Meet our Host

Awhile back, we hosted an epic Chinese New Year day of feasting. Throughout the continual grazing, I had the chance to catch up with my friend, Golden. I learned that he spends up to 6 months of the year in Madagascar, and is also quite the cook. As a thank you for all the tasty dumplings he dominated at our party, he invited us over for some African home cooking, Berkeley-style.

I love dinner parties -- there's just something wonderfully intimate about getting to know someone in their element, through the food they've taken the time and thoughtfulness to prepare. On the menu this evening was a Senegalese-style Mafé, a tomato-based groundnut stew, and for dessert, Bread Pudding with Malagasy Vanilla Rum Sauce.

Hua & Justin

As we dug in, we learned more about Golden's studies and travels throughout Africa, and particularly, in Madagascar. Amazingly, what started out as a third grade book report on lemurs, has turned into a total immersion of Malagasy culture and language for the past ten years. Golden is pursuing a PhD at Berkeley in Environmental Science and Public Health, and studies "the interconnectivity between bushmeat harvesting, sustainability, conservation policy, nutrition, and disease."

Tangentially, he apparently also studies the art of barefoot trekking, hunting with blow-darts, building waterwheels, great reggae, and starring in local music videos.

We eagerly drank in visions of a land filled with lychee trees and mango fruit, and tales of exotic animals (like the fosa -- pound per pound, the deadliest carnivore on Earth); we listened, captivated by stories of friendships made and adventures had.

The Fosa (Photo Credit: Nick Garbutt)

We also discovered a new ingredient! Golden used these curious looking pods to flavor the stew.

Melegueta Pepper (?)

They vaguely resembled brown cardamom pods but with a tougher shell. They had a pleasant woodsy flavor to them, tasting a bit like licorice, with notes of ginger and camphor.

Upon a little research on the interwebs, I think that it may be Melegueta Pepper. Is anyone familiar with the spice, and can you confirm or deny my speculation?

Whatever it is, it brought a wonderful aroma to the stew. This was also the first time I've tasted a stew made with a ground nut base, and it was surprisingly, very hearty for a vegetarian dish. In Madagascar, they would have made the base by grinding up peanuts. Here, we used smooth peanut butter…and threw in some shiitakes and leeks sourced from the farmer's market (ok, maybe not completely traditional, but 100% delicious). The mushrooms were a great call, they soaked up all the savory goodness from the sauce enriched with coconut milk.

Senegalese-style Mafé (Groundnut Stew)

For dessert, we were treated with a slow-cooked Bread Pudding topped with Malagasy Vanilla Rum Sauce and whipped cream.

To be fair, I never met a bread pudding I didn't like, but this one was especially good. The slow-cooker did wonders to it, turning the middle into a rich custard and the crust into a caramelized, golden bite of heaven. It was so good, I was convinced that it was just doused in heavy cream and sugar, but it turns out, it was just made with regular milk and not an obscene amount of sugar...which is more than I can ask of any bread pudding.

Bread Pudding with Malagasy Vanilla Rum Sauce

The best part, though, was the fruit that was hidden inside! Plump homemade raisins, big pieces of dried plums, and sweet white peaches (more loot from the farmer's market). You can of course, use whatever fruit you'd like, and however much of it, maybe none at all. But, I highly recommend you go with this version. I wouldn't change a thing.

The clincher was the Vanilla Rum Sauce made from homemade Malagasy rum flavored with vanilla beans (that he grew himself)! Since we don't all have access to a distillery and vanilla beans in our backyard, I'm sure this sauce would be totally acceptable with store-bought vanilla-flavored rum. Or, if you are going to be really lazy about it, you could also just spike some melted vanilla ice cream and voila, sauce done. I won't tell a soul...

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Senegalese-style Mafé (Groundnut Stew)
Recipes courtesy of Chris Golden, scientist, Malagasy music video star, blow-dart hunter extraordinaire.

Serves: 6-8

Ingredients:
24 oz. crushed tomatoes with basil
1 ½ cups smooth peanut butter (roughly, half of a standard-sized jar)
3 cups chopped shiitake mushrooms
2 cups chopped leeks
8 oz. coconut milk
8 pods of Melegueta pepper (substitute brown cardamom)
2 tablespoons ground ginger powder (or more to taste)
1 tablespoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon dried red pepper flakes (or more to taste)
Salt and pepper to taste
Bunch of cilantro, coarsely chopped

Preparation:
1. Combine the crushed tomatoes and peanut butter in a large skillet or pot and simmer slowly, stirring every so often so that the peanut butter doesn't burn.
2. In a separate pot, cook the chopped mushrooms and leeks in the coconut milk until softened. You can make your own by soaking some shredded coconut meat in hot water, or you can use the canned variety.
3. Once the mushrooms and leeks are softened, add everything to the skillet with the tomatoes and peanut butter.
4. Add the pods of Melegueta pepper (or cardamom). To release the flavor even more, crush the pods with the back of your knife (like you would crush a clove of garlic). They should pop open slightly.
5. Add ginger powder, garlic powder, dried red pepper flakes (or harissa), salt and pepper.
6. Allow the mixture to thoroughly combine, and come to a simmer. Stir in the chopped cilantro and serve immediately.
7. Best served with couscous, but also good with rice.

Bread Pudding with Malagasy Vanilla Rum Sauce

Serves: 6-8

Ingredients:
1 ½ loaves stale French bread, sliced into thick pieces
2 cups milk
1 stick butter
4 eggs
½ cup sugar
Raisins
Dried plums
White peaches
Slow-cooker

Preparation:
1. Slice the bread into thick pieces, about 1 ½ inches thick, and leave it out for a day or two so that it hardens up a bit.
2. In a slow cooker, add the bread and milk. If you want to be extra decadent, you can use half-and-half, but it's not really necessary.
3. Stir in whatever fruit you like. Our version (highly recommended) used homemade raisins, dried plums, and white peaches, sliced up. You can choose how much or little to put in.
4. Stir in a melted stick of butter.
5. Beat together the eggs and sugar. Pour over the mixture.
6. Cover the slow cooker and cook on low for 3-4 hours. Once a knife comes out clean, you're good to go. Try to wait for the bread to be golden brown.
7. Top with Vanilla Rum Sauce and whipped cream right before serving.

Vanilla Rum Sauce:
Aggressive Version: Make your own vanilla rum by soaking split Malagasy vanilla beans in rum for several weeks.

Ambitious Version: Mix together 6 shots of store-bought vanilla rum with 3 tablespoons of sugar, and ¼ cup of cream (or half-and-half). Gently heat it over low-heat until the sugar dissolves and the ingredients combine.

Slacker Version: Melt some vanilla bean ice cream into a "sauce" and stir in some rum.

This is a family of winter squash, including jack be little pumpkins, delicata and sweet dumplings, carnival, kuri, baby bear pumpkins, butternut, spaghetti squash and a cinderella pumpkin.
Photo by Julia Wiley of Mariquita Farm

Just in case you're wondering: no, you can't recycle last night's only-slightly-scorched jack o' lantern into this morning's pumpkin muffins. Sorry, greenies, into the compost bin it goes.

Why? Well, for starters, it wouldn't taste very good. Pumpkins bred to be big, beautiful, and able to sit on the porch without rotting for weeks on end are not going to be yummy, too. There are only so many characteristics that you can highlight on a gene string, and as far as it goes with pumpkins, you can find a fabulously chunky orange canvas, or you can have one that's dainty and edible. But not both. If it's big enough to carve a vampire face on, it's probably also going to be bland, stringy, and watery. Roast the seeds, yes, but put the rest to rest in your big green bin.

The baker's secret, however, is that even those cute little pumpkins, often sold under the names Sugar Pie or Sugar Pumpkin, are just not all that delicious. Compared to that supermarket workhorse, the beige-skinned butternut, even the cutest pumpkin is all bark, no bite. The butternut is dense and rich-fleshed, wonderful roasted and pureed into soups with apple and sage or a little curry powder and coconut milk. Mashed butternut is what I use for homemade pumpkin pies, pumpkin bread, and pumpkin cookies, and the only difference is how much better it tastes than actual pumpkin.

All these hard-shelled winter squashes are in the same family of cucurbits, anyway, under the same umbrella that shelters melons, cucumbers, summer squash and zucchini. Winter squash get their name not from their growing season (they need 100+ days of warm weather, ripening just at the tail end of summer and then curing on the vines for a few more weeks into early fall) but from their usefulness as a winter staple. Once cured--that is, left in the field or in a cool, airy place for a few weeks--their skin hardens, their curvy stem (a peduncle, for those botantically inclined) dries to almost wood-like firmness, and they can be stored in a cool, dry place with little loss of flavor or texture for months on end. Their only real enemies are warmth and moisture.

But good as butternuts are, there's no reason to stop there. Right now the markets are lavishly stocked with every size and crazy streaked-and-spotted shape of winter squash. There's the delicate delicata, ivory-skinned with green stripes and orange flecks over a pale yellow-peach flesh. You can slice it into narrow half-moons, massage lightly with olive oil and bake until tender. The thin skin is edible to all but the most fastidious. For those folks, cut the squash in half lengthwise, scrape out the seeds and strings, and fill with an autumnal bread or wild-rice stuffing. Bake until squash is fork-tender and filling has browned and crisped.

There are other variations on the delicata, like the dumpling squash, shaped like an oversized popover and perfect for stuffing.

The squarish, dark green buttercup squash is for those who like their squash dry and nutty, tasting like a cross between roasted chestnuts and baked sweet potato. In their Ladybug newsletters, Andy and Julia of Mariquita Farm have sung the praises of two big beige squash, the plump, round-cheeked Long Island cheese pumpkin and the deeply grooved, deep-orange fleshed Musquee de Provence squash, also called the Fairytale pumpkin for its Cinderella-coach shape.

Although, if I were a mouse looking for glamor, I'd hitch myself to a Rouge Vif d'Etampes pumpkin and wait for the fairy godmother to descend. This is the most glamorous squash of all, vivid orange-red, huge and elegantly grooved. If you've ever wanted to make a pumpkin soup and serve it in a pumpkin, this is the one you want. Not surprisingly, given its shape and its tongue-twisting French name, it's often called the Cinderella pumpkin. Carved out, it also makes a striking ice bucket for an autumn brunch.

But my favorite remains a tricky-to-find recent hybrid, the Sunshine kabocha. Bright orange skinned, it's easy to confuse with the Red Kuri, but once tasted, it can't be mistaken for anything but its amazingly delectable self. Oh, all right, I'll admit it: roasted, it tastes like chicken. Or, even better, like the incredibly savory drippings left at the bottom of the pan after you roast a chicken. Trust me: if you think you don't like squash because you've only ever eaten those bland and pasty little baked acorn squash, you owe it your tastebuds to seek out--or grow--a Sunshine kabocha. A plain old kabocha is pretty good, too, sweet and nutty, but the Sunshine variety is just nubbly orange heaven.

Once you've done something virtuously savory with your roasted squash--soup, a suave puree--then it's time for a few treats. Squash, like applesauce, adds moisture without fat to baked goods, and it seems everyone turns out a loaf or two of low-fat pumpkin bread this time of year.

Then again, we are moving into hibernation weather and a holiday mood. At least once this month, follow the lead of Alameda home baker Steven Mounce and get every Peter Pumpkin Eater at your table moaning with pleasure over this lush pumpkin bread pudding. Trust Mounce: a man with the word "homemade" tattooed on his knuckles knows what you want.

Pumpkin Bread Pudding
Serves 6-8
Did you know that canned pumpkin is rarely actual pumpkin, but rather butternut or other winter squash? Whatever you call it, plain canned pumpkin is always a handy staple, since it can be used in both sweet and savory dishes. Of course, you can also roast and mash your own for this gorgeously warming centerpiece for brunch or dessert.

Ingredients:
4 eggs
2 cups half and half
15 oz can pumpkin (not pumpkin pie filling) , or 1 3/4 cups roasted, mashed butternut or kabocha squash
¾ cup brown sugar
3 tablespoons dark molasses
¼ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
¼ teaspoon ground ginger
1 large loaf of French bread, cut into 2" cubes
½ cup walnuts, roughly chopped
¼ cup raisins or dried cranberries
3 tablespoons butter, softened
3 tablespoons brown sugar

Preparation:
1. In a large bowl, whisk eggs, half and half, pumpkin, brown sugar, molasses, salt, and spices together. Add bread cubes to bowl in batches, stirring well between each batch. Add only enough bread to soak up liquid mixture; you may not need all the bread. Let mixture rest for 15 minutes.

2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Fill a kettle or pitcher with hot water, and set aside. Lightly grease an 8"x8" glass baking dish. Stir nuts and raisins into bread mixture. Spoon mixtures loosely into baking dish. Do not pack bread mixture into dish. Mound lightly above edge of the dish if necessary.

3. Place glass baking dish into a 13"x9" baking pan. Place both dishes on the center rack of the oven. Pour hot water into larger baking pan to come up halfway on the glass pan. Bake for 30 minutes, until top is golden brown and center is set. While bread pudding is baking, stir together butter and 3 tablespoons brown sugar, and set aside.

4. When pudding is baked, remove glass pan from oven and set on a rack. (Wait to remove water-filled pan until oven has cooled.) Dot with brown sugar mixture, which will melt into a gooey caramel sauce, mmm. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Got a fabulous pumpkin recipe to share? Enter Omnivore Books' pumpkin cooking contest. Everything from soup to muffins considered, as long as the main ingredient is pumpkin. Sat. Nov. 21, 4-5pm.