Mac’s Nuts

I love cashew nuts, but had never given much thought as to how they grow or why they’re so expensive until I moved to the Caribbean. Bequia is where I learned that cashews aren’t really nuts, rather the seed of a fruit that’s technically a false fruit because it doesn’t contain the seed!

My first introduction to the cashew fruit (sometimes called “cashew apple”) came about on Family Hill, where Mac’s mother had concocted something that sounded like “stew cooshoo”.  The fruity mixture resembled rather chunky jam, and was cloyingly sweet; I didn’t like it very much, but as it was coveted by all Bequians I figured the sticky stuff must be an acquired taste. I didn’t realize that “cooshoo” was actually “cashew” for quite some time, and certainly wasn’t aware that the cashew nuts I loved so much were attached to a fruit.

I studied the cashew tree on Family Hill with fascination; the kidney-shaped nuts appeared first on the branches, and once they had ripened the fruit would begin to grow. I was warned that the fruit couldn’t be eaten raw, although the reason WHY was never made terribly clear. Mac simply told me that the fruit caused stomach problems unless it had been cooked, reason enough for me not to tempt fate! The nuts themselves (one nut per apple) were quite toxic when raw due to an oil that could cause blisters, and therefore had to be handled with care. The urushiol oil, located between the hard shell and the soft nut, could be eradicated with steaming or roasting, a tedious and quite labour-intensive process I never even considered attempting.

Each year, a woman from Mount Pleasant stomped up to Nolly’s house and presented him with a rum bottle filled with roasted “cooshoo” nuts, a treasure she sold for a mere $20. That price entailed some pretty hard and rather painful labour on her part; separating the nuts from the fruit as well as the shell casings was a difficult task, and a lot of roasted cashew halves were stuffed inside that bottle! Nolly guarded his yearly stash zealously, doling the nuts out in a stingy manner only if one begged hard enough for a taste. Those cashews were incredibly good, and everyone was jealous of Nolly and his prized bottle from Mount Pleasant.

One year the “cooshoo” lady stomped up to OUR house with the rum bottle instead of Nolly’s, and asked Mac if he wanted Nolly’s nuts. Mac didn’t hesitate – he loved those roasted cashews, and, brother or no brother, he hastily paid for them before the lady changed her mind!  We never found out what Nolly had done to vex her so, but from that year onward those coveted nuts belonged to Mac.

Mac died suddenly in 1994, and cashew nuts were the furthest thing from my mind when I heard someone stomping up the Pizzeria steps. It was the “cooshoo” lady, holding the yearly rum bottle filled with roasted cashews.

“Yo want Mac nuts”?

Of COURSE I wanted Mac’s nuts, and I got that precious bottle of cashews every year until the “cooshoo” lady was no longer able to process them. I often wonder what on EARTH Nolly did to upset the poor woman, it was obviously bad if I ended up being the recipient of what had once been his yearly pride and joy….