[Tonga]

I first heard of the country Tonga because of a viral YouTube video that plagued every social media platform for three months following my high school graduation. It was called, "the history of the entire world, i guess" from creator Bill Wurtz. The video speeds through the big bang, evolution, mesopotamia, the Roman empire, and every significant event in between at breakneck speed. It's also full of fun little jingles. A little more than halfway through, Wurtz narrates, "Tonga time? I think it's Tonga time," and shows the Tu'i Tonga Empire's expansion over the islands in the Pacific ocean from around 1200-1500 A.D. That's really the only mention Tonga, or any of the Oceanic countries, gets.

A little less than two years later, I had a goal to be able to name every country in the world. I got there during my sophomore year of college and have lost the talent since. I'm still pretty decent at it; I actually did it for the sake of reporting an accurate number on this website, and I can name 170 out of 197 continents. Some of the Oceanic countries got easy to remember, like Tonga, Micronesia, Fiji, and Vanuatu, though I must admit that watching a few seasons of Survivor since has helped me remember those islands. Still, when I would often get 194 or 195 countries out of 197, it would be those stubborn islands east of New Zealand that would slip my mind. When I began this project, I thought selecting an Oceanic country would give me the opportunity to learn more about the region as a whole. I suppose I chose Tonga because my knowledge of the country was limited to... nothing, really. Just the fact that it exists and its general location. To be fair, I don't know much about any of the Oceanic countries, but I couldn't escape the sound of Bill Wurtz saying "Tonga Time!" in my mind.

The basics of Tongan cuisine are about what I expected. Seafood, starchy vegetables, and tropical fruits like bananas and coconuts. Though the names of dishes were completely unfamiliar, pictures of food made my mouth water. Each dish looked either smoky and salty, or delightfully sticky and sweet. Since I had just celebrated Easter, which also meant passing the deadline of my Lenten promise to not eat desserts, I was interested in something sweet. I stumbled across Faikakai Topai, a dish of flour dumplings submerged in a coconut caramel sauce. I wasn't quite sure how well coconut and caramel would go together, but the picture was pretty incredible. My mind was made up for me.

The basics of the dish were simple and affordable. I used a recipe from the website I Camp in my Kitchen, which clearly outlined the process for the dumplings and sauce. Coconut milk or cream were used in both components; I opted for cream to make a richer and more dessert-y dish. The dumplings were a basic mix of flour, baking powder, sugar, coconut cream, and water. The caramel only used sugar and coconut cream. While a pot of water boiled, I mixed the elements for the dumplings. The resulting dough was on the sticky side, but the recipe warned me against adding more flour. Instead, I made sure to wet my hands and spoons so it wouldn't stick to either.

I took out all of the dumplings before my second attempt. I cut one of them open to see small air pockets throughout, which is what the recipe told me they should look like. For my second try on the sauce, I waited for my sugar to melt completely before adding the coconut cream. I could tell I did something different because my pan sizzled and steamed with the addition of the cream. The sugar was obviously much hotter than it was in my first attempt. I whisked the two components together and was greeted with a thin golden syrup that I wanted to eat off of the spoon. Restraining myself from licking the pan, I poured the sauce over my dumplings. It was a bit too thin to drizzle, so it pooled at the base of my bowl. Divine.

The first bite was unlike any dessert I had ever had before. The dumplings were simply a vessel for sauce, one that I used gratefully. The coconut was so present, but not overpowering. I realized that I haven't had anything with coconut without chocolate. My experience with coconut in desserts is limited to German chocolate cake, one of my dad's favorite desserts, and this somehow tasted like the exact opposite of that. The combination of the dumplings and sauce was light, sweet, and tropical. This ingredient, one that I love and feel comfortable with, was transformed into something entirely new. I spooned the sauce directly into my mouth and felt like I was at the beach. Has my mind been warped by chocolate and sugar? Is this what coconut actually tastes like?

I started thinking about similar ingredients, how spices in one cuisine mean something entirely different in another. Cilantro in guacamole tastes nothing like cilantro in pad thai, even though nothing fundamentally changes about the ingredient. I thought about what it actually means to be a chef—how the job comes down to experimenting and exploring, finding the best flavors to both surprise and comfort a crowd. Forget about chefs though, every home cook has to do the same thing. Every day is just another attempt at transforming familiar tastes into something exciting.

This dessert did that for me. I've never really considered myself a home cook, because I thought my dependence on recipes took away from my meals. Yet, this project has allowed me to expand on a recipe and make adjustments to the ingredient list and flavor. Topai let me explore a comfortable flavor with a brand new twist. I finished my bowl and smiled, because maybe I was a home cook after all.