By Joel Denker
The fragrant fruit has had an adoring following through the ages. Its smell is as “gentle and sweet as a strawberry,” the author of the Natural History of Brazil, a seventeenth century volume, waxed lyrically. Gonzalo Hernadez de Oviedo, who visited Hispaniola two centuries earlier, was transfixed by the “fragrant flowers” of a tree that “bears an apple more substantial than that of Spain.” Its fruit was “beautiful and appetizing.”
Guava’s mystique had taken hold of me. One evening, my wife, Peggy, and I sampled a juice made from the tropical fruit manufactured by an Egyptian company in Cairo. The yellow, pulpy drink reminded Peggy of grapefruit juice. If you didn’t know the source, you might think it was pear nectar. We breathed in the sensuous aroma, which was as potent as its sweet, slightly tart flavor.
On another evening, I enjoyed a Caribbean-Creole rendition of guava. At Rocky’s Cafe, I ordered a plate of juicy jerk shrimp which was circled with daubs of a guava-based barbecue sauce. (Rocky’s Cafe, 1817 Columbia Road, N.W., 387-2580). It gave them a sweet peppery flavor. I nibbled away at the shrimp, reveled in the jam-like sauce, and relished the sides of rice and peas and “rundown,” a Jamaican medley of vegetables braised in coconut milk.
Paul Petit, the cafe’s inventive chef, discovered the guava at his sister’s home in Nigeria. He noticed “sour and green” and “sweet” fruits. The seeds were planted in his culinary imagination. He experimented with guava in the house’s sauce for barbecued ribs (he has now substituted tamarind). He decided to infuse his jerked shrimp with the fruit paste. At their Saturday brunch, Paul offers a a compote of guava and other tropical fruits to accompany his banana waffles.
A member of the myrtle family, the guava, like its close relative, the clove, gets its scent from engenol, an aromatic oil. Other kin are eucalyptus, bay rum, and all spice.
The fruit, which is typically yellow with white, pink, or red flesh when ripe, grew prolifically in the Americas. It is bursting with seeds that “lie in obtrusive layers like buck shot,” wrote Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. Weed-like, it spread like wild fire, forming thickets that the Spanish called guayabales. Brazilian painters drew loving pictures of birds and monkeys feasting on the fruit, whose seeds they scattered far and wide.
Archaeologists uncovered traces of guava along with beans, chilis, and squash in Peruvian sites that go back to at least 800 B.C. The small evergreen, which can grow as shrub or tree, was probably cultivated in Peru and then sprang up in Mexico in 200 B.C., according to the Oxford Encyclopedia of Food. The Aztecs called it xalxocotl or sandplum, apparently because of its gritty flesh.
The colonizers of Hispaniola found the fruit in Haiti, where it was known as guayavu. The Spaniards, who named it guayaba, carried it from Acapulco to Manila, where it was diffused throughout Asia. The Tupi Indians of Brazil introduced the Portuguese to the araca, a fruit they highly valued. The Iberian mariners brought it from Brazil to Goa, their Indian entrepot.
The Spanish had developed a fondness for sweet fruit pastes, especially quince, from their Moorish conquerors. In the new world, the colonists, food historian Raymond Sokolov suggests, added guava to their repertoire of dulces (“sweets”). Rich in pectin, a substance that promotes geling and thickening, the fruit lent itself to jams, jellies, custards, and mousses.
At Pena’s, the Latin grocery on 17th Street, the shelves are stocked with guava cream, guava jelly, and guava paste, a cousin to the Spaniard’s beloved quince confection. (Pena’s Spanish Store, 1636 17th Street, N.W. 462-2222.) The store sells bocadillos (“sandwiches”), bite sized squares with layers of guava paste, a specialty of Colombia. Pena’s carries cans of guava juice and frozen pulp of the fruit. Pastels de guayaba, guava filled pastries, rest on the front counter. Owner Roberto Dennis, whose mother prepared guava sweets as everyday pleasures and for Christmas and other festive occasions, sells these products to “Central Americans,” and to some Latin Americans, primarily Columbians and Brazilians.
Brazilians are passionate about guava repasts. Breakfast might be strong coffee and rolls and butter with goiabada, a thick jam. The country’s most popular dessert, “Romeo and Juliet,” teams guava paste with a firm white cheese. Adams Morgan’s Grill From Ipanema serves a cheese cake with guava sauce, an adaptation of the Brazilian standard. (Grill From Ipanema, 1858 Columbia Road, N.W. 986-0757.) The cream cheese works nicely as a foil to the fruity sauce.
People in the Arabic world have become devotees of the American fruit. It was in El Khartoum, the District’s only Sudanese restaurant, that I first found the Best and Mira brands of guava drink, both processed in Egypt. (El Khartoum, 1782 Florida Avenue, N.W. 986-1900.)
Owner Mutasim Idris extolled the fruit’s medicinal powers. The guava drink, he says, can alleviate sickness. “Sometimes I take it for my baby when she’s crying.” Customer Mohammed Ali chimed in: “It clears the stomach.” Guava has a long history as a folk medicine. In Southeast Asia, it was reputed to be a cure for diarrhea. Europeans were also converted. Guava leaves were listed as a remedy in a Dutch colonial pharmacopeia.
The guava can treat psychic ills as well. It delectable beauty is rejuvenating. Consider the poem by an unnamed nineteenth century French poet inspired by the fruit.
Raymond Sokolov translates the ode: “Flowers just won’t do. I want to give you guava, too; guava covered with short down, painted with saffron.”
Originally published in The InTowner: http://intowner.com/food-in-the-hood/
