Of carob and disappointment - by Julia Skinner
This is an example of what paid subscribers enjoy each month, along with discounts to my classes and other goodies. If you like what you see, please join us!
When I was a kid, my favorite restaurant was called The Harvest. I loved their communal dining table, where dad and I would make small talk with other diners while I drew pictures to give to the waistaff.
I loved their grilled cheese sandwiches, their spiced tea, and especially their chocolate sundaes.
Except, that is, on one particular day when I accidentally ordered a sundae with carob syrup rather than my usual chocolate. I was mortified and upset. This tasted nothing like chocolate!
But I also wasn't about to send it back, mindful every visit after to double check that I was getting chocolate (not carob!) on my sundae.
This being the 1980s, it was a time where large swaths of the natural food world used carob as a replacement for cocoa powder.
Touting its superior health benefits, they folded it into cakes and pies, made carob chunk cookies, and sprinkled carob powder as a garnish.
And, they also made it into carob syrup, supposedly 'healthier' than chocolate syrup, an odd stance since both cocoa and carob are quite healthy, but neither is especially so when mixed with equal parts sugar and water.
Many people enjoyed it, many people didn't, but carob as a cocoa replacement had a strong hold on the natural foods movement in the US in the 1970s and 1980s, resulting in desserts that, as Jonathan Kauffman puts it, "traumatized a generation."
But it didn't have to be this way: Kauffman also notes that carob trees (Ceratonia siliqua) were first imported from Spain and planted in California in 1854, well before our modern natural foods movement, and thus had ample opportunity to find their niche well before the "carob-as-cocoa" craze started.
So what happened?
Carob, despite having a long history of use in the Mediterranean and Middle East, struggled to establish a foothold here. The tree, part of the bean family from which we use the edible pods, has been a food source for humans for around 4,000 years.
Kauffman notes that this somewhat invasive tree spent its first hundred-ish years in the US as an ornamental plant or as livestock feed, while the folks who cultivated it struggled to figure out how to turn a profit.
They could have looked to the pods' uses overseas (more on that in a moment) or even in their own backyard: after all, the Cherokee tribe here in North America use the pods from honey locust trees, another edible podded legume family relative, for everything from brewing to sweets to medicine.
Instead, the health food industry were the ones to create a US carob market. Kauffman notes that the first carob-y health foods, like plant milks, appeared in the 1920s.
However, it wasn't until the postwar period and the rise of the natural foods movement (itself a protest to the midcentury dominance of prepackaged convenience foods) that carob powder came about, and cookbook authors began to use it in place of cocoa.
While the original uses seem to be more experimental, the health claims followed, and by the 1970s it was pretty entrenched as a healthier alternative to cocoa powder.
All of carob's other possibilities and histories thus melted away, at least in this country, leaving us with an ingredient that is a shadow of its former self.
After all, carob powder as a stand-in for cocoa powder is a far cry from appreciating carob for itself.
And, perhaps as the greatest irony, using it to stand in for another thing keeps us from ever getting to know carob in the first place.
When we try to make a food something it isn't, we're limiting it to that comparison and will often come away disappointed.
But when we let an ingredient shine on its own accord, as with Egyptian carob juice, we can learn to appreciate that food for what it is.
Carob juice, versus carob dessert syrup, reminds us the importance of understanding our ingredients and their histories.
Finding new uses for old ingredients is wonderful, but so too is allowing ourselves the rich appreciation that comes with looking at a food in context.
Carob, as a food, goes back to Ancient Egypt (and perhaps even before). It grew wild in the Levant, and while it was also used by the Greeks and Romans, it was in the Middle East that carob truly found its home, both as a food and as an ornamental tree.
The pods can be eaten fresh, as they supposedly were by St. John, who is said by Christians to have subsisted off of them in the desert (hence the tree's common name, St. John's Bread).
The pods can also be crushed and mixed with water and sugar to make a refreshing cold drink that is particularly popular during Ramadan. Called carob juice, this light, sweet beverage tastes nothing like the fake cocoa desserts of recent decades. It highlights the sweet, earthy flavor of the pods and is absolutely divine.
If you can find whole pods to crush or carob chips, that's ideal, but powder works too: If you're using these, use 1 cup rather than 3/4 cup.
You can blend to a powder to duplicate my recipe here, or use the crushed pods as this recipe does.
3/4 c carob powder
1 c sugar
8 c water
-Add sugar and a splash of water to a large pan.
-Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until sugar caramelizes to a light golden brown.
-Add your remaining water and bring to a simmer.
-Slowly whisk in your carob powder until completely dissolved
-Allow to simmer for 5-10 minutes, then cool and chill before serving.
If you want chocolate, have chocolate! If you're also a child of the 1980s/1970s and would like to revisit some questionable food memories, substitute carob powder for the cocoa.
1 c water
3/4 c granulated sugar
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 c cocoa powder (or 1 cup, for extra chocolate flavor)
1 tsp vanilla extract
-Combine all ingredients except vanilla in a small sauce pan
-Heat to a simmer, whisking constantly, until syrup is smooth and sugar is dissolved
-Remove from heat and whisk in vanilla
-Cool and store in the fridge
ncG1vNJzZmiqn6TBrLXTnJ%2BepqNjwLau0q2YnKNemLyue89opp9lk5a%2FsK6MmqWdZZSewKK8z6igp6ydmru1