Winter seemed, at the time, like a refreshing idea. After a season of sunblock, you’d had enough of sticky. Passing the mannequin at ease in her pointed hat and fliptop mittens, you suddenly saw the appeal of nubby. You thought: Why not?
The cold snap demanded you snap to. There was the snowball stockpile, the spending rush, the cookie-sampling tour of duty. The thrill of staying out late and the luxury of sleeping in.
After which you rub a porthole in the frost-smudged glass and peer out at unbroken bleak. White sky. Black tree. Gray slush. Winter, unrelieved by even a few of your favorite things. And little on the horizon by way of encouragement. Groundhog’s Day?
Now is the time to book a vacation. And since your checkbook has been giving you the cold shoulder, acting as if you’ve squandered the family budget on mere accessories, which, frankly, is an exaggeration, you figure you better keep this vacation local.
You pick the direct route to the islands, via the produce aisle. Wrapped in an unwieldy number of layers, grateful for the quick-release action on your new fliptop mittens, you travel from one aisle-cap to another.
You run dry fingertips over the pointy nubs of the horned melon. The smooth curve of the mango. The Velcro cover of the kiwi. You explore the plush give of the cherimoya. The prickle of the pineapple, the hairy head of the coconut, the steep cliffs of the starfruit. You pause to consider pawpaw, persimmon, papaya and guava. The names, perhaps, of principalities you’ve previously overlooked on the island-speckled stretches of the Atlas.
You settle on the plantain. Outside, it models the same overstuffed banana look as you, in your down overcoat and pointed hat. Inside, it’s creamy, orange and inedible. At least until cooked.
You admire the plantain’s versatility. Green-skinned, it fries up starchy as potato. Yellow, it roasts fluffy. Black, it caramelizes sweet. You and your skillet come to appreciate it savory, sugary and best of all, both at once.
You slice a set of oval discs and nudge them through butter, then spike the dish with salt, garlic and lime. The unlikely combo would make a perfect traveling companion for the coconut-soothed stews and fried fish of the Caribbean. But you like it best solo, hand to mouth. After all, it’s been a long time since you’ve indulged in a real vacation.
SWEET AND SAVORY PLANTAINS
Serves four
4 ripe plantains (black-spotted skin, orange flesh)
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
Coarse salt
Roasted garlic aioli (recipe follows)
1. Slice: With a sharp knife, cut off the top and bottom points of the plantain. Make a few slits through the skin, top to bottom. Peel. Slice the plantain in half the long way, then the short way into 2-inch long chunks.
2. Caramelize: In a heavy skillet, melt butter over medium heat. Add plantain chunks and cook, turning gently now and then, until beautifully brown, 10 minutes. Season lightly with coarse salt.
3. Serve: Set a platter of plantains and a bowl of aioli on the table and dispatch, fry-and-ketchup style. Or toss plantains in a bowl with 1/4 cup aioli (save the rest) and serve alongside rice and beans, crispy fish or both.
ROASTED GARLIC AIOLI
Makes one cup
4 cloves garlic
2-3 teaspoons lime juice
1 pasteurized egg
1/2 cup canola oil
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Coarse salt
1. Roast: Wrap garlic cloves (still in their papery skins) in foil. Slide into a 375-degree oven and roast until soft and fragrant, 45 minutes.
2. Whirl: Squeeze roasted garlic from its skin into the blender or food processor (or bowl if you’re up for a lot of whisking). Add 2 teaspoons lime juice and the egg. Whirl smooth.
3. Thicken: Add the two kinds of oil, drop by drop at first, then in a thin stream, until thick and glossy as mayonnaise. Season with salt (about 1/2 teaspoon) and the remaining teaspoon lime juice, if you like. Chill 1 hour.
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LeahREskin@aol.com
