For the mojo of Canarian cheese

No matter where you go on the Canary Islands, you’ll find platters of cheese made from the milk of island goats. Another staple is mojo, the hot sauce that is an essential accompaniment to any dish, writes Sonia Nazareth

Seafood has come to dominate the local food scene

Barraquito, a layered coffee, with a base of condensed milk, espresso, and a shot of Licor 43, frequently follows a meal

Pistachio crusted roast rack of lamb with sautéed spinach

Food habits are born as much of serendipity, as geography. Although located off the coast of Spain, the Canary Islands are also just around 100 kms off the coast of the North-West African mainland. These islands played a pivotal role as trade routes between Europe, Africa, and the Americas. Those who arrived here, like the Spanish colonialists at the end of the 15th century, brought with them not just a desire for trade or refuelling, but also their foods and customs, creating a distinctive cultural legacy. Fennel from Andalucía. Chayote or “vegetable pear” from Venezuela. Potatoes, beans, and cocoa came in with the American explorers.

To add to this gastronomic complexity were the food habits of the original settlers of the land. When the Guanches arrived, they used flour called gofio in their cuisine. The flour was made from ground cereals — millet, maize, and barley grains. With time, gofio fell out of fashion but is now experiencing a resurgence, as a protein contributor. Escaldon de Gofio, a hot broth thickened with gofio flour, and
added to vegetables, pieces of meat or fish, is popular. Gofio, still made by some millers by hand, is a versatile ingredient and is added to bread, soups, and desserts.

Before the era of refrigeration, food was not the abundant, elaborate affair it is now. The ancestors made the best use of the resources they had. Several types of meat and vegetables were dried, or marinated for weeks, even months, in a sauce made with oil, garlic, and vinegar. Simplicity and ingenuity strongly defined what was on the table. For instance, Ropa Vieja, a thick stew of chickpeas, meat, vegetable, and potatoes, found its origins in early times of scarcity. The name Ropa Vieja itself translates as “old clothes”, an indicator of the fact that whatever food was available went into the pot. Tenerife, the largest of the seven Canary Islands, with its white and black sand beaches and volcanic landscape, is where I begin my culinary odyssey. The capital city of Santa Cruz, seals the deal on Tenerife’s reputation, as a gourmet paradise on the islands. No matter where you go on the island, you’ll find platters of cheese made from the milk of island goats. Another staple born of an early need for innovation and invention is mojo. This hot sauce made of red or green chillies, oil, vinegar, and salt, is an essential accompaniment to any dish that could do with a boost of spice. Papas Arugadas, potatoes boiled in brine and eaten with their wrinkly skin, is another traditional delight.

Traditional foods thrive alongside newfangled experimental fare. Unlike in times past, there’s an abundance of fresh, seasonal ingredients. At restaurants characterised by plate poetry, you’ll find elaborate dishes that employ local ingredients in new and creative ways. Think orange marinated pumpkin carpaccio with tofu or pistachio-crusted roast rack of lamb with sautéed spinach.

The landscape determines so much of what we put on our plates. Rabbit, lamb, and goat continue to be popular meats, as the island is hilly and doesn’t have as much grazing land. The eternal spring of the climate (due in part to the island’s proximity to the African coast) implies an ever-unfurling banner of exotic fruit. At local markets, sit volcanic heaps of bananas, mango, papaya, apricots, and guava, ingredients also used in all permutations of preserves and pickles.

A half an hour’s drive away from Santa Cruz, Puerto De La Cruz has retained its fishing village feel and is a perfect place to feel how seafood has come to dominate the local food scene. Small fishing boats come into the dock each morning with the freshest of fish. To eat a meal of freshly caught, lightly-grilled grouper, swordfish, parrotfish, or seabass, accompanied by the music of the waves breaking on the shore the scent of the sea of Playa San Telmo and the sight of the lagoons of Lago Martianez generates a feeling of a life well-lived by the water. The value given to enjoying locally-sourced produce, seasonal changes and regional differences is also in evidence. At Restaurant Guaydil, in San Cristobel, at the historic centre of La Laguna, dishes that exemplify this spirit come out in rapid succession. A Canarian cheese board with honey and Medjool dates. Fried pear ravioli with four cheese sauces. Codfish croquettes. Iberian roasted pork meat with potatoes and honey. Barraquito, a layered coffee, with a base of condensed milk, espresso, and a shot of Licor 43, frequently follows a meal. Life on an island is lived slowly and to island rhythms. The communal nature of these long, replete meals allows for comfort in the community. Desserts are hearty. I try all permutations of Flan, a rich sweet custard topped with caramel sauce. Bienmesabe, which means “tastes good to me” is a golden brown dessert of honey, almonds, egg yolks and sugar. That these traditional innovative dishes still thrive, serves as a reminder of a time when nothing went to waste.