Cyrillia has given me a good idea of the range and character of
_mangé-Créole_, and I can venture to write something about it after a
year's observation. By _mangé-Créole_ I refer only to the food of the
people proper, the colored population; for the _cuisine_ of the small
class of wealthy whites is chiefly European, and devoid of local
interest:--I might observe, however, that the fashion of cooking is
rather Provençal than Parisian;--rather of southern than of northern
France.
Meat, whether fresh or salt, enters little into the nourishment of the
poorer classes. This is partly, no doubt, because of the cost of all
meats; but it is also due to natural preference for fruits and
fish. When fresh meat is purchased, it is usually to make a stew or
_daube_;--probably salt meats are more popular; and native vegetables
and manioc flour are preferred to bread. There are only two popular
soups which are peculiar to the creole cuisine,--_calalou_, a
gombo soup, almost precisely similar to that of Louisiana; and the
_soupe-d'habitant_, or "country soup." It is made of yams, carrots,
bananas, turnips, _choux-caraïbes_, pumpkins, salt pork, and pimento,
all boiled together;--the salt meat being left out of the composition on
Fridays.
The great staple, the true meat of the population, is salt codfish,
which is prepared in a great number of ways. The most popular and the
rudest preparation of it is called "Ferocious" (_férocé_); and it is
not at all unpalatable. The codfish is simply fried, and served with
vinegar, oil, pimento;--manioc flour and avocados being considered
indispensable adjuncts. As manioc flour forms a part of almost every
creole meal, a word of information regarding it will not be out of place
here. Everybody who has heard the name probably knows that the manioc
root is naturally poisonous, and that the toxic elements must be removed
by pressure and desiccation before the flour can be made. Good manioc
flour has an appearance like very coarse oatmeal; and is probably quite
as nourishing. Even when dear as bread, it is preferred, and forms
the flour of the population, by whom the word _farine_ is only used
to signify manioc flour: if wheat-flour be referred to it is always
qualified as "French flour" (_farine-Fouance_). Although certain flours
are regularly advertised as American in the local papers, they are still
_farine-Fouance_ for the population, who call everything foreign French.
American beer is _biè-Fouance_; American canned peas, _ti-pois-Fouance_;
any white foreigner who can talk French is _yon béké-Fouance_.
Usually the manioc flour is eaten uncooked:[51] merely poured into a
plate, with a little water and stirred with a spoon into a thick paste
or mush,--the thicker the better;--_dleau passé farine_ (more water
than manioc flour) is a saying which describes the condition of a very
destitute person. When not served with fish, the flour is occasionally
mixed with water and refined molasses (_sirop-battrie_): this
preparation, which is very nice, is called _cousscaye_. There is also a
way of boiling it with molasses and milk into a kind of pudding. This
is called _matêté_; children are very fond of it. Both of these names,
_cousscaye_ and _matêté_, are alleged to be of Carib origin: the art of
preparing the flour itself from manioc root is certainly an inheritance
from the Caribs, who bequeathed many singular words to the creole patois
of the French West Indies.
Of all the preparations of codfish with which manioc flour is eaten,
I preferred the _lamori-bouilli_,--the fish boiled plain, after having
been steeped long enough to remove the excess of salt; and then served
with plenty of olive-oil and pimento. The people who have no home of
their own, or at least no place to cook, can buy their food already
prepared from the _màchannes lapacotte_, who seem to make a specialty
of _macadam_ (codfish stewed with rice) and the other two dishes already
referred to. But in every colored family there are occasional feasts
of _lamori-au-laitt_, codfish stewed with milk and potatoes;
_lamori-au-grattin_, codfish boned, pounded with toast crumbs, and
boiled with butter, onions, and pepper into a mush;--_coubouyon-lamori_,
codfish stewed with butter and oil;--_bachamelle_, codfish boned and
stewed with potatoes, pimentos, oil, garlic, and butter.
_Pimento_ is an essential accompaniment to all these dishes, whether
it be cooked or raw: everything is served with plenty of pimento,-_en
pile_, _en pile piment._ Among the various kinds I can mention only the
_piment-café_, or "coffee-pepper," larger but about the same shape as a
grain of Liberian coffee, violet-red at one end; the _piment-zouèseau_,
or bird-pepper, small and long and scarlet;--and the _piment-capresse_,
very large, pointed at one end, and bag-shaped at the other. It takes a
very deep red color when ripe, and is so strong that if you only break
the pod in a room, the sharp perfume instantly fills the apartment.
Unless you are as well-trained as any Mexican to eat pimento, you will
probably regret your first encounter with the _capresse_.
Cyrillia told me a story about this infernal vegetable.
[Footnote 51: There is record of an attempt to manufacture bread with
one part manioc flour to three of wheat flour. The result was excellent;
but no serious effort was ever made to put the manioc bread on the
market.]