Plantains

Dear Polly: Can plantains be eaten raw, like bananas? - T.D. As far as I have been able to discover, plantains - those large banana-like fruits that are starchy rather than sweet - are never eaten raw; they are always cooked. Then can be fried, broiled, stewed or baked. They are often used in combination with other vegetables or meat. A simple cooking method is to bake them unpeeled, but with a lengthwise slit cut down one side, in a 350-degree oven for 30 to 45 minutes or until tender.

Joan Witter strides along Walnut Street just east of the bustling 52d Street corridor and stops at a facade painted with Caribbean flags. "You can smell the islands in here," she tells me eagerly. And as she opens the door to the Walnut Supermarket, a breeze tinged with salt fish, ripening plantains and exotic spice greets my nose like a trade wind. As we head inside this sprawling market, it's clear that it caters to a broad clientele, with bulk bins of gari (cassava meal) from Ghana, bags of giant smoked shrimp, and jars of Senegalese peanut butter for the African crowd.

Remember the banana? It was bow-shaped and yellow, six to eight inches long, and it probably bore a sticker saying Chiquita or Dole. You could buy it green, let it ripen at room temperature to canary yellow, then slice it into your cornflakes. If you think that's all there is to bananas, it's time to think again. Today's consumer is confronted with a bewildering variety of bananas. Tiny finger bananas that are no larger than your pinky; giant Hawaiian bananas that are as big around as your arm; apple bananas that taste like a cross between a Chiquita and a Macintosh; plantains, which must be cooked before they can be enjoyed.

Ours is, above all, a richly adaptive food culture. In fact, whatever else one may say about American cuisine, there's no denying our tendency to assimilate new edibles with an enthusiasm that makes more conservative cultures stand back in awe. Why, then, have we been so slow to fall in love with plantains, the great, big cooking bananas that are such a staple in Latin American and Caribbean countries? We took to dessert bananas fast enough. They were an instant success from the moment sufficiently speedy transport became possible, in the mid-19th century; and we currently put away something on the order of 400,000 bushels of them every day. Yet plantains - yummy, nourishing, adaptable, cheap, easily prepared plantains - are still so thoroughly on the "exotic" list that few among us have even tasted them.

Sonia Sotomayor's Supreme Court nomination has generated lots of observations. Not the least of which come from her 2001 Olmos lecture recalling, among other things, that as a Puerto Rican woman she loved pigs feet and beans. While some prefer to offer conjectures on her judicial temperament, I head straight to Allegheny and 2nd to Freddy and Tony's Restaurant. As I see it, experiencing the potential justice's comfort food is part of my civic duty. Freddy and Tony's history goes back to the '70s and it's about as difficult to parse as a legal document.

Yo, Chefs! Where does the chef at the Vega Grill in Manayunk get his exotic ingredients? I have tried to purchase plantains and empanada dough, but have had no luck in Center City markets. Charles R. O'Donald Philadelphia Dear Charles, Guillermo Pernot, the Vega Grill's Argentinean chef, buys most of his produce from wholesalers. Before the restaurant opened, Pernot did his shopping at Cousin's Super Market at 5th and Luzerne streets, which stocks a wide selection of tropical and Latino ingredients.

Bananas and plantains (Musa spp.) in Philadelphia? Sure, both Juan Lugo and Valentina Rios grow them. So, for that matter, does John Allen, director of Fairmount Park Horticulture Center. The secret is a large container and a place that's warm and sunny in winter time. Bananas freeze at about 28 degrees while plaintains are somewhat harder. That means you might be able to overwinter both guys in a cool greenhouse or in a glassed atrium or in front of a sunny picture window, or for sure under a light bank (or next to flourescent lights hung vertically - we're talking tall plants here.

Reach for a ripe banana. Whip it up with yogurt, wheat germ and skim milk. Then sit back and sip that super-rich and filling diet drink while you consider all the ways to use luscious bananas for more than slicing over cereal. Bananas, after all, are the top-selling fruit in the country. And the 25 pounds of bananas per person consumed each year in the United States amounts to only a fraction of the 40-plus billion pounds consumed worldwide, much of it in countries where bananas are the staple starch.

Remember the old jingle about never putting bananas in the refrigerator? Well, although there is some truth to that tune, it is possible to store bananas in the refrigerator under certain conditions and get away with it. Condition (1.) The banana has reached the desired stage of ripeness. (2.) You keep them there no more than three days. (3.) You don't object if the skin turns dark brown. But never, ever store an unripe banana in the refrigerator or below 56 degrees, says Bob Levin, operator of Fruiterer Ltd., at the Food Distribution Center in South Philadelphia.

Sonia Sotomayor's Supreme Court nomination has generated lots of observations. Not the least of which come from her 2001 Olmos lecture recalling, among other things, that as a Puerto Rican woman she loved pigs feet and beans. While some prefer to offer conjectures on her judicial temperament, I head straight to Allegheny and 2nd to Freddy and Tony's Restaurant. As I see it, experiencing the potential justice's comfort food is part of my civic duty. Freddy and Tony's history goes back to the '70s and it's about as difficult to parse as a legal document.

Joan Witter strides along Walnut Street just east of the bustling 52d Street corridor and stops at a facade painted with Caribbean flags. "You can smell the islands in here," she tells me eagerly. And as she opens the door to the Walnut Supermarket, a breeze tinged with salt fish, ripening plantains and exotic spice greets my nose like a trade wind. As we head inside this sprawling market, it's clear that it caters to a broad clientele, with bulk bins of gari (cassava meal) from Ghana, bags of giant smoked shrimp, and jars of Senegalese peanut butter for the African crowd.

These days, "ethnic" food is everywhere. Sports bars, diners and chains all have renditions with wildly varying degrees of success. You can even get something called "jerk chicken pasta" at the mall. But why settle for imitation, when the real thing is right down the road - in Camden? The city famous for its touristy waterfront and its high crime rates is not exactly known for its food. And that's too bad. Here, jerk chicken is cooked by Jamaican emigres, Puerto Rican cooks dish up a long-simmered beef stew, and the pollo asado in some restaurant windows might make you swear off supermarket rotisserie for good.

Maria Perez hoisted the bundle of deep green platanos high above her head, as if brandishing a first place prize. "Aren't these beautiful?" she cried triumphantly, displaying the flawless plantains for all to admire. "Look at these. You can't find something like this in the city. The size. The quality. " Perez beamed like a brand-new mother. And she kept on beaming, even as she lifted carton after heavy carton of platanos, papayas, pinas, guineos, calabazas and malangas. Just a few hours before, the fruits and vegetables had been plucked from farms in Puerto Rico.

Yo, Chefs! Where does the chef at the Vega Grill in Manayunk get his exotic ingredients? I have tried to purchase plantains and empanada dough, but have had no luck in Center City markets. Charles R. O'Donald Philadelphia Dear Charles, Guillermo Pernot, the Vega Grill's Argentinean chef, buys most of his produce from wholesalers. Before the restaurant opened, Pernot did his shopping at Cousin's Super Market at 5th and Luzerne streets, which stocks a wide selection of tropical and Latino ingredients.

Remember the banana? It was bow-shaped and yellow, six to eight inches long, and it probably bore a sticker saying Chiquita or Dole. You could buy it green, let it ripen at room temperature to canary yellow, then slice it into your cornflakes. If you think that's all there is to bananas, it's time to think again. Today's consumer is confronted with a bewildering variety of bananas. Tiny finger bananas that are no larger than your pinky; giant Hawaiian bananas that are as big around as your arm; apple bananas that taste like a cross between a Chiquita and a Macintosh; plantains, which must be cooked before they can be enjoyed.

Dear Polly: Can plantains be eaten raw, like bananas? - T.D. As far as I have been able to discover, plantains - those large banana-like fruits that are starchy rather than sweet - are never eaten raw; they are always cooked. Then can be fried, broiled, stewed or baked. They are often used in combination with other vegetables or meat. A simple cooking method is to bake them unpeeled, but with a lengthwise slit cut down one side, in a 350-degree oven for 30 to 45 minutes or until tender.

Reach for a ripe banana. Whip it up with yogurt, wheat germ and skim milk. Then sit back and sip that super-rich and filling diet drink while you consider all the ways to use luscious bananas for more than slicing over cereal. Bananas, after all, are the top-selling fruit in the country. And the 25 pounds of bananas per person consumed each year in the United States amounts to only a fraction of the 40-plus billion pounds consumed worldwide, much of it in countries where bananas are the staple starch.

Remember the old jingle about never putting bananas in the refrigerator? Well, although there is some truth to that tune, it is possible to store bananas in the refrigerator under certain conditions and get away with it. Condition (1.) The banana has reached the desired stage of ripeness. (2.) You keep them there no more than three days. (3.) You don't object if the skin turns dark brown. But never, ever store an unripe banana in the refrigerator or below 56 degrees, says Bob Levin, operator of Fruiterer Ltd., at the Food Distribution Center in South Philadelphia.