These Haitian Dried Mushrooms Are Culinary Gold

Photo by Beatriz da Costa

As I stepped into my friend Fabienne Blanchard’s home in Canarsie, Brooklyn, she greeted me with a warm, knowing smile. I came bearing precious cargo and she knew it. “Where's my djon-djon?” she demanded. Before my hand even reached my bag, Fabienne excitedly rattled off all the ways she would make use of its contents. “I’m going to make some diri djon-djon with some poul di. Ohh! Or maybe I should do diri djon-djon with conch instead!” she exclaimed, her excitement palpable. “Seriously, where’s my djon-djon, Nadege?”

For Haitians, both living in Haiti and abroad, djon-djon, often referred to as black mushrooms, are akin to culinary gold. The term “djon-djon” is an umbrella term for mushrooms, but to Haitians it specifically designates the prized variety known as Psathyrella cf. hymenocephala, grown specifically in Haiti and used in dehydrated form by Haitians around the world.

The djon-djon mushroom is a staple in traditional Haitian cuisine. It imparts a distinctly rich, smoky flavor and is instantly recognizable in any dish by the striking black hue it lends. Harvested during the rainy season, it’s dried and later rehydrated. It is not the mushroom itself that Haitians covet but the precious soaking liquid key to creating savory dark-colored dishes and sauces such as diri djon-djon, a staple Haitian rice dish, and poulet neg mawon, a stewed chicken in djon-djon sauce. Today Haitian cooks and chefs are taking this native ingredient beyond the bounds of tradition by incorporating it into contemporary dishes such as spaghetti, risotto, and various doughs.

The mere mention of djon-djon is cause for excitement, but for Fabienne the joy was twofold. Not only was she acquiring djon-djon, but she was getting it at an unprecedented rate. A new vendor that I connected with, who brought it to Brooklyn from Haiti, offered a mamit (a three-quart container that’s used as a common measurement in Haiti) of djon-djon for $45, a significant discount from the $60 I paid just two weeks prior. I had just secured her two mamit.

Given its lofty price tag, the goal is always to extract every last drop of flavor, and each household has its tricks. Some simply soak the djon-djon in water and strain it to get the umami-packed liquid. Others will boil it before straining to maximize the liquid’s potency. Some may go one step further and blend the djon-djon with their soaking or boiling liquid, then strain the mixture to get an even more concentrated elixir. In all of these instances, the djon-djon is discarded after straining, but occasionally you will encounter a cook who uses both the liquid and the djon-djon.

Unlike my friend Fabienne, Alan Lemaire, a private chef and television personality based in South Florida, has djon-djon almost always just within arm’s reach. “You can find it at local Latin stores around here, from someone who is an individual seller,” he explains, “but most of my batch I get thanks to my mom when she travels from Haiti.”

Djon-Djon

$25.00, Saveurs Lakay

Lemaire also notes that the cost of djon-djon has exponentially increased over the years. “A mamit can cost anywhere from $35 to $50 from a local mom-and-pop vendor in South Florida.” A quick glance at Amazon reveals even steeper prices—just a 4-ounce bag commands $39.

Beyond financial concerns, djon-djon aficionados face another challenge: sourcing quality mushrooms. “As of six months ago I was buying djon-djon in New York at $20 for barely a ½ a cup,” laments Allaix Augustin, founder of the Food With Friends Project, an organization uniting people from diverse backgrounds through shared meals. The quality was also not the greatest. After cleaning the djon-djon and removing debris he lost about 10 percent of it. It also took a lot more djon-djon to get the same flavor he is used to.

Herzen Clerge, a Les Cayes native now living in New York, sheds light on the price fluctuations in the djon-djon market. “Availability is subject to the whims of nature, with factors like rain, humidity, and darkness all playing crucial roles. The amount one can gather varies significantly by region, weather, and determination.” Yet it seems that regardless of price, Haitians are always willing to pay to have djon-djon on their table.

“I’m just grateful my aunt in Ohio brings me djon-djon whenever she gets it from family in Haiti," says Daphnee Pierre. “I am in Minnesota, and there are no Haitian grocers around. So she’s my lifesaver.” This is often the case for many families—sharing their wealth with others for the sake of culture.

It’s often said that djon-djon is a staple of northern Haiti. But according to my father, who recently moved back to Haiti and is now residing in our hometown Torbeck, in Southern Haiti djon-djon was prevalent in our town too, growing amidst the “raje” weeds and around damp trees. “There are no formal djon-djon farms; it thrives in dark, humid places, harvested, dried, and cooked,” he explained to me on a lengthy call. My dad who loves to cook, yet hates that I pursued a culinary career instead of the traditional doctor, lawyer, or engineer path, kept me on the phone for an hour talking about djon-djon and offering advice on how to perfect my diri djon-djon.

“Djon-djon is a must-have staple at parties, special meals, or just Sunday dinners with the family. It represents abundance and celebration. Its presence on the table is a sign of festivity,” explains Augustin. The dishes crafted with djon-djon are deeply intertwined with Haitian culture. Djon-djon rice, in particular, stands as an emblem of Haitian cuisine, often presented to outsiders as a representation of the country’s rich culinary heritage. A culinary heritage that is a tapestry woven with threads of Taino, Spanish, French, and African influences.

Chef Lemaire adds, “Aside from soup joumou, our independence soup, djon-djon is uniquely Haitian. It’s not found growing or harvested anywhere else. To me, it embodies Haiti. It evokes memories and also signifies sophistication due to its rarity. If you enter a household and find real djon-djon being used, you can discern it without hesitation.”

Though affectionately dubbed “Haitian black rice” over the years due to its deep, dark color, chef Natacha Gomez argues that that name does a disservice to diri djon-djon. A visually striking dish with a velvety texture, diri djon-djon gets its dark, almost black color from the djon-djon mushrooms. Its rich and earthy flavor is a welcomed sight at Haitian weddings, First Communions, and other celebratory gatherings. While it’s usually prepared as a vegetarian dish with the djon-djon as the star, you may also come across versions made with shrimp and lobster, which boost the umami of the mushrooms even further.

“When we label it ‘black rice,’ we erase the unique identity of djon-djon mushrooms and Haitian cuisine.” Instead, Gomez argues, we should use more descriptive terms like djon-djon rice or black mushroom rice. “This way, we respect the singular identity of djon-djon mushrooms and Haitian cuisine, and we’re more precise in our language.”

Hogarth and Guerline Emmanuel of Long Island, New York, echo this sentiment. As a couple operating a travel company focused on historical and cultural trips to Haiti, they believe it’s vital to preserve the essence of our culture rather than diluting it for convenience. “There are certain things every Haitian should know. 1804. The Haitian flag is blue and red, and it’s diri djon-djon, not black rice,” emphasizes Mrs. Emmanuel.

Given that djon-djon is both expensive and not always readily available, many have sought solace in the cube alternative offered by Maggi, known as Maggi djon-djon. In his book, The Simple Art of Rice, Chef JJ Johnson leans on its convenience for an approachable and affordable take on diri djon-djon (which he simply calls Djon Djon). But Haitians have varied opinions on the product. Clerge, for instance, staunchly refuses to use it. “You will always notice a gummy film at the bottom of the pot when cooking with the cube. And when used in non-rice dishes, the Maggi Djon Djon turns the dish green. No thank you!”

As someone who’s used the dark-flavored cube in the past, I can confirm that those familiar with authentic djon-djon will easily discern the difference. Nevertheless, when left with no alternative, it imparts a trace of the real thing. And Detroit-based Gracie Xavier agrees. “While the taste isn’t an exact match, Maggi Djon Djon serves as a decent substitute when authentic djon-djon is elusive,” she says. “Procuring Haitian ingredients can be a considerable challenge, and when I yearn for a connection to home, the cube lends a helping hand.”

“It’s a convenient, time-saving, flavor enhancer that proves invaluable in a pinch. Yet, I find the taste and aroma of actual djon-djon to be more well-rounded and full-bodied. Moreover, when I prepare my own djon-djon base, I have control over what goes into it, and I’m not obliged to use all the other ingredients that go into Maggi,” argues Mr. Augustin.

Regardless of the form it takes, there’s no denying that djon-djon is attaining a certain level of culinary prominence. As Haitians, we take pride in offering the best of what we have. During my initial culinary endeavors, even as a broke college student, the first meal I offered any friend was the renowned diri djon-djon. I wanted them to taste the most emblematic dish in Haitian cuisine, one that embodied the heart and soul of our culinary heritage. When we share djon-djon, we're not just offering a meal; we’re expressing the richness of our culture and the warmth of our hearts. It transcends sustenance.

And as Mr. Augustin puts it, “djon-djon provides a connection to our heritage, helping us stay connected to our cultural roots and identity. It’s cultural preservation.”

Djon Djon

Originally Appeared on Epicurious

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