Coconuts: The Lifeblood of Seychelles

When the Sir Selwyn Selwyn-Clarke Market in Seychelles opens, chefs from Mahé's hotels, luxury resorts, and restaurants rush in to claim the freshest catch, much to the dismay of herons watching the bustling fish vendors. By late morning, locals and tourists flood the open-air market, navigating stalls filled with vibrant fruits, tropical spices, and handcrafted goods.

Vendors barter with customers in Seychellois Creole, French, and English, offering deals on lasos piman (chili sauces), dried fish, cardamom, and cinnamon. Their products reflect the rich blend of cultural influences that shape the island’s cuisine: French, Indian, Malagasy, Chinese, British, and Mozambican.

Among the abundance of produce and crafts, one item consistently graces nearly every stand: coconuts. Vendors sell homemade coconut oil, offer coconuts ready to drink, and stack the fruits high. Locals buy them to make coconut milk and cream, while restaurants and street stalls use them in curries and desserts.

Coconuts are the binding force of Seychellois Creole cuisine and culture. They symbolize local pride and serve as an economic barometer, reflecting the evolving industries of the island nation.

In 1770, when the French colonized Seychelles, this previously uninhabited archipelago’s economy was based on sugar, maize, rice, and cotton—crops grown by enslaved laborers brought from Mauritius, Mozambique, India, and Madagascar. After slavery was abolished in 1835, farmers transitioned to cultivating coconuts, including varieties introduced from Malaysia, India’s Nicobar Islands, and Sri Lanka.

By 1860, coconut oil and copra (dried coconut flesh used to produce oil) dominated exports. During the early 20th century, nearly 25,000 acres were dedicated to coconut cultivation, and Seychelles was supplying coconut products to the UK, France, South Africa, India, and Mauritius. Locals also embraced it fully.

“Traditionally, every part of the coconut was utilized in local cuisine,” explains chef Nadine Moncherry of Moutya at Mango House. Unlike other tropical regions where only the meat and water are used, Seychellois valued the entire fruit. “The husk was used as kindling, shells were turned into cups and candle holders, and copra was processed into oil for hair and skincare,” she adds.

Coconuts didn’t just attract people to Seychelles; they became a key culinary ingredient, shaping the fusion of techniques and flavors brought by diverse communities over the centuries.

The French laid the foundation of Seychelles' cuisine with methods like pot roasting, frying, and salting. Their influence is reflected in dishes like ladob, a coconut milk-based dessert reminiscent of daube, a sweet-savory Provençal stew. Malagasy enslaved people introduced fishing, rice cooking, and coconut milk preparation, likely learned from Austronesian peoples. Later, Chinese and Indian merchants and laborers brought spices like tamarind, turmeric, and bilimbi, which infused the local coconut curries with vibrant flavors.

“For many Seychellois, there are certain dishes that just wouldn’t be the same without fresh coconut,” says Steven Rioux, rum blender at Takamaka Distillery, home of Takamaka Koko coconut rum. “Coconut milk is essential, adding richness and that distinct coconut flavor to so many of our favorite recipes.”

During the isolation of World War I and II, these diverse culinary influences melded into a unified Creole cuisine. Today, the essence of this food culture is most evident in takeaways and casual roadside Mytouries serving homestyle dishes primarily to local patrons.

Juliana’s Villas Café in Au Cap, for example, is renowned for its coconut-rich Creole dishes like kari koko (coconut curry) with octopus or breadfruit, shark chutney (grated shark with citrus, turmeric, and onion), and rougaille saucisse (French sausage stew). Nearby, Maison Marengo is a favorite spot for locals to enjoy live music on Saturdays, alongside coconut-infused curries and desserts such as ladob and nougat, a French-inspired treat with shaved coconut.

“Coconuts are more than just an ingredient in Seychelles; they are a multifaceted resource woven into our cultural fabric,” Moncherry explains.

One of the oldest uses of coconut is kalou. Locals attach plastic bottles to coconut palms to collect sap, which naturally ferments thanks to the fruit’s native yeast. This traditional beverage, enjoyed since the islands' early days, remains a favorite at beachside Sunday barbecues in places like Au Cap and Anse Royale on Mahé, as well as at major events such as weddings.

“No celebration is complete without kalou,” Rioux remarks.

However, some traditional coconut practices have diminished over time as newer generations increasingly opt for fast food over traditional cooking techniques.

For instance, Rioux recalls that coconut milk was once always freshly made for curries and desserts. “I remember my mother using a bench grater to process the coconut flesh before extracting the milk,” he says. Nowadays, however, most restaurants opt for canned coconut milk.

The coconut industry began to wane in the 1960s, due to rising production costs and intense competition from other major coconut oil producers, notably the Philippines and Indonesia. The industry's downfall was further accelerated in 1994 when Pakistan stopped importing coconuts from Seychelles. Some older residents also link the decline of traditional food practices to globalization, a trend that intensified following the opening of Seychelles’ international airport in 1971. While this milestone boosted tourism, it also shifted the island’s economic and cultural focus away from coconuts.

Tourism has long been the cornerstone of the Seychelles economy, but in recent years, coconuts have seen a revival. Small-scale farmers have breathed new life into neglected plantations, and the Seychelles National Institute of Culture and Heritage has launched initiatives to preserve traditional practices, including coconut-based culinary traditions, exemplified by the annual Kreol Festival.

For the past decade, the Islands Development Company (IDC), Seychelles’ leading coconut oil producer, has been exporting raw coconut oil to Mombasa, Kenya, where it is primarily used for cooking and lighting. The company aims to expand into new markets by promoting its sustainable harvesting methods. It acquired a mill in 2021 to boost production and is also developing new medicinal and wellness products for both local use and export. Tinaz Wadia, director of people and culture at Four Seasons Seychelles, notes that the IDC is also working on restoring coconut plantations on the outer islands, including Desroches, the hotel’s home island.

Chefs are embracing the renewed enthusiasm for coconuts by offering innovative twists on beloved classics. The most inventive creations can be found at resorts, which have long been at the forefront of Seychelles' tourism industry.

At Mango House, alongside the traditional salad palmis (coconut palm salad), Moncherry incorporates coconut milk to tenderize fresh red snapper for ceviche, paired with mango, coriander, and lemon, and concludes with panna cotta made from fresh coconut milk and cream. Kannel, the Mediterranean-inspired restaurant at Four Seasons, serves Creole favorites like salad palmis and bouyon blan (fish soup), while its dessert, pineapple coconut cloud, dazzles with locally spiced pineapple, passionfruit gel and sorbet, and light coconut foam. The resorts also showcase coconut in various ways: from coconut water and chocolates upon arrival to coconut-infused dinners, palm-woven bags, and wellness treatments named “The Miracle of the Coco de Mer.”

Luxurious dishes and spa treatments might appear worlds apart from the bustling coconut vendors at the Sir Selwyn Selwyn-Clarke Market, but they share a common lineage. From crafting coconut shells into candle holders during the early colonial days to creating delicate coconut foam at modern resorts, coconuts have consistently represented both economic and cultural values for Seychellois, bridging their heritage and aspirations for a sustainable future.

As Wadia reflects, echoing the wisdom of her elders, in Seychelles, “Without coconut, there would be no life.”

Tyler Zielinski is a London-based food and drink writer with a deep passion for cocktail culture, bartending techniques, and, as a proud native of New Jersey, Italian American cuisine. Alongside his writing, he founded Zest, a U.K.-based social media and marketing firm catering to the drinks industry, and he is also the author of the upcoming book Tiny Cocktails (Clarkson Potter, 2025).