Revivals & Survivals: Flor de Jamaica (Roselles)

You say Rosellas, I say Roselles…

Revivals & Survivals: Flor de Jamaica

“Home made Rosella jam is unbeatable, easy to make as well.”

--David O’Bryan - Mansfield, QLD 18-Oct-2008,

Daleys Fruit Tree Nursery, http://www.daleysfruit.com.au/

Every so often someone pops up with a great new food discovery— Only on closer inspection, oops! It isn’t new, someone else published it years ago. Or it’s only new to us, elsewhere in the world it’s being consumed every day.

This is certainly the case with the “fruit” or “flower” of Hibiscus sabdariffa, the “roselle” or “jamaica” (“ha-MY-kah”). I came across references to it in a very old American cookbook published in the early 20th century and was quite intrigued when I realised I also had a reference to it from the Australian website, Daleys Fruit Tree Nursery (http://www.daleysfruit.com.au/), where it’s called the rosella, described as:

“An attractive annual bushy shrub with flowers and fruit used to give colour and flavour to jams, fruit punches, sauces and desserts. A relative of the hibiscus family, best grown in rich soil in a sunny position.”

 

The picture supplied (above) isn’t very clear. Small red buds?? The early recipes varied between “flowers” and “fruit”. Many varieties of hibiscus are grown in New Zealand and Australia as decorative plants and I knew them as garden flowers, so I assumed that the bright red colour must be from the crimson flowers with which I was familiar. Wrong…

Let’s look at the recipes: you’ll see why I was confused. The Khaki Kook Book: a collection of a hundred cheap and practical recipes mostly from Hindustan, by Mary Kennedy Core, Bareilly, India, was published in 1917 by an American missionary and contains mostly Anglo-Indian recipes which she gathered during her time in India in the 19th century. Many of them are typical of the food eaten by the British Raj, and the book is fascinating reading. However, there are some, like the ones for roselles, which definitely have an American origin.

Mary Kennedy Core writes:

“Roselles are a fruit belonging to the sorrel family. ... Long before the season is over the bushes are vivid with wine-red flowers. From the waxen petals of these flowers very delicious sauces, jams, chutneys, and jellies are made. ...

    “The fruit is very rich in pectin, and not only gives a beautiful color when combined with any other fruit, but also adds much to the flavor. Combined with peaches or strawberries, cherries or guavas, or any other fruit that is deficient in pectin, the roselle has very satisfactory results. When used by themselves a fine jelly is made which is far superior to currant jelly.”

Roselle Jelly.

Remove the petals of the flower from the seed; then mince finely by running through the meat grinder. To every cup of minced petals add three cups of water. Boil quickly as the color is much better if it does not stand around. After boiling about five minutes it will be ready to strain. Strain and make as any other jelly. In flavor and appearance this jelly can not be surpassed.

Recipe no. 83.

Roselle Sauce.

Remove petals from the seed, and for every cup of petals take two cups of water. Stew gently for a few minutes, then add a cup of sugar for every cup of fruit. These two things must be remembered if one wishes to get the best results from the fruit. It must be well diluted and it must be cooked quickly, as it is apt to lose its bright color if it stands around.

Recipe no. 84.

Can you see why I was confused? She calls them both “fruit” and “petals”. They can’t be both!

Well, at this stage I just assumed that “roselles” or “rosellas” were the flowers and that the Daleys website users like David O’Bryan were an interesting example of the first “Survivals and Revivals” syndrome above: great new food discovery, except someone else published it years ago. –Incidentally, in Australia rosellas are small native psittacine birds, so don’t ask why the word got used for the flowering plant!

More Confusion…

The perils of watching foodie programmes on the idiot box. I was following an SBS series and looked up “Egyptian Cuisine” on their website—more fool me, what did I want the stuff for, I already owned Claudia Roden’s classic, A Book of Middle Eastern Food. In addition to a revolting recipe for a mess of greens, this is what I got:

“Karkade. The delicious refreshing red tea called karkade made with dried hibiscus flowers ... This Hibiscus tea is sought after for its medicinal properties. Drunk hot or cold, it is said to reduce high blood pressure and cool you down on a hot day in the desert.”

Hibiscus flowers eh? Hmm, intriguing, as Data would say, didn’t know that hibiscuses grew in— Hang on! Isn’t this the same as— Ooh, yes, hibiscus flowers are also roselles! Um, rosellas in Australia, pardon.

It was Agony, Ivy

I should have left it at that, but it kept nagging at me. Were they flowers or fruit?

    Well, yeah, I might have left it, but guess what I came across when looking for something else entirely on Epicurious.com?

“Agua de Jamaica. A non-alcoholic drink from Mexico made with jamaica flowers. Recipe from Rick Bayless ‘Authentic Mexican’.” This tells you to use “jamaica flowers (dried hibiscus flowers)” which you boil in water with sugar, steep and strain, “pressing on the flower solids to extract as much liquid as possible.”

Well, that sounds clear, eh? Definitely flowers. Wrong. I conscientiously checked on GourmetSleuth.com and found:

“Jamaica. Other names: Hibiscus flowers, roselle, Jamaica sorrel. Spanish name: jamaica. Although referred to as ‘jamaica flowers’ these are actually hibiscus calyxes (the cover over the blossoms before they open). The flowers are used in Mexico for a tangy deep red ‘cooler’ called Agua de Jamaica. Other names for the ‘jamaica flowers’ include ‘hibiscus flowers’, ‘roselle’ and ‘Jamaica sorrel’. In Mexican grocery stores the common terms are either ‘jamaica’ or ‘flor de jamaica’. The plant is native from India to Malaysia and is now widely grown throughout the tropics and subtropics.”

WHAT? Do they really mean calyxes? (If you already know, you’ll know that this is correct, but by now I was totally confused.)

So I just thought I’d clarify it, on reading over what I’d collected so far—I mean, finding out the stuff was used in Egypt was extra-fascinating: meant it was a “Survival and Revival” of both types! I then found some very confusing sets of instructions online. None of the recipe sites explained what the “flowers” are, and one very modern health-food website talked at me, ugh!

Searching for Jamaica

I’ll spare you the agony. I finally got the dinkum oil from Wikipedia, though it took quite a lot of searching before I struck the right article. Do NOT search under “jamaica”, it’ll take you straight to the country and you’ll be stuck. Look up “Hibiscus tea” or “Roselle (plant)”. The initial definition was not that encouraging:  “Hibiscus tea is a herbal tea made as an infusion from crimson or deep magenta-coloured calyces (sepals) of the roselle (Hibiscus sabdariffa) flower. It is consumed both hot and cold.”

    Um, yeah. Well, my Concise Oxford Dictionary defines “calyx” as “Whorl of leaves (SEPAL) forming outer case of bud”, and none of my sources talked about buds, but then I had a good look at the excellent photos both Wikipedia sites provide and remembered what I’d read on that talking website:

“After the petals fall from the flower, the remaining deep red calyces (cup-like structures formed by the sepals) grow into seed-containing pods that resemble flower buds. It’s these red calyces that are used to make hibiscus tea.” http://products.mercola.com/hibiscus-tea/

Oops, yes, it had the dinkum oil after all! I’m not recommending it as a website, but this description is definitely the clearest and best. You have to remove the actual seed pod before using the calyces/calyxes (the Concise Oxford accepts both spellings). This can be done with a little implement, as in the entrancing picture below from Wikipedia, or you can wait until the roselles dry out a bit and then peel the sepals off.

Poke the seed pod out with your little implement. What is left is the Mexican “flor de jamaica,” the American “roselle” or “jamaica”, the Australian “rosella”, or the “hibiscus flower.” It is used in many other parts of the world under many other names, too.

    What’s it taste like? Very tart, is the word, rather like cranberry juice: it needs sweetening.

Wikipedia also supplies a picture which includes both the flower (very insignificant) and the calyces:

“Roselle plant at Wave Hill, Bronx, New York, 2014,

showing leaf, flower, bud and dark red calyces”

by Invertzoo - own work. (Wikipedia)

In Conclusion, Let Me Say Just This…

It didn’t help, interesting and informative though Daleys is, that one of their correspondents had described the plant as H. sabdarifa (one F) instead of Hibiscus sabdariffa. To sort that one out without any possibility of mistake I had to consult the USDA. Ya never heard of them? No, well, at one stage in my inglorious career I worked in an agricultural research library. That’s the United States Department of Agriculture, folks, and if they’re wrong on botany the whole world is wrong.

Hibiscus sabdariffa L.   roselle

Kingdom  Plantae – Plants

   Subkingdom  Tracheobionta – Vascular plants

     Superdivision  Spermatophyta – Seed plants

       Division  Magnoliophyta – Flowering plants

         Class  Magnoliopsida – Dicotyledons

           Subclass  Dilleniidae

            Order  Malvales

              Family  Malvaceae – Mallow family

                Genus  Hibiscus L. – rosemallow

                  Species  Hibiscus sabdariffa L. – roselle

http://plants.usda.gov/java/ClassificationServlet?source=display&classid=HISA2

Obsessive? You betcha. It’s from both sides of the family, too.

Glass of iced roselle tea

Tex-Mex in the Southwest

Tex-Mex in the Southwest—

With a Side Dish of Racism 

 

I love Tex-Mex food, but I can’t even think of it without also thinking “Cassius Clay” and wincing. And this is why... 

Those two naïve young friends from New Zealand are in the Southwest, and her lovely uncle, beaming all over his face, has promised us Mexican food at a friend’s house.

    Gosh, it’s a gorgeous house. Not like the other American houses we’ve seen so far, at all, which have varied as to the ages of the inhabitants but not that much in architecture or décor, being mainly timber-clad, whether bungalow or two-storeyed, and blandly comfortable—I suppose what would be Middle American—throughout. Some with more emphasis on flowery chintzes, some with less. All with completely luxurious bathrooms. I’m more used to the constantly-open window, hard piece of green Palmolive soap style. The aunties—get this—have even got carpet in their American bathroom! So far all the kitchens have been darkish, curtains either drawn or so elaborately draped over their small windows that they might as well be, with the lights on. Most of the sitting-rooms similar, in fact we were getting quite used to the drapes-drawn, dim-light look.

    This house is different. Modern, and what I assume is the sitting-room (later to realise it must have been the family room) is full of light, with big glass windows giving onto a terrace (later recognised as a patio). They’ve got these giant terracotta tiles in their wonderfully smart kitchen, it’s better than anything I’ve ever seen in those McCall’s Mum used to get!

    The host and hostess are welcoming but preoccupied. The feast is being laid out buffet-style and after some edgy fussing and an incomprehensible conversation with the uncle and a couple of other guests, the host switches the huge television set on. (In the family room, open-plan with the kitchen, natch.) Phew! It hasn’t started yet!

    Huh? What sort of people invite foreigners from half a world away to a meal and then sit down to watch TV?

    We’ve no idea what’s on and as the others are now clustered so tightly round the TV that we can’t see anything anyway, we just eat some of the strange, colourful food. Mm, these crispy things with the salad and meat inside them are yummy! The uncle explains what they are. Tacos. Mexican. 

 

    As the distracted hostess hurriedly sits down in front of the set, the uncle explains with a twinkle in his shrewd eye what the programme is.

    Boxing? My old school friend and I exchange incredulous glances. See, we’d assumed, the uncle and his wife being lovely, normal people, that they wouldn’t know the sort of people that are avid sports followers. Our families back home don’t follow sports—sports are synonymous with raucous drunks and raucous, drunken rugby crowds. Added to which, what sort of people invite foreigners from half a world away to a meal and then...

    Quite.

    The show begins and our ears ring as loud, scornful and vicious remarks about “that Nigra” are passed by the TV watchers. What? I mean, bad enough they’ve invited us and are ignoring us completely, but my God! Blatant racism and then some. And the hostess, never mind the distraction, seemed like such a nice lady!

    Still with a lurking twinkle, the uncle kindly removes us, leaving the rest of them to it.

    Yes, well, it was the Southwest in 1967. Racism was still completely overt amongst the nice middle classes. “That Nigra” was the great Muhammad Ali. And yes, our fellow-guests without exception still referred to him as “Cassius Clay.”

    I can’t swear to what fight it was—but it was early 1967. And Muhammad Ali and Ernie Terrell met to end the debate about who was the legitimate heavyweight champion on February 2, 1967. Ali won. So sucks to the white racists of El Paso! 

Muhammad Ali, 1942-2016
RIP

Here he is. This photograph was taken at almost the exact time we two innocents missed seeing him fight. Wonderful, wasn’t he? 

 

These days there are loads of recipes around even in the depths of the Antipodes for Tex-Mex food, though it still tends to be called “Mexican”, as the Americans did back in the Sixties. It isn’t, of course, it’s been bowdlerised. Those hard, crisp, packet-bought things sold as tacos—and that we certainly ate as such back in 1967—aren’t really, at all. A taco is simply a fresh tortilla, folded. You can put anything you fancy on it and fold it up. Depending on whether you roll the tortilla up and serve it with a sauce, or eat it flat, open-sandwich style, it may then get other names.

    The crisp ones that we know today, the “hard-shell tacos” are a North American creation: 

“The style that has become most common is the hard-shell, U-shaped version described in a cookbook, The good life: New Mexican food, authored by Fabiola Cabeza de Vaca Gilbert and published in Santa Fe, New Mexico in 1949. These have been sold by restaurants and by fast food chains. Even non-Mexican oriented fast food restaurants have sold tacos. Mass production of this type of taco was encouraged by the invention of devices to hold the tortillas in the U-shape as they were deep-fried.” (“Taco”, Wikipedia) 

But it doesn’t really matter: if you like them, eat them! Tex-Mex food is great fun. It doesn’t have to be super-hot, either.

    The fillings that have become traditional Tex-Mex are chili con carne or refried beans. Add a bit of salad (“salsa” if you fancy yourself as rather fancy) and maybe a little cheese. These are good, but not the only options.

    Try a bit of cold chicken, sprinkled with just a little ground cumin seed and a shaking of Tabasco sauce, with any salad combo you fancy. And there’s a glorious, if completely over-the-top, recipe for “Bite-Size Chipotle Chicken Soft Tacos (tinga de pollo)” on the Epicurious website (http://www.epicurious.com/). Check it out for its nice combination of spices—but it’s basically cooked chicken with a spicy sauce topped with a little cheese! It’s served on small pieces of warm tortilla, but would be equally good in a taco shell.

    Pork is popular in Mexico and the way of cooking it called Carnitas, “Little Meats”, produces tender meat which can be shredded for a taco filling. It’s first simmered in water to barely cover with the usual Tex-Mex flavourings of oregano, cumin, and coriander, together with onions and carrots, for about 2 1/2 hours, then well drained and baked in a moderate oven for up to an hour.

    There’s nothing to stop you putting fish or other seafood in your taco, either, but I wouldn’t go for the terrifically over-elaborate recipe with the misleadingly simple name, “Fish Tacos,” that the Australian SBS television channel’s website has favoured us with. It’s got 20-odd ingredients—and the inspired creator can’t spell Baja. He claims it’s a Californian recipe: “Fish tacos are now the quintessential taste of California.” I never met anyone in California who ate raw white cabbage—however. It’s a big state.

 

    Here’s my easy take on refried beans: 

Refried Beans (Frijoles Refritos) Tex-Mex Style

1 tin red beans, pinto beans or cannellini beans;

2 tablespoons olive oil

1. Drain off some of bean liquid but not all.

2. Mash beans well with potato masher or fork, or whirr in blender until puréed.

3. Heat oil in electric frypan or heavy frying pan on medium heat.

4. Add bean purée, mix well and heat, stirring, until beans are thick and oil is absorbed.

Use warm in Mexican tacos, tortillas or burritos.

 

This basic recipe can be varied in any number of ways, and if you like, served as a dip. Some suggestions:

 

] Sauter a little bacon in the pan before adding the bean purée; or:

 

] Sauter half a finely-chopped onion and 2 cloves crushed garlic in the pan before adding the bean purée; or:

] Add 1 teaspoon ground cumin and 1/2 teaspoon chilli powder with the oil and warm through. Then add the bean purée, stir well and add 1 teaspoon dried oregano or marjoram and stir again; or:

] Add half a cup grated Tasty cheese with the bean purée, stir well till melted. 

 

Want chili con carne? Don’t make it too fiery, you won’t taste it. Let the hot pepper maniacs add Tabasco to their helpings if they like. The chili con carne fanatics claim the meat should be diced rather than minced but hey, all these versions are bowdlerised. Anyway, have it the way you like it! This is more or less the way I make it; I’ve used the recipe so long I don’t know where the original came from. 

“Chilli Con Carne”

1/2 kg lean beef mince; 1 tin tomatoes;

1 tin beans (red kidney, borlotti, pinto or cannellini beans), drained;

1 large onion; 2 cloves garlic, crushed; 1 cup water;

3 tablespoons tomato paste; 2 teaspoons cumin powder;

1 teaspoon chilli powder (or to taste); 1 tablespoon paprika;

2 teaspoons dried oregano or marjoram; 2 tablespoons oil

Heat oil in a large, heavy saucepan on medium heat, add finely chopped onion and fry till golden. Take out of pan.

Turn the heat up to medium-high and brown the meat, doing only a small amount at a time.

Add all ingredients, bring to boil; reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, for 2 hours or longer till the mixture is thick.

Alternatively, you can do this recipe in a slow cooker. In this case, don’t add the cup of water, but after browning the meat put everything into a slow cooker. Check the liquid level. If it looks too dry add about 1/4 cup of water. Cook covered on low for about 6 hours—longer if convenient. 

Some recipes tell you to add the beans just before the end, but this doesn’t let the flavours mix. I don’t use salt but you could add 1/2 teaspoon. The recipe is very flexible: you can use more or less mince.

    If you’re serving this with tacos make sure it is isn’t too runny! 

Easier Still

Alternatively, just fry some mince till nicely cooked, pop it in the taco shell with a sprinkling of cumin, oregano and chilli powder or Tabasco, add a little grated cheese and a spoonful of salad! Easy-peasy! It’s incredibly good if you can add a large slice of avocado, but they’re never in season and at the right stage of ripeness when you want one, are they? 

Do it Yourself?

Wanna make your own tortillas and tacos? The real Mexican ones use a special flour made from maize: masa harina. Naturally it’s impossible to get in most of Australia—ignore those pin-headed cookery-show gurus, it might be available from some very special (read, totally obscure) Mexican grocery in Sydney, but it ain’t sold anywhere near where I live, mate. 

Over the Top and Down the Other Side

But I have made my own, yep. Back in the day. Well, Stan the Man was overseas, and I had some American friends who were really keen on Tex-Mex and into dinner parties—actual socializing, I’d never come across it before in EnZed, my parents never went out to dinner.

    So I figured out how to make sort of tortillas, with the aid of the Sunset Mexican Cook Book. When they’re made, if you pop them in a shallow pan with a bit of hot oil and let them crisp up nicely, not only are they very yummy, you can call them tacos. 

Corn Tortillas

1 to 1 1/4 cups fine corn meal (fine polenta);

3/4 to 1 cup plain flour (NOT self-raising);

1 1/2 cups warm water

1. Mix corn meal and flour together.

2. Gradually add warm water and mix until dough is firm and holds well together.

3. Using your hands, shape dough into a smooth ball.

4. Divide dough into 10 to 12 equal-sized pieces, then roll each into a ball.

5. Shape each into a flat circle about 10-12 cm in diameter. Either use a tortilla press or a rolling pin. 

 

To Use the Tortilla Press:

1. Open the press and set a ball of tortilla dough on it, slightly off-centre, towards the edge farthest from the handle.

2. Flatten it slightly with the palm of your hand.

3. Lower the top half of the press and press down firmly on the lever until the tortilla measures about 10-15 cm in diameter. (Mine are usually about 10.)

Makes 10 or 12 tortillas.

To bake:

1. Heat a flat grill, heavy frying pan (preferably iron), or heavy-based electric frypan to medium-hot. Do not grease it.

2. Bake each tortilla until it starts to looks dry and is lightly flecked with brown specks. Turn it a couple of times as it cooks. It should still be soft when done: takes only about 1 1/2 to 2 minutes.

3. Serve tortilla immediately while still warm, or cool and then wrap in plastic cling film to store in refrigerator or freezer.

To fry:

1. As the tortillas are rolled out, stack them with waxed paper between them.

2. Heat about 1 cm oil in a frying pan on moderate heat.

3. Gently drop each tortilla into the oil and cook until the surface bubbles up. Quickly turn and cook the other side for a few moments until the edges are crisp and just starting to brown.

4. Drain on paper towels and serve hot with a topping of your choice. 

    You’re right: you would only do this if gone totally bonkers—or on a very cold, wet weekend in Wellington, NZ, with your aged lover on the other side of the world.

    Or both? Oh, yeah.