A Single Man’s Kitchen
By Jeremy Goodwin, San Miguel de Allende, August 18, 2006
(published in the ATENCION local newspaper)
Globalization of gastronomy
It should be fairly obvious to anyone who reads this column regularly that I have had the opportunity to travel quite widely over the thirty-harrumph years since I left school and apron-strings behind.
I have found an essential dichotomy in the way that traveling and living among different societies and cultures affects my views. It has stripped me of most of my cultural predispositions and prejudices by the fairly obvious fact that no matter what the politics, religion or customs of any social group, be it boiling the missionary in a pot or arresting people for burning some strip of colored fabric, they believe in their own essential goodness and rightness of identity. The alternative effect is that I have come to full appreciation of how consistent our species is—all the while expressing diverse and conflicting forms of social integration.
Manifestations of the evil of consistency may be the McDonald’s in Moscow or the attempt by Charbuicks, a Seattle-based purveyor of cremated remains of rotten beans mixed in UHT milk products, to establish a base in the heart of the Eternal City (Roma). There are, however, a multitude of positive influences for both the chef and the gourmand on the other side of the world. With that availability should have come an attendant awareness of the individuality of relatively small regions. To my constant dismay, I am often confronted with collective amorphous identifications—such as, “It comes from Africa” or “It is Asian cuisine.”
It makes me want to scream, “Which part of the African continent?!” “Which part of Asia?!”
A good example of how complex the fixing of identity can become is perfectly illustrated in a delightful new restaurant in San Miguel. Located on Ancha de San Antonio in the building previously housing La Vida, the talented young chef is turning out some interesting variations on Sri Lankan food. We were lucky enough to go on a rainy Friday night, when the weather or lack of available taxis had discouraged many.
Although I cannot claim to have eaten a sufficient number of dishes from the menu to feel comfortable making recommendations, those that did turn up at the table were delightful examples of the combination of European training, what I might assume to be coastal Sri Lankan cooking and the limited local availability of essential ingredients.
The menu has a heavy bias toward seafood, and I cannot wait to try swordfish, but that night I was predisposed to lamb curry, something quite difficult to find in this part of Mexico. The food arrived hot and on warm plates, both something of minor miracles in many restaurants. I had been given the option to choose my heat level, and although I had chosen the hottest, it was only moderate to my palate, but brimming with flavor.
The number of dishes offered appeared small enough to be manageable and was nicely complemented by the well-thought-out wine list, which includes one of my favorite table reds, Mont Plaisir, at an affordable price. I do not feel that I can give a comprehensive review until I have eaten my way through at least 50 percent of the menu, but my first impression is that it is a much-needed addition to the San Miguel food scene.
Sri Lanka, although usually thought of as a small island off the southeastern coast of India, formerly known as Ceylon, and the source of fine teas and the world’s best cinnamon, has a population of almost 20 million. Although Sinhalese and Tamils represent around 90 percent of the population, there are six other distinct ethnic groups with sizeable numbers, including those imported by the colonial powers. Each of these has unique interpretations of the predominant trends in Sri Lankan cooking, and these are further modified by the enormous diversity of terrain and ingredients.
Here is a fairly basic curry powder recipe from Sri Lanka that is the basis for many of the meat-based dishes. The ingredients and relative proportions vary enormously according to which part of the island nation you happen upon, but this yields a powder that will not be too alien to Western taste buds. The rampe leaves are mainly for coloring and can be omitted, although sometimes a small amount of vanilla is used with (and I do not condone this) green food coloring. Rampe can be found under many names: screwpine leaf, bai toey, bai touy, pandanus leaf, daun pandan and kewr, which must say something about the importance of the color green. However, if you find bai touy and it is brown, it is not rampe, but another leaf that has a smell a bit like a dentist’s office, an acquired taste at best.
Sri Lankan curry powder
1 cup coriander seeds
˝ cup cumin seeds
1 tablespoon fennel seeds
1 cinnamon stick (about 4 inches)
1 teapoon cloves
1 teaspoon cardamom seeds
10–15 curry leaves, dried
5–6 chiles (dried)
5–6 pieces rampe
1 tablespoon black peppercorns
2 tablespoons short-grain rice
In a large, dry, heavy skillet, brown each ingredient separately and allow to cool before grinding them together into a fine powder. If kept in an airtight glass jar, it will keep for months before beginning to fade.
Jeremy Goodwin is an author, freelance food writer and owner of The Best Kept Secret. He may be contacted at
Jeremy@dcnet2000.com.
