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Tuesday, April 29, 2025

Coalpot and canaree

by

20140224

The coalpot and cana­ree were once fix­tures of every kitchen, large and small, rich and poor, from at least the 18th cen­tu­ry right up un­til prop­er gas stoves and cylin­ders be­came avail­able af­ter the 1950s.The coalpot is pret­ty straight­for­ward. Nowa­days they are man­u­fac­tured lo­cal­ly from a light, durable pot-met­al al­loy, but still are pret­ty au­then­tic in shape. The orig­i­nal ex­am­ples, how­ev­er, (and these have now be­come prized an­tiques to those who have them) were of cast iron. The ear­li­est form was im­port­ed from foundries in Eng­land and sport­ed two iron rings on ei­ther end which mar­gin­al­ly iso­lat­ed the cook from the heat when hav­ing to move the pot whilst still filled with burn­ing coals.

There are few who would ar­gue with me when I as­sert that a meal cooked on a coalpot in the prop­er old fash­ioned way is far more flavour­ful than any­thing pre­pared on a mod­ern range. The portable na­ture of the coalpot made it use­ful for fam­i­lies who lived in con­fined spaces like the bar­rack­yards around Port of Spain or in the bar­rack-ranges on the sug­ar plan­ta­tions. A sim­ple one-pot dish could be pre­pared in short or­der which usu­al­ly com­bined rice with some type of legume (red beans, black-eyed peas, dhal, etc) or greens like ochroes or bha­gi. Many of these fru­gal-yet-tasty one-pot col­la­tions have re­mained fix­tures of the na­tion­al palate.

The cana­ree on the oth­er hand is in­fi­nite­ly old­er. The first in­dige­nous pot­tery-mak­ing cul­tures ar­rived in Trinidad around 250 BC. Classed as Sal­adoid be­cause of the typ­ing of their ce­ram­ics at Saladero in Venezuela, these first peo­ples sup­plant­ed an ear­li­er hunter-gath­er­er set which had per­se­vered since 6,000 BC. The cana­ree or stew­pot was used for the cook­ing of pep­per­pot which was a melange of veg­eta­bles, meat and spices. Key to the pep­per­pot was cas­sa­reep which is the juice of the poi­so­nous bit­ter cas­sa­va, squeezed out us­ing a bas­ket­work tube known as a couleve and ren­dered harm­less by boil­ing and adding red cap­sicum pep­pers. Cas­sa­reep has preser­v­a­tive prop­er­ties so that as long as the pep­per­pot was kept boil­ing over a slow fire, it could be sus­tained in­def­i­nite­ly by adding fresh cas­sa­reep and in­gre­di­ents. This char­ac­ter­is­tic made it in­valu­able to ear­ly set­tlers who had more press­ing is­sues to oc­cu­py their time than just cook­ing meals. Even in the poor­est of house­holds, the pep­per­pot had a place since it freed the house­wife to at­tend to oth­er do­mes­tic af­fairs.

The great-hous­es on the sug­ar and co­coa plan­ta­tions of the rul­ing planter elites kept a pep­per­pot bub­bling at all times in a huge cana­ree. In an era when roads were un­made, and when tracks and trav­ellers could be strand­ed in the rainy sea­son since most rivers were un­bridged, the pep­per­pot was an easy way to pro­vide a hot meal when served up with boiled rice or ground pro­vi­sions. Some more mag­nan­i­mous grand folk like Robert Gup­py–a 19th cen­tu­ry may­or of San Fer­nan­do–kept an open ta­ble in a back ve­ran­da of their homes where poor peo­ple (usu­al­ly old re­tain­ers of the house­hold who had out­lived their pro­duc­tive years and were near va­grancy) could sit and have a dish of pep­per­pot. The cana­rees of the 19th and ear­ly 20th cen­turies were most of­ten rough, fired earth­en­ware im­port­ed from Bar­ba­dos and man­u­fac­tured near the clay pits near Chalky Mount. Some were lo­cal­ly made by In­di­an pot­ters, but these were con­sid­ered to be of in­fe­ri­or strength and not able to take con­stant heat over the years.

By far the most leg­endary pep­per­pot in the is­land was the one at Wood­brook Es­tate which was a sug­ar plan­ta­tion from the 1780s right up to 1899 when it was sold and laid out in small build­ing lots. The es­tate house, which stood where Wood­brook Fire Sta­tion is now, was a sim­ple wood­en struc­ture and in its last days, was in­hab­it­ed by a rud­dy, loud Scot­tish man­ag­er named Wat­son. In the de­tached kitchen, a mas­sive cana­ree, black­ened by age and flame, bub­bled over a slow fire. The Wood­brook Pep­per­pot in the 1890s was ru­moured to be over 100 years old and was rat­ed for its fine flavour, no doubt be­cause all the orig­i­nal in­gre­di­ents had long since dis­in­te­grat­ed in­to a spicy broth. The Wood­brook pep­per­pot was out­done by the Di­a­mond Es­tate pep­per­pot of De­mer­ara in British Guiana which in the same pe­ri­od was al­ready said to be near­ly two cen­turies old. That must have been a flavour­ful dish in­deed! Al­though pop­u­lar in Guyana, the pep­per­pot is now rarely tast­ed in Trinidad, yet it con­tin­ues to be part of our ear­li­est culi­nary roots.


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