happy belly

In Vanuatu I’ve learned that I love to cook. During my first year I switched between my gas stove and fire pit, slowly weaning off the gas while mastering a cook fire. Eventually the tank emptied, I sold my stove, and used my bush kitchen to cook all of my meals. It’s been a fun challenge! I feel like I’ve finally perfected the right temperatures for making pizza in a frying pan and a pie inside a small pot sitting inside a big pot. Oh, to think of simmering with a dial-controlled stove! And an oven! Things are looking up in the kitchen department. But this has been a culinary adventure I’ll never forget.

Recent belly happenings:

A Peace Corps Response volunteer in Vila named Zach got a kombucha mushroom from an expat and had been fermenting kombucha at his house. He gave me a mushroom to bring back to site and I’ve been making it here! It’s easy to maintain and fun to experiment with. Every time the tea goes through fermentation, the mushroom or mother or SCOBY (symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast) duplicates and makes a baby SCOBY for a double batch. And so on and so on until you’ve got 8 jars of kombucha with 2-3 mothers in each one. My papa is intrigued, so I’m leaving the operation in his hands. He makes some great pineapple home brew, so I’m not too worried about this nonalcoholic venture.  I’m leaving a few for my papa, but passing the rest out to my Peace Corps island mates and interested community members. I’ll definitely make my own kombucha forever.

After the initial 7-10 day fermentation, you can ferment it again, adding flavors and more sugar to make carbonation. My favorite combos so far are honey lemon ginger, mandarin ginger, and coconut lime. The end result is a fizzy fiesta in your mouth. Whenever I go into town, I bring a bottle to put in Mami Amina’s ice box for refreshing afternoon gulps.

For shits and giggles, I held a kombucha tasting with some parents who hang around the school while their kids are in kindergarten. I paired it with nangae nuts and a fruit salad and watched the range of expressions upon tasting the acidic drink. As expected, there was a mix of surprised, sour, and satisfied faces among the participants. I taught them about the fermentation process, the belly benefits of drinking it, and explained how they could make it themselves. And this is how I spent a Tuesday morning. Man, the freedom of being a Peace Corps volunteer!

The solar fruit dryer is up and running! I’ve been experimenting with it and have had some luck. Other than the dried mango, pineapple, and papaya, I’ve dried herbs, garlic, and hot peppers to make spices, dried corn for popcorn, and made banana chips! For a twist, I mixed honey and lemon (and ginger for a few batches!) and dipped in the banana slices. Then I doused them in either crumbled local nuts or coconut shavings and dried these out for fancy banana chips. A big hit with my little cousins! I want a dehydrator when I go back to the states, if only for the banana chips and sundried tomatoes.

It’s avocado season! Big green and purple fruit in all shapes and sizes are dangling from trees all over the community. Like all fruits and veggies in bloom here, there is an overwhelming abundance. No one here loves avocados, but people are fascinated by my love, so they bring them to me in heaps. My puskats are possessed by avocados and meow like feigns when I cut one open. I have to hang them (the avocados, not the cats) in a basket from my ceiling or else they are pilfered in the night.  Waiting for the avocados to be ready is a true test in patience. When I gaze admiringly at them in the trees, they look ready to my untrained eyes, but it turns out they are not. Are we there yet?! “Wait small, Alison,” I am told. Eventually some trees are ready to share. The tree in my front yard produced 3 funny-looking fruit. They made great guacamole. My parents told me that those were the first avocados the tree has ever made in its 5 years of life. Approved!

I’ve mentioned that my family and I have been on a hobo kick lately. Hobos consist of chopped veggies, potatoes, onion, garlic, whatever doused in spices and dale’s sauce (thank you Estelle!!!) and wrapped up in tin foil. Once your fire turns into the good glowing remains, plop the hobos down and wait half an hour (enjoy the aroma while you’re at it!) and out comes a delicious, steamy meal. It’s like opening an individually wrapped bundle of happiness. And they haven’t failed us yet. I’d say at this point we’re making hobos 3 nights a week. Long live the hobo!

Tomato season is long gone, but one Friday in February they just showed up at the market, uninvited but eagerly welcomed. Mother Nature’s freak accident turned into a tasty complement to everything. Avocado and tomato season just miss each other, but not this time! We made tacos twice that week, topped with guacamole and salsa! One day I decided to surprise my parents with “Los Jobos” or Mexican-style hobos!  We used taco seasoning and lots of garlic for flavor, added in black beans, and topped everything with shredded cheese, salsa, and guac. It was incredible! After we cleaned our plates, we sprawled out on my parent’s front porch with happy bels. My mama told my papa in language that she could eat this every night forever. He translated for me and I knew it was genuine or else she would have said it in Bislama for me. Viva los hobos!

With the extra tomatoes, some capsicum, and a can of mushrooms I made a big sauce. I had a packet of gnocchi I got in Vila that I added to it. I breaded some thinly sliced susut (kinda like zucchini) and fried them. Once the sauce was done, I topped it with the fritters and then melted cheese on top. Yum!

My Aunt Jenny sent me a wonderful care package with matzo ball mix inside! One night we killed a chicken, simmered a soup, and dropped in the matzo balls. We watched Grease while we slurped it down. My parents asked if we could make the second packet the next night, but we decided they’d have to try it when I’m gone.

Last time I was in Port Vila I went to Vate Industries in the hopes of having a steel grill plate made for my parents as a thank you gift. We love to cook together, so this would be a fun reminder of all those adventurous meals. A very helpful kiwi named Rex built the 2 ft x 3 ft 10 mm thick plate for me and welded their last name Mala on to the top! He attached handles and a frame and delivered it to Laura’s house for me to put on a ship. I have horrible shipping luck, so after a few grand tours around northern Vanuatu, the heavy carton finally arrived to Ambae. My parents love it and we’ve been using it regularly for grilling meat and veggies and making tortillas. It’s indestructible and has their name on it, so the chances are good that it won’t be stolen and will remain as a Mala heirloom for a while.

I showed my family the documentary “Just Eat It” about food waste in America and they were shocked at how careless we are. This got us talking about factory farms, unethical farming practices, and industrialized agriculture which left them speechless. I decided to show them some documentaries on CAFOs and factory farms. As I sat there ashamed of my country, they were jaw-dropped and disgusted by the ruthlessness of it all. Cows, pigs, and chickens here have the bush to roam, plantations to graze upon, and are for the most part treated respectfully. I have had the pleasure of living here and eating fresh produce, fish and meat. It will be hard to return to a place where these options are expensive and not as accessible as the alternative. I know that a local food movement is happening all across the states, so I’m looking forward to returning to this!  I have set higher standards for the products that nourish my body and understand that at times these guidelines will be impractical to abide. But! I want to make a point of knowing my butcher, living close to a good farmer’s market, and purchasing and eating the good stuff.