This year we had rain. A lot of rain. Not just a little bit for a short while, but a whole summer's worth of rain all summer long. It made garden work outside messy, unpleasant, and often futile. Many of the plants drowned or rotted. It was decidedly not a good year for most of the plants in our garden, which means that we did not harvest nearly as much as we had planted or hoped. Fall has now come, and the chickens are slowing their laying, the leaves on our fruit trees are bare, and the air has begun to chill. It is a quiet time for many farms. The last season and lately this fall, have been tough ones in Maine, both outside and inwardly.
A few weeks ago, Maine had a catastrophic event where everyone in this area was affected in one way or another. My family was not immune. We were shaken, and we metaphorically circled our wagons – staying close to hearth and home - which brought the previous season’s lack of harvest into a clearer perspective. If one needed to be home for a while, could you support yourself or your family from your garden(s), land, or farm? Would there be enough of the things that one just doesn’t want to live without? For me, that would be herbs and spices.
Having spent a great deal of my earlier life in Louisiana, all sorts of spices are important to me. Spices such as dill, garlic, mustard, cumin, and paprika add vibrancy to our diets. This past summer our red pepper plants (paprika is a pepper) produced some fruit, but not a lot. Peppers are loosely related to tomatoes and so require the same type of environment. We dug up our pepper plants and hopefully brought them inside (although they are now all mixed up and who can tell what plant produces what?!). In Maine, peppers have always been annual which has necessitated their being started from scratch each year. This year we have decided to fight the end of our lackluster growing season and keep some garden color in our kitchen - to counter the sparce Northern fall garden outside and bolster our spirits from the inside out. Tonight, gumbo is on our menu.
“There is plenty of aji, which is their pepper, which is more valuable than black pepper, and all the people eat nothing else, it being very wholesome.” - Columbus[1]
Did you know that peppers are, in fact, perennials? Peppers were “discovered” in the late fifteenth century by Columbus’ explorers and long before they became part of Spanish culture, the red pepper had been part of Central (Native) American cuisine for untold centuries. Capsicum peppers are not generally referenced in early American diets or gardens, but they quickly became part of African, European, South American, and Asian cuisine. Black was the only pepper staple in colonial America. However, red peppers were native to some of the southern areas of North America[2] and by the early nineteenth century pepper seeds were being sold through catalogs and a regular feature in Southern cuisine.[3] Now, lucky for us, they have become ubiquitous in gardens and on our plates.
I hope that peppers (maybe even in a little gumbo) brighten your fall days.
'Gumbe is an original creation and a cherished possession in South Louisiana kitchens. The word "gumbo" comes from the Congo "quingombo" which means okra...File as a thickening agent...is the powdered sassafrass leaf made long ago by the Choctaw Indians...Gumbo is subject to infinite variations...best served over mounds of hot rice'- River Roads Recipes' editors. [4]
[1] Tom Standage. An Edible History of Humanity (New York: Walker & Co., 2009): 90.
[4] The Junior League of Baton Rouge, Inc. River Road Recipes: The Textbook of Louisiana Cuisine (Baton Rouge, La: 1995): 13.
Comments