Stomachs on legs are proud to present

Mofongo was introduced to me by my pen pal and fellow PhD freak Andy aka Mandevu.

Mandevu is a bit quiet on the blog front these days as he's also writing his thesis

One fortunate evening in Brooklyn Andy and his lovely wife Michelle (an ER doctor at a hospital in Brooklyn) took us out to a restaurant in their hood for some good old down to earth Dominican eats at El Gran Castillo De Jagua....during which Andy proclaimed his love of mofongo



Mofongo is mashed plantains with garlic and bacon

Mofongo with a side of fried plantains


It's pretty good, imagine mashed potatos with garlic and bacon but with a hint of banana flavour and there you have it. Here is a recipe I found but I cannot vouch for "authenticity" (it says Dominican mofongo...but who knows they could be lying?)

Mofongo Appreciator


We also had king fish in tomato sauce



and soup of the day - tripe



Plus chicken and beans and bread and there was some salad in there too, far too much food and the bill a mere $37.00 USD plus tips. A feast that could have fed another three to four South Koreans or five to six North Koreans to put it in McCain terms.


This place is right at the "Seventh Avenue" stop on the Q subway line.
Take the Brooklyn-bound Q train, and get off at the "7th Avenue" stop, and go up the right-hand stairway after you pass through the turnstyle, you'll be right next to the place (and smelling the meat already!). Easy to
find. Even if you went up the left-hand stairwell, you'd see the place right across the road.

"I love music. I love women. I love gadgets. I love food." That's pretty much all it boils down to for DJ Serious, a man well known in Toronto for his impeccable musical taste and humble ways. He can rock a party, produce a neck-snapping track (see his albums Dim Sum and Cold Tea), and he knows the ins and outs of this city better than anyone else.

That's what Celine Wong wrote in this story on the RBMA site.

Since DJ Serious seems to be, um, serious about food (you have to respect someone who calls his album Dim Sum), we followed his recommendation a few weeks ago and went up to
the Peruvian restaurant called El Bodegon (537 College St.)

Forgetting his dictum to order the Bandeja, Erik went for the Argentinian steak, which turned out passably good (we also go to a Peruvian spot called El Inca near our work in Cologne for steak). The frozen margarita was undrinkable (I had such a nice un-frozen one at a Tex-Mex spot in Brooklyn, it did not occur to me that the Bodegon might come out frozen!). The ceviche was worse than average.

But the Chile Relleno (very different to the battered & fried cheesy Mexican version) was a tour de force. A roasted poblano chile stuffed with minced beef, potato & corn, and bathed in a tasty tomato sauce (derived from the Italian population of Lima, or a nod to this restaurant's location in Little Italy?)

The sweet, roasted, spicy sliminess of the roasted Poblano went perfectly with its stuffing and sauce.

I would go back there just to have this swamp-monster dish. Maybe even two.

The word for pumpkin in Japan is Kabocha.

Due to the many sub-divisions of botanical types into squashes, gourds and even zucchini the story is a bit confusing. But stick with me, dear readers. In the end it all comes down to the difference between moschata and maxima, smooth and knobbly.

According to the Japanese Wikipedia,

Portuguese were the main traders with Japan in the 16th century. The Portuguese called the vegetables "Cambodia abóbora" (Cambodian pumpkin), because they had visited Cambodia before Japan, although the types of pumpkin they introduced were Central American 'Cucurbita' squash. (Cucurbita is known as the 'winter squash' family in America).

All pumpkins & squash are called Kabocha in Japan.

They advise wikipedia readers that people in the West only call orange pumpkins 'pumpkin', so the Japanese pumpkin (which is green) is referred to in America as 'kabocha squash' (and, I guess, 'Jap Pumpkin' in Oz, which makes more sense than Kabocha squash, which is sort of like saying pumpkin-pumpkin).

The sub-breed known in Japan as Japan-pumpkin (Nihon kabocha) is part of the 'Cucurbita Moschata' group of kabocha which includes butternut squash.

"It has an exceptional naturally sweet flavor, even sweeter than butternut squash. It is similar in texture and flavor to a pumpkin and a sweet potato combined together. Some can taste like a Russet potato."

"Kabocha originated on the American continental mass. Christopher Columbus found it and took it back to Europe along with tobacco, potatoes, and tomatoes. After that, the vegetable traveled around the globe and was brought to Japan from Cambodia on Portuguese ships in 1541, during the Azuchi-Momoyama period. Subsequently it became known as kabocha. That type of kabocha was the one we now call Nihon kabocha. It has a knobbly-looking skin and is a variety to which the Japan people are well accustomed."





Another group of pumpkin or Kabocha in Japan is 'Cucurbita Maxima' (they call it 'seiyou kabocha': occidental pumpkin), which includes Buttercup pumpkin (Buttercup squash to Americans). It's the largest pumpkin commonly on offer in Japan and is widely cultivated there...

"Today many kabocha in the market are of the type called Kuri kabocha, which was created based on Seiyo kabocha [Occidental pumpkin, which includes buttercup squash] brought from America to Japan during the late Edo period. These are different to Nihon kabocha and are popular for the strong yet sweet flavor and moist, fluffy texture, which is like chestnuts. It's found in the market under such brand names as Miyako, Ebisu, Kurokawa, Akazukin, etc."

The one on the left is Nihon kabocha (Japanese pumpkin, C.Moschata), the one on the right is the common-in-Japan Seiyou kabocha (C.Maxima):


The third category of 'kabocha' is 'Cucurbita Pepo', which includes varieties of squash, gourd and pumpkin. It includes 小型kabocha (small size pumpkin), Donguri kabocha (Acorn squash), Soumen kabocha (Spaghetti squash/spaghetti marrow). This family also includes the orange pumpkins used at Halloween, and zucchini! But zucchini are neither called kabocha in Japanese nor pumpkin in English.

The Cucurbata Pepo family came to Japan from South America by way of China, and the 'China eggplant' is also part of that family.

Pepo:








In Japan the bulk of pumpkins are grown in Hokkaido: so outside of Japan, the main green and red Japanese cucurbata varieties are often known as Green Hokkaido and Red Hokkaido. Thus '北海道' (Hokkaido) can be seen as a label of origin, similar to 'Queensland Bananas'. Just keep in mind that 'Red Hokkaido' usually seems to refer to a Japanese variety of C.Maxima, whereas what the Japanese call Japan-pumpkin is C.Moschata. They're different, G.



HOKKAIDO PUMPKIN, KABOCHA SQUASH OR JAP PUMPKIN: WHAT'S THE DIFF, CLIFF?

This Australian website describes the ideal growing conditions for Japanese pumpkins in South-Eastern Australia.

It seems that in Australian terms, Japanese Pumpkin (probably the C.Moschata variety called Japanese pumpkin or Nihon-kabocha) is a sub-type of Hokkaido pumpkin, but 'Hokkaido pumpkin' can also refer to a number of other varieties, including C.Maxima.

Varieties include: Ajihei, Ajehei No. 107, Ajihei No. 331, Ajihei No. 335, Cutie, Ebisu, Emiguri, and Miyako.

Answers.com claims that Nihon-kabocha [which the Japanese wikipedia says is a sub-species of Cucurbata Moschata] is "a member of the species Cucurbita maxima, along with the Hubbard and Butternut squashes."
I think they got confused, since Butternut actually belongs to Moschata, and Buttercup to Maxima.

The photo below of a smooth orange pumpkin comes from a site where it was labelled as "Cucurbita maxima 'Uchiki Kuri'/Orange Hokkaido."

When you're cooking Japanese recipes, just remember that what most Japanese recipes use is the green 'Japan Pumpkin' (C.Moschata), knobbly and sweet, which can be substituted with butternut squash. The other main type of pumpkin (seiyou) also bred in Japan is the C.Maxima and tastes somewhat different, but is also commonly used in Japanese cooking. In the west these will most commonly be labelled hokkaido red or hokkaido green (if the skin is smooth), though there are many sub-varieties.

And if anyone tells you anything different, they're wrong, John.





Japanese pumpkin with pumpkin pudding inside:



Try grilling your Japanese pumpkin stuffed with 'sea chicken' (canned tuna) and cheese:



I guess Maytel's 'Jap pumpkin' could be any one of a number of crossbred-in-Hokkaido Japanese varieties of the South American originating Curcubata family... although if it was going to be called a Japanese pumpkin in Japan, it would need to be knobbly and dark green and heavy and have dense sweet orange flesh...
You'd have to see the skin to know I guess!

Like David Byrne sang "It could be black, it could be white, I could be wrong, I could be right"

An interesting point about the ripening process:

"When kabocha is just harvested, it is still growing. So, unlike other vegetables and fruits, freshness isn't as important. It should be fully matured first, in order to become flavorful. First, kabocha is ripened in a warm place (77°F for 13 days, during which some of the starch converts to carbohydrate content). Then it's transferred to a cool place (50°F and stored for about a month in order to increase its carbohydrate content). In this way the just-harvested, dry, bland-tasting kabocha is transformed into smooth, sweet kabocha. Fully ripened, succulent kabocha will have reddish-yellow flesh and a hard skin with a dry, corky stem. It is heavier than it looks. It reaches the peak of ripeness about 1.5~3 months after it's harvested."

Now that you know the difference, you can tell straight away that this is not a Nihon-kabocha:

Walk straight down Clinton St from Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, past Italian gardens with religious statues and under the Queens-Brooklyn expressway, and you're in Red Hook, a whole different ball game.

Soccer, busted up buildings, trees, grass, and amazing Latin American food throughout summer.

Approaching the food vendors:



Quite surprising that so many people I've met who live in Brooklyn have not been to the Red Hook Ballfields...and the ones who have, act real surprised that we went there. Surely, something this good can't be a secret, when it's been there for ten years and it gets press like this article in the NY Times, which came with a tantalising accompanying video, effusing that "there is no better street food scene in all of New York", and "it’s the kind of experience that reminds you why you live in New York."

Also, Nina Lalli wrote in this 2005 article in the Village Voice about how Chowhound.com bloggers were "plotzing" over the Central American/Mexican/South American food. She explained, "(For non-Yiddish speakers, to plotz means to explode, crack, or burst). "Louise", who had written up the original report (which fellow 'hound Bob Martinez called "the definitive post on the ball fields"), replied with a confirmation: "Totally plotz-worthy.""

It was the nicest way to spend a hot few hours, chilling on the grass, eating snacks, while cute kids run around. The crowd was mostly Latino/Latina, with a few Brooklyn-dwelling palanga/pakeha families with the occasional adopted Chinese baby.
Just a few meters up the road is this big pool which was already drained since we came in early autumn, but apparently is lively throughout summer and kids have to wear white tee shirts to avoid gang skirmishes over colour affiliations.

If you go there, the article by Peter Meehan in the NY Times gives a very good directive of what to sample, going from right to left along the stalls.



The Ecuadorian-Chilean ceviche-mixto was the best I've ever had, heavy on lime juice, spring onions, cilantro, & red onions. I would ask for two servings of hot sauce. Love those roasted corn kernels.

Some of the young guys who'd been playing soccer ordered something similar but hot, that looked really good too: I guess it was the Ence Bollado.



The Baleadas from Ms Carcamo at the next stall (and the cinnamon 'Horchata' rice milk with unrefined sugar) were delicious. That was actually my favourite thing – so good I forgot to take a picture unfortunately. Just-made wheat tortillas folded around a smear of beans and a sprinkling of grated cheese, very simple, soft and tasty, and not greasy. Peter Meehan writes, "Ms. Carcamo left Honduras for Brooklyn more than 20 years ago and has been turning out these baleadas, which might be most expediently described as Honduran tacos, at the Red Hook ball fields for more than a decade. Away from the sun and soccer, on weekdays and through the winter, she runs Honduras Maya, her restaurant on Fifth Avenue in Park Slope." Watch the NY Times video to see more. It was a shame that there was a ridiculous queue for the pupusa stand next door (and a camera crew filming them too), whereas the Baleadas were sadly neglected, with hardly any customers. Hang in there, Carcamo crew.

Making baleadas:



Pupusa:



The Salvadoran-style pupusa (we had pork and cheese but if I went again I'd get jalapeno and cheese) was yummy & fresh but definitely greasy and junky.
Here is Nina Lalli's description: "Masa (meaning 'dough') is made from corn kernels dried by fire or in the sun, which are boiled and ground to a thick paste. It can also be dried to make flour, which just needs a little water to form tamales, tortillas, etc. Foodies generally become hysterical when they see the real thing, and with good reason. A freshly made tortilla is more than just a vehicle for its filling—it is crisp on the outside, but thick, soft inside, hot, and tasting truly of corn. I devoured a pork and cheese-filled pupusa, which is flattened into a fat pancake and cooked on a griddle until the cheese is melted and oozes out when cut with the side of a fork. For perfect contrast, it is served with a heap of pickled cabbage."





Actually the fried plantain with crema (like runny sour cream) from the pupusa stall was even more memorable. Plantains, where have you been all my life?



The charcoal-cooked corn (elotes) was tasty, dredged in mayo, chilli, lime and crumbled Cotija cheese (we make these at home sometimes, using parmesan, since hearing about the version at Cafe Habana in Nolita a couple years ago). I would recommend to hold the mayo though: it overwhelms the other flavours a little too much and is too rich for my taste.



For dessert we had the rest of the Horchata and a bag of chopped mango to which we were given the option of adding chilli or salt. There were piles of fruits and mango hedgehogs on sticks. The whole area was hot from the sun and smoky from all the cooking.



Cooling off:



Chilling:



Beware of Chowhounds:



The Red Hook food vendors are there Saturdays and Sundays from May through October. The atmosphere and food are SO good, if I lived locally I'd go every weekend for sure. Next time I want to try the Mexican Huaraches and the chicken tamales.