by Paola
Gianturco
Editor's
Note: Our review section began when we discovered the wonderful
book, Celebrating Women. We were happy to review a book that relishes
in all aspects of the female nature, but were particularly interested
in this festival. We thank author, Paola Gianturco, for sharing this
very special festival with us. To discover more about her book, please
click here.
***
In
Guadeloupe
The breeze toys with the pages of
the song books, and blows gently through the open windows of the cathedral.
Later in the day, the windows will be louvred against August's 100 degree
heat. But now it's 6:30 AM and Guadeloupe's women cooks have gathered
in the ancient church for a private mass on the birthday of their chosen
patron, Saint Laurent, who was, they say, grillé at the stake.
The Cuisinières pray together and sing, their alleluias echoing
from the vaulted ceiling. Bells ring from the steeple as trucks and
motorcycles begin to hum through the streets of Pointe-à-Pitre.
For the next two days, the Fête
des Cuisinières will celebrate these Creole cooks and the unique
culinary tradition of Guadeloupe, the butterfly-shaped island in the
French West Indies that lies almost equidistant between Florida and
Venezuela. These women are so expert at delighting the taste buds that
they are known as "the professionals of the mouth."In 1916, their mothers and grandmothers,
cooks of modest means, banded together to form Cuistot Mutuel, an insurance
association, to provide the medical care and funerals that they could
not afford. The cooks prepared meals when members were sick, helped
each other through family emergencies, and arranged dignified funeral
services. After having seen shared so many difficulties, they yearned
to see each other on a more joyful occasion. So they created one: the
annual Fête de Cuisinières. In 1917, ten cooks first dressed
in sumptuous costumes and attended the Saint Laurent mass, then paraded
through Point-à-Pitre carrying their best dishes, which they
served at a great public feast. The Fête des Cuisinières
has happened every year since, no matter what. Viviane Madacombe, the
current President, laughs about the 1948 Fête: "It was hurricane
season and there was a high alert, meaning everyone was supposed to
stay home. The cooks were dressed in red. When they paraded, all their
dresses were soaked by the torrential rain. Their white petticoats,
even their underwear, got wet---and pink!"
The public is invited to attend the next mass and The Church of Saint
Peter and Paul is jammed with 150 cooks, local residents and tourists.
The Cuisinières place baskets of food near the altar to be blessed,
each one decorated with red ribbons that match Saint Laurent's mantle.
The ceremonial mass, which has no communion, is a celebration of songs,
prayers, laughter--and applause that begins when the oldest Cuisinière,
104, walks down the center aisle to her seat. The cooks cluster together
on the front pews, a kaleidoscope of color. The choir rocks the church
with joyful songs. Alleluia, Ah-lay-lou-yah! The cooks burst from the church
carrying wicker market baskets trimmed with clattering metal miniature
saucepans, measuring cups, salt shakers, colanders and milk cans. The
baskets brim with fresh fruit and vegetables, every arrangement more
artful than the one before. The women also carry theatrical
Creole dishes that they will serve at the five hour feast this afternoon:
towers of crayfish the size of lobsters, trays of mussels. Almost 200
restaurants on the island are owned by women cooks and chefs; the parade
affords a chance to flaunt their culinary expertise. The Cuisinières offer petit
fours to the spectators who pack the downtown sidewalks to cheer them
on. The women cooks dance through the city streets past the spice market
and the fish market where, on work days, they shop for the freshest
local ingredients. Finally, they stop at the gates of the Lycée
Carnot, the prep school where diplomats, governing elite--and the first
black woman--have been educated. The school courtyard is full of white
tents that shade banquet tables set for 600. Helium balloons will escape
into the sky as soon as the clock strikes noon. Strict protocol governs the sequence
in which the Cuisinières and their guests enter the school. The
image of Saint Laurent is carried in first. Next, Madame Viviane Madacombe,
the President of the Cuistot Mutuel, starts up the steep steps, followed
by the Vice Presidents and member cooks, and finally, The President
and Prefect of the region, invited guests and the public, each of whom
have paid $25 for the privilege of sharing the fabulous feast. Every
ticket has been sold. Musicians have come from France
to play for the festival. Cooks from the neighboring island, Marie Galante,
have come to dance. The cooks sing the Cuisinière song while
everyone sips Ti punch (sugar cane rum, lemon and sugar) and nibbles
hors d'oeuvres.The Cuisinières have converted
classrooms into kitchens, and are preparing to serve six different kinds
of salad including shredded pumpkin. They have prepared breads, curried
chicken, Ouassous (crayfish), codfish and rice, dombrés
(dumplings), sweet potato---and, for dessert, clove ice cream. The final
presentation will be the pièce de résistance, Pain
Doux, an 85th anniversary cake: dome shaped with white icing drizzled
into intricate, lacey patterns. Entertainers wearing Creole costumes
dance energetically, undeterred by a surprise shower. There are speeches
by the VIPs including a member of parliament from Lyon France, the Mayor
of Pointe-à-Pitre and the President of the Regional Counsel,
who observes, "Creole tradition has eternal value." Islands
Magazine would agree, having decreed that Guadeloupe's women cooks serve
"what is widely regarded as the best Creole cuisine in the Caribbean."In between courses, there is dancing.
One Cuisinière moves like a belly dancer, her hand on her stomach,
gyrating and undulating. Four Cuisinières do a circle dance in
the kitchen. One old Cuisinière dances through the tents carrying
a live chicken; she sits on men's laps, teases them, and kisses them
on the lips amid yelling and merriment. Under the trees, two Cuisinières
perform the beguine while their cook friends clap together two mahogany
blocks, a book-shaped percussion instrument. A Cuisinière-to-be,
about six, carries her baby brother to dance. The youngest child wearing
a Cuisinière costume is about three; she nestles in her father's
arms while he dances. Some Cuisinières dance without leaving
their chairs, waving their arms gleefully to the rhythm of the music.
In the corner of the schoolyard,
the image of Saint Laurent watches silently. Surely he would do a little
jig if he could.I begin to understand the link between
Creole cuisine and Guadeloupe's history before--and after--Christopher
Columbus landed here in November 1493 seeking fresh water, lured by
the sight of waterfalls that tumble from the high peaks in the island's
rain forest. The food legacy of the indigenous
people, the Arawak and Caribbean Indians, included jellied apple and
guava, cassava (manioc bread) and barbecue style cooking, as well as
many dishes made with rooster-tail-conch, snails, oysters, and shellfish.
The Spanish brought matété
(which is a variation of paella and jambalaya) and a style of preparing
land crabs that originated in Galicia, Spain. The English contributed
tortoise soup and punch.The French who settled in Guadeloupe
in 1633 (the archipelago is now one of 96 departments of France), donated
Ouassous (crayfish), Court Bouillon and Pain Doux,
the lacey anniversary cakes served at the 85th Fete des Cuisinières.
Dutch Jews, who took refuge here from Brazil in 1634, introduced blaff
(which gets its name from the sound the fish makes when it's dropped
in boiling water) and dombrés, dumplings. The Africans who came to work on
the sugar cane plantations brought accras (crusty cod fritters
that were named for Accra, the capital of Ghana) and calalou
(green vegetable soup) plus many other delicacies.
Guadeloupean slaves
were emancipated in 1848 and after that, sugar cane workers immigrated
to Guadeloupe from India and China, and brought with them, le colombo
(curry) and moltani (saffron soup).
Ary Ebroin, author
of a two volume epic work, Art Culinaire Crèole d'Antilles
Francais, writes:"Any Creole dish holds the glamour of the
past, the poetry of the land and the sweetness of our most distant memories.
It harmonizes with the brightness of our sun and the splendor of our
landscape."
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