There are certain dishes that are celebratory in nature. They are either made to mark occasions, or are seasonal, as in they are generally made at a particular time of the year for holidays or festivals. These days, in many parts of the world, including in our corner of the globe, you can get many of the holiday and special occasion dishes at eateries any day of the week. Some would argue that the everyday availability of these dishes has caused them to lose some of their symbolism, pride of place and authenticity. My opinion is that it is relative; we are the ones who ascribe value to things making them important to us. This past week, amidst lockdown and the Covid-19 environment, Pepperpot for me became more than my favourite Christmas dish, it provided a sense of comfort and security in these uncertain times.
Apart from a large pot of soup, I have been thinking of one-pot dishes that I can make and put into individual containers, freeze and refrigerate, so that I have ready access to nourishment whilst coping with the demands of teaching online. A little over a week ago, one of my cousins mentioned that he was thinking of making Pepperpot and immediately, I knew what I was going to cook that weekend – Pepperpot!
As I busied myself in the kitchen, washing the meat, selecting spices and measuring the cassareep, I was filled with the nostalgia of growing up and all the happenings that would be taking place at Christmas when this dish is traditionally made. As I reminisced, I realized that I was making a family-style dish for only one person, and at a time when I could not have company to share. However, I was comforted that Pepperpot is a dish that improves with age, and even if I couldn’t share it with my friends in my home, the Pepperpot would keep for the days when they would be able to come out during lockdown. It was a comforting thought. Here in Barbados, you are only allowed to be out of your home on specified days based on the initial of your last name.
I finished cooking the Pepperpot last Saturday morning and waited until Monday to eat it. While I like my Pepperpot to mature for at least 24 hours before eating it, I realized that extending that time to 48 hours was a way of preserving it with all the childhood memories of eating it on Christmas morning with my family, all of whom but one are no more today. How empty the dining table is! Not one to avoid situations or emotions, regardless of how difficult, I unlocked the pressure cooker, and with that, I released the pain of loss of loved ones. Heated, the signature aroma of Pepperpot rose and warmed my face as the wonderful memories of so many Christmas mornings came flooding. I was comforted.
Sitting alone at the table, I pulled a piece of bread from the hunk I had in hand, and pressed it into the black, sweet-savoury, silky, spiced sauce, leaving it there long enough to really soak up the sauce before putting it into my mouth. I closed my eyes and chewed and chewed, my entire being filled with happiness. I was alone but not lonely. I was there thinking how much my mom, my dad, my brother, aunt, uncle or their children would have enjoyed this Pepperpot. They would have been fussing over who wanted only beef or only cowheel, or pig trotters or just the plain sauce. Still smiling, I pulled another piece of bread, dunked and continued eating, enveloping myself in the warmth of memories. Comforted.
One of the things that Covid-19 instructs us to do, is to be present – with ourselves, with family, friends loved ones; with nature, and with life itself.
As I finish writing this column, a friend is passing by later this afternoon to collect some Pepperpot. Food is meant to be shared; and we don’t have to be at the same table to bond over a meal.
Cynthia
cynthia@tasteslikehome.org
