breadfruit

The breadfruit (Artocarpus altilis) might be considered the aesthetic epitome of a tropical landscape, even though this is probably not what Captain Bligh had in mind when he was doggedly pursuing the shipment of the plants from Tahiti to the West Indies. It was intended that their starchy fruits would serve as an inexpensive food source for slaves working the sugar plantations. Though this original intent was surely inglorious, if there were a silver lining to this gray cloud, it is that the breadfruit is now one of the staples of the West Indies, beloved by many. The tree itself requires ultratropical conditions, but this fact never stopped me from growing it indoors when I lived in Chicago. Who would have ever thought that the breadfruit could partner quite nicely with a Louis XVI French chair? I daresay the tree enhances the chair, rather than the other way around. Breadfruit also survives to a limited degree in southern Florida, but its permanent survival there is tenuous because occasional cold blasts that cause temperatures to dip into the 40s, even if transiently, will severely damage or kill the tree. The young tree shown here was growing in a private garden in southern Florida but died the following year. In the last photograph, the mature tree in all its majesty was photographed in a parking lot in the Philippines. Here, conditions are ideal, as you can see from the enormous girth of the tree depicted. A primadonna without equal.

home grown cacao

Who says you can't grow your own cacao tree (Theobroma cacao) under standard indoor conditions? Indoor horticulture is truly a democratic exercise in the sense that if one were able to procure seeds of just about any plant, no limit should exist on what one can grow indoors. All it takes is a bit of resourcefulness to find the seeds in the first place. Cacao is one of those plants whose seeds must be absolutely fresh in order to germinate since the seeds are highly recalcitrant. First take a fresh cacao pod and split it lengthwise to extract the seeds. Remove the flesh and the very thin 'mucosal' layer that covers the seeds. Sow the seed immediately in small pots, about 1 inch deep. Any good generic potting soil will do. Water once, keep in a dark warm place (at least about 75F) and within a week, the seeds will start to germinate. The plant itself is beautiful, with large drupe-like leaves. Young leaves are pinkish red and hang limply. Ideally, the plant should be sited where the ambient humidity is between 65-80%. Most homes will not have this much humidity, so one should expect the tips of a few leaves to brown from time to time. This doesn't detract from the overall beauty of the plant however. In my case, the plant was placed in a ledge in the kitchen, where a few Philippine ebony bowls and linens with depictions of the Intramuros in Manila were vaguely evocative of a kitchen that would not have been out of place in a 19th century home in Spanish Manila. In such an ambience, the cacao would have felt truly at home.

reflections on a a stately tree

If one were to describe the aesthetically 'perfect tree' , it would have to satisfy numerous parameters. A psychologist once observed that one of the subconscious human criteria for a handsome face is a visage that is governed by a perfect or nearly perfect symmetry of halves. If the same criteria could be transposed to trees, then perhaps no other tree would better qualify than the 'rain' tree, or Samanea saman. This member of the bean family (Fabaceae) is native to tropical America (or the Costa Rica to Venezuela region, to be precise), but it is now pantropically distributed. This tree was found growing in a town in the Philippines-notice the near perfect symmetry of its two halves. A tree of this size and girth is probably at least a century old (compare the size of the tree to the diminutive person to its right, who is actually closer to the viewer than the tree itself). Rain trees derive their name from the fact that they also serve as crude indicators of weather. This happens just before a monsoonal downpour approaches (or before nightfall), when their characteristically pinnate leaves fold. The scientific explanation for this foliar response is probably linked to discernible changes in atmospheric humidity detected by the tree as well as the abatement of natural light. Such a plausible explanation might seem too prosaic for the poetically inclined, who would prefer to see this as evidence of arborial submission to the mightier forces that emanate from nature's caprices. But to the wandering passerby simply caught unaware in a sudden rainstorm who seeks shelter under such a tree, the mundane explanation serves no comfort. A tree whose leaves close just as the skies open offers no reprieve from the rain during the merciless onslaught of one of those tropical downpours. But perhaps this is precisely the point. The tree compels one to understand nature from a different perspective, so that the perception of being drenched should not be to feel discomfort, but to be reminded that water sustains life.

La Perla del Oriente...

....or 'Pearl of the Orient', was the moniker for the group of tropical islands that was then known as the Spanish East Indies in the 19th century. We are more familiar with the Philippine Islands, or just the Philippines, as the political entity for that vast archipelago in the Far East is known today. Few realize, however, that both in the capital city of Manila and in outlying provinces, traces of Spanish cultural influence are still prevalent in everything from architecture to personal surnames. The Philippines is truly a culture where East meets West. Even today, a veneer of Spanish and Chinese influences is present on what is essentially a Malay cultural foundation. So if one is wandering the streets of the Intramuros in Manila, or a rural plaza in the Philippine countryside, you could be forgiven for wondering if you were momentarily transported to Mexico. The legacy of the Acapulco-Manila galleon trade over three centuries would have been meaningless if there weren't tangible evidence of its benefits centuries after its inevitable demise. Countless Asians wouldn't be enjoying chocolate in the present era if the trade never existed. It was through one of these ships that the Spaniards first introduced the cacao plant (Theobroma cacao) from their colonies in tropical America to their only bastion in the Far East. From the Philippines, the plant then spread to the Dutch East Indies (Indonesia) and then the rest of mainland southeast Asia. For this reason alone, the moniker deserves an extra layer of iridescence.

Apsaras

According to Hindu and Buddhist mythologies, the apsaras were celestial beings who lived in both air and water. The closest Western representation of such a being is probably the nymph. Apsaras were first described in the ancient Sanskritic texts from India. These beings would descend from their heavenly abodes from time to time to entertain mere mortals with their dances. Such colorful legends were brought by Indian traders to the Indochinese region along with Hinduism and Buddhism, where they were readily subsumed by the animist Khmers into their preexisting pantheon of divinities and demigods. Sandstone carvings of Apsaras abound in bas reliefs throughout the various Angkorian temples. Cambodian classical dancers imitate the delicate body movements of the Apsaras through sinuous contortions of their arms, hands and feet. In one of the temples, two dancers were spotted taking an afternoon break from the midafternoon heat. However, even the noble Apsaras did not escape the inexorable ensnarement into mass tourist souvenirs, where their embodiment as carved teakwood panels ensures that one is as likely to find a modern day wooden Apsara in a suburb of Seattle as in the sandstone corridors of Angkor Wat. For a celestial nymph, that's quite a transition from deified status.

A cornucopia of comestibles

For those who are Thai food afficionados, Cambodian cuisine is vaguely familiar. Yes, vaguely, because where coconut milk and certain flavorings like fish sauce might be shared, the similarities end quickly. Others might see an affinity with Vietnamese cuisine but even here, stark differences remain-much of Cambodian food is based on curries. Unlike Thai food, Cambodian food is not characterized by the fiery, hot chilis of south American provenance (Capsicum). Instead, they are flavored by the indigenous varieties of black pepper (Piper species) and various other local herbs probably found nowhere else. Sourish soups are common. Although they are not as sour or spicy as the Thai tom yum, they have more complex flavors than the Vietnamese pho. Fresh spring rolls are similar to the fresh Vietnamese ones, and also served with a sweet-savoury dipping sauce. Even the choice of vegetables stewed in coconut milk based curries is different from that commonly found in the Thai version. Instead of aubergines, pumpkins and potatoes are more commonly used. Finally, a unique condiment called prahok is served with most meals. A paste of fermented fish, it is the perfect accompaniment to the hearty soups and curries.

Sugar palm tree

The sugar fan palm (Borassus flabellifer) is probably the most ubiquitous palm tree in the Cambodian landscape and no wonder-it is a tree that has intertwined itself into the local folklore. Though this beautiful palm is native to a large swath of south and southeast Asia from India eastwards to Indonesia, it is in Cambodia where it has become indelibly etched into the nation's cultural fabric. Strewn across the rural landscape, the palm is suggestive of a tropical Asian aesthete. But it also serves practical purposes. For centuries, fruits of this palm seeped in water have been boiled down in order to extract its natural sugars. Children love to suck on the palm 'fudge' made from the sugary residues. Leaves are used to weave baskets, and are also used to thatch roofs of farmer's huts. Sadly, the versatility of this palm also generated a sinister side in the 20th century. During the Khmer Rouge era of the 1970s when the entire country was plunged into a reign of terror, the sharp edges of the leaf petioles were used to dispatch 'class enemies' of the totalitarian state. A tree whose mission for millenia was traditionally revered as life nourishing in a gentle Buddhist society was perverted into an unwilling accomplice of unspeakable acts of depravity. Acts that perpetrated cruelty and death. I'm sure the Khmers have forgiven the palm her passive role in past human misdeeds, but am not so sure they have forgiven those who sullied its innocence with the basest of human acts at the height of the terror. For the Khmer Rouge abused the tree as much as they used it to abuse their own kinsmen.