Guess what I had last weekend? Hassar curry, with hassar from Essequibo flown in within 48 hours of being caught!
A Guyanese friend messaged me sometime after 8 on Friday night:
Friend: You home?
Me: Yeah.
Friend: I’m coming by in about 20 minutes to drop off something.
Me: Okay.
Sandee arrived with a broad smile on her face and a plastic bag in her hand. She handed me the bag, beaming, and said, “Look inside”. Inside of the green-coloured plastic bag was a clear plastic bag nestled at the bottom through which I could see hassar. I don’t know if my smile matched hers, but I am convinced that between us we lit up the porch brighter than the overhead light. Her father-in-law had arrived earlier in the evening from Guyana with a bounty of Guyanese goodies, chief among them being hassar and she brought some to share with me. I thanked her enthusiastically, telling her that I would try not to cook a hot hassar curry for breakfast! I placed the bag in the refrigerator. It is crazy the things one can get excited about. Saturday lunch was going to be lit! “Those who eat the Cascadura will, the native legend says, wheresoever they may wander end in Trinidad their days.” Johnson and the Cascadura (Selvon, 1957). So goes the folklore in Trinidad and Tobago about this rare, prized member of the catfish family, known in Guyana and Brazil as hassar and as cascadura or cascadoo in Trinidad and Tobago.
I know of no legends or folktales in Guyana about this fish, what I do know however, is that we love hassar very much and even though the vendors often demand an unreasonable price for a few of these fish, we nevertheless reach deep into our pockets because there is nothing quite like hassar curry cooked with coconut milk, lots of tomatoes, a few pieces of green mango, several okra and if you can find some, a few sticks of saijan (drumsticks). The only accompaniments for this curry are hot white rice and lots of pepper sauce or achar. Don’t even think about eating with a spoon, a knife and fork would be laughable; the only tool you have to use is of the God-given variety, your hands!
Eating hassar for me is all about the bones, I love to suck on them and the head of the hassar is one of the best parts. Once cooked, the outer shell literally slides off the fish to reveal a firm
tan-coloured flesh. For me, eating hassar is never a one-fish deal; three is the number that satisfies me at each sitting. This is how I think about it. The first one is to whet my appetite, the second one is to satisfy the taste buds that yeah, I’m eating hassar and the third one, is to wrap things up; like a good story, it has a beginning, a middle and an end.
Saturday arrived and I set about grating the coconut I had bought earlier from the market to extract the milk. I didn’t see any green mangoes or saijan at the market but that was okay because I had already made up my mind that the only other thing I wanted in the curry with the hassar was one of my all-time favourite vegetables – ochroe/okra.
As I set about serving myself, I thought of home and all the things I love and miss, especially all the family and friends that are no longer around. Without realising it, I got a little misty-eyed. What’s this? This is about more than the food itself. It is about what it means. It is about what it represents. It is about what and whom it reminds you of. It is about all the connections to land and people. It is about the times gone by and about the present.
I blinked a few times to clear my eyes as I walked to the table and laughed at the memory of my late brother Eon’s long-water hassar curry he made many years ago. We had all frowned that day as we looked at the thin gravy swimming through the rice to the bottom of the plate. Mommy, my sister, and I looked at each other, smiled, and ate in silence. We knew that he knew that the curry needed to look a little longer for the gravy to thicken. But do you think he’d admit to that? No way!
Just before eating, I took out some photos and sent to my sister, Patricia, and cousin Yohan in Guyana, it was my turn to tease and torture them about sweet Guyanese food, in Barbados. That meal fed my soul that day. It was the perfect taste of home.
It’s been a little over 3 years now since I’ve been home to Guyana – 2 years because of Covid, and when things did open up and I figured I’d take a trip home, I found, emotionally, I’m not quite ready as it would be my first trip without Mommy being there.
Have a great weekend everyone and enjoy all the tastes of home. It is a privilege.
Cynthia
