March 2019

"El Jardín a la Taza a la Boca"

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      Willivan Choque Dysa’s first attempt at locro de zapallo, a bright orange, Cusqueañan squash stew resulted in a charred mess.  “¡Queme la comida [I burned the the food]!,” Willivan said while he dissected the eyes out of a small, native potato variety called siqa.  

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      Households in Cusco tend to be multi-generational so Willivan was actually learning how to make locro de zapallo at 12 years old from both his mother and his abuelos.  “Vivimos en el mismo casa y me enseñaron a cocinarlo [We lived in the same house and they taught me how to cook it],” he said.

 

      Despite the three person supervision team, Willivan managed to burn the locro de zapallo so intensely that the squash turned completely “negro [black].”  Willivan was shooed from the kitchen while his grandmother scrubbed the pot and prepared an alternative dish for lunch. Nonetheless, Willivan’s family was determined to teach him how to make locro de zapallo and his second attempt was “un poco mejor con la ayuda de mi mama [a little better with the help of my mom],” he said.  

 

      While I finely chopped a red onion, Willivan

admitted, “Estoy nervioso [I am nervous].”  Maybe it

was my hotel kitchen that had Willivan on edge with

its industrial steel tables and fluorescent lighting.  

But later on, Willivan would forget to stir the locro

which caused a thin burnt layer on the bottom of

the pot. More than anything, I think Willivan was

nervous about reliving a childhood memory.

 

      We had gone to el mercado Rosaspata beforehand

where we were greeted by Señoras de Verduras--

vegetable vendors, some of whom had known

Willivan since he was a child.  They greeted him

with kisses on the cheek and ushered him towards

their towering piles of tomatoes and fragrant stacks of mixed herb bundles.  I was being introduced and kissed by so many vendors that it took me a moment to realize a woman was speaking to me with a knife in hand asking me how much to cut from an intimidating zapallo, Peru’s native squash that was easily three feet in diameter.    

 

      While Willivan’s grandfather, Antonio was alive, the family avoided this trip to the market to make locro de zapallo since he had a garden of his own and grew the mammoth squash along with papas and choclos (an Andean corn variety).  

 

      “He was a special man, he knows how to read las cartas...how to invocate to Pachamama,” Willivan later told me over a warm pint of ponche de habas, a beverage made of dried, toasted fava beans.

 

      Antonio was what Peruvians would call a Maestro, or a healer.  Maestros know the ancient rituals to communicate with Pachamama- one of the main gods in Andean spiritualism.  Pachamama is as as Willivan translated “Madre de Tierra,” or Mother Earth. These individuals are particularly influential in rural communities that rely on agriculture as maestros perform a ritual before planting asking Pachamama for a bountiful harvest.  But they have other abilities as well, such as healing physical and mental ailments and telling a person’s future.

 

      Willivan said his grandfather “pagó a la Pachamama antes de sembrada [paid Pachamama before planting]” by pouring chicha (Andean corn beer) in the corner of the garden plot.  Antonio would also make an offering of “dulces, vino, grasa de alpaca o llama, incienso y otras cositas más [sweets, wine, alpaca or llama fat, incense and other small things],” said Willivan.  These “otras cositas más” were for Pachamama, but also for Apus, or mountain spirits that provide protection over one’s crops when summoned appropriately.

 

      Now, Willivan relies on las Señoras de Verduras for his produce as Antonio has passed on along with his garden and rituals.  Nonetheless, it was clear that Willivan had inherited his grandfather’s investment into the food that he consumes. He told me while scrutinizing a pile of red onions, “you have to ask if they have químicos [chemicals].”  

Back at the hotel, Willivan removed the skin from the one kilogram slice of squash I had purchased while the kitchen filled with the aroma of sauteed onion, garlic, aji amarillo (yellow chilis that have been cultivated in Peru since 2500 B.C.), tomatoes and cumin.  The combination of aji amarillo, red onion and garlic is referred to as “the holy trinity” in Peruvian cooking despite the fact that all three were present in South American cooking before the arrival of the Spaniards and Catholicism.

 

      Many regional dishes in Cusco seem unaltered from pre-Hispanic times for their limited ingredients, utilization of native crops and wild herbs.  And certainly many of the techniques and produce do reflect ancient cultures, but these dishes have often subtly incorporated influences that tell the story of the Spanish Conquest.  The name of the cuisine that tells such a tale is Criolla-- the mix of Spanish and indigenous cultures.

 

      Other than salt and black pepper, cumin is the only dried seasoning locro de zapallo depends on and it is used delicately in Cusco.  Cumin was introduced to Peru by the Spanish in the 16th century and in Andean highland dishes, it is added like black pepper-- in pinches.  The common thread I have observed so far in Cusqueañen cuisine is that dried spices should never overpower the fresh ingredients.

 

      The peeled siqas were halved and the squash was cubed and added to the fragrant pot along with una rama de huacatay (a branch of the Andean herb also known as black mint).  Willivan poured in just enough water to cover the ingredients and then, covered the pot as we delved into a conversation about the roots of this dish. The word locro comes from the Quechua word ruqru or luqru and according to Willivan, it signifies a technique in which the main ingredient becomes a paste.  

 

                                                                                              But locros vary across South America.  In Argentina, locro                                                                                               refers to a hearty stew with pork shoulder and chorizo whereas in                                                                                         Ecuador, a traditional locro is a humble soup of potato, onion,                                                                                               stock and a dash of milk.  Despite differing ingredients, locros                                                                                               maintain the same paste- like texture that makes them thicker and                                                                                         creamier than a typical stew. It is important to keep in mind that                                                                                           during the height of the Inkas in the late 1400s, the empire                                                                                                       spanned as far north as Columbia to as far south as Argentina.  It                                                                                         is estimated the the Inkas resettled 3 to 5 million people over the course of 100 years to improve agricultural production, support military outposts and dispel political strife. Ideas such as cooking techniques were inevitably traveling.

 

      Willivan frantically returned to the pot which although covered, had evaporated all of the water and his childhood memory had become a reality, yet again.  We quickly poured the locro into another pot, leaving the burnt layer behind. After a quick taste, we were relieved to learn we had caught the burning zapallo just in time.  

From there on out, Willivan was planted at the stove with a large spoon shaking his head at himself and said, “que mi mamá me dijo no te olvides revolver la olla [my mother told me not to forget to stir the pot].”  I assisted Willivan by continuously bringing pitchers of water. He instructed me to add water only as it evaporated to prevent the locro from becoming too thin while he stirred constantly. It was a process very similar to risotto.

 

      As the potatoes became more tender, the zapallo

transformed into a thick paste as Willivan had promised.  

Once he was satisfied with the texture, he added the finishing

components, all of which were brought by the Spaniards.  

Fava beans, which seem to make their way into every soup in

the month of April, were cooked in the boiling zapallo paste for

a few minutes.  Willivan then added a dash of milk and cubed

pieces of fresh queso.

 

      The last addition, an egg, was whisked into the zapallo

paste which smoothed out the remaining lumps and gave it a glossy finish.  The origin of chickens and their eggs in Peru has been until recently, a mystery that asked the question of who came first, the Polynesians or the Spanish?  While it was initially believed to be the Spanish who introduced the domesticated chicken to South America, DNA evidence has dated chicken bones prior to the Spanish arrival and shows a direct relation to chicken bones found on Pacific islands.  From DNA sequencing taken from the Rapa Nui people of Easter Island, it is evident that people from the Pacific Islands arrived in South America between 1300-1500 and brought with them, the chicken.

 

      Willivan spooned the locro onto our plates alongside a pile of white rice.  We tore fresh parsley leaves and sprinkled them on top of the locro. Before we sat down to eat, Willivan quickly brewed some apio tea-- celery leaves and sugar steeped in hot water.  It was very important to Willivan that we drink a tea with our dinner as he explained that it was a “costumbre [custom].”

 

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      The zapallo had transformed into a creamy puree and the fresh ingredients were the flavors that shined, papas siqas, favas, queso fresco and huacatay.  The celery tea was an unexpected accompaniment that settled warmly in our stomachs and according to Willivan would help with digestion. He said that the custom is to take an herb or vegetable tea with dinner and that traditionally, people go in the evenings from their “jardin a la taza a la boca [garden to the cup to the mouth].”

 

      For most people in Cusco, the jardin is now the market.  But because of the emphasis on fresh vegetables and limited spices, the locro and even the apio tea had a homegrown taste.  Even the garnish, torn parsley leaves seemed to accentuate this. The creamy zapallo coated the siqas which had a dense texture that appeased my carnivorous cravings.  While Willivan ate quietly, I marveled at the texture of the locro which was thick, but also extremely smooth.  I found this incredible because we never pureed or even used a whisk while cooking.  It was as if the cooking techniques in this recipe optimized the ingredients; which I think, demonstrates a long history of people making small tweaks to perfect the locro de zapallo.

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Locro de Zapallo

Serves 6

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Ingredients

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3 Tablespoons of Vegetable Oil

2 Ajis Amarillos (mild, yellow chili), finely diced

2 Cloves of Garlic, minced

1 Red Onion, finely diced

1 Tomato, finely diced

1 Teaspoon of Cumin

1 Whole Stem of Huacatay

1 Kilogram of Zapallo, medium diced

8 Papas Siqas, peeled and cut in half

1 Cup of Fava Beans, outer skin removed

85 Grams of Evaporated or Fresh Milk

½ Cup of Queso Fresco

1 Egg

Parsley

Salt and Pepper to taste

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1. Heat vegetable oil in a wide pot and saute the ajis, garlic, onion and tomato with the cumin, huacatay, salt and pepper over medium heat until the onion is soft.

2. Add the zapallo and siqas.  Cover with just enough water to cover (about a cup).  Cover and bring to a simmer. Then remove the cover and stir frequently.

3. Maintain a simmer and keep adding water as it evaporates (about an additional cup).

4. Once the potatoes are tender and the squash has become a thick paste, add the fava beans and continue to cook for 4 minutes.  Taste and adjust the salt level.

5. Stir in the milk and bring to a quick boil.  Crack the egg right into the pot and stir the locro constantly for 1 minute.

6. Take the pot off the stove and stir in the cheese.  

7. Seve on a plate alongside white rice and rip fresh parsley for garnish.  

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***Siqas are a native potato to Peru that are comparable in size to small, new potatoes.  They also cook remarkably quickly. Substitute a small boiling potato and par-boil ahead of time to avoid undercooked potatoes.