March 2019
Lawa de Maíz: A Rejuvenating Andean Soup
In the tiny mountain village of Tantai three hours east of Cusco, Perú lives Señora Hermelienda Wearthorn, the first person to introduce Aquille Go Ez, a Cusqueañan tour guide, to Andean cooking. One of the first dishes Hermelienda taught her eight year old grandson was lawa de maíz (cream of corn in Quechua), a soup that utilizes glacier fed springs, an herb native to the Andes, and the corn plantation in Hermelienda’s backyard. It is una receta de la tierra- a recipe of the land.
As a child, Aquille lived with his aunt in Cusco and would take the windy bus ride to Tantai for his school breaks. “Many times when we visit my grandmother on vacations, I stay inside the kitchen because it was the safety place because outside, it was raining and muddy,” Aquille said, describing the weather in the Andes during Peru’s summer season. “But it was warm inside the kitchen and in that time, I am helping with my grandmother to prepare the lunch, breakfast and dinner.”
During Aquille’s summer vacations, the choclo (Andean corn) was ripening on the stalks in Hermelienda’s garden. The first sighting of parrots swarming the corn stalks would signal Aquille to run outside and harvest the ears as quickly as possible. “When the parrots fly around the corn plantation, the corn is ripe! The parrots smell...well, we don’t know exactly, but the parrots smell [the corn] and they destroy the plantation!”
After a frantic harvest that was more like a sporting event against a flock of parrots, every meal would incorporate the fresh corn while part of the harvest was reserved for drying. Lawa de maiz, the regional fresh corn soup, would make a daily appearance on the dinner table Aquille explained while we shucked plump ears of choclo in the kitchen of my hotel.
We pressed our thumbs aggressively against the kernels to separate them from the cob and Aquille sighed a bit at the quality of the choclo I had bought from Cusco’s San Pedro market. “The local people in the market say, ‘no, this is fresh, fresh one,’ but you make an impression and it’s strong.”
Truly fresh choclo should be tender to the touch; whereas, firmness indicates that the ear is drying out. But Aquille admitted that it’s impossible to find choclo in the city comparable to the choclo grown in his grandmother’s garden.
After we removed the kernels from six cobs, we meticulously pinched off what were like cuticles attached to the end of the kernels. This drawn out process was the perfect job for a bored kid on school vacation and I could see why Hermelienda enlisted her grandson for the preparation of this soup.
Once the tough ends were removed, the kernels were blended with a little water and the Andean herb huacatay until the blender was full of a light green, chunky liquid. This is the lawa part of the recipe which indicates that traditionally, a grain or
vegetable is ‘creamed’ on a grinding stone called a batán. Back in
Tantai, Hemerlienda always uses her batán to incorporate the choclo
kernels with the huacatay.
Aquille also owns a batán in his Cusco apartment, but he admitted
that the majority of the time he finds himself using the blender.
“The time is the problem...but with batán, batán is best,” he said while
inspecting the liquid in the blender with mild satisfaction.
The batán essentially works like a mortar and pestle, but the stone is mostly flat with a slight bowl shape in the middle. The thickness of the stone can range from three to twelve inches and the size is comparable to a cutting board. The pestel is an oblong stone heavy enough to require two hands for grinding. The size of the batán and its slight concave design allows the person to prepare a large portion of a sauce or even a soup without the liquid spilling over the stone.
There was another implement that my modern kitchen was lacking to prepare lawa de maíz properly, the fogón--the traditional Andean oven made of clay, mud, straw and animal hair. Starting a fire in the fogón was Aquille’s first lesson in cooking at his grandmother’s house.
“You just make the fire with small sticks and paper and sometimes, if you don’t have paper, then you just use the skin of the trunk,” said Aquille. “And then, you make a fire and you need patience and time and then, you put big sticks and then, big timber.”
Hermelienda’s fogón has the typical design with four hot plates built into the flat top, a fire chamber in the center, and a warm, hollow space below where, in many rural households, the guinea pigs are kept cozy until they are slaughtered for a special feast at a later date.
Aquille quickly fell in love with the flavor that the fogón imparts on food and even though Hemerlienda has a gas stove now, she will still spoil her grandson when he visits by starting a fire of eucalyptus branches in the fogón.
Starting a fire on my stove merely required the flick of a match for boiling a pot of small, cubed potatoes with fava beans. Aquille then unwrapped the queso fresco and put the spongy wheel in a colander to be rinsed. Washing cheese was a new custom for me when I arrived in Cusco, but the more I shop at local markets, the more I understand why this is done. Queso fresco is often sold by women sitting on the sidewalk next to a tarp displaying their wheels of cheese. Throughout the day, the rind absorbs a considerable amount of smog and dirt.
While the queso fresco drained and the potatoes and beans cooked, I inhaled a deep breath of the remaining huacatay. The aroma and flavor of huacatay is impossible to miss with its notes of anise, tarragon and licorice. The poignant herb can be found in many Andean dishes as it grows wild throughout southern South America and has been used for cooking since pre-hispanic times.
Aquille plucked a few leaves and held them up with a devious smile and explained that he frequently encounters the herb growing all over the premises of Inka archaeological sites. “Sometimes I am kidding with the tourists because the huacatay...looks like marijuana and I say, ‘you know this plant?’ This is my present, this is our local marijuana.’”
The leaves are reminiscent of marijuana, but the herb is actually a type of marigold that is used in many traditional dishes such as roasted cuy (guinea pig), a potato dish called ocopa, and the salsa verde served with anticuchos, beef heart skewers found on streetside grills. Since the Spanish arrival in Peru in 1532, huacatay has been introduced to Africa, Europe, Asia, Australia and India. The oil of the plant is now used as a flavoring in cola, frozen desserts, alcoholic beverages and puddings.
Once the potatoes were tender, the creamed corn was added to the pot
and Aquille manned the stove, stirring constantly until he was content with
the thick consistency. The queso fresco was then cubed and mixed into the
soup. This final ingredient is the one addition that is not native to the
Andes since domesticated animals such as cows and sheep were brought to
South America by the Spanish along with cheese making skills. Now,
queso fresco can be found in many of Peru’s regional dishes.
The color of the lawa de maiz had intensified after being boiled and it
was now a bright green like crushed pistachios. Aquille spooned us two
bowls of the soup that amazingly, did not emit steam. The lawa was thick
and gelatinous although, Aquille said that when the batán is used, the soup
is even more gelatinous. This a desired consistency as Aquille explained
that it creates a top layer this is not hot, but rather acts like a lid for the rest
of the soup. “When you put your spoon deep, wow, it’s hot! It’s a technique for eat local food,” Aquille said.
People eat lawa de maiz by skimming the soup layer by layer; that way as you work your way down, the heat and texture are maintained. My first spoonfuls of this bright soup were almost disappointing. The most prominent flavors were the huacatay and the fresh cheese, but I wasn’t blown away by the taste. However, the more I ate, the more I started to feel rejuvenated. The flavor grew on me while my body seemed to be telling me I was feeding it something incredibly nourishing.
Aquille constantly reiterated how “natural and organic” this recipe was, but I don’t think I had ever experienced food having such an immediate, positive effect on my body. Maybe a part of this feeling was mental because eating the lawa was such a visual experience with its incredible green like young pea shoots. There was no sweetness or acidity; the flavor was just clean and herbal like a palate cleanser, but for the entire body. I gave some of the leftovers to my roommate and she described the exact same feeling.
As I served myself a second I portion, I started to ponder how I could recreate this soup back home. I thought about growing huacatay myself or experimenting with different varieties of mint and substituting a sweet corn for the choclo. One thing was for certain as I scraped my bowl clean, I needed more lawa de maiz in my life.
Lawa de Maíz
Serves 5 as a main course and 8 as a starter
Ingredients
6 choclo
2 stems of Huacatay
1 clove of garlic
5 Papas Siqas, peeled and medium diced
1 Cup of Fava Beans, outer skins removed
200 grams Queso Fresco, cubed
Salt to taste
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Shuck the choclo and remove the kernels from the cob. Pinch off the tips of each kernel. Place kernels in a blender.
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Add the leaves from 2 stems of Huacatay into the blender along with the clove of garlic. Blend by adding ½ Cup of water at a time until the ingredients are pureed, but the consistency is still thick enough to coat a spoon without dripping (nappe).
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Boil the potatoes in 5 Cups of water with salt in a pot large enough to later hold the liquified corn too. Add the fava beans 3-4 minutes before the potatoes are done.
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Add the liquified corn to the potatoes and favas and cook over medium-high heat, stirring constantly until thick (5 to 10 minutes).
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Stir in the cheese and adjust the seasoning. Serve immediately.
***Papas Siqas are the size of small, new potatoes. Substitute a small boiling potato for the siqas.
