Eating Black-Eyed Peas in the Caribbean’s Lost Jewish Colony

Winter weather getting to you? How about a little trip to the warm, sunny Caribbean.. more specifically, the lost Jewish colony of the Caribbean?

“But P&P, that’s not a thing,” I hear you protesting. Okay, maybe it’s a little bit of an exaggeration—there is no Jewish Roanoke in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle—but the island of Curacao, north of Venezuela, does have an unexpectedly epic Jewish history (fun fact: at one time it was known by the Dutch name of Jodenwijk, Jew Borough).

Curacao’s reign as the Jewish capital of the Caribbean dates all the way back to 1651, when Dutch authorities allowed a small group of Sephardic Jews from what was, at the time, Dutch-controlled Brazil to settle on the island. Their hope was that the settlers—Portuguese Jews who’d sought refuge from the Inquisition in the New World—would use the sugar cultivation knowhow they’d picked up in Brazil to turn Curacao into another sugar-producing colony.

That’s not quite how things went down—turns out Curacao is too arid for sugar cane cultivation—but the Jews’ experience as merchants back in Portugal set them up in good stead for a change of focus to something a little more viable: international trade. The island’s proximity to Spanish Venezuela allowed Curacao’s Jews an entrée into trade relations with the Iberian Peninsula (where some maintained ties with their Converso brethren, who had chosen to convert to Christianity, genuinely or otherwise, and remain) as well as with New World centers. Taking on an active role trading products such as cocoa, wood, sugar, and indigo—Jews were banned only from the slave trade in Curacao, which was deemed too lucrative to be shared with the likes of them by the Dutch West India Company—the population prospered and grew.

A considerable influx of new Jews arrived in 1654, following the fall of Dutch Brazil to the Portuguese in 1654. The Inquisition was very much still in force in Portugal throughout the seventeenth century, and that meant it was time for the substantial Jewish population of Recife, Brazil, to scram. Luckily, the Dutch managed to arrange for a three-month safe departure window for the colony’s Jews as part of their terms of surrender.

By the eighteenth century, more than a third of the island’s European population was Jewish, and Curacao was home to the Americas’ largest Jewish community. However, the island’s economic decline began early, in the nineteenth century, and ever since then its Jewish population has been dwindling. Earlier, many Jews relocated elsewhere in the Caribbean or to Central or South America; more recently it’s become common for the younger generation to go abroad to the US or Europe to study and never return. Today, there are only about 350 Jews remain on the island, of an overall population of 125,000.

Nonetheless, the island’s historic synagogue, Mikve Israel, remains, and it’s got some pretty cool traditions. For one thing, the floor is covered in sand. Thought to be intended as a reminder of the builders’ ancestors, practicing Judaism in secret on the Iberian Peninsula, who covered the floors of their makeshift prayer houses with sand to muffle the sounds of footsteps.

Photo via Mikve Israel Emanuel Synagogue

Photo via Mikve Israel Emanuel Synagogue

Curacao’s Jewish community also had some unusual traditions for the fast day of Tisha Be’Av, marking the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem: the congregation holds a special black tallit, black shoes, and black yad (Torah pointer) for the rabbi (or whoever was reading from the book of Lamentations).

As a wedding blogger, I’m especially enthused about Curacaoan Jews’ alternative to the custom of smashing a glass (which has many possible symbolic meanings, the most commonly held of which is that it serves as a reminder of the destruction of the Temple) at the end of a wedding: they went one step further and threw the wine glass at a platter, with the intention of leaving a permanent mark on said platter. If anyone knows more about this (or has done it at their wedding, or seen it at someone else’s wedding), please let me know in the comments!

But by now you’re probably wondering where the food is in all this. Some years back, the Sisterhood of Mikve Israel-Emanuel (a fusion of synagogues Mikve Israel and Emanuel, as a result of the dwindling Jewish population) put out a collection of Sephardic Curacaoan recipes, fittingly entitled Recipes from the Jewish Kitchens of Curacao.

I would dearly love to get my hands on a copy of this book, but for now I’ve had to settle for the few recipes I can find online or reprinted in other books.

One of those recipes is a sort of black-eyed pea cornmeal mush called tutu. It’s very similar to a Brazilian dish by the same name, though the Brazilian version subs black beans for black-eyed peas, and cassava meal for corn. Given that most of Curacao’s Jews arrived via the Pernambuco region of northern Brazil, it’s not surprising that there are some pretty striking resemblances between the two cuisines.

Curacaoan tutu, which can be made with or without the additions of cheese, butter, and/or coconut milk, is a fascinating blend of Iberian and Caribbean culinary influences. Black-eyed peas were a common ingredient in pre-Expulsion Sephardic cooking, and were carried to the New World with Jewish refugees. Cornmeal, however, is all-American (in the broader sense of the term). Though tutu was brought to Curacao from Brazil by its Jewish settlers, over the centuries the dish has been widely adopted by islanders of all kinds of backgrounds.

I based my version on a recipe I found in Jessica B. Harris’s Beyond Gumbo: Creole Fusion Food from the Atlantic Rim (which, by the way, is a fascinating read in its own right).

Though the dish is meant to be served as a sort of mush (so appealing, right?), I honestly wasn’t that impressed with the intended preparation. It’s fine, but quite bland, and texturally monotonous.

A more appealing, if less traditional, way to eat this dish is to make it into little fritters and shallow fry them in a bit of oil until the outside gets crispy—it makes all the difference. If you want to go this route, just mix up all the butter and cheese (if using) in the pot, and then, instead of scooping the whole mixture onto a plate, get frittering.

Tutu (Black-Eyed Peas with Cornmeal)

1 pound dried black-eyed peas

2 cups water, or 1 cup coconut milk and 1 cup water

1½ cups yellow cornmeal

1 tablespoon sugar

2 teaspoons salt

2 tablespoons salted butter

1 cup grated Edam or Gouda cheese, optional

Soak the black-eyed peas at least 2 hours or overnight. Cook them for 45 minutes or until tender. Drain and place in a large saucepan. Add 2 cups water, bring to a boil, then mash the peas coarsely with a whisk. When the peas are broken, gradually add the cornmeal, sugar, and salt, and continue to beat into a smooth mash with no lumps. This should take approximately 15 minutes.

The cooking time will be approximately 15 minutes. Reduce the heat and continue to mash the mixture until it begins to pull away from the side of the pan. Add the butter and mix well.

Scoop the tutu out onto a large plate, and flatten it by placing a second large plate over the top. Garnish with butter and grated cheese. Serve hot.

Sources: Beyond Gumbo: Creole Fusion Food from the Atlantic Rim (Jessica B. Harris, 2003); “Curacao: A Journey to Jewish Curacao,” Jewish Virtual Library (Aviva Ben-Ur); “Curacao: The Caribbean’s Jewish Island,” Shalom Says Hello (Shalom Morris, February 17, 2017)·; “Curacao Virtual Jewish History Tour,” Jewish Virtual Library (Ariel Scheib); Encyclopedia of Jewish Food (Gil Marks, 2010); “Jews of Curacao,” JTA (February 6, 1935)