Combining Cultures in the Kitchen

I see salted fish, (as in fish that has had a ton of salt rubbed into it and been dried for preservation) in the stores here all the time. It is sold in bags by the kilo. In a country where only a minority have refrigeration or freezers, dried fish keeps for months and by cooking it in stews, greens, and sauces, a little bit can be made to go a long way toward feeding a family. I have had it on occasion and liked it but avoided purchasing it because I didn't know how to prepare it. 

Last week I bit the bullet, or the fish, and bought some. Then I asked about a dozen friends how to cook it and got almost as many answers. All agreed on one thing: soak the fish, soak the fish, soak the fish. Then soak it some more. This is how you remove enough of the salt to make the fish edible. 

Out of the package, it looks like this.

It doesn't look like it came from a Gorton's box, that's for certain.

Not very appetizing if you have anything against skin, gills, fins, tails, bones, or...

...teeth.

Just to really get into the spirit of cooking with an African flair and dressing the part, I had to put on my zebra print apron. Sorry for the quality. I don't take a lot of selfies. Other folks are much more interesting. And yes, I meant to cut my head off.

I soaked the fish all day, changing the water a couple of times. 

Then I considered all my options and decided that the easiest choice would be to simply remove as many bones as possible, season it, and saute it, so that is what I did. It is common here to just cook it into your greens, but I knew if I did that I would be eating by myself.

We had b'teku teku, fried plantain, rice, and avocado to go with our fish. (My b'teku teku explanation and recipe are HERE.) Was it tasty? Yes, but it did not need salt.

Then on Saturday I made  good 'ole American cinnamon bread so we would have it for breakfast on Sunday. I am glad I did and that we had some left over because when we arrived home from church, our guard had a surprise for us: three of his kids were here for a visit! We gave them cinnamon bread and Fantas to go with the lunch Leopold had prepared for them and Daniel played soccer with the boys for a while.   

They were here because the youngest had been born just six weeks after we first arrived in Congo and had been named after David, so Leopold wanted them to meet each other. It is common here to name a baby after a life-changing person or event that happens near the same time as the birth, and getting a new job is a big deal in Congo. Both of our guards have sons named after David now.