Pioneering

There is more than one way to be a food pioneer. Most obviously, you can invent new flavor combinations; paring ingredients and cooking methods in ways never before tried. Much culinary credence is given to such innovators: one need only to look at the accolades associated with names like Ferran Adrià or Heston Blumenthal for evidence. The custom is not a new one either. Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin famously wrote in 1825 that: “The discovery of a new dish confers more happiness on humanity, than the discovery of a new star." Hyperbolic and factual at the same time. Clever.

There is also room in the business of food pioneering for those who embrace a national or regional cuisine and elevate it to fine-dining fare. While the French and Italians have been doing this for a couple hundred years, the phenomenon is relatively newly applied to, say, North Indian food, or the various cuisines from regional Mexico. The chefs and gastronomes refining these traditions into fine-dining fare are at least as worthy as those creating new dishes altogether.



On a much simpler level, it is possible to be something of a food pioneer by introducing unfamiliar foods and flavors to a population. Think of the quiet, but ground-shaking food revolution which must have heralded the introduction of dairy products to Japan. It was a culture unfamiliar with cheese, for the love of god.

On an even smaller scale, one can be a local pioneer by introducing ways of combining known flavors in a manner unknown in the collective culinary knowledge base. For example: the idea of pumpkin as a sweet flavor is unheard of in OZ, but pumpkin pie is the first thing I think of when someone mentions the fruit. I've tried it out on a few of my friends Down Under, and I think I am making converts.

Likewise with the subject of this week's post; I think with a bit of time I might convince a few that the combination of mango, lime, and chili is a winner.



Mango and lime, or mango, lime, and coconut, actually, are not a novelty in this country. It's the North American (probably Central American, if we are giving due credit) contribution of a pinch of chili powder that I am hoping to introduce to the people of my adopted country. This tiny addition moves the sweet combo from “tasty” to “memorable.” The heat gives such an unexpected, savory, bite to this otherwise cloying dessert, that it commands a careful consideration of the beautiful balance of sweet/tangy/hot/creamy flavors and textures within.

There is a something of a precedent of chili in sweets in OZ: I've eaten dark chocolates with chili and had a hot coco or two served with the same. Still, the idea that chili might have a place in dessert, much less a fresh fruit-based dessert, is still quite foreign. Consider this my tiny attempt at pioneering.



Mango, Coconut, Lime, and Chili Tapioca Puddings

Mangoes are just in season here in Australia, and I plan on eating about a billion this summer.

Often tapioca, or sago, a nearly indistinguishable substitute, is over-sweetened to compensate for it's bland, almost rice-like flavor and texture. Here, I've gone light on the sugar with the coconut milk, as I not only want you to notice the natural sweetness of the mango and lime, but also the contrast between sweet and hot, which, on my tongue at least, are polar opposites (eating something terribly hot makes everything else taste terribly sweet).

½ c tapioca pearls
60ml coconut cream
1 Tbsp brown sugar
1 mango
1 lime
pinch chili powder

Bring a large pot of water to the boil. Whisking constantly, pour the tapioca pearls into the pot in a slow, constant stream, to prevent clumping. Simmer, stirring often, until the pearls just go translucent. Strain and rinse under cold water until cool.

Meanwhile mix the brown sugar with the coconut cream. Add this mix to the cooled tapioca and combine well. Divide between 4 glasses and set in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours.

Just before serving, quarter, cut the cheeks from the mango, skin them, and dice the flesh. Squeeze with lime juice from half a lime divide between the 4 glasses. Sprinkle sparingly with the chili powder and garnish with a slice of fresh lime.