Granny’s Chicken Curry
About 60 years ago on Little Corn Island, a tiny dot in the Caribbean Sea, 70 miles off the coast of Nicaragua, a cook named Maritza was born to a Colombian mother and Cuban father. She goes by “Bongui,” which means something in Creole, one of several languages spoken on Little Corn Island. The gringos call her “Granny,” thanks to a sign on a table set up in her front veranda: Granny’s Creole Cooking School.
Her house is flanked by mango and coconut trees, several carefully placed hammocks and benches, and a fire pit out back under a tamarind tree. “Granny gwan make ya know fa cook island style,” she had announced at our matriculation, as we sipped tamarind-ade on her veranda.
Two weeks later, we had eaten some epic meals at Granny’s, including Run Down, a seafood stew served with local starches like cassava, plantain and breadfruit. Our favorite was her chicken curry, and we had returned for an encore presentation of that dish. This time, to mix it up, she would add some dumplings, and would use an “island chicken” – a locally sourced rooster from the North end of the Island. As the chicken bubbled on the fire beneath the tamarind tree, its feet sticking out of the pot, Granny directed a kid named Pinky to crack and grate some dry coconuts.
This chicken curry is a great recipe for me to share with you because the ingredients are all available at home, so we can recreate it perfectly. The same can’t be said for Run Down, or fried yellowtail.
Granny served the curry with coconut rice and fried smashed plantain chips called tostones. We doused our food with habanero vinegar and chased it with sweet cold tamarind beverage, as Granny told us about a cooking contest that was going down the next day at the village wharf. All of the best cooks on the island would be there. Including Granny, the culinary Cardi B of Little Corn Island.
“Dem b!tches all feared a me,” Granny announced, with a grand sweep of her hand, before pointing to herself. “Because dem know dis b!tch can cook.”
She planned to enter deep-fried yellowtail with seasoned coconut cream. Not to be confused with coconut milk. That $100 prize was good as hers, she predicted.
The next afternoon Granny’s fried yellowtail sat on a plate, on a card table, flanked by a green coconut and a bunch of flowers. The tables of her competitors were laid out like catered buffets, with main courses flanked with fish balls, conch fritters, bush salads, stewed green papaya.
Granny was furious. She hadn’t known she was allowed to bring side dishes.
The winner was a steamed yellowtail with Caribbean sauce. Second place was a fried yellowtail in Caribbean sauce. Granny’s fried yellowtail in coconut cream did not make the podium.
Later that night I ran into a fishing guide named Whiskers. Apologetically, I told him that I would not be fishing with him, but with Granny’s husband Tuba. Whiskers understood. “Bongui got setup mon!” Whiskers said of Granny’s fate at the competition. “Dem make she tink twas but one dish wen dem knew der was plenty.”
The next night I asked the winner, Michelle Gomez, if she would prepare her winning dish for us. It was delicious, but the earth didn’t tremble beneath my feet. I believe that yellowtail, being a tad bony, is better when fried crispy. And I love the interaction between a flavorful sauce and a crispy fish. So the next night we went to Granny’s and gave her entry a try. It was definitely better than winning fish. But not as good as Granny’s chicken curry.
A few days later I did end taking an excursion with Whiskers. We went night snorkeling, and saw octopi large and small, and rays, sea turtles, and two lobsters having sex. And Granny, well, she may not have won that $100 prize. But we took care of her. And she sent us home with dense bricks of cooked-down ginger, coconut and sugar. I’ve been putting pieces of it in the boys’ school lunches since we came home, a little edible reminder of Little Corn Island. As if they could ever forget.
Granny’s Chicken Curry
This dish will serve 4-6 people, depending on the size of the chicken. Serve with rice.
1 whole chicken, cut up, or parts – I use a pack of drumsticks and a pack of thighs
1 medium onion or shallot, sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 hot pepper, sliced
3 lemons or limes, juiced
1 cubic inch of ginger, sliced
1 teaspoon chicken bouillon paste or powder
¼ cup coconut oil
2 tablespoons sugar
4 tablespoons curry powder
1 can of coconut milk or make milk from 2 dry coconuts (it’s a process…)
1 bunch basil, chopped
1 bunch cilantro, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
In a large bowl, mix the chicken pieces with the onion, garlic, hot pepper, juice of the lemons or limes, ginger slices and bouillon.
While that marinates, add the coconut oil to a stew pot and turn the heat to medium. Add the sugar and cook for about 10 minutes, until the sugar is beyond browned and is completely blackened. Add the chicken to the burned sugar and oil. Turn the heat to high, and cook the chicken for about 30 minutes, turning occasionally. Add the onions and peppers from the marinade, along with the curry powder. Mix it all together and add the coconut milk. Reduce the heat to medium and cook another 30 minutes. Adjust seasonings to taste. Add the basil and cilantro, and serve.