remembering self through food and flavor

In January 2018 my new year’s resolution was to solely cook Afro-diasporan foods for the entire year. Several summers before, I had found the cookbook ‘Cooking From Cape to Cairo: a Taste of Africa’ on a stoop while walking home from the promenade in Brooklyn Heights. Over the years, I had never really cracked it open more than once or twice. I was intimidated by the ingredients that I knew I’d never find in my local grocery stores: ostrich, sultanas, sugar beans, & morogo. For a while, I used it as a coffee table book with no real intention of cooking any of the recipes. I figured ‘Cooking From Cape to Cairo’ was a good place to start if I wanted to explore the foods that my ancestors may have eaten. 

The whole idea was sparked by how deflated and uninspired I felt about cooking and food in those days. I was engulfed in diet culture rules and toxic fitspo imagery that I spent hours accumulating on pinterest to support my disordered eating habits. The problem was that I was wasting every cent of my tiny grocery budget because none of the meals I made genuinely satisfied my tastebuds. I often found that I would cook dinner then order Indian food or walk to Nostrand Avenue to the nearest Jamaican buffet because those options felt more like ‘home’ than the pasta casseroles; Italian grandmother soups; and kale everythings that I planned my meals around.

As I began to devour the cookbook, I realized the extent to which the cuisines of the African continent had shared so much in common with the food I grew up eating in my Jamaican-British home. Morogo-- a side dish found in many African countries and mirrors the preparation and taste of Jamaican Callaloo-- was typically made from ‘African Spinach’ which is a plant that happens to be a type of wild Amaranth (same plant family as Callaloo) often sauteed with onion, garlic, and sweet peppers then braised with seasoned water or coconut milk. Intlanzi-- a South African dish made from whole, fried Horse Mackerel and topped with a spicy tomato relish couldn’t be any closer to my favorite meal-- Escovitch fish. The similarities were uncanny: both meals were typically served with a side of steamed cabbage and a grain mixed with beans. There was a rhythm in these recipes that I recognized and I was no longer afraid to translate the recipes to the produce that was accessible and familiar to me. It was clear that my ancestors did the same during centuries of forced migration. 

What was even more astonishing was when I realized how the many cuisines of Africa overlaid with foods of the Middle East, South Asia, Caribbean and Latin America. I truly loved to see the fusion of cultures that were expressed through food. I fell in love with the warmth and boldness of the flavors and Peri-peri’d everything for months. I swapped kale for callaloo or occasionally collard greens, indefinitely. I fried plantain for breakfast, like my parents did when I was growing- up. I slow-cooked my beans for hours with complex masalas. I curried as a lifestyle. I even perfected the Black American classic Mac n’ Cheese with super ooey-gooey pasta, and the creamy-crunchy edges. I cooked through my third eye, and broke my co-dependent relationship to recipes. I finally began to trust my intuition and connection to the food and somehow felt more connected to my ancestors and God.

For me, growing up as a first generation Jamaican-American has been like trying to conjure up a distant memory. The culture, flavors, and way of being that exists in my homeland feels like it’s always at the tip of my tongue but I just couldn’t always spit it out. My identity has always been a paradox. Born and bred Americans can tell I’m ethnically and culturally different but often Caribbean people aren’t too sure what to make of me. Kelis always says ‘Tell me what you eat and I'll tell you who you are.’ I never anticipated that the traditional meals my family cooked that I thought were lame as a kid when compared to the McDonald’s happy meal or a slice of deep dish pizza were actually my comfort foods. My body even seems to process ‘hard food’-- boiled provisions-- with greater ease than pastas and grains I experimented with while I attempted to find my groove with cooking for myself as a 20-something. And, despite having the great privilege to experience a variety of cuisines, my heart, tastes, and stomach reflect the migration of my ancestors from Africa’s west coast to a small island made of mountains many, many miles away. 

-Christine Brooks

Christine Brooks is a multifaceted herbalist, and Ayurvedic culinary nutritionalist employing culinary skills, bush medicine, and Ayurvedic science studies to address individual and community health. In todays society there is a huge gap in healthcare that negatively impacts people of color. Her work. helps highlight the connection between food spirituality and healing practices contributed by the afro-diaspora and indigenous communities. 

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