Maria's Black Beans

Before moving to Honolulu, my husband and I lived in a small redwood bungalow at the end of a flag lot near Kailua beach. A friend had given us a batch of Latin-music tapes with recordings by Juan Luis Guerra, Alfredo, Gypsy Kings, and Los Flamers. Most days, driving home from my hospital job, I'd play the tapes in the car. The vibrant music--que rico!--whisked me over the Koolau mountains in no time. Once home, I'd take a long mind-clearing walk on the beach and return wet, tired, and hungry. When I'd thought ahead there'd be a container of black beans in the refrigerator or freezer, and with tortillas or rice and a bit of salad, dinner was in hand.

A young nurse named Maria, whose paternal grandmother was from Nicaragua, gave me the recipe for the beans. "You can refry them after they're cooked," she said, "or eat them soupy like I do." I lent Maria the music tapes for a few months--I wish I'd given them to her--and still think of her when I make her grandmother's black beans. The beans are delicious both ways, and they keep well in the refrigerator for a few days or in the freezer for a month or so.

For a big pot you need 1 pound black beans, 1 whole bunch cilantro, 1 whole peeled onion, 3 to 5 whole peeled garlic cloves, 2 bay leaves, water to cover beans by 2 inches, salt, pepper, 1 to 2 tablespoons wine vinegar, 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce, and 2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil.

Rinse the beans and soak overnight (or use the quick-soak method: cover beans with water, bring to a boil, boil 4 minutes, let sit 1 hour), then rinse the beans again and place them in a large pot with fresh water to cover by 2 inches. Add the cilantro, onion, garlic, and bay leaves. Bring the beans to a boil, then lower the heat, cover, and simmer for 1 ½ to 2 hours or until the beans are soft. Discard the bay leaves. Remove the cilantro, onion, and garlic cloves from the pot, place them in a blender with a cup of the beans, and blend well. Return the mixture to the pot, add salt and pepper to taste, and simmer another 30 minutes or so. Then add the wine vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, and a tablespoon of olive oil. These are the soupy beans that Maria likes.

To refry the beans, put a couple tablespoons of olive oil in a deep skillet and fry a chopped onion until translucent. Add chopped garlic, chopped cilantro, minced chili peppers (or dried chili powder), and cumin to taste. Then add the beans with their liquid to the skillet. Roughly mash the beans with a potato masher and cook uncovered (stirring now and then) over moderate heat until most of the water has evaporated and the beans are at a consistency you like.

Here are the ingredients for the beans:

The beans in the pot:

And ready to serve, both refried and soupy, along with tortillas and Spanish rice (plain rice is a good accompaniment too):

Locavore Cake

It was summer, and a crew was painting the outside of our condominium building. The workmen had run steel cables from the ground to the penthouse, and on mornings when the tradewinds let up, honeybees, gray moths, and, once, a dragonfly rested briefly on the cable outside our 34^th floor lanai. About the same time, friends were coming to Saturday lunch. One of them, a free-lance writer, was halfway through an eating-local challenge for a magazine article, and her diet was limited to foods grown in the Hawaiian Islands. What to feed her? Not rice, not bread, not pasta…

I had fresh tomatoes and basil from the farmers’ market, macadamia nut oil, and limes, as well as locally made and sourced yogurt cheese, but I was stumped for something to round out the meal. Then another friend’s recipe for a Middle Eastern cake made with ground almonds, boiled oranges, and eggs came to mind. I substituted mac nuts for the almonds and pineapple for the oranges; used local eggs, sugar, and salt; and topped the cake with fresh papaya, lychee, and banana. So that was our locavore lunch--probably not a perfectly balanced meal, but as close as I could get.

To make the cake, you need 2 cups chopped pineapple, 6 eggs, 1 ½ cups ground macadamia nuts, 1 cup sugar, a pinch of salt, a squeeze of lime (optional), and a tablespoon of macadamia nut oil (optional).

Boil the pineapple in water for 15 minutes, drain, and set aside to cool. After it’s cooled, puree the pineapple in a blender or food processor. Separate the eggs and set aside the whites. Beat the yolks until thick, then add the pureed pineapple, ground macadamia nuts, sugar, salt, and, if using, optional squeeze of lime and macadamia nut oil. Mix well. Beat the egg whites until stiff, then fold them into the batter. Put the batter into a oiled springform pan lined with oiled parchment paper. Bake at 400 degrees Farenheit for 35 to 45 minutes. Remove the cake from the pan, leaving the parchment paper on. Let the cake cool on a rack before removing paper. Serve with fresh fruit and whipped cream.

Here are most of the ingredients for the cake:

The cake just out of the pan (it tends to subside a little as it cools):

And with fresh sliced bananas, mangos, and lychees on top:

Peach Omelet

We love peaches, but it's hard to find good ones in Honolulu. Over the years, produce shipping from California to Hawaii has improved, and now peaches taste better--the ones I bought a few days ago are juicy and sweet. For a long time, though, the only "peach" in our apartment was a kokeshi doll given to me when I was a child. The figure is of Momotaro, the boy who emerged from a giant peach in the classic Japanese folktale. I still have the doll. But five years ago, during a summer spent in Washington, DC, we found peach heaven.

That summer everywhere we looked we saw fresh peaches--at Eastern Market on weekends, in street-trader's carts along Smithsonian Mall, at Metro fruit-and-flower stands. Things got even better when we visited friends in a tiny harbor town in rural Virginia, where we met a peach farmer and his wife, who invited us to their sailboat for glasses of cold white wine poured over sliced peaches. Returning to DC, tired, but with a box of peaches in hand and a few eggs in the refrigerator, I made peach omelets for supper. A few weeks later, when my brother, his wife, and their youngest son visited us, I made them for breakfast.

Coming home to Honolulu, seeing Momotaro perched on a shelf, I thought of those omelets. Here I make them with fresh peaches when I can, or with frozen peaches or fresh mangoes. It's hard to go wrong. The omelets are almost always delicious, though perhaps not quite as delicious as the ones in DC.

For two generous servings, you need 5 eggs; 2 or 3 peeled, sliced peaches; 1 to 2 tablespoons butter (or mix half butter and half olive oil); and 1/2 cup coarsely grated mild cheese, such as Havarti or manchego. Cook the sliced peaches in a pan with a tablespoon of the butter until soft, but not mushy. Set aside. Beat the eggs in a bowl until frothy. Melt remaining butter (or oil) in a wide skillet on medium heat. Add the beaten eggs, stir lightly once or twice, then use a spatula to lift up the edges of the eggs, allowing them to run to the sides of the pan and cook. When the bottom of the eggs is fairly well set, place the warm peaches along one side of the eggs, sprinkle the cheese over all, cover the pan, turn off the heat, and let the eggs sit for one minute. Then, uncover the pan, fold the eggs in half over the peaches to form the omelet, and serve.

Here are the ingredients:

The eggs in the pan with the peaches and cheese on top:

The omelet folded:

And alongside salad and bread: