“He who does not take the time to conquer the artichoke by stages does not deserve to penetrate to its heart. There are no short cuts in life to anything: least of all to the artichoke.”
— Edith Templeton in The Surprise of Cremona (1954)
In the Noongar six–season
meteorological calendar, it is currently Djeran here in southwestern Australia.
It is the “season of adulthood” when cooler weather begins. Unlike autumn in
many areas of the northern hemisphere, the transition between summer and winter
landscapes down here in my place is not as stark. Vegetation still abounds
everywhere. As long as conditions are conducive, even non-native plants can
grow and thrive.
Recently, I’ve felt a little nostalgic—like Proust’s so–called “madeleine moment”—from
vegetables given to me by friends from their backyards’ bounty. No, I’m not a freshly installed vegan
proselyte. Growing up as a kid, I’ve always loved my nateng (i.e. Ilocano for veggies)—thanks to my
parents who hail from the northern Philippine provinces who are known for their
gusto for such.
One of the healthy greens I’ve been gifted is this bunch of malunggay leaves (or moringa / horseradish tree). It tastes a bit like spinach. Back in my parents’ home—and in true Ilocano fashion—we mingle these leaves with other vegetables to create inabraw or dinengdeng, a simple dish of mixed veggies tenderised in a broth flavoured with bagoong monamon. While cooking, sometimes we throw in a few cloves of crushed peeled garlic and flaked fried bangus (milkfish) to embolden it. To prepare the malunggay leaves, gently run your clawed fingers through the small stems with a pulling motion. You should feel a slight raspy sound and sensation as you do this.
The other one is a banana heart, including a couple of banana leaves. The banana heart is the site of the tree’s inflorescence
where fruits would eventually develop. It looks like a heart–shaped orb and is
often burgundy in colour with satin sheen and streaks of white. Akin to an
artichoke, the layers of reddish “petals” are removed one by one to get through
the cream–coloured “inner heart”. In between these specialised boat–like leaves,
you will find the young banana blossoms which are also edible as long as their
tough pistils are plucked first.
Banana leaves are highly versatile. In the Philippines, they serve as food wrappers for a plethora of rice– or tuber–based cakes, cooking food en papillote style (e.g. tamales, binalot, pinangat, pinais), as well as place mats or table liners particularly during a “boodle fight” or kamayan feast. (Kamayan means “by hand”; a family style communal meal where diners eat without cutlery and instead use their own hands.) When used as a covering or vessel during cooking, the leaves impart a subtle sweet and fragrant aroma to the food—indeed, like a certain je ne sais quoi.
Since I didn’t need the leaves yet, I preserved them in the freezer. But first, I had to clean and make them pliable by heating them carefully over the stove. In this way, they won’t easily crack and break when you fold them for cold storage.
