dining

photo by Eric Jackson

Antillean delights
by Eric Jackson

You don't have to be a gordo like me, or a Colon buay like me, to go to the annual Antillean Fair and like the food tent best of all.

Yes, I like comida tipica and its ubiquitous garlic and culantro, and I am the kind of guy who will frequently buy breakfast from the bollo guy hawking his delicacies down the street. But Panama has ethnic and regional cuisines and if you grew up in Colon you will have been exposed to the stronger and spicier flavors that the West Indian and Kuna influences have given the cuisine in that part of Panama. In the capital there are a number of restaurants and street vendors who sell Antillean fare, most of all in its most identifiably West Indian neighborhood, Rio Abajo, but the most concentrated exposure to the genre comes from the food and beverage vendors on the grounds of the Museo Afroantillano every Carnival Saturday and Sunday.

I went later on a Saturday afternoon, having earlier been roasted while taking photos in the culecos over on Via Brasil, then walking back to my office in Perejil with a long pause en route to talk with a group of young missionaries visiting this country. (Alas, I  don't think they saved me, at least not in their terms. But maybe the conversation will have improved their skills at propagating their faith, and given them a greater appreciation of Panama and the heathen masses of Chilibre among whom they work.)

The hours of exposure to the mid-day tropical sun were well enough managed to avoid the pain and peeling --- number 30 strength sunscreen of the water resistant variety and a hat can effectively lighten the load for someone determined to carry the white man's dermatological burden into shadeless culecos at high noon --- but even so, all that sun tends to leave this reporter dehydrated and with suppressed appetite. The condition persisted even after a cool shower, change of clothing and guzzling of cold water back at the office.

So I got to the Antillean Fair just before the performances were to begin, as the recording on the sound system was enticing us to Do the Insurrection, with a great thirst and not much hunger. I behaved accordingly.

Saril may not be an insurrectionary beverage per se, but it is in fact a deep red. My first sampling was from a tent vending a small island variant that bore the slight but unmistakable flavor or allspice rather than the usual ginger. It's not the way I usually make it, but it's a good way to make it.

That wasn't enough rehydration, so I quickly slugged down a large cup of fresh-squeezed orange juice. What's so special, or so West Indian, about that? Well, OK --- you can find similar products in China, Israel, Spain, Florida or Ypsilanti, Michigan, far from anybody with a Caribbean accent. But go into any store in Panama City and see if you can find actual orange juice. What you almost invariably get is this stuff labeled orange juice that's actually a mix of water, concentrate, sugar and chemicals. To our great national shame, the pure citrus juices that are sold in cartons in our larger supermarkets are all imported. Real orange juice has to be obtained from street vendors, enjoyed at the Antillean Fair or squeezed at home.

By now it was time to take some photos of the larger than usual crowd, and of the entertainment that was starting. You can see some of those in the news and fun sections.

Between sets, the sun was moving west and showing a bit of mercy to those without shade, and I had been lurking in the shade at every opportunity anyway. The solar appetite suppression mechanism was beginning to weaken ever so slightly, even if it would affect me for the rest of the day.

So I made my way to the food tent and got me a couple of little bacalao cakes --- battered and deep-fried little patties of rehydrated dried codfish, on which I sprinkled some aji chombo sauce. To wash them down I drank a cup of isinglass, this stuff that looks like a light beige milkshake, is made out of a delicate seaweed and has a slight nutmeg taste. (Do I hear an "Eeeew --- slimy seaweed sludge!" from some unadventurous individual with a sense of taste deformed in North American suburbia? Drink it! It's good for you, and it tastes good.)

Back to the party. And at the next break, more rehydration, this time with some saril made with ginger, and with another cup of orange juice.

After the next set the sun was starting to duck down behind Ancon Hill, and I got me some dinner. It was a piece of escabeche --- escoviched corvina --- with some coconut and guandu rice. You can think of escoviched fish as a Jamaican-style cross between ceviche and fried fish. The fish is actually cooked, unlike in ceviche, but also pickled with lime juice or vinegar and vegetables, most notably peppers (sweet red ones in this case) and onions.

Now escabeche de corvina is one of those things that's Jamaican the same way that chop suey or leon pan mein is Chinese --- it's unmistakably a diaspora delicacy. You see, Jamaica is in the Caribbean Sea but corvina is a Pacific fish, so this variation is an application of West Indian cuisine using Panamanian ingredients. Say snobbish things about lack of authenticity if you must, but this inexpensive Antillean-Panamanian dinner was very good. I washed it down with some ginger beer, not the stuff that Schweppes puts in cans for the British market but the home-made variety --- the good stuff.

I wouldn't eat anything more on this Saturday, although between sets I did go for seconds on the saril with allspice.

I dried some saril this year and saved some seeds to plant, so I won't be waiting until next year's Antillean Fair to get back to the culinary genre. Besides, you can get Pickapeppa Sauce at Riba Smith and I do, so jerked chicken is one of the common features of my diet.

Do the insurrection! Take a break from the bland and acquire the taste for West Indian food and beverages, if you have not already. A good way to start is by clicking on the Caribbean recipes button below, and following the links to some island standards that have long been incorporated into one of Panama's best regional cuisines.