salad
Candied Almonds, Dates, and Explorateur Cheese,
Served with Blood Orange Vinaigrette

Intermezzo

Tangerine Juice
Moet & Chandon Jellies, Passionfruit Seeds

3rd Course

Alaskan Halibut
Sea Vegetables, Beluga Lentils,
Edamame, Herbed Yuzu Vinaigrette

Or

Milk-Fed Veal Shank
Porcini and Morel Mushroom Risotto,
Parsley Jus

4th Course

Seared New Zealand Lamb
Crushed Purple Potatoes, Asparagus Ceviche,
Green Herb Vinaigrette and Natural Jus

Or

Flame Broiled Churrasco
Lobster Mashed Potatoes, Truffle Chimmichurry,
Chipotle Demi-Glace

Desserts

Cointreau Noir Cheesecake
White Chocolate Macadamia Bark,
Blueberry Coulis, Basil Seeds

Or

Flourless Chocolate Torte
Candied Kumquats, Hurricane Tuile,
Framboise Reduction, Pomegranate Seeds

Petit Fours

Strawberries
Long-stem Strawberries, Vahlrona Manjari Bittersweet Chocolate,
Rose Petal

30 Soups.

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 19:32:00 +0000

My monthly rotating soup menu for the Autumn-Winter soup season:

Tomato basil soup with seven-cheese herbed focaccia

Curried yellow squash soup with turmeric oil, black mustard seeds, and chives

Butternut squash soup with a dollop of boursin whipped cream

Sweet potato soup with toasted marshmallows

Nicaraguan rondón with platanos fritos

Lentil soup with pancetta cracklings and grissini

Blistered corn chowder with chorizo and baby jalapeño corn muffin

Manhattan clam chowder

Asparagus soup with lemon mascarpone cream

Creole gumbo with steamed rice and tempura oyster

Cream of celeriac with fried capers and beer bread

Cauliflower soup with torched egg yolk, smoked paprika oil, and chives

White bean soup with truffle oil and fried shallots

Lobster wonton soup with fortune cookie

Pumpkin soup with fried sage and dark rum applesauce

Potato soup with thick-cut bacon, chili oil, and crème fraiche

Bouillabaisse

Red bell pepper bisque with dried kalamata olives and whipped goat cheese

Cream of mushroom soup with brown butter and thyme croutons

Italian wedding soup with pizza crusts

Ostrich chili with wild boar sausage and sourdough

Black bean soup with cilantro sour cream and chili threads

Potato and leek soup with Cahill’s porter cheese and root vegetable chips

Red beetroot soup with dill crème fraiche and black pepper pancakes

Golden beetroot soup with aged balsamic and toasted caraway pumpernickel croutons

Carrot soup with citrus yoghurt and maple candied pecans

Split pea soup with mint chimmichurri and seared scallop

Truffled oxtail stew with rosemary bread

Cream of spinach with Reggiano gratin and bruschetta

Baked potato soup topped with ‘everything’

Endangered Species Menu

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 19:13:00 +0000

Supplies limited and market prices subject to immediate change. Get it while it lasts!

Wings Of America: Bald Eagle wings cooked as per Anchor Bar's original 'Buffalo Wing' recipe and served with "Freedom Fries" fried in render fois gras fat.

Arctic 'Club' Sandwich & Soup: Open-faced baby Arctic Seal sandwiches with Indonesian Baribusa bacon and Mako Shark fin soup.

Flavors Of The Forest: Spotted Owl three-egg omelette with woodland mushrooms, truffles, and Mountain Sheep cheese.

Authentic Africa: Baby Black Rhino horn 'ice cream cone' stuffed with curried African Elephant and rare inland vegetables.

The High-Five: Hand of Mountain Gorilla with Chinese Five-Spice seasoning served holding it's own special dipping sauce.

The Quadruple-Header: Leatherback, Hawksbill, and Green Sea Turtle soup served in an Alligator Snapping Turtle shell.

Holiday Brunch Concept Menu w/Chides (not chives)

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 17:08:00 +0000

While helping Crystal with menus for Ritz after I had to cater the wedding for her obnoxious Sous Chef (who suggested that I "elevate the presentation" of my Caprese Salad by serving it in a martini glass), I sneak in a recipe of my own...sort of. In any case, she caught it before the email was sent. Muhahhhahha.

THANKSGIVING BRUNCH MENU

Pumpkin pie
Autumn-inspired petit fours platter
- Bite-sized chocolate tartlets
- Green apple pate de frut
- Almond fruit cake
- Potato candy
Chai crème brulee
Vanilla panna cotta with passion fruit gelee
Flourless chocolate cake
Ricotta tart with white chocolate and cranberry
Autumn fruit cobbler
Sweet potato cheesecake with pineapple compote
Lemon cream cake with dulce de leche
Pineapple upside-down cake
Date nut brown bread with buttered rum sauce

CHRISTMAS BRUNCH

Pecan pie
Yule log
Citrus panna cotta
Your mom’s potato salad, bitch. Trust me… It’s authentic.
Assorted Holiday petit fours
- Cinnamon cannoli
- Panforte di Siena
- Lamingtons
- Torrone
- Fudge
- Pistachio biscotti
Apple cheesecake
Figgy pudding
Plum pudding with buttered rum sauce
Amaretto crème brulee
Pumpkin mousse
Beignet action station
- Dipping sauces
- Ice cream
- Fried polenta dulce

NEW YEAR’S EVE ITALIAN BUFFET

Petit fours platter
- Amaretti cookies
- Passion fruit pate de fruit
- Chocolate chip cannoli
- Dulce de leche profiteroles
- Torrones
- Florentines
- Chocolate covered strawberries
Cappucino mousse with almond biscotti
Poached seckel pears with mascarpone mousse
Chocolate Frangelico crème brulee
Chestnut panna cotta
Champagne terrine
Sicilian cassata
Devil’s food custard cake with brandied cherries
Concord grape clafoutis with sesame cream
Assorted cupcakes

The Construction Of The Mango Panna Cotta

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 23:48:00 +0000

Caribbean-Themed Mango Panna Cotta Think Tank

Mango-Basil Panna Cotta
Blackberry Puree w/ Basil Seeds
Basil and White Peppercorn Tuile
Torched Mango Stick
Coconut Tuile
Caribbean-Spiced Rum Syrup
Allspice Caramel 'Paint'
Keylime Sorbet
Macadamia Nut Brittle
Candied Ginger Julienne
Lemongrass-Ginger Sorbet
Peach Tea Jellies
Vanilla-Cardamom Anglaise Drizzle
Orange Blossom Honey Sabayon
Passionfruit-Black Peppercorn Sauce
Basil-Mint Creme Fraiche
Toasted Grapefruit Peel and Extra-Virgin Olive Oil Gelato
Mango-Shiso Panna Cotta
Caribbean-Spiced Fried Wonton
Star Anise Pizzelles
Pina Colada Jellies
Lime-Dusted Martini Glass
Shaved Dried Pineapple Wheel
Lemon-Lime Sherbet
Mango-Clove Panna Cotta
Sugarcane Skewer For Panna Cotta Martini
Sambuca-Coffee Bean Jellies (3)
Anise Seed-Tarragon Tuile

Independence Day Menu

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 13:22:00 +0000

Drinks

Create your own Bloody Mary and Martini bar:

• Urn of olive, pearl onion, cornichon, celery, black peppercorn, and cherry tomato infused vodka
• Urn of citrus infused vodka
• Urn of jalapeño, poblano, and ancho chili infused vodka
• Urn of raspberry infused vodka

With:

• Toasted grapefruit, lemongrass, and celery seed flavored sea salts
• Pickled green tomatoes
• Pepperoncini and cherry peppers
• Grated horseradish
• Bleu cheese, almond, and jalapeño stuffed olives
• Cracked black peppercorns
• Celery stalks
• Worcestershire
• Harissa
• Bloody Mary mix

Mimosas and Bellinis

Salads

Chilled watermelon, mint, and feta salad

Iceberg lettuce wedges with Maytag blue cheese, Niman Ranch pork bellies, and heirloom tomatoes

Old-fashioned cole slaw

Mom’s potato salad

Snacks

Seafood display of oysters, snow crab claws, mussels, shrimp, and clams

• Horseradish firecracker sauce
• Samuel Adams mustard sauce
• Tabasco mignonette sauce

Cheese platter portraying familiar Wisconsin cheeses alongside Amish cheeses, and other varied artesian cheeses.

• San Francisco sourdough bread
• Alaskan beer bread
• Various crackers and wafers
• Black mission fig and port wine compote

Tartlets, canapés, and pastries:

• Copper River smoked salmon with crème fraiche and Alaskan chum caviar
• Stone crab, artichoke, and cream cheese
• Open-faced bison and boursin sliders with caramelized onions

Buffalo wings as per the original Anchor Bar recipe out of Buffalo, NY

• Celery, Carrots, Blue cheese dressing

Alligator bites with ‘swamp sauce’

Main Courses

Slow cooked baby back ribs mopped throughout the cooking process with house made Jack Daniel’s barbeque sauce

Mesquite-grilled beer-can chicken and grilled cobb corn dunked in warm butter

Deep-fried catfish fillets with tartar sauce

Cajun-spiced prime rib of beef with au jus and grated horseradish

Desserts

“The Ice Cream Truck”

• Bomb pops, snow cones, lemon ice, and all the other favorites that you have come to know and love from The Ice Cream Man - made from scratch of course.

Apple Pie From The Neighbor’s Window

• With vanilla ice cream

Assorted Berry Cobblers

Colors

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 23:51:00 +0000

I am both saddened and disgusted at the "50 Craft Uses for a Bandana" list that I found attached to my recently purchased bandana. The list includes shabby uses like:

"Use on a picture frame"

"Make a girl's skirt"

"Candle rings"

"Sew into a soft wallet"

"Cover cigar box for a purse"

And others that are not fit to mention as I am sure that you already get the point. And the point is this: People buy bandanas because they are gangster pirates - not to "create a child's footstool" or to "embellish flip-flop sandals". This is corporate irresponsibility at it's worst and we as a people should rise up, fists in the air, and demand legitimacy in advertising. The following is a list that I have compiled that illustrates the TRUE use of bandanas. I hope that you will find it useful and informative.

1. Sling for an AK-47
2. Tourniquet
3. Represent colors of your chosen gang
4. Broken arm sling
5. Headband
6. Bankrobbing mask
7. Tactical sweatband
8. Cleaning towel for Glocks
9. Polish rag for combat boots
10. Teething toy for pit bull pups
11. Stuff with quarters for blackjack sack
12. Tie wrists together for Mexican knife fights
13. Use as fuse for Moloktov Cocktails
14. Blindfolds for executions
15. Gift wrap for kilos of cocaine
16. Makeshift eye patch
17. Padding for elbows when smashing car windows
18. Wiping off fingerprints
19. Ghetto loin cloth at pool parties
20. Diaper for gangster babies
21. Use as gag during interrogations
22. 40 oz. beer insulator
23. Lunch bag for runaway juvenile delinquents to attach to a stick
24. White bandanas for use as surrender flags in enemy gang territory
25. Sweat rag for prison work-outs

If you have further legitimate uses for bandanas please include them by leaving feedback.

Aussie Rules Menu

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 01:41:00 +0000

The Outback Refined

Amuse: Mussel bruschetta

Sourdough crostini with smoked mussel butter and fried capers

1: Shrimp on the Barbie

Rocket tossed in honey-Vegemite vinaigrette with skewer of BBQ harbour prawns

2: Drunken oysters

Sydney rock oysters on the half-shell with: Shiraz mignonette, Champagne-ginger sauce, and Absinthe-fennel dressing

3: (Refined) Bush Tucker

Seared emu with kumara hash cake, bush greens, and Australian red wine reduction

4: Aussie Rules paella

Free-range Aussie beef, kangaroo sausage, crocodile, kingfish, crayfish, squid, scallops, and crab with veggies and rice

5: Fruits of the Outback

Wattle seed mousse with macadamia nut brittle and coconut cream

Mother Russia On A Menu

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 22:50:00 +0000

Traditionally Russian meals are served in four courses- the first being a soup or broth, followed by a main course meat dish, a drink, and finally a dessert. Here's my tribute to The Bloc:

A Tribute To Mother Russia

(Pre-Meal)

Soviet Bloc ‘Antipasti’

Beluga caviar on quail eggs
Peperivka (chili vodka) & dill-cured salmon with horseradish on blini
Herring pâté on buckwheat lavash crackers
Assorted pickled onions, olives, peppers, and cornichons

(1st Course)

Scshi

Traditional Russian soup of cabbage, Kovbasa sausage, rashers, chives, and smetlana (crème fraiche)

(2nd Course)

Country Trout

Trout poached in country bouillon with yellow beetroot, swiss chard, herbed potato chip, and a green peppercorn cream sauce

(3rd Course)

‘Ice Pick Kompot’

Russian vodka macerated with dried fruit and cured in the sun with tea leaves

(4th Course)

Blackberry ‘Caviar’

Sweet blini topped with blackberry pearls and a baked plum sour cream

A Day In The Shit

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 01:09:00 +0000

6/23/2008 at 6:47am I entered a thick patch of weeds.

Bulk up veggie platter for 8:00am banquet
Make honey-yoghurt dip
(64 ppl)

Fruit for fruit skewers (64 ppl) at 10:30am (not in inventory at 9:30am)
Make mint-yoghurt dip (40 ppl)

Portion eye filet
Grill mark eye filet
Top eye filet with Roquefort cheese – tray and fire
Prep and fire mashed potatoes
Roast garlic (reserve oil)
Make roasted garlic-shiitake demi-glace
Portion, cut, and fire asparagus and carrots
Melt butter with salt & pepper (for asparagus and carrots)
Heat cream and butter (for mashed potatoes)
Chop chives (for garnish)
(40 ppl)

Portion mahi
Make Latin marinade for mahi
Sear mahi and tray and fire
Make chimmichurri for mahi
Prep and fire tomato-jalapeno hash for mahi
Chop cilantro for mahi garnish
(34 ppl)

Plate mixed greens, goat cheese, and toasted almond salad for 64 ppl
Make tangerine-honey vinaigrette
(64 ppl)

Tray and fire dinner rolls
(64/40 ppl)

Make marinade for olives and plate with feta cheese
Tray and fire spanikopita
Make marinade for chicken souvlaki – tray and fire
Make lemon vinaigrette (for orzo salad)
Prep vegetables (for orzo salad)
Plate dolmades
Prep vegetables and dressing for taboulleh salad
Plate kalamata olives, pepperoncini, cocktail onions, cascobel peppers, green olives, and pickeled carrots
(40 ppl)

Make herb rub for (3) legs of lamb
Tray and fire lamb
Make (2) mint sauces for lamb

(for 6/24)
Fire orechetti pasta for salad
Fire asparagus
Roast fennel in oil
Make truffle-fennel oil for salad
Assemble salad with feta and chopped tomato garnish
(40ppl)

Make blackberry, honey, and lemon-poppy yoghurts (3)
Roast mushrooms for spinach-mushroom tortelloni
(50 ppl)

Make sesame-ginger vinaigrette
(20 ppl)

At 6:30pm I walked out of the weeds, changed out of my grubby chef whites and into a fresh set, grabbed a nice carving knife and fork and headed into the dining room to carve up my lamb.

9:00pm I return to the kitchen to clean out and label the walk-in cooler.

Home by 10:00pm and off for two days.

Maybe it's tattoo time. . .

Niter Kebbeh

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Sun, 25 May 2008 06:31:00 +0000

This is a ghee or clarified butter infused with other flavors. It is Ethiopian by nature and an integral part of Ethiopia's national dish: Doro Wat. The butter is very versatile. It has a higher smoke point than most oils so it does very well when you need to sear meats or use it in other high-heat applications.

2 lbs. butter
1 large yellow onion, peeled, chunked
6 cloves garlic, peeled, smashed
A thumb-sized chunk of ginger, peeled, chopped
2 sticks cinnamon, smashed
4 cloves
3-finger pinch fenugreek

Clarify the butter. Add the rest of the ingredients and simmer for about 20 minutes. Allow to sit for about 20 minutes more. Strain.

My Craigslist Response

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Sat, 24 May 2008 22:37:00 +0000

"I gather you have a considerable quantity to trade. Please provide more specific details about what you are offering. In what packaging, volume, etc. Over a duration of time or in one shot? What ingredients and varieties do you offer? If this is going to be made to the order, wouldn't it be fresh and wouldn't it take a while to ferment properly to acquire a mature taste? Or...do you have aged Kimchi already that is ready to enjoy, properly, now...or a combination of both. Finely what types of Kimchi can you provide; hopefully, this would include Mool Kimchi also."

Kind regards,

Veronica

My Craigslist Ad

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Thu, 22 May 2008 02:17:00 +0000

Professional and internationally trained chef will trade kimchi for luxury items.

The kimchi can be made in varying degrees of spiciness and will be made with organics and free-trade ingredients that support poor people in under-developed countries, dirty hippies working on WWOOF farms, and other small farms and farmer's markets in the greater Miami area.

I am not interested in Seiko watches, Waterman pens, ghetto bling, paintings by anyone living, tie clips, or cuff links (unless there are considerable blood diamonds festooned to them).

What I AM interested in is TAG Heuer and Technomarine, Mont Blanc and David Oscarson, Wedgewood china and Riedel glassware, maybe some Louis XIII cognac to go in the glasses, whatever... You decide.

This is not an offer that will last long. There are plenty of nasty divorce disputes, high-class moguls who appreciate fine kimchi, and people who simply scour Craigslist for opportunities to blow huge wads of cash.

So stop staring slack-jawed at your monitor and send me your best offer.

The Girard-Perregaux is ticking . . . . . . . . .

Leonardo Da Vinci in Miami

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Fri, 16 May 2008 00:45:00 +0000

I have been singing "The Search Is Over" by Survivor. Not to anyone in particular. I'm just sort of serenading the streets of Miami from the balcony of my new apartment. This is the first lease that I have signed in over five years and it is the first place that really feels like a permanent residence in equally as long. I have been lounging about the flat with a torn ligament or tendon (I am not sure which and neither is the doctor that I just paid $400 to ask), unable to do anything. There is no TV and I don't know anyone here. So I am staring at the walls and now FINALLY it seems bizarre to sit in my apartment and look at all the shit that I have collected over the past few years.

I am wondering if the Maasai sword that I negotiated off one of my askari has left him defenseless in the bush. If he is attacked by a lion will his last thoughts be curses toward my ill-gotten gains? He must be wondering why the hell I need a tribal sword in the USA. Surely he knows that AR-15's and AK-47's are readily available.

I am also wondering about Leonardo Da Vinci. Not the Leonardo Da Vinci that was an Italian mathematician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, sculptor, botanist, musician, and writer. The other Leonardo Da Vinci that lives on Mafia Island. The one who signed my tingatinga paintings and custom made my African cubism-styled painting in exchange for some Billabong board shorts. I remember discussing the US prison system with him. The discussion went something like this:

Leonardo Da Vinci: "I hear that in America even the prisons have televisions."

(insert uncomfortable laughter on my part here)

Me: "Yeah Leonardo" (we were on a first name basis - and yeah, it's kind of a big deal). "But they are only allowed to use the televisions for educational purposes". It was probably a half lie. I am not sure. I haven't been to prison.

Leonardo Da Vinci: "And I hear that they feed you in the jails in America."

Me: "Yes. They feed you but the food sucks."

Leonardo Da Vinci: "They give you the new clothes when you go to the jail in America. That is what I hear."

Me: "Yes. But they give you bright orange clothes - Pajamas - Like what you wear at night."

Leonardo Da Vinci: "I wear these at night." (He is pointing to the board shorts that I just traded for my painting).

(I nod).

Leonardo Da Vinci: "The government gives them the bed and even the air conditioning I am told!"

Me: "Yes."

Leonardo Da Vinci: "So, the prisoners in the USA have food everyday, clothes and tv's. They get education. And they have air conditioning?"

(I do nothing but nod my head).

Leonardo Da Vinci: "So in many respects the criminals are living a much better life than many of us Africans."

(I do nothing but nod my head).

Leonardo Da Vinci: "Do you know this man: Barak Obama."

Me: "Yes. Yes I do."

Leonardo Da Vinci: "He is Kenyan - A good man. Do you think he will ever be President?"

Me: "Leonardo, if he runs I'll vote for him."

Karibu Chakula!

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Sat, 02 Feb 2008 08:46:00 +0000

The dank heat on the mystic island of Zanzibar seeps through your clothes and seemingly into your soul. The bass-driven sounds of bongo flava, the music of the Swahili youth, are drowned out by the age-old and now thunderous calls to Mosque. The markets of Stonetown, one of the world’s oldest trade ports, still teem with throngs of people from all walks of life who are lured there by a culture both rich in history and profound in tradition. Once home to sultans and slaves, it is the original melting pot where Arabian dhows arrived packed to the gunwales with merchandise destined for the markets of the New World.

Time stands still here. Wooden dhows still bestrew the coastal landscape, providing a means for the Zanzibaris to make a living off of the crystal blue waters surrounding them. Ancient Iraqi and German architecture stands here as testament to their presence. The spice trees introduced by Arab and Indian traders still pepper the landscape taking residence alongside the native baobab trees. Remnants of slave trading irons and markets still scar the land. It is here where human lives were once traded for peppercorns. A few hundred years ago this was one of the world’s most prolific ports.

Now, women in radiant garbs plod along carrying enormous loads of fruits and vegetables balanced proficiently on their heads, sharing the streets with donkeys who pull their own carts overrun with produce and grain. On one corner a nomadic Maasai warrior peddles intricately crafted beadwork and jewelry to passing tourists. He is not a native of Zanzibar, but he is sent to the island from Arusha to earn money for his tribe who still herd cattle there the way that the Maasai have since the dawn of man. He appears ageless, wearing his traditional garb and ornaments. The only signs of modernity are the sandals that he is wearing which are crafted from a fan belt and motorcycle tire, the Casio watch nestled amongst the beads on his forearm, and the Nokia cell phone that he is carrying. Both the watch and phone are dysfunctional. They are merely status symbols. And when I look closer I see that he has beaded cell phone cases for sale amongst the anklets, necklaces, and traditional headwear of his tribe. Evidence that times are changing.

Octopus and a myriad of other fish dry out in the searing heat of the African sun. Small stores display canvas sacks that brim with cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, and other treasures of the Spice Islands. Ducks, guinea fowl, and chickens poke their heads out of woven palm baskets. And the Swahili people are quick to welcome you with a smile. “Karibu Zanzibar”. You are welcome in Zanzibar.

Street-side vendors crank sugarcane through what looks like two stacked rolling pins, extracting the juice for thirsty patrons. Some squeeze fresh oranges. Others grill skewers of goat and beef over charcoal or serve up deep fried samosas stuffed with potatoes and salt-cured fish. And there is the ever-presence of ugali and chapati, staples of the Swahili diet.

It is here, in the markets of Stonetown, where I find myself on a quest to hone my knowledge of traditional East African cuisine and to somehow preserve the authenticity of it. Many recipes passed down by elders are slow food recipes that require long fermentation or preserving times. And with fast food chains starting to sprout up around Dar Es Salaam and Nairobi, it won’t be long before the younger generations in East Africa abandon the techniques of their elders in favor of fish-n-chips and burgers.

It is the men who cook in the market here. And it is men who staff the dive resort kitchens on the islands and the safari camps of the mainland. But they will not go home and eat the foods of safari kitchens and dive resorts. They will eat the chakula that their wives cook while they are away. As on the Swahili Coast, it is the women who do the gardening. And it is the women who do the cooking at home. So on my quest for authentic recipes and cooking techniques of the Swahili people, it is mostly the minds of the Swahili women that I pick.

These recipes take traditional Swahili flavors and recipes and merge them with contemporary techniques and presentation. The Swahili fare is ever evolving and could well be considered one of the world’s first true fusion cuisines. Karibu chakula!

Mishkaki with kachumbari and tamarind dipping sauce

Four servings

This dish was arguably first called shish kebab and brought to the Spice Islands by Arab traders. It is also found in the Caribbean under the name pinchos and likely made it there during the slave trade. The most primitive form of this dish probably happened when early man stuck bush meat on a branch and held it over a fire. And in all likelihood, that probably happened somewhere around the Ngorongoro Crater, in the cradle of life, of modern day Tanzania.

Kachumbari is the Swahili ‘salsa’. India has a similar dish called kachumber that was likely the birth of this dish. Many of the spices comprising the curry were brought to Africa during the Spice Trade. The African curries are traditionally very spicy as the heat of the peppers and raw cinnamon acts as an appetite suppressant. Look for the tiny pili pili kitchaa, or ‘insane peppers’, at roadside stalls. Curries were also traditionally used by many different cultures to cover up the taste of meat that was turning rancid. It was especially crucial to have a means to preserve meat on ships that were sailing long-distance voyages- like, for example, Arabia to Zanzibar.

Swahili Curry

5g coriander seeds
5g black peppercorns
5g cumin seeds
2x dried chilli peppers
4x cardamom pods
1x cinnamon stick
6x cloves

Toast all spices until fragrant and popping. Using a mortar and pestle, pound the cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves to dust. Add the rest of the spices and pound until coarse. Reserve.

Mishkaki

600g sirloin steak, cubed
4 tbsp olive oil
8x garlic cloves, minced
2x thumb-sized ginger knob, minced
8x wooden skewers, soaked in cold water at least 1 hour

Mix olive oil, ginger, and garlic and rub over cubed steak. Allow to rest at room temperature for 30 minutes.

Toss steak with spice mix and skewer. Char-grill skewers over high heat two minutes on each side or until well seared. The ideal serving temperature is 125F/51C.

Kachumbari

2x cucumbers, seeded, peeled, and diced
2x tomatoes, seeded and diced
1x medium red onion, peeled and diced
2x red capsicum, diced
Juice of 1 lemon
Large pinch of fresh coriander leaves

Mix all above ingredients and chill for 30 minutes before serving.

Tamarind dipping sauce

75g tamarind
150ml boiling water
1x garlic clove, minced
1x dried chilli, pounded in mortar and pestle

Pour boiling water over tamarind and rest for 15 minutes. Strain and add chilli and garlic. Rest for another 20 minutes to develop flavor.

Vanilla cheesecake with warm mango-chai coulis, candied cashews

Four servings

Chai is the Swahili word for tea. Outside thatched mud houses women sit on woven mkeka mats and heat cauldrons of water with black tea and spices over open coals. Chai tea is also used as an appetite suppressant among numerous island children and many have black stained teeth as a result. Mango and cashew trees that were long ago introduced to the islands are still abundant.

Chai syrup

3x black tea bags
5x cardamom pods, seeded
2x cinnamon sticks
10x cloves
1” knob of ginger, sliced
750ml water
105g (1/2 cup) raw sugar

Bring water to a boil. Add the rest of the ingredients except for the sugar, lower heat, and simmer until reduced to 175ml. Dissolve the sugar into the chai. Refrigerate for one hour.

Warm mango coulis

2x mango, peeled and diced
2x cardamom pods, seeded and pounded
Pinch of sugar

Mix the mango, cardamom powder, and sugar. Heat over low heat until just warm.

Candied cashews

1 cup sugar
1/3 cup water
Few drops of lemon juice
¼ c cashews, toasted

Mix water, sugar, and lemon juice. It should feel like wet sand. Cook over high heat until medium caramel or the color of watered down iced tea. Pour over pan-sprayed Silpat. Sprinkle cashews over the top.

Allow to cool for a couple minutes and then pull edges of sugar to thin strips. Be careful because the sugar is very hot.

Vanilla Cheesecake

181g cream cheese, room temperature
38g sour cream
52g sugar
1/4 Madagascar vanilla bean, seeds scraped
1 ¼ tsp vanilla extract

With whip attachment fixed to your mixer, mix until smooth.

1 ½ sheets gelatin, bloomed in ice water for about 3 minutes
2 1/2 oz heavy cream, whipped to soft peaks

Squeeze water out of gelatin. Melt over double-boiler.

With mixer on high with whip attachment, temper gelatin by pouring down the side of the bowl taking care not to let the gelatin hit the whisk.

Once gelatin is incorporated mix on high speed for 30 seconds.

Fold whipped cream into cream cheese mix thoroughly.

Pipe into molds. Level out the tops with an offset spatula. Wrap in plastic wrap and freeze on a flat surface overnight. Garnish with basil or mint sprig.

Chakula

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Sat, 26 Jan 2008 23:45:00 +0000

Drinks

Torched prawn and gazpacho martini

Tikiti maji dawa, watermelon ice cubes, honey stick, mint

Blood orange Sangría

Dawa, lemongrass stick, mint

Bar Snacks

Za’atar spiced biltong

Mafia Island curried nuts, toasted coconut

Warm Moroccan olives

Appetizers

Oysters, Mauritius Salt of the Earth, lemon water, seaweed caviar

Market ceviché cured in citrus and East African spices

Kenyan mustard rubbed alligator tail and frog’s legs, radish sprouts, horseradish vinaigrette, basil seeds

Black tiger prawns poached in niter kebbeh with lemongrass-mango harissa, squid ink risotto, chive oil

Soy-raspberry marinated calamari, micro beetroot leaves, cassava crisps

Chermoula beef mshkaki, lemongrass skewer, cucumber-coriander yoghurt sauce

Goat feta bhajia, coconut-tamarind sambal, chili dust

Artisan breads with dukkah, compound butters, and oils

Soups

Gazpacho

Rondón

Harira

Soup of the day

Salads

Bacalaíto, mixed greens, pili pili and beet-pickled egg, aged balsamic vinegar, Frantoia olive oil

Ostrich egg frittata with zucchini blossoms and oyster mushrooms, micro greens, roasted garlic confit, carrot-ginger puree

Fried haloumi, blow-torched egg yolk, shaved truffle, herbs, micro greens, morel vinaigrette

Mixed greens, nuts, grains, sprouts, and herbs with Humboldt Fog-yoghurt dressing

Main Courses

Cowboy-rustled aged beef short ribs, ugali with truffle-bacon butter, braised vegetables, red wine reduction

Wood-grilled venison tenderloin with sweetbreads, oyster mushrooms, caramelized root vegetables, leather chocolate smear

Octopus, smoked eel, and calamari Ethiopian wat with quail eggs, mead injera

Ras al hanout spiced monkfish, sweet corn dhokla, grilled vegetables, smoked tomato beurre blanc, cinnamon oil, basil seeds

Swahili curried goat shanks, toasted pistachio couscous, mchuzi, dressed baby greens

Dukkah-crusted broiled grouper, white bean puree, irio, black pepper sabayon, tobacco onions

Blackened white king salmon, kachumbari, banana guacamole, salsa negra, annatto-chili oil, malanga chips

Grilled mojo mako shark, tostones, bacon-grilled cabbage, achali puree

Algerian harissa marinated seitan, mixed grains and legumes, wilted greens, marinated tomatoes and cucumbers, vegetable nage

Market fish

Desserts

Châi-spiced goat milk crème brûleè with pomegranate molasses macerated strawberries, Brazil nut biscotti

Madagascar vanilla bean cheesecake, Caribbean citrus mélange

Ghana dark chocolate torte, cardamom sheep’s milk yoghurt, spiced tuile

Zanzibar-spiced monkey bread, piña coláda ice cream

Cookies, truffles, and teacakes

Sour cherry, grapefruit, and yuzu jellies with miracle fruit

Trio of sorbets

Cheese platter

Fear In Sydney (cont'd)

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Sat, 22 Dec 2007 13:12:00 +0000

The restaurant business is a melting pot that rents itself to all walks of life. Bartenders may be working the moonlight to pick up extra cash during the off-season of their other career in yacht sales. Waiters and waitresses are attracted to an industry that is both forgiving with school schedules and a good source for a fast cash income. Dishwashers are typically immigrants working to provide for families overseas. Cooks are the odd mix of scholars, hippies, drug dealers, real estate agents, artists, actors, soccer moms, pedophiles, and military reservists. In short, you never know who you will meet or where. Sometimes it gets you into trouble. Sometimes it gets you out.

Two years ago I was working with a dishwasher who was finishing school with some sort of criminal justice degree. Today that dishwasher is a Customs officer working for New Zealand Immigration Services (NZIS). Good people to know when your balls are being felt up by badges in the Australian international airport. Let’s call him The Pacifier.

My first phone call upon reaching the hotel is to the restaurant. I tell the owner about our difficulties at the airport and he is immediately as paranoid as I am, if not more. “You didn’t mention the restaurant, did you”? I explain that I didn’t but that I need to get in touch with The Pacifier. It takes less than five minutes to track down his number from the rest of the staff. I tell the owner that I am concerned about being able to re-enter New Zealand and that I will be in touch. His parting words are something like, “Don’t mention my name to New Zealand Customs. It might throw up a flag.” Brilliant. Too bad it is on the initial form I filled out upon entering the country.

While I am on the phone I open my email and find that Travelocity has cancelled our onward flights from Auckland without reason. The tickets were Auckland-Sydney tickets and they were cancelled sometime between our departure time that morning and our arrival time at the hotel. Why were they cancelled? Who cancelled them? It is our only way to show NZIS that we intend on leaving the country and we can't get back into the country without this onward flight.

I ring The Pacifier. And in some sort of mad blurry panic (we are already a few shots into the tequila to ease our nerves) I bellow out the entire airport saga in one long uninterrupted sentence. The Pacifier says, “Why didn’t you just tell them you were there for a passport stamp? It’s not illegal.” And furthermore, “You didn’t do anything wrong.” It was as if Atlas just said “fuck it”, dropped the world off his back, and said “I think I’ll go grab a sandwich.” The Pacifier put a calm in the room and assured me that we probably would not be flagged upon entering New Zealand.

And we weren’t. Not to say that we weren’t nervous. For once I was entering the country with no camping gear. I hadn’t been on a farm or killed any farm animals recently. I had no fruits, seeds, or genetically-modified-organisms. And I was carrying less than $10,000. So I breeze through with only a minor panic attack.

A couple weeks later The Pacifier came by the restaurant to catch up with everyone. I gave him a high-five and thanked him for giving us all some peace of mind. He tells me that I am the only person he personally knows of who has ever been searched. I went into the details of my questioning and he tells me I was lucky. Had we answered a question wrong they could have denied us entry and sent us back to New Zealand. Upon arriving in Auckland, the NZIS would see that we were not admitted into Australia and then would likely send us back to the USA.

He also mentioned that the next step of this interrogation process is to turn us over to Australian federal agents that would promptly take us to a hospital for a catscan to make sure we weren’t drug mules before we were further detained for more extensive questioning. New Zealand, he says, doesn't frisk people. It is against the law. Instead you get to strip. I wonder if there is a fireman's pole in the interrogation room so that you can spin and dance around a bit before you spread yourself open for all to gaze upon your little purple starfish.

Why the horrible coincidence of our Travelocity tickets being cancelled during the same time as our Customs interrogation happened is still a mystery. But we were still able to print the e-ticket itinerary and use it as proof of our intentions to depart New Zealand. So in the end of this happy little fairy tale we saved about $400 on airfare at the sole expense of having my balls fondled in public. Crikey! The cooks win again!

The Mighty Bean

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 21:20:00 +0000

Six-course degustation menu revolving around The Mighty Bean with a predominately African influence.

Adzuki and goat cheese bhajia
Grilled octopus 'giardinera'
Moroccan olives
Fig and balsamic reduction

Blue crab cakes
Preserved blood orange and edamame salad
Baby fennel
Extra-virgin olive oil

Bacalao dhokla
Soy-lemongrass vinaigrette
Garlic confit and tomato pulp

Harissa cured wahoo 'tornados'
Sweet corn puree
Chickpea dukkah
Chive-lime oil
Bean sprouts

Dhal crusted monkfish pan-fried in niter kebbeh
Rutabega-herb crisps
Chinese long beans

Coffee and vanilla bean soy pannacotta
Black raspberries
Basil seeds

Fear In Sydney

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 20:49:00 +0000

Here I am possibly stranded in Sydney, again. I left Coromandel, New Zealand yesterday night after a long day at work. I arrived at the Auckland International Airport around 2:00am after a two-hour drive. I am tired and glass-eyed, hungry, and ill-prepared for this 3-day mini-vacation which is ultimately to get a passport stamp. Other than what I am wearing - a Mafia Island dive shop shirt, jeans, and my Tusker Lager hat - I have only packed one pair of shorts and my Communist red star-studded “Fight The Power” garden gnome t-shirt. I am not a Communist by any means. But it fits the gnome rather well. I have two backpacks. One is empty. The other is chock full of camera gear and Boomer, the liberated (read: stolen) roaming garden gnome. I have two bottles of booze purchased from duty-free. One Agavero Tequila and one Jameson Gold.

The flight that I booked was on Australia’s main airline, Quantas. The flight that I was put on was LAN, a Chilean airline which was en route to Aussie from Chile. Two things are to happen in Australia. There is no secret in saying that I needed a passport to finish my seasonal stint working as an illegal alien at The Peppertree. And the second reason is to dine at Pier, one of Aussie’s claimed best restaurants.

Crystal and Jake have joined me and are also travelling light and masking the fact that they too are working as illegal aliens. The plane leaves Auckland at 5:35am and arrives in Sydney around 9:00am Aussie time. And upon arrival the proverbial plane crashes into the fucking mountain. Metaphorically speaking of course.

We head straight to Customs as we have no baggage to claim. The Australian Immigration Services officer asks several basic questions like:

AIS: “Where are you staying?”

I didn’t know. We just planned on grabbing a taxi and heading to the nearest hotel.

AIS: “Do you know anyone in Australia?”

Me: “Yes. I was here two years ago. I might meet my friends but they don’t know that I am coming.“

AIS: “What are you planning on doing here?”

Me: “Eating.”

AIS: “Are you working in New Zealand?”

Me: “No. Just staying with friends.”

AIS: “How do you afford to travel like this without working”?

Me: “I work seasonal contracts in Alaska. It pays very well cause nobody wants to freeze their ass off or deal with 24 hours of sunlight.”

I get the gratuitous passport stamp. And in the mean while Crystal and Jake are grilled with similar questions. The whole process takes less than five minutes. We head to the baggage scan area and are flagged for further questioning.

A glass-eyed American on a Chilean flight with no luggage, with only a wad of cash inside a passport, no wallet, an empty backpack, two expensive bottles of booze, and several short trips through the Caribbean drug triangle with several stamps from Nicaragua and Costa Rica seems to throw up a red flag in Customs. And nevermind the “$400 fee paid” chicken scratch written in my passport next to a bunch of Swahili jibberish stemming from bribes in Dar Es Salaam, Nairobi, and Zanzibar. Fiji was flagged because I was only there for five days - and forget that they just had a government coup.

I am further questioned about my recent short trips abroad and why I would fly to Sydney for only two days. Crystal and Jake are questioned as well. And questioned as to their relationships with me. Jake is set free. But Crystal is dragged to a back room for further interrogation and searches.

I am passed a laminated sheet of paper by a tall, clean shaven, gorilla of a man. The paper indicates the rules of fair search and I am asked to comply with being frisked or face a “higher detention” status. There are four officials gathered around me at pretty much all times but their faces keep changing because they are bouncing back and forth between Crystal and I to make sure our stories jive. The hulking AIS agent asks me if I would like the search to be done in private or public. I tell him that I have no problem being frisked and searched in public as long as the frisking and searching isn’t so “thorough” that I stand to be embarrassed. He smiles and reaches for the rubber gloves.

I stand winged. Arms out like Jesus, feet at shoulder’s width. First he tightly rubs around the arms. I see flashbacks from Midnight Express. People walking around in circles at the insane asylum. The “bad machines” biding their time. Then he does the legs and dips his fingers into my shoes. My ribs are next. And then it happened. The agent grabs a handful of my balls and rubs down my taint for a brief but all-to-memorable climax, er, finale to my frisk down.

And guess what?

No dope. No bombs. Only a frank and beans and a rather surprised expression on my face.

I am not sure what the little magic wand that they rubbed all over my bags told them. But it was quite obviously bullshit. There were a few scribbles written down on varied pieces of paper. A few small forms were jotted out. And then at 10:30am, approximately one and a half hours after our plane landed, we were let go.

Travelocity, for some unknown reason, has cancelled our onward flights. So when we arrive in Auckland in two days we have no way of showing the NZIS that we intend on leaving the country. And I am sure that the little jots and scribbles taken down in Sydney will be waiting for us when we do arrive in New Zealand. And we will get to do the whole process again.

Wholesale disaster.

At present we are searching for plane tickets that will show NZIS that we only intend on staying there for two weeks. If that falls through then I might get my first Christmas at home in five years.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.... Everywhere you go....”

(To be continued...)

Reflecting Upon Pasta

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Tue, 04 Dec 2007 08:30:00 +0000

Seven course degustation menu revolving around the most tasty ingredient ever imagined by man.

Beloved pasta.

Angel hair wrapped breadsticks, wild boar prosciutto, pickled cauliflower & artichoke giardiniera

Monkfish minestrone

Balls out pasta with kick-ass olive oil, chopped heirloom tomatoes, and fresh basil. That’s all.

Fried diced perciatelli and chive disc with calves liver pate, caper berries and onion relish, warm Italian olives

Rabbit and prune ravioli, fresh green peppercorn beurre blanc, rainbow chard sauteed in evoo, crumbled Gorgonzola

Sage and smoked bacon gnocci with braised ox tail and pork hocks

Sweet mascarpone and candied citrus stuffed in Grand Marnier poached pasta shells with black mission fig puree, strawberry puree, pistachio brittle

My Indian Friend

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Fri, 23 Nov 2007 03:41:00 +0000

“What are you doing here on this island”? That was the question that I was asked by an Indian man that I had been drinking heavily with for the better part of the evening. My contract stated that I was on duty until the last wahgeney (guest) retired. My Indian friend had a nice bottle of scotch and was fully intent on drinking himself sideways. So I felt almost obligated to assist him. Earlier, my kitchen staff lent him the only American-scaled measuring cup so that his wife could wash herself. I asked my sous chef if there was a problem with their plumbing or shower fixtures. He said that there wasn’t but that the shower fixture wouldn’t reach some certain part of her anatomy that needed a good scrubbing. As a direct result of this small favor, I am now pretty efficient at using the metric system. And I figure that since he is using my kitchen equipment in his shower, I am somewhat entitled to share his fine scotch. So already we are practically related.

“What are you doing here on this island”?

“I am here to study African food in an unspoiled environment.”

(scotch)

It was my standard response. Canned, rehearsed, and repeated several times a day. Apparently the Europeans were pretty shocked to run into an American chef in some far stretch of Africa. He took a long stare at me and said nothing. So I continued, “I grew up in Florida around Caribbean food, but I think the authenticity is disappearing. Once the islanders get access to Miami’s grocery stores the magic of the food is spoiled in some ways. So I went to remote Nicaragua to study unspoiled Caribbean food. I have always been fascinated with African food and I saw a huge amount of similarity between African and Caribbean. So I wanted to study the roots of....”

“Why are you here? What are you doing here?”

(another scotch)

“Nobody is doing anything to preserve this cuisine. There is nothing that properly documents Swahili food. And it is the spice epicenter. It is the original “fusion food”. They traded people for peppercorns!”

“Yes. But why are you here? You are here for money. You are a profiteer like any other mzungu in Africa. No?”

“No.”

(another scotch and a bit more dribble)

“I am here to study food. I will take home with me recipes from the old Swahili mamas. The young ones just want fish-n-chips. So their cuisine is dying. And I will help to preserve...”

“But WHY are you doing this?”

  “I might write a book and I am looking at opening a restaurant. I don't know what I am doing yet.” I hadn’t planned that far and that was all I had. I was fading. My bartender was biting his lip to keep himself from falling asleep at the bar. One of my Maasai askari (watchman) on his nightly rounds strolls through the bar and leaves us with a waft of leather and must from the cow fat he rubs on his skin. I notice that he is only armed with a stick which seems ridiculous to me at the time because I have given him strict orders to kill cats that have been waking me and my guests up at 4:00 am every day. How the hell is he going to... Why doesn't he have a fucking bow or a spear or something cooler than a stick. I make a note-to-self on a bar room napkin: "Arm Maasai. Maybe poison."

I am dizzy from scotch and my Indian friend is still very keen on exploring my intentions in Africa.

“So you are here to take recipes and cooking techniques from the Swahili people, and use them in ways to make yourself money? You are here for profit. Not as some sort of crusader to the preservation of the Swahili culture. If you write a book or open a restaurant you aim to profit off your experience with the Swahili people.”

(scotch again, then verbal implosion)

“I am living in bush Africa. I have been isolated from my friends and family for years while traveling around food. So, yes. Somebody is going to fucking pay me for it! Ultimately the Swahili people would benefit from a book that preserves their culture. But I am not doing what I do for charity. When I leave here somebody is going to pay me for having a cracked tooth that I can’t get fixed! Somebody is going to pay me for malaria-induced hallucinations involving semi-frozen, sandy octopus!! Someone is going to pay me for eating barracuda and green bananas every other day for months upon end!!! Someone somewhere will pay me! So yeah. I am a privateer. Why are you in Africa?"

We finish the bottle of scotch and head toward our respective targets. Me toward the reception area to make sure the computer is turned off (so that the village power doesn’t paralyze my only link to the outside world when we kill our generator). And my Indian friend staggers towards his room where he will find his sweet smelling and sleeping wife snuggled up next to my measuring cup.

When I enter the reception area I find that a local puppy has paid another visit and chewed on a tassel of the expensive Moroccan rug that adorns the floor. It is the first thing guests see when they arrive. I will have to alert my gardener, The Green Assassin, in the morning. But an askari should be aware tonight I decide. We don't want any missed opportunities. So I go to fetch one.

The askari I find on this particular evening doesn’t speak English so I am forced to communicate in drunken and broken Kiswahili. Best I can remember is that paka is a cat and bata is a dog. So I proceed to tell him that the bata is causing a lot of matatizos (problems) by coming in at night and chewing the carpet. But listen! I don’t want the bata killed because this particular bata chases the paka. And the paka is causing matatizos because it is waking the wageney at night looking for chakula. So just chase the bata away, OK?

Wholesale veritable confusion ensues. The askari makes a horrid attempt at English and unleashes a string of words so jumbled and non-sensical it sounded as if someone had dropped some sort of word grenade.

I repeat it, changing my verbage as many ways as I know how. Why the fuck is this so difficult! I am desperately trying to maintain my composure and I am drunk off my ass. I know that they haven’t had the education that I have had. And I try to remind myself of how fortunate I am. The goddamn bata is chewing the carpet! Don’t kill the bata because the bata chases the paka. Don’t you understand?! How damned difficult is this?! Do I need to draw stick figures?!

I tell the askari to wait and I leave to fetch the bartender who somewhat understands English. I bring everyone together and tell the same damn story. The bata is chewing the carpet. Don’t kill it. It chases the paka. It really is that simple.

My bartender looks at me and says, “The matatizo is that bata mean ‘duck’ and duck don’t chase cat. Askari chase dog that chew carpet. Hakuna matata.”

Well, shit. Hakuna matata. I am going to bed...

The bartender had to pull my Indian friend off his bed and dress him the next morning cause he was too drunk to do it himself and his wife wasn’t strong enough to lift him. A few more staff helped to prop him up in a Land Rover and get him to the airport in time to catch his flight.

The African sun was bright that next morning. I woke up wrapped up in my mosquito net clutching a mangled napkin that said, "Arm Maasai. Maybe poison." When I went by the kitchen my sous chef held up the measuring cup with a proud smile reflecting his ability to recover these sort of things. Something that the boss would surely miss and consequentially interrogate everyone over for weeks.

“For garden”, he says and smiles.

Sharing A Beer With Anonymous

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Sun, 14 Oct 2007 00:21:00 +0000

“I was making deliveries and collecting money for a South African maize company. Sometimes I would cover 480 kilometres in a single day driving down washboard roads strewn with rock and mud. I had a guard with me and we would carry huge sums of money. I never put the money in the safe though. The bandits expected to find it in the safe. So I hid it on my body. I also hid a 9mm pistol. On the day that I was robbed I had it behind my back, the barrel tucked beneath my beltline and the grip exposed but under my shirt. There was a bullet in the chamber but I had the safety on.

The owner of the house had a troubled look when I arrived to secure his money. He was never outside. And he was that day. And he was quiet. It was when I was leaving and I bent down to get into the car that I felt the pistol to my temple. Another pulled a shotgun on my guard who was already seated in the passenger seat. I think there was a total of four. The one who had the pistol to my head demanded the safe key. I told him that it was under the dash. He was stricken by panic. He was sweating. I gave a look to my guard as I reached forward. I wanted him to know what I was about to do. And he did.

As I leaned forward for the safe key I slid one hand behind my back. The bandit was focused on the money. He wanted the key and he wanted to make sure that the key was, in fact, what I was reaching for under that dash. His eyes never left my left hand. My right hand was releasing the safety. When I had the key, I leaned back into my seat and I held it up in front of the bandits face. The 9mm was at my side now. He looked at the key and then reached for it. I don’t know if he saw it coming. The blast and heat of the barrel burned my stomach. And it was bruised for like two weeks. I fired two shots into his chest. The rest of them split like cockroaches. I got out of the car. Then I shot another one in the back while he was running away. Just out of frustration.”

~Anonymous

First Aid

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Sat, 13 Oct 2007 23:53:00 +0000

I am a cook. And that should be grounds enough to debar me from administering first aid to anyone other than my own damned self. But somehow or another, playing the role of a cook and resort director at a remote and third-world destination auto-qualified me as the go-to person in the event of a grim emergency. Horrible ear infection? Gaping flesh wound? Your hand has quadrupled in size while you were cleaning crabs? You have an immense oozing boil? Ripped off your toe nail? You are dying from a malarial fever? No worries. The doctor is in. What’s that you say?... Never mind. I only speak broken Swahili. Just point at what is ailing you so I can dig into my first aid kit that is rich with expired Italian pharmaceuticals. And also never mind that I can’t speak Italian. There might be one with an icon of a mosquito.

All I know about my first aid kit is that it doesn’t have medicine for white people. And I don’t mean that because all the medicine is expired American and Italian pharmaceuticals. I was attacked by some horrid creature of the Mafian insect underworld one day and had an immediate allergic reaction to it that near made me pass out on my feet. While scrambling to call my boss (and my only hope for air support into the hospitals of Dar es Salaam or Nairobi), I ran into my assistant manager (below). I told him that I needed Benedryl or some sort of anti-hystemine or I was basically going to die an unspeakable hellish death in the very immediate future. He said that he didn’t know what an anti-hystemine was and, furthermore, didn’t know "what sort of medicine white people take". I did a little bit of hyper-ventilating while incubating in the shade of the African sun and then got through to my boss who gave me the name of some Italian smack that I was unable to find in the drug box.

I was left with an amazing welt on my arm and a pair of red dots which led me to believe the little bastard that got me was a malicious spider of the Genus Unpleasantus.

Oh! Ow! Damn!!! What the fuck did you..... Oh! Shit! that had to have... wow. Ow! Fuck off! That is nasty! Your fucking toenail is hanging half GONE! Do we cut it? Or wrap it up? Oh shit that is gross. Do you want a shot of scotch? An aspirin? Maybe some of this shit that says “La Costanza Medicale"?. Do you speak English? Do you have any allergies? Italian? Nevermind.

Take three deep breaths.

This will only hurt for a second...

Alaskan King Crab With Kachumbari

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 01:54:00 +0000

'Kachumbari' is to the Swahili Coast what 'salsa' is to Central America and the Caribbean. You could call it the original salsa. And if you want to be a food snob you could call this recipe Swahili Fusion or Alaskan Fusion. Or, if you want to be a super pretentious nerd you can coin a name like Afrilaskan Cuisine. Blue Crabs or Snow Crabs can be substituted for the Alaskan Crab. And if you want the real deal authenticity of Zanzibar and the Spice Islands you can source yourself out some Mangrove Crabs.

1 lb. crab meat, claws reserved for garnish
Small bunch of chives, chopped
Juice of 1 lemon
3 tomatoes, seeded, fine diced
1 cucumber, seeded, fine diced
2 bell peppers, fine diced
2 tbsp olive oil
1 pili pili pepper (sub. cayenne)
Salt & pepper to taste

Mix everything but the crab. Put crab meat into chilled martini glasses and top with kachumbari. Garnish with crab claws.

Mafian Diary

isolatediguana@yahoo.com (Isolated Iguana) — Tue, 21 Aug 2007 10:21:00 +0000

I don't know why the people of Mafia Island are referred to as Mafians. If I lived there on a more permaneant basis than I did I think I would prefer to be called a Mafioso. That being said, here's some notes that I jotted down while I was living there as a Mafian.

I miss being surrounded by professionals in the kitchen. I miss the buzz. I miss the calls from the expediter. “Fire a shank.” “Picking up octopus, quail, two scallops”. The changing zip codes maintained at the grill. Each number symbolizing a cooking temperature from rare to well. I miss the twelve burner saute station with dual salamanders. I miss the energy of a well-trained line. Making sure that my mise en place is all in perfect order. Making sure that I am not the one that the rest of the line has to wait for when the orders pile in. I miss the endless chatter of the printer as it relentlessly spews dupes. I miss the cuts and burns. The sting of cold hands when the freezer needs to be cleaned and organized.

In Mafia, the challenge is working with a staff who has a fraction of the education that is typical in the United States. The majority have went through about seven years. The rest received less or none at all. And then you have a huge language barrier. Most guests spoke Italian. Most staff spoke broken English and Swahili. I spoke broken Swahili, deteriorating Spanish, and English. You can ask a waiter for a banana and could very well end up with a fish. And try to teach a Muslim how to cook a pork tenderloin. It is like teaching a vegetarian how to cook fois gras.

There is no concept of urgency. Most of my staff spends the morning laying under mango trees waiting for breakfast to fall into their lap. If I see a Swahili moving fast, or (God forbid) running, I am certain that imminent disaster is soon to follow. Fire in the courtyard. Maasai performer who can’t swim fell in the deep end of the pool. (Both happened by the way). I had a bartender reach into a drawer for a receipt book and grab a handful of Boomslang, a poisonous African snake well capable of delivering a fatal bite. But nobody is going to move a knife with that sort of rapidity.

I only brought two knives with me. A Global santouku and a pairing knife. Usually I bring a whole roll loaded with all sorts of specialty knives and tools. A salmon slicer, yanagi sashimi knife, bird beak peeler, hefty meat cleaver, bone tweezers, flexible fillet knives, and a host of others. Both of the knives I brought are near ruined. When I am in the kitchen nobody touches them. But when I leave, knives are used to open canned goods and they are sharpened on the concrete block outside rather than the stone and steel in the kitchen.

The village that I am living in is at least two hundred years behind the mainland of Tanzania. Which pretty well puts it about a thousand years behind the rest of the civilized world. Houses are still constructed with mud, mangrove poles, and makuti, or palm-thatched roofs. The local butchery here is enough to turn Ted Nugett into a vegetarian. It is open air with no refridgeration. Slabs of beef lay on a blood-stained tin sheets and are overrun by flies. And for this reason I have my livestock delivered to the back gate alive.

Goats, ducks, guinea fowl, “Swahili chickens”, and just about anything else with a pulse is brought in on a leash or in thatch baskets. Swahili chickens are about half the size of what I am used to seeing in American supermarkets. Their eggs yolks are off-white, almost the dull color of cold butter, from being malnourished and living off of trash. And the meat has a bit more of a game flavor than what most of us are used to. But I guess you could call them “free-range” and make them sound appealing to Americans and Europeans.

All of the animals are slaughtered in the rear of the resort in Muslim tradition. Unless I do it. I just neck the goat and get on with the day. The Muslim staff say a few prayers, point the goat in a certain direction, dig a hole, bury a bit of blood, and pour water over the knife and wound. The thought of chopping off a chicken’s head on a block with an axe and then watching the chicken run around directionless for a minute is absurd. But the Swahili tie up the chickens feet and kneel on their wings before cutting off their heads and bleeding them into the ground.

I tend to hide offal in things like spring rolls and samosas. I just fine chop it and mix in a few vegetables and a bit of curry. People don’t often ask “Hey, what part of the lamb was used to make the Zanzibar Spring Rolls”? I will mince up flap meat, hearts, livers, stomach, kidneys, and whatever else doesn’t look pretty on the plate. But I won’t use the intestines. The putridity and foulness that is emitted out of the pan when these babies are boiled is stomach churning. It smells just like the grass mix that spills out of the stomach when you gut a lamb or goat. You could not hide the repugnancy with the strongest of curries. So I give it to the staff.

The staff boil up intestines and any other part of the carcass that will not be used in the kitchen. The boil-up is served with ugali, which you probably know as polenta. The ugali is rolled into a ball with the right hand (everyone eats out of the same bowl and the left hand is used for wiping), then with your thumb you fashion a sort of scoop or spoon out of it. Dunk your scoop into the mchuzi, grab yourself a chunk of offal, and roll it into your mouth. The Swahili people chew it. I don’t recommend it. You are far better off if you can manage to swallow the whole lot. And I highly recommend chasing it down with a cold bottle of Tusker or Safari Lager.

My fish arrives strapped to the back of a bicycle. Most is caught with hand lines as the people can’t afford proper fishing rods and reels. Big tuna, silver trevalley, sailfish, grouper, snapper, and barracuda. The island is not yet a huge dive destination even though there is world-class reef surrounding it. So the big fish are still around. Some fish are longer than the bicycle that they are tied to. It is sort of like a scene from The Old Man And The Sea unfolding on land.

Usually the same guy who brings me the fish filets it for me. Because he knows that I will give him the head if he does. I keep grouper cheeks and prepare them as a special treat for my favorite guests. But all the rest of the head goes to the fish monger who usually shares it with the rest of the staff. Kitchen knives are used like hatchets to split silver trevalley skulls the size of manhole covers. The heads are grilled over charcoal and picked apart methodically and served with the ever accompanying ugali.