
Chef Makoa
Fāfā (Tahitian Taro Leaves in Coconut Cream)
Tahiti's fāfā cooks young taro leaves down with onion and coconut cream until they turn dark, silky, and rich enough to feed the whole table.
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Tender slices of Tahitian ʻuru, breadfruit, baked in coconut milk until the edges go gold, with just enough cheese from the French island pantry to brown the top.
The canoe brought this relative long before it ever met the colonial-era oven. In Tahiti, ʻuru, breadfruit, stands in the fenua, the land, with that big generous shadow and those heavy green globes that can feed a family when the tree is ready. The cousins know it by their own tongues: ʻulu in Hawaiʻi and Sāmoa, kuru in the Cook Islands, mei in Tonga and the Marquesas. Same canoe crop. Same hunger answered. Different island hand.
Gratin de ʻuru belongs to Tahiti, and it tells the truth of a living table: old canoe starch, coconut milk, and the browned top from the French island pantry. The first time a Tahitian auntie set it down for me, she didn't make one speech about history. She just slid the pan beside grilled fish, salad, and a bowl of ʻia ota, then gave me the look that says eat first, talk after. Every island has that auntie.
The cooking is humble, but it asks you to pay attention. Choose firm mature ʻuru, cook it until it gives but still holds its shape, then let the coconut milk settle into the slices while the top browns. If you use canned coconut milk and supermarket cheese, no shame. Eat what you have. Just don't forget which part is elder: the breadfruit came first, the oven came later.
Because this is Tahiti's, I hold it open-handed. For the deeper parts of maʻa Tahiti, Tahitian food, and the families who still know each tree by its fruiting, go sit with Tahitian elders and cooks from that fenua. Here we keep the relationship straight: kin first, pantry second, dinner enough for one more.
ʻUru was one of the canoe crops carried by Polynesian voyagers into eastern Polynesia before European contact, planted from cuttings so the same living stock could feed new islands; its cousins are ʻulu in Hawaiʻi and Sāmoa, kuru in the Cook Islands, and mei in Tonga and the Marquesas. Gratin de ʻuru belongs to modern Tahiti, where the older maʻa Tahiti, Tahitian food, met the French colonial oven, dairy, and browned gratin top. The useful line is not old good and new bad: the breadfruit is deep food, the gratin form is newer, and the dish shows an island table still feeding itself in the present tense.
Quantity
1 large (3 to 4 pounds)
firm and starchy, or 2 1/2 pounds cooked frozen breadfruit
Quantity
1 1/2 teaspoons
plus more for the cooking water
Quantity
1 tablespoon
plus more for the dish
Quantity
1 small
finely chopped
Quantity
2 cloves
minced
Quantity
2 cups
fresh-pressed or canned
Quantity
1/2 cup
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1 cup
grated and divided
Quantity
1/3 cup
Quantity
2 tablespoons
sliced, for serving
Quantity
1 piece
softened, for lining the dish
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| mature ʻuru (breadfruit)firm and starchy, or 2 1/2 pounds cooked frozen breadfruit | 1 large (3 to 4 pounds) |
| fine sea saltplus more for the cooking water | 1 1/2 teaspoons |
| coconut oil or unsalted butterplus more for the dish | 1 tablespoon |
| yellow onionfinely chopped | 1 small |
| garlicminced | 2 cloves |
| full-fat coconut milkfresh-pressed or canned | 2 cups |
| coconut cream | 1/2 cup |
| freshly grated nutmeg | 1/2 teaspoon |
| freshly ground black pepper | 1/2 teaspoon |
| fresh thyme leaves (optional) | 1 teaspoon |
| Emmental, Gruyère, or mild melting cheesegrated and divided | 1 cup |
| coarse fresh bread crumbs from day-old baguette (optional) | 1/3 cup |
| green onionsliced, for serving | 2 tablespoons |
| banana leaf (optional)softened, for lining the dish | 1 piece |
Choose a mature firm ʻuru, the Tahitian breadfruit, green to yellow-green and heavy, not soft and sweet. Rub a little oil on your knife and hands if the sap is sticky, cut away the stem end, quarter the fruit, trim out the spongy core, and peel the skin. Keep the pieces in a bowl of salted water as you work so they stay pale.
Slice the quarters 1/2 inch thick. Simmer or steam them in well-salted water for 15 to 22 minutes, until a fork slides in but the slices still hold their edges. Drain and spread them on a towel for 10 minutes so the surface dries; watery ʻuru makes a thin gratin.
Heat the oven to 375F and oil a shallow 2-quart gratin dish. Warm the coconut oil or butter in a pan, then cook the onion with a pinch of the salt until soft, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic for 30 seconds, then pour in the coconut milk and coconut cream with the remaining salt, nutmeg, pepper, and thyme if using. Let it come to a gentle simmer for 3 minutes, then take it off the heat and stir in half the cheese.
If using banana leaf, soften it over gentle heat or in hot water, then lay it in the dish. Arrange half the cooked ʻuru slices in overlapping rows, like shingles on a roof. Spoon over half the coconut sauce, scatter a little of the remaining cheese, then repeat with the rest of the ʻuru and sauce. Finish with the last cheese and the bread crumbs if you're using them.
Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the top is browned in spots, the edges look glossy and set, and a knife slips through the breadfruit without a fight. If the top colors too fast, lay foil loosely over it. Rest the gratin 10 to 15 minutes before serving so the coconut sauce settles back into the slices.
Scatter the sliced green onion over the top and serve the gratin warm from the pan, family-style. It belongs beside grilled fish, roast chicken, pork from the oven, or a cold bowl of Tahitian ʻia ota. This is not a tiny square on a lonely plate. ʻUru feeds people. Let it feed them.
1 serving (about 265g)
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