Good, Bad or Just Medi-Okra

Good, Bad or Just Medi-Okra

By David W. Brown

My editor asked me to write about my opinion of okra, as I’ve done previously in these pages for pineapple on pizza (favorable), waffles versus pancakes (pancakes —I mean, come on), and ranch dressing as dipping sauce (the headline for that one was Not to Judge, but PeopleWho Put Ranch Dressing on TheirPizza Are a Disgrace to Humanity; I disapprove of the practice). Reader,I have no problem sharing my(accurate) opinions about food.S till, picking on okra seemed… well, it just seemed wrong. Those first bites of okra are blandly bitter if you’re lucky. It’s slimy. Every good recipe for okra is a fanciful guide to helping you make okra taste and feel like something that isn’t okra. When somebody tells me they like okra, I smile wanly and wonder what else is wrong with them.

Here is something else you might not know about okra: No one knows where it came from. In the South, we know it locally as a thickening agent used when preparing gumbo (indeed, the word gumbo is likely a derivative of the word for okra in various African dialects), and it certainly arrived on American shores by way of the transatlantic slave trade. But whether it was first cultivated in West Africa, East Africa or South Asia is unclear. What we do know is that, over the centuries, it has crossed the Sahara, leaped across the Atlantic and Pacific, and been enjoyed by sultans, presidents and grand viziers alike.

Okra is present in the etchings in Egyptian tombs and in the writings of Thomas Jefferson. During the Middle Ages in the Arab world, okra was believed to hold therapeutic powers as an aphrodisiac. (Its chemistry backs this up, as it is rich in magnesium, zinc, iron, folic acid and vitamin B.) It was also used internally to prevent pregnancies, making its role in reproduction oddly thorough. During the Civil War, the coffee trade with South America was badly disrupted, leaving Confederate soldiers hurting for a fix of morning sludge. Not to worry, though, because okra, which thrives in warm Southern climes, could be grown, dried, ground and brewed for an adequate coffee substitute. Is there nothing it can’t do?

But wait, there’s more! Since okra made its way back and forth across the map centuries before the discovery of America, the pointy green fruit has slimed its way across every kind of cuisine you can think of.

I’d give you a gumbo recipe, but even I know better than to offer an opinion about that to a Southern audience; one wrong ingredient and you’d set my car on fire.