“Hey, boss when are we having jambalaya?” “What?” I had just started a one-year tour of duty as commander of the U-2 detachment on a British Air Base on the island of Cyprus in the Eastern Mediterranean. “Mike, when are you fixing jambalaya?” “Huh?” Finally someone clued me in. The U-2 wives had put together a cookbook years earlier, and not knowing any recipes, I had submitted a jambalaya recipe straight from Playboy magazine. The locals had awaited my arrival to meet the American who makes jambalaya.
The only thing to do was gather up my courage and try to fix jambalaya. Fortunately, the quarters I shared with my deputy had a small kitchen and large patio for entertaining. I invited my nine officers and as many English friends over to supper Friday night at my little bungalow.
Not having a clue what went into jambalaya, I got a copy of the cookbook and looked up the recipe. Ham, chicken, rice, shrimp, peppers, spices, nothing unusual. But not only did I not know how to cook, I didn’t know how or where to find the ingredients. So, I borrowed the wife of the weather forecaster to help me put the meal together. Ann and I decided on cole slaw and bread to go with the main course, and apple crisp for dessert.
We went to the base commissary, which was limited to canned goods and things like New Zealand lamb and butter and the strangest assortment of English cleaning soaps and powders. We bought Fairy Washing Fluid to clean the dishes. Not much in the way of fresh ingredients, so we went off base to the nearest roadside produce stand. There we encountered marvelous displays of local citrus fruits, homemade yogurts and cheeses, smoked sausages, washtubs full of every kind of olive imaginable, and fresh vegetables. Nothing as unusual as an apple or fresh meat. We bought what we could and headed downtown.
The port of Limissol is an exotic mix of Greek and Turkish cultures. We headed for the Turkish bazaar, an open-air market in the middle of town. We could smell it blocks before our arrival, with all the pungent spices and also in-view butcheries and fish stalls. We needed apples, chicken, and shrimp. Of all things, the greengrocer had Bromley apples from England, perfect for the apple crisp.
We followed our noses to the butcher shop, which was easy because there was no refrigeration. But this was no problem because our chicken was fresh, so fresh that it was still alive in a cage and butchered to order. I’m not sure I could have eaten any of the other delicacies on offer. On to the fish section.
I have never seen such an array of seafood on tables of ice, everything that swam or crawled or slithered in the Mediterranean. It was a better display of biology than anything in a natural history museum. We selected a couple of pounds of Egyptian shrimp and now had everything I needed for my supper.
I was determined to do this myself. So, I shredded the cabbage and vegetables and mixed them with the dressing in a big bowl and put the slaw in the ‘fridge. I peeled and sliced the apples, covered them in a big casserole with the topping. The jambalaya was surprisingly easy, everything put in a big pot on the stove and simmered all afternoon.
As my eighteen guests arrived I put the apple crisp in the oven and set out the simple meal. It was incredible. The English got a taste of American food. The Americans got a taste of home. The food was a great hit, especially the hot apple crisp straight from the oven. Everyone lingered, sharing the local wine and international companionship as the stars came out. My reputation was not only saved, but enhanced.
The evening was so successful that we established a tradition that the first Friday of every month was supper at the Commander’s. I learned to cook and entertain and to this day look forward to being the chef for groups of guests.
The only thing to do was gather up my courage and try to fix jambalaya. Fortunately, the quarters I shared with my deputy had a small kitchen and large patio for entertaining. I invited my nine officers and as many English friends over to supper Friday night at my little bungalow.
Not having a clue what went into jambalaya, I got a copy of the cookbook and looked up the recipe. Ham, chicken, rice, shrimp, peppers, spices, nothing unusual. But not only did I not know how to cook, I didn’t know how or where to find the ingredients. So, I borrowed the wife of the weather forecaster to help me put the meal together. Ann and I decided on cole slaw and bread to go with the main course, and apple crisp for dessert.
We went to the base commissary, which was limited to canned goods and things like New Zealand lamb and butter and the strangest assortment of English cleaning soaps and powders. We bought Fairy Washing Fluid to clean the dishes. Not much in the way of fresh ingredients, so we went off base to the nearest roadside produce stand. There we encountered marvelous displays of local citrus fruits, homemade yogurts and cheeses, smoked sausages, washtubs full of every kind of olive imaginable, and fresh vegetables. Nothing as unusual as an apple or fresh meat. We bought what we could and headed downtown.
The port of Limissol is an exotic mix of Greek and Turkish cultures. We headed for the Turkish bazaar, an open-air market in the middle of town. We could smell it blocks before our arrival, with all the pungent spices and also in-view butcheries and fish stalls. We needed apples, chicken, and shrimp. Of all things, the greengrocer had Bromley apples from England, perfect for the apple crisp.
We followed our noses to the butcher shop, which was easy because there was no refrigeration. But this was no problem because our chicken was fresh, so fresh that it was still alive in a cage and butchered to order. I’m not sure I could have eaten any of the other delicacies on offer. On to the fish section.
I have never seen such an array of seafood on tables of ice, everything that swam or crawled or slithered in the Mediterranean. It was a better display of biology than anything in a natural history museum. We selected a couple of pounds of Egyptian shrimp and now had everything I needed for my supper.
I was determined to do this myself. So, I shredded the cabbage and vegetables and mixed them with the dressing in a big bowl and put the slaw in the ‘fridge. I peeled and sliced the apples, covered them in a big casserole with the topping. The jambalaya was surprisingly easy, everything put in a big pot on the stove and simmered all afternoon.
As my eighteen guests arrived I put the apple crisp in the oven and set out the simple meal. It was incredible. The English got a taste of American food. The Americans got a taste of home. The food was a great hit, especially the hot apple crisp straight from the oven. Everyone lingered, sharing the local wine and international companionship as the stars came out. My reputation was not only saved, but enhanced.
The evening was so successful that we established a tradition that the first Friday of every month was supper at the Commander’s. I learned to cook and entertain and to this day look forward to being the chef for groups of guests.
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