Fruit and fish – a seemingly popular combination in traditional Jamaican cuisines. Most notice this trend in the internationally recognized blend of ackee and saltfish. However, even more interesting mélanges exist outside the national dish. Imagine: the nutty sweetness of a coconut, and the salted flakiness of mackerel. Throw in the some seasonings, vegetables and hot peppers and voila, you have the Jamaican specialty: mackerel rundown. Rundown is the locally accepted name for the gravy made from the reduced coconut milk mixed with the various seasonings. Mackerel is the country-wide recognized additive, however many other meats, fish and vegetables may replace the mackerel based on preference. My family eats rundown mackerel at least once monthly. We seldom have an occasion for eating this dish, yet we always choose to eat the meal for breakfast in our household. On the other hand, some Jamaicans choose to eat rundown for lunch or dinner. Keeping in mind the various alternatives with regard to the preparation of the meal, one inclines towards the question: how did such a malleable dish rise to popularity? In Jamaica, ease and economy has much to do with the way people orchestrate their lives; hence the world renowned phrase, “Jamaica: No Problem”. It is my belief that the simplicity and low economic impact of creating rundown is why the dish has risen to achieve the fame, glory and familiarization it has in Jamaica. Not only does this simple food represent the sentimentality of family traditions and years of long-lost culture, but it also stands for Jamaican adaptability and the idea our motto purports: “Out of Many One People”.
The most interesting facet of rundown happens to be its origins. The Oxford English Dictionary defines rundown as a word with origins in the Caribbean which is: “A dish consisting of a boiled coconut sauce containing fish, chicken, vegetables, and/or other ingredients (O.E.D.). According to the Dictionary of Jamaican English, there is evidence as early as 1943 using the vernacular version of “rung dung”, and after Jamaica’s independence from Great Britain, we see the first written archives of the anglicized version “rundown” in the Gleaner (the national newspaper) in 1963 (Houston 168). According to the glossary of Houston’s book Food Culture in the Caribbean, “Dip and fall back” is defined as: “Salt fish cooked in coconut milk, served in Jamaica for special occasions such as weddings”. Even though this terminology is unfamiliar to me, upon further research, there is a general consensus that rundown and dip and fall back are one in the same. When I checked under the sub-heading of “Celebrations: Wedding”, Houston’s book also stated that dip and fall back is a “salted shad dish cooked in coconut milk and accompanied by rum,” and is served to the groom to “increase his virility for the wedding night” (Houston 136). Further reading resulted in even more alternate names for the dish, some of which included: “round-the-road and flabob, or flambob” (Higman 168). And in the very next sentence, Higman mentions that: “[rundown’s] name and its method of preparation suggest a connection with the Indonesian rending, but how this might have come about is unknown”(Higman 168). A simple Google search of “fish and coconut milk” yielded the following international results: Sinaing na Tulingan ( a dish from the made mainly with tuna), Penang Laksa ( a Malaysian soup with noodles), Faiai Eleni (a Samoan dish made with herrings) and Sinaing na Plaa Thoo Sot (a dish from Thailand which seems to be exactly identical to rundown, but with a dash of Thai red curry). In terms of how the dish has developed over the years, Higman write that: “Down to the middle of the twentieth century, it was common for a dish of rundown to form a communal bowl into which a boiled or roasted “bread-kind” was dipped: coco, yam and plantain, as well as breadfruit and banana. The association with these starchy staples persists, though the communal bowl is much less common” (Higman 168). This communal dish is believed to be how the names “dip-and-fall-back”, “dip-and-come-back” and “dip-and-shake-off”, which refers to the actions involved in eating, came to be. And in relation to the direct cultural origins of rundown Higman believes that, “the origin of the combination of foods surrounding rundown appears strongly African in its fundamentals” (Higman 169) and then she mentions that the roots do not stem only from Africa, but, “in parts of Jamaica during the 1950s the common name for rundown was “pakassa”, a sauce with etymological roots in Hindi but widely known in Jamaican communities. It is hard to tell whether pakassa was influential in the development of rundown or whether rundown existed before Indian indenture: the earliest citations for both words given in the Dictionary of Jamaican English are from the 1940s” (Higman 168-9). Finally, there are many different versions of rundown widely accepted in Jamaican circles. For instance another section of Higman’s book claims that rundown is “made from salted shad and coconut oil” (Higman 9). And later, when speaking about the importance of chicken in Jamaican diets, Higman had this to add: “A peculiarly Jamaican version [is] “run-down curried chicken”, in which a method normally associated with fish was used to transform the curry by adding coconut cream and shredded coconut to make a custard” (Higman 348). The vast breadth of the origins listed above show how history and the fusion of various cultures have come together to create a dish so unique and undeniably Jamaican.
My ideal rundown contains my favourite vegetables: sweet pepper, scallions and onions. I suppose tomatoes are necessary for the flavour of the dish, but personally, I really dislike it if there are chunks of tomatoes in my rundown. If you use ketchup as a substitute, you have hereby been shunned. Go home – you are no longer permitted to cook rundown using that heinous ingredient. In my household, we always prepare the dish using salted mackerel we buy from the grocery. Since we choose to do it this way, we have to boil the mackerel and soak it in vinegar before we even start cooking. My mother varies between buying coconut milk powder (this is the much cheaper option) and milk (this is the easier option) from the tin. Although I am sure there are merits to both strategies, I have never been able to distinguish a difference in terms of taste and consistency. Next, we combine the mackerel and the seasonings and vegetables to the reduced coconut milk and have our rundown. There is no broader symbolism of this dish within the Whittingham family traditions. The closest pattern to a tradition that we have around the dish is that because it is my favourite dish, it is usually what the family has for breakfast the first morning after I return home from wherever my travels have taken me. Therefore, to me, a meal of rundown mackerel symbolizes homecoming. When a dish of rundown comes to the table, the first thing that strikes me is the aroma wafting throughout the dining room. The almost pungent odour of the boiled, salted mackerel with the sweet, tropical scent of the coconuts and finally with all the tangy spices of the Caribbean concocts the perfume of the rundown. When I serve myself from the platter of sides in the centre of the table, I always go for the dumplings first. Dad always goes for the avocado first, and then takes a half of a dumpling (always just a half) and my brother Spencer goes for the green bananas (my mother never goes for the sides first because she likes to pretend that she does not eat carbs because they are unnecessary and unhealthy. But if you pretend as if you are not watching, she will try to be sneaky and ‘stealthily’ grab a piece of banana or half a dumpling when she thinks nobody is watching her). When I have my necessary sides, I then go for a serving of rundown. First I pick out an adequate amount of mackerel meat, then I go for my favourite vegetables and then at last, I heap the enticing and delicious spiced, coconut gravy all over the entirety of my plate. The flavours generate a phenomenal and indescribable explosion of pleasure upon my taste buds and leave me craving and reeling for more. The creamy gravy melts the mackerel apart in my mouth while the flavours of every component of the dish highlight and intensify the effects of the others.
As far back as I can remember my family has been eating rundown mackerel. Since the ingredients are fairly cheap, easy to find and constantly available, we have always incorporated it into our diets. According to my mother, even from when she was a little girl, “it just was always in the house”. The knowledge of how to cook the dish has been passed down through Jamaican cultures for generations upon generations. My family does not have a specific rundown recipe that is unique to our household. Instead, we simply use the recipe of whoever happens to be the one cooking. This irregularity is never any problem, for as my father claims: “Every Jamaican helper is an expert at cooking mackerel rundown”. In my family, the current cook and household helper is a lovely, kind-hearted woman from south-west Jamaica who we call Miss Angella. Angella says she learned how to cook rundown from “mi modda” (her mother) who taught her when she was a “ likkle girl. Bout fourteen or thirteen”. In the past, the dish has almost exclusively been prepared by our helpers. Even though we have had many helpers all throughout the years, every one that I can remember has prepared this meal for our family. However, a striking observation is that it is never the same. Each time I have ever had rundown cooked by different hands it has looked, tasted and felt unique. Grandma’s rundown is more tomatoey, our last helper’s rundown was more custardy and Angella’s rundown is more soupy. However, the variations from person-to-person are not so drastic that the dish ever becomes undistinguishable; but the subtle differences produce a surprisingly significant effect. In terms of the different types of rundown he has had, my father had this to say: “it’s tasted differently. I think they used to put more coconut in it than they do these days…” These are just a few examples of how the dish can differ even within one family unit.
My ideal rundown contains my favourite vegetables: sweet pepper, scallions and onions. I suppose tomatoes are necessary for the flavour of the dish, but personally, I really dislike it if there are chunks of tomatoes in my rundown. If you use ketchup as a substitute, you have hereby been shunned. Go home – you are no longer permitted to cook rundown using that heinous ingredient. In my household, we always prepare the dish using salted mackerel we buy from the grocery. Since we choose to do it this way, we have to boil the mackerel and soak it in vinegar before we even start cooking. My mother varies between buying coconut milk powder (this is the much cheaper option) and milk (this is the easier option) from the tin. Although I am sure there are merits to both strategies, I have never been able to distinguish a difference in terms of taste and consistency. Next, we combine the mackerel and the seasonings and vegetables to the reduced coconut milk and have our rundown. There is no broader symbolism of this dish within the Whittingham family traditions. The closest pattern to a tradition that we have around the dish is that because it is my favourite dish, it is usually what the family has for breakfast the first morning after I return home from wherever my travels have taken me. Therefore, to me, a meal of rundown mackerel symbolizes homecoming. When a dish of rundown comes to the table, the first thing that strikes me is the aroma wafting throughout the dining room. The almost pungent odour of the boiled, salted mackerel with the sweet, tropical scent of the coconuts and finally with all the tangy spices of the Caribbean concocts the perfume of the rundown. When I serve myself from the platter of sides in the centre of the table, I always go for the dumplings first. Dad always goes for the avocado first, and then takes a half of a dumpling (always just a half) and my brother Spencer goes for the green bananas (my mother never goes for the sides first because she likes to pretend that she does not eat carbs because they are unnecessary and unhealthy. But if you pretend as if you are not watching, she will try to be sneaky and ‘stealthily’ grab a piece of banana or half a dumpling when she thinks nobody is watching her). When I have my necessary sides, I then go for a serving of rundown. First I pick out an adequate amount of mackerel meat, then I go for my favourite vegetables and then at last, I heap the enticing and delicious spiced, coconut gravy all over the entirety of my plate. The flavours generate a phenomenal and indescribable explosion of pleasure upon my taste buds and leave me craving and reeling for more. The creamy gravy melts the mackerel apart in my mouth while the flavours of every component of the dish highlight and intensify the effects of the others.
As far back as I can remember my family has been eating rundown mackerel. Since the ingredients are fairly cheap, easy to find and constantly available, we have always incorporated it into our diets. According to my mother, even from when she was a little girl, “it just was always in the house”. The knowledge of how to cook the dish has been passed down through Jamaican cultures for generations upon generations. My family does not have a specific rundown recipe that is unique to our household. Instead, we simply use the recipe of whoever happens to be the one cooking. This irregularity is never any problem, for as my father claims: “Every Jamaican helper is an expert at cooking mackerel rundown”. In my family, the current cook and household helper is a lovely, kind-hearted woman from south-west Jamaica who we call Miss Angella. Angella says she learned how to cook rundown from “mi modda” (her mother) who taught her when she was a “ likkle girl. Bout fourteen or thirteen”. In the past, the dish has almost exclusively been prepared by our helpers. Even though we have had many helpers all throughout the years, every one that I can remember has prepared this meal for our family. However, a striking observation is that it is never the same. Each time I have ever had rundown cooked by different hands it has looked, tasted and felt unique. Grandma’s rundown is more tomatoey, our last helper’s rundown was more custardy and Angella’s rundown is more soupy. However, the variations from person-to-person are not so drastic that the dish ever becomes undistinguishable; but the subtle differences produce a surprisingly significant effect. In terms of the different types of rundown he has had, my father had this to say: “it’s tasted differently. I think they used to put more coconut in it than they do these days…” These are just a few examples of how the dish can differ even within one family unit.
As of December 6, 2011, I am the only member of my nuclear family who has ever even attempted to make this dish. Therefore, one can safely assume that in my family, the consumption is leagues more important than the preparation. In truth, one of the best-tasting, most-memorable rundown dishes I can recall eating was not in my home. But it was one Mother’s Day a few years back when my father took his mother, my mother and I to a famous Jamaican resort called “Strawberry Hill” for Mother’s Day brunch. Brunch is common time to prepare rundown. In fact my mother recalls that rundown is “always a favourite at a brunch. It’s served in the hotels, it’s served in local restaurants all scattered throughout the island. Everybody serves it!” Although there was an expansive smorgasbord of every Jamaican delicacy known to man, the vivid memory of that Mother’s Day rundown has stayed with me ever since. This particular rundown was unique because I remember that it was sweeter than usual. The majesty of coconut milk lies in the fact that the cream is just right. It is not too creamy, nor too sweet. However the sauce on this rundown was both creamier and sweeter than what I was accustomed to. Nevertheless, it was a highly pleasing experience and has given me an irreplaceable memory. My family has never connected to the cultural roots or traditions passed down through generations with this dish. When we partake in the meal, we do not really think about or acknowledge the supposed African or East Indian roots, nor do we partake in the idea of the community one-pot. In terms of acquiescence, the most the family does is unconsciously recognize rundown as a meal that is, in all essences, Jamaican. That rundown is a dish unique to our little island and impossible to replicate any place else.
Outside of my family is possibly where the economic aspect and ease to create the dish comes better into play. As previously stated, rundown is a dish enjoyed by Jamaican families all over the island, and has been a part of our diets for many years. A table in a book entitled The Political Economy of Food and Agriculture in the Caribbean had many tables showing food prices for various staple food items across the Caribbean islands from the eighties to the nineties. One table was particularly relevant to Jamaica and showed how the prices of mackerel, saltfish, sardines and other such products had been raising significantly over the years. The description read: “Table 17 reflects the disastrous impact of IMF-induced prices of basic food items in Jamaica. The national dish of Jamaica, “ackee and saltfish”, is now a luxury for many. Saltfish, which had been the chief protein dish for slaves and subsequently for the poorman because of its cheap price, is beyond the reach of the ordinary man in the 1990s” (123 Afroz & Belal). This goes to show how the branch connecting the incorporation of rundown, a historically common food, into diets ranging across all economic and social classes. Another scholar expressed her disquietude as she wrote that, “fish and seafood in the Caribbean used to be abundant and very cheap. However, today much of the best fish and seafood of the island is reserved for the consumption of tourists” (Houston 71). Since it is unlikely that in Jamaica’s short history as a nation, that the resources have managed to run dry, one is forced to question if things are really as they seem. It is just sad to see how the comfort of the locals has shifted to accommodate foreigners and those possessing greater wealth. Another interesting quote shows how the changing economy alters the way Jamaicans approach buying food and preparing it. In Higman’s book she mentions that: “Frozen mackerel entered Jamaica in the late twentieth century. From 1968 to 1987 a government-owned company, Jamaica Frozen Foods, imported it from Canada and Norway and pickled it for the local market. This product was displaced by imported pickled mackerel, which came at a cheaper price” (Higman 322). This goes to show that as time has gone by, locals have found ways to outsmart the system so that the foods that they are all accustomed to eating remain available. I believe this difficulty in obtaining all of the standard sets of ingredients is why so many variations of rundown exist today. If mackerel is inaccessible, throw in some chicken or saltfish. No coconut milk available? No problem, just use coconut oil instead. All that we have to do is find some easy, economic way to cross the hurdles. Our ability to adapt to our surroundings and the situations before us proves the perseverance and mettle of the Jamaican people.
As we have seen throughout the preceding auto-ethnographic journey, a simple breakfast dish possesses a vast amount of depth and significance. Each family and each cook preserves and invents an individual way by which to keep the meal alive. Even though most people have forgotten, or have merely chosen to ignore the origins and cultural backgrounds of the dish, making rundown (and other historically derived dishes) is still practiced through till this very day. In fact, by neglecting our roots we have proven that as a people we simply need a framework from which if given time and attention, our creative energies can flow from and meld together to create something spectacular. By combining one unlikely ingredient upon another, a theoretical culinary train-wreck has instead become a monumental structure within the all-encompassing Jamaican foodway. A crucial question then rises. How was it that these commonly available ingredients became delicacies at certain points in history? As Jamaica and other countries in the Third World continue to be governed by many incapable, self-sustaining and corrupt individuals, our economies can never hope to be boosted and the squalor perpetuates and increases exponentially. Those at the bottom of the food-chain can only pray conditions improve and continue to struggle and fight for some life worth enduring. Rundown is again unique because despite fluctuating prices and questionable availability of the ingredients, Jamaicans have always found a way to keep it a part of our lives. In turn, rundown has just been integrated further among all levels of people inhabiting the island. The development of this dish proves the ingenuity of our people and how adept Jamaicans are at truly adapting something to be their own. Finally, the values behind the Jamaican motto “Out of Many One People” resonates through the creation of rundown. For during our early years as a nation, when slavery and indentured work was rampant throughout the island, we took foreign cooking techniques, methodologies and ingredients, then introduced and overlapped these thing throughout our plethora of diverse peoples, and somehow managed to fuse it all together to create food (and to a greater extent, music, beliefs, practices etc.) that we identify with our modern-day culture.
As we have seen throughout the preceding auto-ethnographic journey, a simple breakfast dish possesses a vast amount of depth and significance. Each family and each cook preserves and invents an individual way by which to keep the meal alive. Even though most people have forgotten, or have merely chosen to ignore the origins and cultural backgrounds of the dish, making rundown (and other historically derived dishes) is still practiced through till this very day. In fact, by neglecting our roots we have proven that as a people we simply need a framework from which if given time and attention, our creative energies can flow from and meld together to create something spectacular. By combining one unlikely ingredient upon another, a theoretical culinary train-wreck has instead become a monumental structure within the all-encompassing Jamaican foodway. A crucial question then rises. How was it that these commonly available ingredients became delicacies at certain points in history? As Jamaica and other countries in the Third World continue to be governed by many incapable, self-sustaining and corrupt individuals, our economies can never hope to be boosted and the squalor perpetuates and increases exponentially. Those at the bottom of the food-chain can only pray conditions improve and continue to struggle and fight for some life worth enduring. Rundown is again unique because despite fluctuating prices and questionable availability of the ingredients, Jamaicans have always found a way to keep it a part of our lives. In turn, rundown has just been integrated further among all levels of people inhabiting the island. The development of this dish proves the ingenuity of our people and how adept Jamaicans are at truly adapting something to be their own. Finally, the values behind the Jamaican motto “Out of Many One People” resonates through the creation of rundown. For during our early years as a nation, when slavery and indentured work was rampant throughout the island, we took foreign cooking techniques, methodologies and ingredients, then introduced and overlapped these thing throughout our plethora of diverse peoples, and somehow managed to fuse it all together to create food (and to a greater extent, music, beliefs, practices etc.) that we identify with our modern-day culture.
While writing this paper, I suddenly felt inspired to take on and conquer making mackerel rundown on my very own. By loosely following suggestions from various online recipes, and from what I derived in my ethnographic research, I used a form of “vibration” cooking to create the meal. My very first mackerel rundown was a total hit! So here is the loose recipe I used to create the meal:
1 ½ tins of mackerel (Chicken of the Sea brand worked nicely)
2 tins of coconut milk (NOT coconut cream)
½ yellow onion
4 cloves garlic
3 stalks chopped scallion
2 diced plummy tomatoes
½ whole sweet pepper
2 chopped habenero peppers (but the dish ended up a little too spicy - so maybe one pepper is adequate)
About ½ cup cubed butternut squash (can replace with pumpkin or omit altogether)
Lots and lots of ground black pepper
Cooking oil for sautéing
Salt to taste (if the mackerel is pre-salted PLEASE IGNORE this step)
1 ½ tins of mackerel (Chicken of the Sea brand worked nicely)
2 tins of coconut milk (NOT coconut cream)
½ yellow onion
4 cloves garlic
3 stalks chopped scallion
2 diced plummy tomatoes
½ whole sweet pepper
2 chopped habenero peppers (but the dish ended up a little too spicy - so maybe one pepper is adequate)
About ½ cup cubed butternut squash (can replace with pumpkin or omit altogether)
Lots and lots of ground black pepper
Cooking oil for sautéing
Salt to taste (if the mackerel is pre-salted PLEASE IGNORE this step)
First of all, break open the tins of coconut milk and put it in a saucepan on a high heat to boil. It will stay on the fire for a good 30 - 45 minutes. After about 20 minutes turn the fire down to simmer the milk. Remove from the fire when the milk starts to thicken and separate to have a somewhat oily appearance on the surface and until it is noticeably thicker (if you are having trouble achieving a certain thickness, add about a teaspoon of flour to the milk and stir it in well). While the milk is boiling, chop up all of the vegetables finely and sauté them altogether in a hearty amount of vegetable oil. Add black pepper and salt to taste. But possibly the biggest step is to debone and de-skin the mackerel. If you leave the skin on, the fish has a tendency to taste raw and has a gooey, slimy consistency, and nobody like fish bones. After the vegetables and seasonings have been adequately browned, add the mackerel to the pan and mix it in to combine the flavours. Cover the pan and let it sit for a few minutes. When the coconut milk reduction is finished, combine the contents of the sauce pan with those of the frying pan (cooking oil and all), mix together well and serve hot with various appropriate side dishes.
This recipe feeds about 12-15 people.
This recipe feeds about 12-15 people.
Works Cited:
Afroz Sulatānā , Belal Ahmed. The Political Economy of Food and Agriculture in the Caribbean, London : J. Currey, 1996. Print.
Baker, Cutie Angella. Personal interview. 27 Nov 2011.
Higman, B. W. Jamaican Food: History, Biology, Culture, Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 2008. Print.
Houston, Lynn Marie. Food Culture in the Caribbean, Westport: Greenwood Press, 2005. Print.
Whittingham, Colin. Personal interview. 27 Nov 2011.
Whittingham, Karen. Personal interview. 26 Nov 2011.
“rundown, n.” The Oxford English Dictionary. Third edition, March 2011; Web. September 2011. <http://www.oed.com.proxy.library.emory.edu/view/Entry/168897>; accessed 02 December 2011.
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