Remembrance of meals past
The other day, Housekeeper made leftover stew i.e. from all the bits and pieces left over in the freezer and the fridge from previous dishes - frozen scallops, prawns and pork sausage, all braised deliciously together with garlic, carrots and barley. I ate it happily with brown rice and the local spinach-equivalent, stir-fried, but puzzled over the familiarity of the taste. And then I remembered.
In July 1997 I happened to be in Puerto Montt, down in southern Chile, on my way to the island of Chiloe for a short break to get away from the hideous air pollution of Santiago in winter. I was strolling along the shore (one of the many, many nice things about Chile was how safe it was for a lone woman wandering about), and found a curanto restaurant on one of the quays, just in time for lunch.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Curanto
They served curanto en olla, in a pot, rather than the classic hole-in-the-ground-lined-with-hot-stones, but properly done with all the layers, and even the pots were pretty exotic - huge black cauldrons keeping warm over the classic tiled charcoal/firewood stoves, each with a different combination of ingredients. I had the tipico - mussels, clams, pork, chicken, chewy flat dumplings and potatoes, all ladled into a big bowl with the fabulous broth on the side, lovely fresh bread and a bowl of pebre (the standard tomato-garlic-herb sauce you get everywhere in Chile). There was dessert too, something involving crispy dough with an orange sauce. I looked up my Chilean cookbook (I try to buy at least one local cookbook whenever I go somewhere new), and it was definitely sopaipillas with chancaca. It was a nice cloudy day, not too chilly, a great day for walking, which I really needed to do after stuffing myself.
Obviously what I've just been eating decades later and on the other side of the world was not the same, beyond the general concept of a surf-and-turf stew, but it was close enough to trigger the memory.
Best of all, Housekeeper made enough for at least two more reasonably sized meals, and the re-heating process will at least approximate the original's hours of simmering. It should be good with toast, too.
We might even try making the sopaipillas.
In July 1997 I happened to be in Puerto Montt, down in southern Chile, on my way to the island of Chiloe for a short break to get away from the hideous air pollution of Santiago in winter. I was strolling along the shore (one of the many, many nice things about Chile was how safe it was for a lone woman wandering about), and found a curanto restaurant on one of the quays, just in time for lunch.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Curanto
They served curanto en olla, in a pot, rather than the classic hole-in-the-ground-lined-with-hot-stones, but properly done with all the layers, and even the pots were pretty exotic - huge black cauldrons keeping warm over the classic tiled charcoal/firewood stoves, each with a different combination of ingredients. I had the tipico - mussels, clams, pork, chicken, chewy flat dumplings and potatoes, all ladled into a big bowl with the fabulous broth on the side, lovely fresh bread and a bowl of pebre (the standard tomato-garlic-herb sauce you get everywhere in Chile). There was dessert too, something involving crispy dough with an orange sauce. I looked up my Chilean cookbook (I try to buy at least one local cookbook whenever I go somewhere new), and it was definitely sopaipillas with chancaca. It was a nice cloudy day, not too chilly, a great day for walking, which I really needed to do after stuffing myself.
Obviously what I've just been eating decades later and on the other side of the world was not the same, beyond the general concept of a surf-and-turf stew, but it was close enough to trigger the memory.
Best of all, Housekeeper made enough for at least two more reasonably sized meals, and the re-heating process will at least approximate the original's hours of simmering. It should be good with toast, too.
We might even try making the sopaipillas.