I have no ethnic heritage. My parents grew up poor and white in the rural South, born into families with no discoverable history prior to the early 1920's. No one remembers a homeland. Being "American" and "Southern" should be enough, and it is enough, but I long for connection to an Old Country, to know traditions and recipes that have been kept alive, lovingly tended, across geography and time. Denied that connection, I console myself by visiting the ethnic markets that have sprouted up in our modest-sized town.
Visitors to the Gulf Coast of Florida are often surprised by the diversity of our population. In the mid 1970's, thousands of Vietnamese refugees were relocated here. Military installations dot the coastline and the interior, and servicepeople returning home from foreign assignments often bring families from overseas. We have large Thai, Vietnamese, Korean and Filipino communities, and smaller groups from England, Turkey, Germany, Italy and Japan. Following the run of hurricanes a few years back, Mexican workers poured in to replace blue tarps with new roofs, and stayed for the construction boom. Once that passed, many moved on, but some have settled and opened restaurants and markets.
I like to browse the Mexican market, pick up bags of glossy dried peppers, inhale their smoky bitterness. I buy a new variety each time and experiment. The outrageously expressive man who runs the deli counter says, "Mamita linda! What do you want today?" If he has something new, he is insistent that I try it, and I oblige, always nodding my approval effusively enough to make him smile in satisfaction. In an invented familial history, he is my brother-in-law. One who delights everyone with his extravagant gestures and compliments, and who will surely – we all see it coming -- break my sister's heart.
The improbably blonde, olive-skinned woman who owns the small Mediterranean market wears a permanent scowl. She has no patience for the Southern roundabout way of talking, the lack of urgency, the incessant smiling with intent to charm. She's like a misanthropic aunt who visits once a year, very briefly, leaving behind hurt feelings and strange, miserly gifts. I've learned to suppress my need to win her over and get straight to the point. "What is this?" I ask, pointing to a new cheese in the case. Or, "Is this bread fresh? Made today?" Questions that would be rude to anyone of Southern sensibilities, but which seem to please her, or to not displease her.
In the Thai market, the elderly man speaks little English. The elderly woman's English is much better. I'm short, and she comes to my chin. Frail-boned with a grip that hurts my hand as she leads me through her store, pointing to the things I need, explaining how the ingredients must be used. Being led down the aisles, tightly packed with exotic ingredients, it's easy to imagine I'm in Thailand, visiting relatives. I visit infrequently and, given her age, I won't see her again; she has limited time to teach me all she knows. We had better hurry. It explains the clutched hand, the seriousness of her instruction.
At home I unload my purchases onto the counter. A bewildering, intimidating assortment of products. Panic rises. Then I recall the words of my new Thai relative. After all of her insistence, when she packs my grocery sacks, she grants me this: "I tell you how to make, but you make your own." I relax, because nothing that tastes good is foreign.
Maybe a country's culture and history, when borrowed and eaten, can in some small way create ethnicity. I hope one day I'll visit the places of my favorite foods -- Greece, Italy, Mexico, Thailand, and Vietnam. When I step foot on the land, I might feel instantly at home. I might hear these words: I know you! You are one of mine!
I created this dish to honor my homeland and one I've adopted, something familiar and something new.
Boiled Peanuts, Thai Style
In the South, most people prefer their boiled peanuts cooked until they are very soft. If you've tried boiled peanuts and found them mushy and unpalatable, try cooking up a batch that isn't boiled completely soft. Despite the debate amongst my family and friends (some a'gin me, some with me), I hold firm in my opinion that they taste better when they are the texture of canned chickpeas rather than canned English peas! You can cook them however long you like.
3 pounds unshelled green peanuts, thoroughly washed and sorted. Discard any with broken or discolored shells. (Green peanuts aren't green in color; they are raw, fresh peanuts that haven't been roasted or dried.)
2 - 3 Tbsp chili garlic sauce (preferred) or sriracha
Enough water to cover completely
Enough kosher salt that the water tastes distinctly salty, almost too salty
In a large pot with a lid, cover the washed peanuts with water. Add the red chili garlic sauce and salt. As it heats up, taste the water for salt and heat. It should be quite salty, and quite zesty. Cook the peanuts at a slow boil with the lid on until they are done. It's difficult to say how long done will take. It depends upon the size and age of the peanuts. They become drier as they age and need more cooking time. Start taste testing at about 2 hours and every half hour after that. If you like them soft, it may take 4-6 hours. Be sure to taste several before you decide on their doneness. Let them cool in the cook pot until they are just cool enough to handle before proceeding to the next step.
Juice of 2 limes
2 Tbsp honey
1 tsp fish sauce (Go easy on the fish sauce. It's an acquired taste, but essential in small doses.)
½ cup finely chopped cilantro
In a large bowl, mix the lime juice, honey, fish sauce and cilantro. Scoop the warm peanuts from the boiling pot. (Don't worry about draining thoroughly -- a little bit of the salty water is good.) Toss them in the cilantro lime mixture. Use your teeth to split the shells so that you taste plenty of the seasoning as you eat them. We eat them on the back porch, sipping green tea with ginger or Singha beer. If the squirrels take off with the shells, you didn't make them hot enough!
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Comments
Rated with hugs and congrats on the EP
Belle, I completely agree. This is a little different from your usual and terribly interesting. You know I'll have to try it. I'm starting to think I own your number 1 test kitchen. :)
And I'd argue that "Southern" is a culture, it seems very full of unique traditions to a California raised Asian American like myself.
Sriracha and fish sauce sound delicious as a seasoning for boiled peanuts.
Cartouche -- I have a third, potentiall schizophrenic self, unclaimed. I can't think of a better person to hand it over to.
Lucy -- Fabuloso is my favorite cleaner from the Mexican market! I'll never assume you're a'gin me.
Ann -- When you visit, I'll make these.
Pilgrim -- Thank you. You know, we did eat your pizza a few weeks back and I forgot to tell you how much we enjoyed it.
Christine -- I wish our family tree was larger, but I was adopted, so I'm dealing with a stunted tree anyway. AND the tree I have is pretty damn good, so I can't complain!
Memeishere -- I love that metaphor! An oyster. You are right, like that, when they are done right.
Clay -- Well, he is kind of dreamy, even if he is a heartbreaker. "Mamita linda" indeed!
Jonathan -- Thank you so much!
Liberal -- Have you TRIED them when they aren't cooked to mush?? I swear to you there's a huge difference between done and done to death. A completely different taste experience. I'm won over many avowed boiled peanut haters with my lightly boiled variety.
Dirndl -- Ain't nothing wrong with Velveeta cheese. I don't care where it comes from, that shit's delicious. Add some heat, or a lot of heat, and I'm in heaven.
Linda -- If you ever come South you WILL do the peanuts, and you'll like them!
Joan -- You're a trooper.
Owl -- Exactly! Being a food person, the disconnect between myself and the past is especially unwelcome.
Scanner -- Yes, you have to oversalt in the beginning to get them properly salted in the end. The idea that you could flavor them AFTER they are cooked was a revelation to me. You can't get them specifically salty, but you can add other flavors. My cousin Ricky owned a roadside boiled peanut stand for many years. I think of him whenever I make the peanuts.
Fay -- Yay! Another fan of the "not boiled to death" peanuts. I can't tell you how many people who say they don't like them, and then they taste them when they aren't slimy and are instantly won over. I won't say those that prefer them soooofffttt are wrong. I'll just say that the al dente variety would appeal to outsiders.
Linda -- I truly can't imagine the variety of ingredients available to you. Even our markets would appear puny by your standards. I fear I'd never get anything done if I had so many options.
Dear Reader -- You must try them, at least once. We don't boil much of anything, other than peanuts.
Grace -- "Southern" is a culture, but a limiting one. When you are able to reach outside geography, a whole new culinary world opens up.
Deborah -- Italy 2013!!! I hope you bring back foodstuffs and recipes. You'll have posts for days!
Alysa -- Can you get green peanuts in France? I've always thought they were an American phenomenon, barely tolerated by anyone outside the Southern US. You make me wonder what sort of dishes the French would make out of fresh peanuts -- surely something amazing.
Mumble -- I'm still stunned that we have these markets, and further stunned that so few locals visit them and avail themselves of the culinary knowledge.
Greenheron -- You'd love them!
Matt -- I'm amazed at how ubiquitous Thai noodles have become, and so quickly. I think it's a testament to the deliciousness of Thai flavors.
Tom -- When I was writing this I did think about the negative aspects of immigration, when all I see are markets and opportunities for new culinary experiences.
Moist -- I want to see you eat a boiled peanut...just one.
Pontificatrix -- Savory writing! I like that. It's quite a compliment.
Fusun -- I wonder if green peanuts would elicit the same migraine response? They are quite different from the other varieties -- although if I suffered from migraines, I'm not sure I'd risk it.
Kateasley -- Isn't it funny how things like that come up!? I've had that same experience. Some strange subject, that I'd never thought of...and then, I run into it a day later.
Stim -- You ARE that guy. We are certainly related. I expect a bottle of homemade booze for Christmas.
Hells-Bells - Both surnames are vaguely Irish, but not explicitly. My great grandmother was Mormon, and where did THAT come from? All in all, no leads.
Robin -- xoxo to you too!
Karin -- I enjoy "characters" too, more than I should, even when they are unpleasant.
Olias -- Yay! A convert!! They are delicious if you find your perfect "doneness."
Felicia -- Star anise! Now that's intriguing.
Bea -- Can you find green peanuts up North? I have no idea. It's like when people talk about fresh peas, or fava beans and I'm like...what? Where do you get those?
Although I'm a'gin ya- I like my boiled peanuts so soft I don't even have to skin them to eat them- I just pop the shell and all in my mouth and chew 'em up!
Bonnie -- They don't last long around here; this batch is all gone. :(
Franish -- It's okay. I'm used to being on the outs with the soft-boiled peanut folks.
2mchwrk -- I don't know if they might be available? They aren't particularly perishable as a produce product, so there isn't any reason why they wouldn't be capable of being shipped North. Unless there isn't any demand for them (which might be the case).
I'm sure just about about any family or culture would be delighted to call you their own. As my older relatives from the East coast of Canada say when they taste something yummy, "that's some good."
Scarlett -- I'm an unidentifiable mutt! I'll gladly adopt any culture as my own, if they'll have me.
Ellen -- Yes, I hope that's the "something good" that comes from a global economy, a connection through food.
Gabby -- It's good to know that green peanuts aren't exclusive to the South! Boiled peanuts are such a staple here -- so definitive: you boil them in salted water -- that it was hard to come up with something different to DO to them. But this really works, and is a refreshing change. It makes me think of all the other "after boiling" flavors you could add.