Top Banana - Recap
Somewhere within a trackless jungle, a rubber raft beaches on the side of a river. Two men disembark. One of them consults an old and tattered map, locating on it a destination. The other, clearly a porter, follows heavy laden. The first man periodically halts the trek and then resumes it, stopping briefly to remove a spider or two from his shirt. Then he sees a banana plant. The man is Alton, clad in the style of Indiana Jones, and he has reached his prize! The porter disgustedly turns away; bananas aren’t the treasure he signed on to locate. Too bad he fails to notice the enormous spider on his back...
Bananas are cheap and plentiful; they’re found in every local megamart between here and the “Temple of Doom.” They’re bright color, shape and delicious flavor have earned them a place in pop culture. But they possess culinary powers beyond dreams. They’re a treasure worth pursing and seriously Good Eats!
Experts now believe the banana originated in Southeast Asia. In fact, Indian legend suggests the banana and not the apple got Adam and Eve evicted from their paradisical Eden. In those legends the first couple wore banana leaves and not fig leaves. History suggests that Arab traders brought the fruit first to the Middle East, then to conquered Spain, and finally through there to Europe. A Spaniard, Friar Tomas de Verlagne, planted a single rhizome in the West Indies somewhere around 1516. The plant spread so quickly that later explorers assumed it was a native plant.
Alton cuts down a bunch of bananas and hears a groan from below. The man on whom the bunch fell is Jeffrey Picazio. Alton is nowhere near the trackless jungle at all! He’s in Picazio’s backyard in Boynton Beach, FL. Thanking the man for the bananas, and for now calling the police, Alton makes as graceful an exit as he can under the circumstances.
Back in his kitchen Alton reveals that bananas are the only staple that is not a grain; they appear in the daily diets of about four hundred million people. Rare before 1903, they exploded onto the market following the appearance of refrigerated produce boats and had achieved considerable popularity by 1905. Then there were a number of varieties but now most of the bananas available are the bright yellow Cavendish sort. These grow on a storm resistant plant, have a good size and have a thick bruise resistant skin. The fruit grew so popular that, in the days before city litter baskets were commonplace, the discarded peels became a symbol of the growing litter problem in cities!
Alton continues his description of the banana. They taste much better if they ripen off the herb (bananas grow on herbs, not trees). Picked when green, they contain a variety of difficult to digest starches (anyone who has eaten a green banana can attest to this). Over time these starches turn into delicious sugars. Alton demonstrates how to hasten the ripening of bananas by placing unripe fruit in a paper (not plastic) bag, along with a ripe banana. With or without the ripe banana the fruit will ripen faster in the bag. Properly ripened, bananas are yellow splotched with brown. Purely yellow fruit are still not quite ripe! Ripening can be slowed by storing bananas in the chill chest for a week or so. But never freeze bananas... unless...
... you plan to make ice cream from them! Alton pulls some ripe bananas from his freezer and sets them in a bowl on the counter to thaw. Why freeze them and then thaw them? Freezing creates ice crystals that piece cellular membranes. These cells weep fluids when thawed. The result is nice mushy bananas – exactly what Alton wants for his ice cream.
Once the bananas have thawed Alton puts them in his food processor with a little lemon juice. The acid in the juice prevents the bananas from browning. He spinds that a bit and then adds some light corn syrup and the contents of a vanilla bean (vanilla extract will do if one hasn’t got beans) and finally some heavy cream. Spun together all of this forms a nice emulsion. Alton puts his “ice cream batter” into the chill chest. Chilling lets the flavors mellow and mingle. It also means the mixture freezes faster. Faster freezing means smaller ice crystals, less time churning and a smoother ice cream. When the mix reaches about 40º Alton starts his ice cream maker and pours in the batter slowly and carefully. This particular ice cream requires no eggs. The texture of the bananas functions the same way. When the machine begins to bog down the mix has absorbed as much air as it can. Alton removes it to a container with a tight lid. This ice cream contains a lot of fat and it will absorb funky odors and tastes from other freezer dwellers if stored without a tightly closed lid. Three to six hours later the ice cream is ready to eat.
For his next trick Alton dons a suit. And that trick is Bananas Foster, a dessert often prepared at tableside. To make it one needs a portable butane burner or its safer alternative, a hot plate. Alton puts a wide and heavy skillet on his hot plate. He also gathers a spoon and a pair of forks. The software is two slightly under ripe bananas cut lengthwise (Alton leaves the peels on until the last moment to discourage browning). The sauce requires unsalted butter, dark brown sugar, allspice, nutmeg, banana liquor, orange zest and dark rum.
Alton starts by melting the butter. To the melted butter he adds everything except the orange zest and rum. Then he poaches the bananas for a minute, flips them and poaches them again. With two forks he removes the bananas to the serving plate and then reheats the sauce to a simmer. While reheating the sauce he dons a fireman’s hat and reviews the rules of flambé cooking:
When the sauce is simmering Alton dims the light slightly for a better show. Then he pours in the rum and lights it off, cooking for another thirty seconds. When the flames die out he adds the final ingredient, the orange zest, and then adds two to three tablespoons of this sauce to the bananas.
Alton admits he has served this for breakfast with waffles, and says it also works well on ice cream.
Next up Alton considers a relative of the banana: the plantain. Its rubbery skin is harder to remove. Alton demonstrates how: chop off the ends and cut down the long axis on one side and then the other. Then peel off the skin in two pieces. Plantains stay starchy (unlike bananas) so cooks usually treat them the same way they would other starchy vegetables. Alton plans to deep fry his, but first he needs some equipment.
Alton assembles a draining rack over a pan with a lip. He fills a wide sauté pan about 3/8” deep with oil (canola works well) and heats that to 325º. While it heats he inverts another pan and covers it with a sheet of parchment, gathers a wooden or plastic spatula and fills bowl with two cups of water mixed with a little salt and garlic. Finally he folks a tea towel (one can substitute paper towels) into a pad.
Equipment ready, Alton begins by cutting his plantains into 1” medallions. He puts these in the hot oil (standing on their round ends) and cooks them for a minute and an half, then turns them over and cooks them for another minute and a half. Alton cautions viewers to keep an eye on the temperature of the oil and raise the heat if necessary. Alton removes the cooked plantains to the parchment covered inverted pan, and mashes them to about half their height with the spatula. As he mashes each one he slides it into the water for about a minute and then removes it to the towel pad to dry. He then slides the plantains back into the oil (it should still be 325º) to cook until golden brown. When done he removes them to the rack to drain and seasons them while they’re hot. They look like they were coated in batter but they weren’t – all part of the mystery of plantain cooking.
Alton hopes he has shown how the plain yellow wrapper conceals greater culinary power than most people know, and cautions cooks not to let it... slip away.
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Bananas are cheap and plentiful; they’re found in every local megamart between here and the “Temple of Doom.” They’re bright color, shape and delicious flavor have earned them a place in pop culture. But they possess culinary powers beyond dreams. They’re a treasure worth pursing and seriously Good Eats!
Experts now believe the banana originated in Southeast Asia. In fact, Indian legend suggests the banana and not the apple got Adam and Eve evicted from their paradisical Eden. In those legends the first couple wore banana leaves and not fig leaves. History suggests that Arab traders brought the fruit first to the Middle East, then to conquered Spain, and finally through there to Europe. A Spaniard, Friar Tomas de Verlagne, planted a single rhizome in the West Indies somewhere around 1516. The plant spread so quickly that later explorers assumed it was a native plant.
Alton cuts down a bunch of bananas and hears a groan from below. The man on whom the bunch fell is Jeffrey Picazio. Alton is nowhere near the trackless jungle at all! He’s in Picazio’s backyard in Boynton Beach, FL. Thanking the man for the bananas, and for now calling the police, Alton makes as graceful an exit as he can under the circumstances.
Back in his kitchen Alton reveals that bananas are the only staple that is not a grain; they appear in the daily diets of about four hundred million people. Rare before 1903, they exploded onto the market following the appearance of refrigerated produce boats and had achieved considerable popularity by 1905. Then there were a number of varieties but now most of the bananas available are the bright yellow Cavendish sort. These grow on a storm resistant plant, have a good size and have a thick bruise resistant skin. The fruit grew so popular that, in the days before city litter baskets were commonplace, the discarded peels became a symbol of the growing litter problem in cities!
Alton continues his description of the banana. They taste much better if they ripen off the herb (bananas grow on herbs, not trees). Picked when green, they contain a variety of difficult to digest starches (anyone who has eaten a green banana can attest to this). Over time these starches turn into delicious sugars. Alton demonstrates how to hasten the ripening of bananas by placing unripe fruit in a paper (not plastic) bag, along with a ripe banana. With or without the ripe banana the fruit will ripen faster in the bag. Properly ripened, bananas are yellow splotched with brown. Purely yellow fruit are still not quite ripe! Ripening can be slowed by storing bananas in the chill chest for a week or so. But never freeze bananas... unless...
... you plan to make ice cream from them! Alton pulls some ripe bananas from his freezer and sets them in a bowl on the counter to thaw. Why freeze them and then thaw them? Freezing creates ice crystals that piece cellular membranes. These cells weep fluids when thawed. The result is nice mushy bananas – exactly what Alton wants for his ice cream.
Once the bananas have thawed Alton puts them in his food processor with a little lemon juice. The acid in the juice prevents the bananas from browning. He spinds that a bit and then adds some light corn syrup and the contents of a vanilla bean (vanilla extract will do if one hasn’t got beans) and finally some heavy cream. Spun together all of this forms a nice emulsion. Alton puts his “ice cream batter” into the chill chest. Chilling lets the flavors mellow and mingle. It also means the mixture freezes faster. Faster freezing means smaller ice crystals, less time churning and a smoother ice cream. When the mix reaches about 40º Alton starts his ice cream maker and pours in the batter slowly and carefully. This particular ice cream requires no eggs. The texture of the bananas functions the same way. When the machine begins to bog down the mix has absorbed as much air as it can. Alton removes it to a container with a tight lid. This ice cream contains a lot of fat and it will absorb funky odors and tastes from other freezer dwellers if stored without a tightly closed lid. Three to six hours later the ice cream is ready to eat.
For his next trick Alton dons a suit. And that trick is Bananas Foster, a dessert often prepared at tableside. To make it one needs a portable butane burner or its safer alternative, a hot plate. Alton puts a wide and heavy skillet on his hot plate. He also gathers a spoon and a pair of forks. The software is two slightly under ripe bananas cut lengthwise (Alton leaves the peels on until the last moment to discourage browning). The sauce requires unsalted butter, dark brown sugar, allspice, nutmeg, banana liquor, orange zest and dark rum.
Alton starts by melting the butter. To the melted butter he adds everything except the orange zest and rum. Then he poaches the bananas for a minute, flips them and poaches them again. With two forks he removes the bananas to the serving plate and then reheats the sauce to a simmer. While reheating the sauce he dons a fireman’s hat and reviews the rules of flambé cooking:
- No loose clothing
- Tie back long hair
- Never hold your heat over the pan – flames can leap unpredictably!
- Turn off any open flame before adding alcohol.
- Use a “stick” lighter to ignite the recipe
- Keep a lid ready just in case
- Have an extinguisher handy in case things go very wrong!
When the sauce is simmering Alton dims the light slightly for a better show. Then he pours in the rum and lights it off, cooking for another thirty seconds. When the flames die out he adds the final ingredient, the orange zest, and then adds two to three tablespoons of this sauce to the bananas.
Alton admits he has served this for breakfast with waffles, and says it also works well on ice cream.
Next up Alton considers a relative of the banana: the plantain. Its rubbery skin is harder to remove. Alton demonstrates how: chop off the ends and cut down the long axis on one side and then the other. Then peel off the skin in two pieces. Plantains stay starchy (unlike bananas) so cooks usually treat them the same way they would other starchy vegetables. Alton plans to deep fry his, but first he needs some equipment.
Alton assembles a draining rack over a pan with a lip. He fills a wide sauté pan about 3/8” deep with oil (canola works well) and heats that to 325º. While it heats he inverts another pan and covers it with a sheet of parchment, gathers a wooden or plastic spatula and fills bowl with two cups of water mixed with a little salt and garlic. Finally he folks a tea towel (one can substitute paper towels) into a pad.
Equipment ready, Alton begins by cutting his plantains into 1” medallions. He puts these in the hot oil (standing on their round ends) and cooks them for a minute and an half, then turns them over and cooks them for another minute and a half. Alton cautions viewers to keep an eye on the temperature of the oil and raise the heat if necessary. Alton removes the cooked plantains to the parchment covered inverted pan, and mashes them to about half their height with the spatula. As he mashes each one he slides it into the water for about a minute and then removes it to the towel pad to dry. He then slides the plantains back into the oil (it should still be 325º) to cook until golden brown. When done he removes them to the rack to drain and seasons them while they’re hot. They look like they were coated in batter but they weren’t – all part of the mystery of plantain cooking.
Alton hopes he has shown how the plain yellow wrapper conceals greater culinary power than most people know, and cautions cooks not to let it... slip away.
Share this article with your friends
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