Eat Your Heart Out

In our exploration of the world’s dinner tables, Mr. Meat & Potatoes and I have found an unexpected obsession, organ meats.

After trying tongue, lung, and sweet breads, we discovered that once you get past the mental ick factor, offal is actually darn tasty.

Such culinary bravery has come as a surprise to us both, especially since a year ago Adam didn’t consider raw fish edible, but apparently desperation is not the only reason why people eat this stuff.

The most recent meat to hit our plates was anticucho, brochettes of marinated, grilled beef heart. A popular dish of Peru, we found this “appetizer” at Piolin on New Britain Ave., in Hartford, where the portions are so large that our starter was really a platter.


Our friendly and helpful server, who immediately saw we were out of our element, warned us of the imposing portion sizes, so we decided to simply split an entrée after we finished eating our hearts out.

The heart meat was firm and a bit chewy, but very flavorful and mildly spiced with aji, or Peruvian peppers.

As we enjoyed the seasoned skewers, however, we made a grave mistake; we looked a little too closely at what we were eating. That was when our bravery flagged. Upon finding we could make out ventricles, we decided to save room for our entrée.

On the recommendation of our server, we ordered the chupe de pescado, a popular dish of Peruvian coastal cuisine and of Piolin. A mix of octopus, squid, shrimp, mussels and potatoes in a light cream broth with cilantro, garlic and aji pepper, the chupe was even larger than the anticucho.


Renowned Peruvian chef Gaston Acurio recently called the yellow aji pepper the most important ingredient in Peruvian cooking, and it is easy to see why. Looking through Piolin’s menu, I notice the hot and distinctively fruity peppers are used in everything. Even the delicious creamy green “secret sauce” offered with bread to each table, which Piolin is known for, contains the pervasive South American peppers.

Another staple of Peruvian cuisine is corn. With 35 different indigenous kinds available, there is little wonder why. The most common type, a large kernelled, unsweet variety that tastes more like popcorn than corn on the cob, appears in each dish as well.


To wash it all down, we tried an Inca Kola, a bright yellow lemon verbena flavored soda. The national beverage of Peru, this candy-like cola was at one point the only soda worldwide to beat Coca-Cola in sales. Despite it’s popularity, however, it was a little too sweet for even Adam.

No matter how sweet though, the Inca Kola would have to serve as our dessert since there was no way we had any room left for rice pudding or alfajores, delicate shortbread cookies filled with dulce de leche and dusted with powdered sugar.

So what’s next for your intrepid eaters? Who knows, Rocky Mountain oysters?

"Piolin" means "Tweety" in Spanish

Island Time

Sitting in my lawn chair in the afternoon sun, listening to Bob Marley with a frosty beverage at my side, I find I have all the inspiration I need for this week’s write-up. That’s because on an equally beautiful day earlier this week it had seemed the perfect time for a Jamaican barbeque.

Nothing says Jamaican barbeque like an authentic homemade jerk marinade made with just the right heat by a very personable Jamaican chef. Except maybe an icy pitcher of Jamaican rum punch.

After conferring with said chef, Lennox Grayson of Burtons Grill in South Windsor, I set a nice, lean pork tenderloin to marinade in a secret blend of whole allspice, garlic, vinegar, red pepper and cinnamon. Then I referred to a few other sources for the rest of our Jamaican meal.

First I consulted one of Grayson’s cookbooks, The Real Taste of Jamaica by Enid Donaldson, which he was kind enough to let me borrow. There I found an intriguing recipe for sweet potato in orange skins.

While preparing this wonderfully simple dish, mashed sweet potato mixed with cinnamon, nutmeg and orange juice and baked in hollowed out orange halves, I stepped outside to chat with my neighbor, Sunshine.

A Jamaican native as pleasant as her name, she explained that island sweet potatoes are actually different than those stateside. She ducked back into her kitchen, where I often hear her banging away, creating mouthwatering aromas, through the adjoining wall, and reemerged with a fat, reddish tuber.

According to Sunshine, while Jamaican sweet potatoes are similar in flavor to the variety we are used to, they are also starchier and firmer in texture, like a Russet potato.

As the tenderloin sizzled on the grill and a warm breeze carried the irresistible smell of slowly cooking meat throughout the yard and the neighborhood beyond, Sunshine went over the recipe for rum punch her husband had given us back when they first became our neighbors.

One of sour,
Two of sweet,
Three of strong,
Four of weak.

Back when we originally tried this recipe, we were told it didn’t come out right, but then again there is a fair amount of room for interpretation here. This time, with a mix of fresh lime juice, fresh orange juice, guava nectar, sugar and Appleton rum, even if we didn’t get it right, it was still quite refreshing.

For the last part of our meal we paid a visit to our final authority on Jamaican cuisine, Anthony’s Jamaican Restaurant on West Middle Turnpike in Manchester. Home to deliciously flaky varieties of filled patties and tender curried goat, Anthony’s also serves up some tasty rice and peas (the peas are really red beans) and callaloo.

A dark leafy vegetable comparable to spinach, callaloo is a staple of indigenous Jamaican cuisine. Anthony’s recipe with onions, peppers and spice offers more flavor than you would think a pile of green mush ever could contain.

It was these side dishes we had come for, so showing great restraint in not also throwing in a couple of beef patties or a slice of rum cake, we returned home with heaping helpings of rice and peas and callaloo.

Back at the dinner table, the pork was tender and intensely flavorful with a pronounced heat that awakened every taste bud without actually being painful. The sweet potato was also delicious, a perfect complement that cooled the jerk-fueled fire in our mouths, and, as my roommate put it, is a good way to impress someone with your culinary skills without actually doing a lot of work.

The shadows lengthen across the yard as I continue reflecting on this past meal and I am struck with a sudden urge, I need to get this post under wraps while there’s still time for beef patties!