Burundi is a tiny country in central Africa without any real national culinary identity. As a result, the closest I could find to a suitable restaurant in London was a Ugandan restaurant which claimed to offer some "Burundian style" dishes. On checking their menu online, I couldn't find any. So it was back to the kitchen.
Never before have I come to research the cuisine of a country and found such a small variety of dishes that I could cook. Burundi is one of the poorest countries in Africa, and no doubt a result of this is a small variety of dishes using almost exclusively staple items of food. Ideally anything I would cook for this project would involve meat. We are big meat eaters. However, the meat options in traditional Burundian cuisine were few. Of the dishes I could have chosen were those involving chicken giblets, tripe and blood. It was time to look at the non-meat options.
There was one option which actually appealed quite strongly. A Burundian bean soup. I'm a fan of soup. I've said that before. I'm also a fan of beans, whereas Elle historically isn't such a big fan. But this was the best it was going to get.
For the the soup I bought 400g each of butter beans, cannellini beans and kidney beans. Crucial mistake in the measurements, as you'll read later. I also needed vegetable stock, 4 onions, a bunch of celery stalks, one green and one red pepper, dried chilli flakes, fresh parsley, salt and crunchy peanut butter.
Bad preparation meant I didn't have time to soak the beans overnight. If truth be told, I forgot that was even a thing. It turns out it's quite a crucial part of the process for various reasons, not least to ensure the beans are safe to eat. After a quick bit of research online, I settled for the flash soak process. This basically involves covering the beans in water, bringing them to a boil for two minutes, removing the heat, placing a lid on top and letting the beans soak in the water for an hour (topping up with boiling water to cover if required). This supposedly brings the beans to a state similar to that if they were soaked overnight. I can't dispute that. They seemed ready to me.
At this point I knew this was going to be a bit of a nightmare. The biggest soup pot I had wasn't big enough to accommodate all the beans I had. I suddenly realised I was cooking for sixteen people. At this point I had to employ the use of another pot. And it didn't end there.
Before the hour soak was due to end, I fried the chopped vegetables until softened (around 10 minutes) and then added this to the beans. At this point I added the chilli flakes, chopped parsley (around 6 tablespoons) and 2 teaspoons of salt.
The idea at this point was to now cover the entire mixture with vegetable stock and water and simmer for 90 minutes. The problem I had here was there was no room for the water. At all. It was clear that I had to spread out the entire contents of the soup pot into the other three pots that I owned. Even this was just enough!
Never before have I come to research the cuisine of a country and found such a small variety of dishes that I could cook. Burundi is one of the poorest countries in Africa, and no doubt a result of this is a small variety of dishes using almost exclusively staple items of food. Ideally anything I would cook for this project would involve meat. We are big meat eaters. However, the meat options in traditional Burundian cuisine were few. Of the dishes I could have chosen were those involving chicken giblets, tripe and blood. It was time to look at the non-meat options.
There was one option which actually appealed quite strongly. A Burundian bean soup. I'm a fan of soup. I've said that before. I'm also a fan of beans, whereas Elle historically isn't such a big fan. But this was the best it was going to get.
For the the soup I bought 400g each of butter beans, cannellini beans and kidney beans. Crucial mistake in the measurements, as you'll read later. I also needed vegetable stock, 4 onions, a bunch of celery stalks, one green and one red pepper, dried chilli flakes, fresh parsley, salt and crunchy peanut butter.
Bad preparation meant I didn't have time to soak the beans overnight. If truth be told, I forgot that was even a thing. It turns out it's quite a crucial part of the process for various reasons, not least to ensure the beans are safe to eat. After a quick bit of research online, I settled for the flash soak process. This basically involves covering the beans in water, bringing them to a boil for two minutes, removing the heat, placing a lid on top and letting the beans soak in the water for an hour (topping up with boiling water to cover if required). This supposedly brings the beans to a state similar to that if they were soaked overnight. I can't dispute that. They seemed ready to me.
At this point I knew this was going to be a bit of a nightmare. The biggest soup pot I had wasn't big enough to accommodate all the beans I had. I suddenly realised I was cooking for sixteen people. At this point I had to employ the use of another pot. And it didn't end there.
Before the hour soak was due to end, I fried the chopped vegetables until softened (around 10 minutes) and then added this to the beans. At this point I added the chilli flakes, chopped parsley (around 6 tablespoons) and 2 teaspoons of salt.
The idea at this point was to now cover the entire mixture with vegetable stock and water and simmer for 90 minutes. The problem I had here was there was no room for the water. At all. It was clear that I had to spread out the entire contents of the soup pot into the other three pots that I owned. Even this was just enough!
So I added boiling water to all four pots, on all four stove hobs, to cover the mixture and brought all pots to a simmer - maintaining this temperature for the next 90 minutes. With about 15 minutes to go the last step was to stir in about six tablespoons of the crunchy peanut butter across all four pots, then cook for the final 15 minutes.
When the time was up, I was left with a wholesome looking, inviting bean soup of monstrous proportions. I served the soup with a well fired tiger bloomer loaf.
On eating, the soup was every bit as wholesome and filling as you'd expected, but with no one real flavour powering through. The peanut flavour was noticable, and gave the soup the texture and thickness. On cooking, some of the beans had softened almost to the point of being mashed on stirring, which helped the texture. The parsley was an addition that worked, despite me not being a huge fan of the herb. The chilli flakes were lost. Again, the soup overall could have done with more salt but I always hold back in this regard.
Generally, it was a really enjoyable soup which really did satsify. Which is just as well, as the leftovers were divided into six very generous meal-sized portions - four of which went in the fridge for the next couple of days, and the other two remain in the freezer.
Soups apparently also seem to do better on the second or third day. And I have to say, I enjoyed mine much more on the third day. Elle said the same about her lunch on the second day. I have no idea why that happens, but it was comforting to know that I had created something which kept on giving. And giving. And giving.
I'm sorry that you feel I displayed "lazy ignorance" in this review. I can assure you that I did research at length the cuisine of Burundi in search for a meal I could make at home, using ingredients that I found palatable. I struggled to find much that was authentically, exclusively, Burundian due to the heavy influence of the food culture of neighbouring countries (especially Uganda).
ReplyDeleteIt may have come across as condescending, but as a Scotsman I feel slightly qualified in being allowed to call Burundi a "tiny" country, given that my homeland is regularly referred to as such, and Burundi is approximately one-sixth of the size of Scotland.
I referred to the staple diet of Burundi in reference to it being one of the poorest countries in the world. Recent IMF figures had Burundi as the third poorest country in the world based on GDP. Naturally, the most common dishes in the country are heavily reliant on the economic and agricultural conditions, and on what is available.
Please do let me know if you feel that I'm off the mark with any of the above, or have failed to reference something else that has left you aggrieved. I am not a professional writer by any means. But I do want to make sure that what I write is received well by those who read it, and clearly that wasn't the case here.
And in any case, I appreciate the feedback. Over the years the blog has been well read, by comments are few and far between. And, up to now, all positive. Which is why I felt I had to respond to your comment.
As a Burundian, I should have just ignored this ignorant, lazy research findings that created such a narrow subjective false back up to even call the lazy cooking you did remotely Burundian.
ReplyDeleteFirst off, why would you in your right mind go to a Ugandan restaurant in London and claim you had Burundian food or had the right to make any judgement over the lack of knowledge of the cuisine? If this is how you conclude any matter, then your ignorance is far more gone than I can grasp.
Secondly, the only way to know what Burundian cuisine entails is to ask a Burundian...(no brainer in how you research).
Burundi, though is one of the poorest in the world, has far more than Scotland may have in terms of fresh food that has not been Genetically Modified, and therefore healthier for a human being. Burundi cuisine entails a rich selection of fish, as we have Lake Tanganyika (second largest and deepest freshwater lake in the world), delicious beans that don't need many spices to flavor up due to Burundian favorable environment and weather that allows any food to grow the best way possible (here's a link to a recipe that you can try, and please laziness is not allowed: https://www.internationalcuisine.com/burundi-beans-and-bananas/). Other dishes include: variety of salads, fresh baguette sandwiches, banana or plantain dishes. These above are only the food, when we get into the beverages, Burundi has one of the best coffees in the world (do your homework and research this or better yet, try it), banana wine, and lots of other variety of wines locally made.
Your conclusion that "naturally, the most common dishes in the country are heavily reliant on the economic and agricultural conditions..." lacks intellect, and inconclusive research findings based on what your blog mentioned. Economic and agricultural conditions cannot be defined by a "type of Burundian food found in a Ugandan restaurant", where on earth did you learn how to research? A country may have poor economic conditions and yet still have rich agricultural goods that ignorant Scots pay millions for per year.
Dear "Love",
ReplyDeleteI appreciate your comments and the time you have taken to construct them. I feel your comments warrant a reply.
Firstly, I need to clarify. I didn't visit a Ugandan restaurant. As I said, the closest I could find to a Burundian restaurant in London was a Ugandan restaurant that *claimed* to serve Burundian food. And this seemed to be a false claim anyway. So I ignored that restaurant for those reasons.
To your second point, unfortunately I do not know any Burundian people. I was restricted to online research only. I refer you to my previous reply to an earlier comment regarding that research. And please keep in mind that I at no point visited the Ugandan restaurant that you mentioned again in your comment.
Regarding your use of the word "lazy" in relation to my research, I'm not going to argue with that. I am not a writer, a scholar or a food blogger. As the description of the blog states, "We're not experts. We just like food". This blog is not meant to be a literary reference on the food of the world. It's a place for my partner and I to review the experiences of the restaurants we visit, or the meals that we cook.
It's unfortunate that you've taken such offence to the words that I have used. I do note that you did not once mention the meal that I cooked, which was a recipe I found online via several sources. I would be very interested to hear your comments on the meal itself.
And I appreciate your suggestion of another meal, which I will commit to cooking soon, and will post a review of that.
Please take my comments here in good light. I do respect what you say, and - again - the time you have taken. Hopefully I have shed more light on the tone and general purpose of this blog.
Best regards.