A visit from the fishmonger

Last Wednesday a man named Moses brought a couple of buckets like this to my kitchen:

On its own this doesn’t really do justice to the size of these creatures, so for scale . . .

Underneath the snapper and grouper there was also an octopus, but most unfortunately my phone and a new operating system weren’t getting along on fish day and I found myself with a dead brick when I wanted to take a picture of the octopus.

So this is how things went down: I had heard from a number of people in the Embassy community that if we like fish (which we do) and we anticipated eating a lot of it (which we did), particularly since we don’t currently have a car, we might want to contact Moses. Moses has made a business for himself taking orders for fish/seafood, acquiring it at a nearby port, then bringing it straight to people’s homes to clean on-site.

We still have a month or so to wait before we get all of our things, so it seemed like the perfect time for Moses and his assistant to pay a visit to our as-yet-uncluttered kitchen. We placed our order – one grouper and one red snapper for us, one of each for a neighboring family, and an octopus (we miss the pulpo we ate frequently in Mexico), and Moses told me he’d be at our house “in the afternoon” the following day.

The following day I was spending the morning helping a friend (well, helping makes it sound like I was being really useful, so maybe keeping a friend company would be a better way to phrase it) who was receiving her household effects shipment when I received a call from Moses that he was at our compound gate. It was about 11:50am. I have to admit that when Moses told me in the afternoon, I was expecting mid- to possibly late afternoon. So I found myself in a bit of a panic. My friend’s house is within easy walking distance of our house, but I felt badly about leaving Moses waiting the 10 to 15 minutes it would take for me to get home. Our first idea was that I could ride one of the bikes my friend had just unpacked, but the tires were deflated and the handlebars not aligned. Maybe a cab? Cabs are definitely easy to find and inexpensive. But then Simon, an all-around helpful guy my friend had hired to help her unpack, offered to take me home on his motorcycle. It was an awesome day of firsts for me – first-ever motorcycle ride to come home and observe my first-ever home fish delivery and cleaning. It was a great way to get home quickly and I’m very grateful to Simon for his quick thinking and helpful nature, but I’ll stick to a bicycle in the future.

Once home I opened up our back kitchen door so they didn’t have to cart the fish buckets through our living room, let the neighbor know we were ready to get started, and the fun began. First the fish was weighed. Each snapper was in the vicinity of 10 kilos (22 pounds). The “small” grouper was 12 kilos and the larger one was 14.5. These are fish of an altogether different scale from what we catch at the pond in Oklahoma. Somehow the 3- or 4-pound bass I had been so proud of over home leave doesn’t seem so big anymore. The octopus was weighed last and it weighed in at eight kilos. We had wanted a lot of fish and we got it.

Once everything was weighed, the cleaning began. Moses and his assistant had clearly done this a time or two before. Although I had cleared a vast area of counter space for them, they chose to work in the small area next the sink so they had easy access to the water for rinsing. The small space didn’t slow them down much. They beheaded, gutted, and filleted our neighbors’ fish, then ours, and the neighbor and I had our work cut out for us bagging the fillets quickly enough to keep up with them.

When the last octopus tentacle was bagged and labeled and stowed the men had been in our kitchen for only about an hour. Moses told me he had provided fish not only for people within the U.S. Embassy community, but the British High Commission, the Japanese Embassy, and various Ghanaian dignitaries. He’s been buying and selling fish for over forty years, he said, and spends so much time around fish that he doesn’t care to eat it himself. I enjoyed talking with him. This picture really captures his amiable nature, I think:

As I’ve noted before, picture-taking isn’t always welcome here, but we did ask Moses and his helper permission to photograph them. That’s actually when he told us about his far-ranging client base: he’s done business in so many different places, often among curious foreigners, that he’s often been photographed and it doesn’t bother him.

That evening we had pan-fried grouper. I also cooked the grouper roe, which Moses had told me was edible as well (I looked up how to cook fish roe and found that pan-frying would work fine for that as well). I was the only one in the family who wanted to try the roe, but I’m telling you – the others are missing out. It was delicious.

Last night I made fish stock with some of the bones and then made a fish and octopus risotto. A pretty tasty Sunday dinner, and all the better for having seen the fish arrive at our back door just a few days before.

My tantalizing papaya tree

Before arriving here in Accra I had heard of foreign service folks having the good fortune of moving into homes blessed with fruit trees or already-established gardens or even egg-laying chickens. So I was delighted to find that previous inhabitants of our house had, in fact, left several basil plants and a few hot pepper plants that were surviving – if not quite thriving – in the little dirt perimeter outside my kitchen door. With some minimal attention they’ve perked up and we’ve been enjoying their bounty.

Even more exciting, though, was the papaya tree in the back corner of our yard. True, the papayas are about 20′ – 30′ up and true, there are such minor obstacles as a coil of razor wire and our enormous water tank complicating the matter of reaching the height of the fruit but – still! – it’s a fruit tree! In my yard!

In the month or so that we’ve been here I’ve discovered that the papayas regularly fall down, and they seem to be appreciated by the insects and maybe the lizards that live in the yard. Appreciated so much, in fact, that every time I saw one, even if it initially appeared to be intact, it turned out to have already been made into somebody’s meal (or, more likely, many meals for many somebodies).

So I was thrilled today when I went out with the trash and saw a whole, beautiful, and perfectly ripe papaya just sitting there next to the water tank. Never mind that I can buy papayas for about 50 cents each at any of the half-dozen fruit stands within 500 meters of my home. Never mind that every single one of the many papayas I’ve bought at these stands has been perfect and delicious. I wanted my very own (US government-leased) papaya from my very own (US government-leased) tree. I snatched it up and brought it inside and washed it.

Then I eagerly sliced off the ends and some of the skin. Hmm . . . some odd streaks. Before skinning the rest, it seemed sensible to cut it in half and have a look.

Dang.

So much for home-grown. I guess I’ll leave these for our yard critters. Unless I can figure out a way to get up there and grab them while they’re still a bit green. I’m thinking it’s probably easier to go to the fruit stand.

Stay tuned . . . tomorrow I am participating in an Accra expat rite of passage: a visit from Moses the fish guy. Moses is an enterprising man who has created a business for himself going to the fish market in Tema (about half an hour away from here), buying whole fish to order, then bringing them – whole and apparently enormous – to people’s kitchens, where he weighs, cleans, and fillets them. The price is reasonable – not a bargain exactly, but reasonable – for fresh-caught home delivery and filleting service if you’re judging by U.S. standards. I was encouraged to do this, should I wish to do it, before all of my kitchen things arrive and while the large freezer in our garage is still empty, and that certainly makes sense. Another newly-arrived neighbor and I each ordered off his list and I think we have something along the lines of 50 kilos of whole fish coming tomorrow for our two families to split. Plus some assorted shrimp and octopus for Casa Calderón. I’m missing pulpo a la brasa.  I’ll fill everyone in on the details later this week. Should be an adventure.

That smells . . . like ginger and deliciousness

So a favorite local side dish here has an entertaining name. And it’s entertaining on a couple of levels. First level, it’s just fun to say. Second level, in Spanish it means something pretty funny. The name? Kelewele.

This sounds a lot like que le huele . . .something along the lines of “that smells.” And it does smell. It smells very tasty. It’s plantain, sliced and marinated in spices, then fried. It’s a frequent accompaniment to red red, a scrumptious stew of blackeyed peas and tomatoes seasoned with ginger, onion and garlic sautéed in palm oil (two reds – the red of the palm oil and the red of the tomato).

Last night was my second attempt at making these two dishes. We first learned of our Ghana assignment right before Father’s Day last year, so for Father’s Day dinner I researched Ghanaian recipes and did my best to replicate a few. I made red red, jollof rice, and fried plantains. Google had somehow neglected to let me in on the kelewele secret: that plain old fried plantain may be tasty, but fried plantain that’s been sitting in a bowl with a paste of ginger and chile is even tastier. Also, I could really only make singular red in Juárez – if palm oil is available there it wasn’t for sale at S-Mart or Soriana, my usual grocery haunts.

So I really should perhaps count last night’s efforts as my first real stab at Ghanaian food. And it was pretty good. It made me realize, though, why I find both ginger and chile peppers sold in the supermarkets here shrink-wrapped in what initially appeared to be wildly excessive quantities. It takes a LOT of ginger to make red red and kelewele to taste right. And apparently a considerable amount of chile. I peeled and grated three significant chunks of ginger and chopped up one of the habanero-like local peppers and the resulting dishes were good, but bland compared to what I’ve eaten at restaurants here. Given the amount of ginger processing involved I am now really eager to get our kitchen stuff – I think I spent 20 minutes grating ginger with the mediocre welcome kit grater last night, all for a somewhat lackluster result. My immersion blender will be a handy thing to have around.

In other food news, I’m definitely getting more accustomed to the rhythm of shopping here. Being in Juárez was no different from being the U.S., really, in terms of food shopping: there were vast supermarkets selling any and everything I could want, and there was even a Costco and a Sam’s Club. And should I ever just feel like shopping in the U.S. (say I felt a burning need to just spend a whole lot more money), I was only a 30-minute drive away from a Sprouts and a Super Target. Between the fact that we don’t yet have a car here and the fact that even mega-supermarkets here aren’t as consistently or predictably stocked, I shop a lot more frequently.

One thing I enjoy about this is that I buy a lot more fresh food. At the roadside stands here I’m often asked if I want a particular fruit “for today or for tomorrow.” The notion of buying stuff that I won’t use for a week is just something I’ve pretty much thrown out the window. I buy produce, I bring it home and clean it, and then I process it right away. It’s time-consuming but I have to say I have never had more delicious pineapple or papaya (actually called pawpaw here – and it’s tiny compared to the giant papayas I’d buy in Mexico). The bananas here taste like some different fruit entirely. They taste so much fruitier. I’m thinking it will be tough to go back to the starchy, green-picked bananas sold in U.S. supermarkets. I do miss the Mexican avocados, though. The big smooth ones here are still quite yummy, but way more watery than the creamy Mexican ones.

I’m sure you’re eager to be kept posted on my progress in developing my Ghanaian culinary skills, so I’ll let you know when I try something else. There are a couple of sauces here – a spicy tomato-based sauce and a dried fish-based sauce – that I’m interested to learn more about. I have yet to even try kenkey, the fermented and steamed corn dough that’s a popular accompaniment to stews and meats. So much to try and so much to learn. Good thing we still have almost two years to go.

 

 

 

The confusion of year-round summer; and, diving in to road-side commerce

I’ve never lived somewhere without distinct seasons. I’ve seen the opposite – the dark, long chill of Prague winter followed by the mud of spring and the glorious shine of summer. And I’ve seen plenty of New Mexico-Oklahoma-Texas unpredictability (snow in May in the mountains of New Mexico, for instance, or 90-degree October days in Dallas followed by a cold wind that brings in a 30-degree temperature drop). But I’ve never been anywhere with relatively little change from day to day and month to month.

There is some variation here. When we arrived it was relatively cool (highs around 80) and it rained most days. It’s getting drier and sunnier and hotter now, a trend that I’m told will continue until January, at which point – so the stories go – I will one day open my front door to go out, promptly change my mind, and decide to stay put in air-conditioned comfort instead. But even considering this change, we’re talking about rainy days with highs in the low 80s giving way to sunny days with highs in the high 80s. Lots of humidity pretty much all the time, which makes it feel considerably hotter.  But still, nothing like the range from below freezing to 100+ degrees I’ve experienced pretty much everywhere else I’ve lived.

I didn’t think this would matter. I’m used to hot. I’ve done hot, pretty much all my life (my two years in Prague and one year in Santa Fe being the only exceptions). And – so far, at least – the heat is not the problem. It’s the disconnect between the temperature and the season. Even in Dallas, where I so clearly recall sweating profusely at the State Fair and my cousin laughing when I had just moved to Dallas and told her I still needed to get some cold-weather maternity clothes (I was due in November), and telling me I’d be just fine with a light sweater – we still had seasons. Here I’m already finding it hard to remember that it’s October – October! – and I need to start thinking about kids’ birthdays and Christmas presents and ordering Halloween stuff from Amazon with enough time for it to arrive. As a tiny kid Isaiah loved the Australian children’s band The Wiggles, and was fascinated when they talked about their Christmas beach parties. I guess this year we could do the same.

So I’m realizing now that the year-round summer may be more disconcerting than I’d originally expected. And I’ll miss watching the Cowboys while wrapped in the awesome Cowboys Snuggies my sister and brother-in-law sent us for Christmas a few years back. Of course in Juárez (as in Dallas) we were well in to the football season before we needed anything like that, but eventually we got there. Something about hot weather and football just don’t match.

In other news, I’ve finally made some larger purchases at road-side stalls. I’d bought eggs and I’d bought produce and I’d bought cards to recharge our cell phones, but I’d only eyed other items of interest, and put them on a list of eventual purchases to be made: a few sundresses to pad my wardrobe until our full shipment arrives from Mexico; a laundry basket so we can stop collecting dirty laundry on the kitchen/utility room floor; a set of shelves for Marisela’s bathroom (because as fate would have it Isaiah’s bathroom has a very nice cabinet for him to put his two or three bathroom items in and Marisela’s has nothing but a sink on which to array her collection that rivals the inventory at Sally Beauty Supply).

In all my walking I had identified places to buy all of these things, but I was hesitant to stop and shop. How did I know what to pay for these items? What was reasonable? Was I expected to bargain? Would I be insulting the vendors if I did? If I didn’t?

Thanks once again to the Social Sponsor Extraordinaire, Diosa, for getting me going. I messaged her yesterday morning to ask where she buys baskets, and of course within the hour she was walking with me to her favorite vendor. She told me what she’s paid for baskets in the past and what this vendor had told her she charges for baskets like what I wanted. And she helped me negotiate a deal on two baskets – one for dirty laundry stowage and one for carrying laundry up and downstairs. Most of all, she helped me feel like I can do this.

So later in the day I made my first solo purchase – a sundress – and it made me feel ridiculous for having walked by the dress stall many, many times wishing for the courage to stop and not stopping. There was a dress I especially liked on display so – high on the successful basket purchases – I stopped and asked how much it cost. The answer: 48 Ghana cedis – not quite $11 at the current exchange rate. This is a hand-sewn dress made from the beautiful Ghanaian wax print cloth. I have no idea if I was supposed to make a counter-offer to that price, but I couldn’t honestly imagine even asking. The proprietor of the shop – I learned that her name is Fortina – helped me try the dress on over the dress I was wearing and we found, to my great disappointment, that it was way too large. But she very cheerfully showed me several more and we eventually found one that fit beautifully and was a cut and fabric I liked. I told her I’d be back – and I definitely will be.

So the next purchase will be something for Marisela’s bathroom. There are several vendors who make and sell furniture on the side of the road near our home and I’ve seen several simple bamboo shelf/drawer pieces perfect for the purpose. Today I’m sitting home waiting for plumbers and for delivery of our air baggage shipment (still waiting for most of our stuff but it’s a start!) but maybe tomorrow I’ll venture out to visit the furniture guys.