How to make tapioca
For most Americans, tapioca is a pudding mix that was popular in the last century. Just add egg, milk, sugar and vanilla, simmer a few minutes over a low flame and voilà! The box was an easily recognized part of many of our childhoods, and perhaps the most common use was as a thickener for fruit pie fillings.
In Brazil tapioca is something quite different; although it has the same base in the cassava root, also called mandioca and many other names depending on the region. In a previous blog post I looked comprehensively at cassava and its many variations in Brazil’s culinary traditions. In this post, I want to focus on tapioca and how to prepare it.
In decades past, tapioca was a typical dish of the Northeast of Brazil, and many things associated with the nordeste were seen as kind of low class, suitable only for country bumpkins. This has changed over the years and there is now national pride in the unique culture and traditions of the nordeste. I first had tapioca for breakfast in my mother-in-law’s house years ago. She is from the northeastern state of Paraíaba, and a fabulous cook.
Last Saturday, I made the mistake of booking an appointment at a high end salon here in Brasília when the place was teeming with brides and bridesmaids undergoing various procedures including makeup and hair—and I was tickled to see them served tapioca with savory fillings to help them endure the long hours of becoming more gorgeous than they already were when they walked in the door. I was dying to take photos of the lovely plates as they were served, but I was an odd enough figure in the mix without adding that indignity. Sigh.
So what is tapioca? I asked my friend Cristina, who provided the step-by-step and whose hands you see in the photos, to describe it as she might to an alien who landed here from Mars. Or maybe an American who never heard of it.
“It’s like a pancake or an omelet, fried in a non-stick fry pan, without oil, nothing. But like a pancake you put it in the pan over heat, leave it a while on the first side, and then flip to the other side. Then you put in the fillings you prefer, or maybe just butter.” Here is a picture of the finished product and of course it doesn’t do it justice. You can’t smell the coconut of my preferred filling, though you can see the butter. You can’t taste the soft crunch in every bite.
There are three types of tapioca that can be used. Bruto, or raw, is rare to find, and Cristina notes she’s tried it and it was difficult to handle because it’s very wet and didn’t produce a good result. Seco, or dry, has to be hydrated before using, which is an art that involves tiny amounts of water and pinching with the fingertips, also difficult to manage. The easiest and most popular type of tapioca is readily available in supermarkets, and is hydrated just the right amount and usable immediately. Here is a photo I snapped in a small supermarket, showing the variety of brands available.
The first step is to strain the hydrated tapioca into a non-stick omelet or saute pan, to remove lumps and assure a uniform product.
Then, place the pan over medium heat. Cook until it adheres as one piece; shake the pan to see that it doesn’t fall apart.
When it doesn’t fall apart and sticks together as a big sort of pancake, it’s ready to flip.
Cook briefly on the other side, then add your preferred fillings. The photo below shows just butter, very delicious, but my favorite is grated fresh coconut. We stopped at the vegetable market and they grated some for us—don’t buy too much, it goes bad quickly. You can also add cheese or vegetables, if you prefer a savory tapioca.
So there you have it, how to make a wonderful tapioca! Many thanks to minha querida amiga Cristina Farias Lima for teaching me about tapioca, for putting up with my tapioca photo shoot, and for many delicious breakfasts in Ilhéus, Bahia last week. Beach days and delicious meals, absolutely heaven!