You Say Yuca

Hey Becky... this one might sound familiar... the whole situation just makes me chuckle. Reminds me of the first time you made chili. Not the yuca part, but the knife struggle.

~Love from, Anna

“What is food to one, is to others bitter poison”

--Lucretius (96 BC - 55 BC), De Rerum Natura

My Wüsthof knife quivered through the sluggish flesh, apt to slip at any second and turn my relaxing evening into a bloodbath at the emergency room. In a moment of frustration, the knife was flung as an attempt to dislodge the perpetrator… how dare it not slice? No movement. The offender was pummeled against the counter to separate its thick starchy hold from my precious blade, resulting in a “thud” on my kitchen floor. There was a showdown in my kitchen, and it was time for the big guns—my hair-splitting cleaver smuggled from Shanghai. One whack and it didn’t stand a chance. My first attempt to cook cassava root at home sounded more like the beginning of a CSI episode.

If I hadn’t known better, I would have questioned why on earth people willingly enter such hell to prepare a root vegetable. The appearance of cassava isn’t particularly appealing (it looks like a long piece of withered ginger root), the thick skin is coated in wax (to keep the vegetable moist), and the amount of starch makes removing gum from the bottom of your shoe look like a cake walk. All this, without mention of the woody, invisible core, which is capable of breaking teeth if not removed. Also note that raw cassava contains trace amounts of cyanide, 40mg of which is sufficient to kill a cow. It must not want to be eaten.

In spite of its best efforts, cassava became the main food source in parts of Central and South America well before the Spanish conquest. Its toxicity might even be referenced in the creation story of the Taino, a Pre-Columbian Caribbean tribe. Deminán, the tribe’s Adam-equivalent, sprouts a painful cyst on his back as punishment for stealing cassava bread. The cyst becomes a female turtle with which Deminán cohabitates. What exactly is the story’s moral—creation of humankind… or don’t eat that poisonous undercooked cassava?

Not to be confused with the Southwestern agave perennial shrub “yucca,” cassava’s popularity in present time rages globally. While visiting Brazil, I stumbled upon an amazing fish stew in a viscous tomato broth and pão de queijo (buttery cheese puffs). According to my Portuguese-speaking friend, manioc flour was the main ingredient in both recipes. Not knowing what the hell manioc was, I inquired at a local market. It’s amazing how much can be understood by the pitch in one’s intonation. The ignorant inquiry “Manioc?” resulted in three ladies pulling me toward the large display of long, brown roots. Light bulbs flashed in my head.... Long brown root equals manioc flour equals Brazilian cuisine. Brilliant.

In Africa, cassava root acts as a staple for 30% of the population[1], due to its high level of “food energy” per cultivated area. Ever tried Chinese bubble tea or sneaked a spoonful of grandma’s tapioca pudding? That’s right… tapioca pearls, flakes, and powders are derived from cassava root paste. And really, have you tasted a more satisfying fry than the yuca frita? Bite through the thick, super-crunchy exterior coating only to have the profuse pulp stick to the roof of your mouth. Though not in the potato family, cassava is like a French fry on steroids—it’s crispier, it’s five times starchier, and it’s sweeter to boot.

So—back to the question of why the hell anyone would risk an appendage to cook cassava root? Because, it’s delicious, versatile, and embedded in the cuisines of multiple cultures. But honestly… my kitchen is not a tapioca factory, and I am not a villager subsisting on home-grown crops. My fingers and knives are too important to risk damage. Thank goodness for the Whole Foods frozen food section. Next time, preparation of this particular root will be limited to snipping the freezer bag with a pair of scissors.

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[1] http://www.idosi.org/wasj/wasj4(6)/16.pdf