Riaz Phillips’ Jackfruit Stew

Whenever I return to Jamaica, I always have a set fruit shopping list that must be checked off before absolutely anything else occurs, and top of my list is a bag of jackfruit pods. These golden pockets of fruit manage to be both sweet and slightly saline, as well as chewy and crunchy at the same time. Key, of course, is not to buy a bag that’s been sitting in the sun for hours, but rather one full of pods plucked straight out of the luminous, yellowy-green, beehive shaped jackfruit. Firstly, a machete is taken to the middle of the jackfruit, slicing through it effortlessly and its natural white discharge is mopped away with a rag. In the markets, many opt for a whole segment, but for walkers-on-the-go a bag of pods prised away from the body with the seeds still inside is a must-have, understood with just a nod and a point.

Removing these seeds is where the fun begins. I’ve never actually seen anyone use their hands to do so: instead, people manoeuvre their tongue and front teeth meticulously shredding the flesh to dislodge the seed. After this, the flesh is firmly held in one part of the mouth, while the seed is spat into the bag, one pod at a time. I didn’t have much culinary knowledge of what do with jackfruit until a local Rasta, named Marlon, of the Lion House beside the Fern Gully, told me not to throw my remains away, but to keep the seeds for a roast, or soak the flesh and use it to bolster a curry or stew. Another acquaintance, Delroy Dixon, who runs the fabulous Rhythm Kitchen Caribbean restaurant in London, then shared with me a recipe for jackfruit curry, of which this is an adaptation. Outside of the islands, fresh jackfruit can be hard to come by, but fortunately it’s now readily available canned in brine in Asian and Afro-Caribbean supermarkets, and some major supermarkets.