My Mother’s Friday Pot From Guadeloupe

When I was a boy in Guadeloupe, Friday was the day the meat stayed in the butcher’s. My mother was a Catholic of the old kind, and in her house Friday meant fish or it meant vegetables, and with six children and one pot it very often meant vegetables. So on Friday morning she would walk down to the market in Pointe-à-Pitre and come back with a basket of bélangères.

Bélangère is our word for aubergine. The women at the market sold them in purple-black pyramids on the ground, next to the limes and the bunches of cives, the little spring onions we put in everything. My mother would pick them up one by one, press the skin with her thumb, and put back any that did not push back. “A soft bélangère is a tired bélangère,” she said, every single Friday.

Back in the kitchen she cut them into chunks, salted them in the colander, and while they sat there weeping she chopped the onions, the garlic, the tomatoes from the yard and the thyme from the pot by the door. Then the oil went into the big black pan. Aubergine hitting hot oil has a smell like nothing else, sweet, a bit of smoke, a bit of the earth it grew in. She fried them golden in batches, never crowding the pan, and the whole house knew what was for lunch.

Then everything went into the pot together with a whole scotch bonnet floating on top, and it simmered until the aubergine collapsed into something soft and dark and rich. We ate it over white rice. Six plates, one pot, and nobody missed the meat.

The one thing I have changed is the finish. My mother built the depth of that pot with a long, slow cook and a good deal of patience. I build it with a spoon of my Caribbean Sauce Creole, which carries the warm, rounded, slow-cooked onion and green chilli flavour of her kitchen in one jar, and gets me there in under an hour. Let me show you how I make it. The proper way. The way I learned it.

Recipe at a glance

• Cuisine: French Caribbean (Guadeloupe)
• Prep: 15 minutes • Cook: 45 minutes • Total: 60 minutes
• Serves: 4 as a main with rice
• Featured sauce: Caribbean Sauce Creole
• Heat level: 5/10, a warm glow that builds slowly
• Diet: Vegan, dairy free

What you’ll need

Buy the heaviest aubergines you can find, with skin that is tight and glossy, like it has been polished. If you can get the fat, pale purple Caribbean ones from a West Indian grocer, use those, but the ordinary dark supermarket aubergine is what I use most weeks. The tomatoes should be ripe. If they are hard and pale, use a good tin instead.

• 3 large aubergines (about 900g), cut into 3cm chunks
• 1½ tsp fine salt, for the aubergines
• 5 tbsp sunflower or rapeseed oil, for frying
• 1 large onion (about 150g), finely sliced
• 4 spring onions, sliced, white and green parts kept separate
• 1 red pepper (about 150g), cut into 2cm pieces
• 4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
• 5 or 6 sprigs fresh thyme
• 1 bay leaf
• 4 allspice berries, lightly crushed, or ¼ tsp ground allspice
• 400g ripe tomatoes, roughly chopped, or a 400g tin of chopped tomatoes
• 1 tbsp tomato purée
• 150ml water or vegetable stock
• 1 whole scotch bonnet, left completely whole
• 4 tbsp Caribbean Sauce Creole, 3 for the pot and 1 for the finish
• Juice of ½ lime
• A small handful of flat-leaf parsley or coriander, roughly chopped
• Freshly ground black pepper
• Steamed white rice, to serve

How I make it

1. Salt the aubergines. Put the chunks in a colander in the sink, scatter over the salt and toss them with your hands. Leave them for 15 minutes while you chop everything else. You will see beads of water come to the surface. A salted aubergine drinks far less oil and fries golden instead of grey. Pat the chunks dry with a clean tea towel before they go anywhere near the pan.

2. Fry the aubergines in batches. Heat 3 tablespoons of the oil in your widest heavy pan over a high heat until it shimmers. Add a third of the aubergine in a single layer. Leave it alone for 2 minutes, then turn and fry for another 2 or 3 minutes until the edges are deep golden and the flesh has softened. Lift it out onto a plate and repeat twice more, adding a little more oil as you need it. Do not crowd the pan. Crowded aubergine steams, and steamed aubergine is sad.

3. Sweat the base. Turn the heat down to medium and add the last of the oil to the same pan. Add the onion, the white parts of the spring onions, the red pepper and a pinch of salt. Cook gently for 8 minutes, stirring now and then, until everything is soft and sweet and the onions have gone translucent. Scrape up any dark bits stuck to the pan. That is flavour, not dirt.

4. Add the aromatics. Stir in the garlic, thyme sprigs, bay leaf and allspice. Cook for 1 minute, until the garlic smells sweet and the thyme starts to crackle. Keep it moving so the garlic does not catch.

5. Cook down the tomatoes. Add the tomatoes and the tomato purée. Turn the heat up a touch and cook for 5 or 6 minutes, stirring, until the tomatoes have broken down and the mixture looks thick and jammy rather than watery. Back home my mother said the tomatoes were ready when the spoon left a trail you could see the pan through.

6. Bring in the Creole sauce. Stir in 3 tablespoons of Caribbean Sauce Creole and the water or stock. Drop in the whole scotch bonnet. Whole means whole. Not cut, not pricked, stalk still on. It will perfume the pot with its floral, fruity smell and give you a gentle warmth, not a fire.

7. Return the aubergines. Tip the fried aubergine back into the pan with any juices from the plate. Fold it through gently. Bring to a lazy simmer, put the lid on halfway, and cook for 20 minutes on a low heat. Stir once or twice, carefully, from the bottom. You want the aubergine to collapse into the sauce, not break into mush.

8. Check the pot. The stew is done when the aubergine is completely soft, almost silky, and the sauce has darkened and thickened around it. If it looks dry, add a splash of water. If it looks loose, take the lid off for the last 5 minutes. Fish out the scotch bonnet, the thyme stalks and the bay leaf. Look for the chilli properly. It hides.

9. Finish. Take the pan off the heat. Stir in the last tablespoon of Caribbean Sauce Creole, the lime juice, the green parts of the spring onions and most of the herbs. Taste. It will probably want a little more salt and a good grind of black pepper. Let it sit for 5 minutes with the lid on. A stew always tastes better after it has had a moment to think.

10. Serve. Spoon it generously over steamed white rice, scatter the rest of the herbs on top, and put the jar on the table for anyone who wants more.

The role of Caribbean Sauce Creole in this dish

In my mother’s kitchen the depth in this stew came from time. She would let it tick away on the lowest flame for most of the morning, and by lunch the tomato, the onion, the thyme and the allspice had become one single deep flavour you could not pull apart.

My Caribbean Sauce Creole is that flavour, already made. It is rich and warming, built on the traditional Creole base of Guadeloupe, and it does two jobs in this pot. The three tablespoons that go in with the water give the sauce its backbone while the aubergine simmers, so you get that long-cooked taste in twenty minutes instead of three hours. The last tablespoon, stirred in off the heat with the lime, brings the brightness back to the top. The aubergine, which is really a sponge for whatever you give it, soaks up all of that, and the whole pot tastes like Friday at my mother’s table.

Tips from my kitchen

• Do not skip the frying. It is the only step that takes any effort and it is the step that makes the dish. Fried aubergine has a sweetness and a silky texture that boiled or baked aubergine never finds. If you are short of time, roast the salted chunks on an oiled tray at 220°C fan for 20 minutes instead, then carry on from step 3.
• Keep the skins on. They hold the chunks together while they simmer and they turn a beautiful deep purple-black in the sauce. Peeled aubergine turns to porridge.
• Make it the day before. Like most stews from my island, it is better on day two, once the aubergine has had a night to drink up the sauce. Warm it gently with a splash of water.
• Taste before you add more chilli. The whole scotch bonnet gives a soft warmth, and Caribbean Sauce Creole brings a middle-of-the-road heat. Let people add more at the table rather than chasing it in the pot.

What to serve it with

White rice, always. Plain, steamed, a little salt. The stew is rich and the rice needs to be clean so the sauce can soak into it. If you want to do it the full Guadeloupe way, make rice with red kidney beans, cooked in the bean liquor with a sprig of thyme.

On a Friday my mother would sometimes grill a piece of fish to go alongside, a snapper or a mackerel with lime, and that is still my favourite way to eat it. A spoon of Fresh Herbal Sauce on the fish, the aubergine stew next to it, and you have the two sides of my island on one plate, the green and the red.

It is also wonderful the next day, warmed through with a fried egg on top for a lazy weekend lunch. And if you are feeding people who do not eat meat, it is a proper main course, not a side dish pretending to be one.

FAQ

Do you need to salt aubergine before cooking?

Not for bitterness. The aubergines you buy today have had the bitterness bred out of them, so that old reason is gone. I still salt them for this recipe because it pulls the water out, and an aubergine with less water in it fries golden and absorbs much less oil. Fifteen minutes in the colander is enough. If you really cannot wait, skip it, but expect to use a little more oil and get a little less colour.

Why is my aubergine stew greasy?

Three things cause it. The pan was not hot enough when the aubergine went in, so it sat in the oil and drank it instead of searing. Or the pan was crowded and the pieces steamed. Or they were not salted and dried. Fix all three and you will not have the problem. If a finished stew looks oily on top, let it rest a few minutes and spoon the oil off, or simply stir it back through. It carries a lot of flavour.

Can I make this aubergine recipe without frying?

Yes. Toss the salted, dried chunks with 2 tablespoons of oil and roast them on a large tray at 220°C fan for about 20 minutes, turning once, until golden and soft. Then make the sauce in the pan as written and fold the roasted aubergine in at step 7. A little less rich than the fried version, but still a very good pot.

Can I add meat or fish to this?

You can, and in Guadeloupe we often do. Chicken thighs browned first and simmered in the sauce for 30 minutes before the aubergine goes back in make a lovely Sunday version, and chicken slow-cooked with aubergine is one of the oldest dishes on my island. Prawns are good too, stirred in for the last 3 minutes. But try it meatless first. My mother fed six children on it that way.

Is this dish spicy?

Gently. Caribbean Sauce Creole sits in the middle of my range, a warm glow rather than a burn, and the whole scotch bonnet gives perfume more than fire as long as it stays intact. Most children will eat it happily. If you like more heat, add a few drops of Caribbean Hot Sauce to your own plate at the table, the way we do at home. One pot for everyone, and each person makes it their own.

Final word from me

There are dishes I cook to show off and dishes I cook to feel at home, and this is the second kind. It costs almost nothing, it feeds a crowd, and it tastes of a Friday market in Pointe-à-Pitre with my mother pressing aubergines with her thumb. Fry them properly, let the pot take its time, and put the jar on the table. If you make it, tell me how it went. I want to know.

JP