Comforting Fish Cakes with Moroccan Flavours

Fresh fish of any sort is my idea of a fine feast, but often I feel thwarted in my efforts to eat more of it. First, no one in my family really likes fish, unless it's battered and deep fried. Second, good fresh fish is ruinously expensive in Cape Town, and so is good quality tinned and smoked fish. Third (and this is not a grumble), I no longer buy - or feature on this blog -  any threatened or vulnerable species of fish or shellfish, using the SASSI database as my guide.

Crusty hot fish cakes, lightly spiced with North African flavours, and served with lemon
wedges and a cool yoghurty dipping sauce.

Buying and cooking with sustainable ocean species is rather limiting, and while I'm determined to support SASSI's initiative, I must admit sorely to missing eating the beautiful, spanking-fresh linefish I enjoyed so much as a child -  beautiful, springy, snow-white kabeljou in particular.  Prawns drenched in garlic, chilli, lemons and butter are - sob! - another no-no, but more about that in a future blog post.

Snoek, yellowtail, dorado, angelfish and hake are still green-listed, so I buy a side of one of these about once a week.  I usually bake or grill the fish, eat some of it for lunch with salad, and then refrigerate the leftovers for making fish cakes the next day.  Oddly enough, some members of my family are willing to eat fish cakes, especially if they're made - as all good homely fish cakes are - with mashed potato.

A blend of North African flavours gives these fish cakes a lovely flavour.

Here is my recipe for fish cakes spiced with some fragrant Moroccan flavours.You can add any combination of aromatic ingredients you like, of course, to this very basic formula, but there is something about the warming spices of North Africa that makes these very moreish.

These are quite lightly spiced, because I want the cakes to taste of fish, but  feel free to add more heat and perfume if you'd like your fish cakes to pack a punch.

And if you're in a tearing hurry, please use instant mashed potato.  The sky will not fall on your head, and I doubt anyone will notice the difference.  If you go this route, however, be sure to make up the instant mash powder with a little less boiling water than is specified on the packet, so it is of the same stiff consistency as proper mash. You can also used tinned butter beans as an alternative to mash - here's my recipe for easy tuna fish cakes with beans.

Comforting Fish Cakes with Moroccan Flavours

2 cups (500 ml) cooked flaked white fish
olive oil, for frying
a small onion, peeled and very finely chopped
2 tsp (10 ml) crushed fresh garlic
2 tsp (10 ml) finely grated fresh ginger
2 cups (500 ml) mashed potato, at room temperature
1 extra-large free-range egg
½ tsp (2.5 ml) cinnamon
1 tsp (5 ml) finely grated lemon zest
1 tsp (5 ml) ground coriander
1 tsp (5 ml) good quality paprika
2 tsp (10 ml) cumin
4 Tbsp (60 ml) finely chopped fresh parsley
salt and milled black pepper
5 Tbsp (75 ml) flour, for dusting

To serve: 
lemon wedges or finely chopped preserved lemons
a cool dipping sauce, such as a mixture of half-and-half mayonnaise and yoghurt, or this lemony mixture, or a vibrant chermoula-style dip


Heat the oven to 160 ºC.  Carefully sift through the flaked fish with your fingertips to remove every small bone, then place the fish in a large mixing bowl.

Heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a frying pan over a medium heat and add the onion. Fry for two minutes, until it just begins to soften, and then stir in the garlic and ginger. Cook for another minute, then tip this mixture into the bowl containing the fish.  Don't cook the onion mixture for too long - the onion should retain a slight crunch, and the garlic and ginger should be heated just long enough to remove any raw burniness.

Add all the remaining ingredients apart from the flour and mix well, using your hands.  Season to taste with salt and milled black pepper.

Shape the cakes by rotating them quickly and lightly between the
palms of your hands.  It helps to flour your hands!

Pinch off pieces of the mixture - the size is up to you - and roll them into balls. Now flatten the balls and shape them into neat cakes by rotating them between your palms, as shown in the picture, left.  It helps to flour your hands while you're doing this.

Put the flour onto a plate and lightly roll each cake over in the flour. Shake well to remove any excess - they should be lightly dusted.

Heat 3 Tbsp (45 ml) of olive oil in a large frying pan, over a medium-high heat. Fry the cakes on both sides, in batches, placing them in a circle around the edges of the pan, as shown in the picture below.  (Arranging the cakes like this allow you to flip them over in the order in which they were placed in the pan.)

Always fry small cakes in a circle, so you can flip them over in the
order in which you put them in the pan

They are ready to flip over when the underside is golden brown and crusty.  Place the cooked fish cakes in the oven to heat right through while you fry the rest.

Serve hot with lemon wedges or chopped preserved lemons, and a dipping sauce of your choice.

Makes about 30 small fish cakes, or 15 bigger ones. 

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Festive Phyllo Crackers with a Spicy Plum and Almond Filling

A tart, sweet, spicy filling of fresh plums, grated apples and almonds gives these little phyllo-pastry parcels a festive air. They're good served warm with whipped cream, and are fairly quick and easy to make.

I came up with this Christmas snack after I cleaned out my fridge and found a left-over pack of phyllo pastry that was still perfectly good. (Phyllo tends to grow blue spots if it skulks in the fridge for too long, but if you wrap it and seal it well, it lasts for several weeks.) I also spotted a few juicy plums that were too soft for eating, and these merry little crackers were the result.

The ground almonds are there to soak up the excess juice from the plums and apples, and the slivered ones to provide a nutty crunch.

Festive Phyllo Crackers with a Spicy Plum and Almond Filling

6 sheets of phyllo pastry
melted butter for brushing
white sugar for sprinkling
icing sugar for finishing

For the filling:
4 Tbsp (60 ml) currants (or raisins or sultanas)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) brandy
1 Tbsp (15 ml) boiling water
80 ml slivered almonds
the finely grated zest of half a lemon
the juice of half a lemon
2 red apples, cored
4 juicy red plums, stoned and cubed
80 ml ground almonds
½ tsp cinnamon
a pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
a pinch of ground cloves
½ cup (125 ml) icing sugar
1 Tbsp (15 ml) butter

First make the filling. Soak the currants in the brandy and boiling water for 15 minutes. Put the slivered almonds in a dry frying pan and toast them lightly, tossing frequently. Set aside. Put the lemon juice and zest into a large saucepan, and grate the apples directly into the pan. Toss well to coat and add the cubed plums, ground almonds, spices, icing sugar and the currants plus their soaking liquid. Mix well.

Cook, over a brisk heat, for 10 to 12 minutes, stirring often, until the mixture has thickened and is beginning to pull away from the edges of the pan. You'll know when it's ready when you smell caramel and see the edges beginning to turn golden. Stir in the butter and slivered almonds and set aside to cool.

Heat the oven to 180ºC.

Unroll the phyllo pastry and remove six sheets. Place a sheet of pastry on a piece of greaseproof paper or a clean tea towel (cover the remaining sheets with a damp cloth) and brush all over with melted butter. Sprinkle with a little granulated white sugar. Place another sheet on top of the first, brush with butter and sprinkle with sugar. Now add a third sheet of pastry, but don't brush with butter.

With the long side of the stack of pastry facing you, and using a sharp knife or a pair of scissors, cut the pastry sheets in half vertically, and then into thirds horizontally, so you have six equal rectangles. Place about two tablespoons of the filling on each stack, brush the far edge with melted butter, and roll into a cylinder. Press down gently to seal, and then crimp and push in the ends to make a cracker shape. Trim the ends with a pair of scissors. Repeat the process with the remaining three sheets of pastry. Place the crackers on a non-stick baking sheet and brush all over with melted butter.

Bake at 180ºC for 10-12 minutes, or until the pastry is crisp and golden.

Dust with icing sugar and serve warm.


Makes 12 crackers Print Friendly

Christmassy Plum and Tamarind Sauce

Here's an easy, quick-to-make fresh plum sauce that's sweet, tart, and scented with Christmassy spices that evoke all the comfort and joy of the festive season.  It's delicious poured over vanilla ice cream and topped with chipped bitter chocolate and fresh pomegranate seeds, or used as a topping for hot puddings such as bread-and-butter pudding. You can also use it, in dashes,  to add a fruity richness to gravies and stews. Welcome to the second recipe in my series of easy festive recipes for feeding a crowd.

I jump for joy when I see the first plums of summer in the shops, because there are few fruits I love more than ripe, juicy, ruby-red plums, preferably eaten warm and straight from the tree, with juice trickling down one's chin.  I don't get a chance to do that now I'm a grown-up and don't live anywhere near a plum tree, but the childhood memory of standing in a sunny orchard feasting on ripe, wasp-stung plums never fails to make my mouth water.

Isn't 'plum' a perfect name for this marvellous fruit? The word, in my mind, evokes both 'plump' and 'luscious', and it's one of my favourite food-words (I'm also a big fan of 'persimmon', 'peach', 'vanilla' and 'pepper': here's a post I wrote a few years back about delightful - and disgusting - food words).

This is a variation of my recipe Spiced Plums with Tamarind, which I posted on this blog in December two years ago. Although the plums (which I bottled) were delicious, they tended to disintegrate in the bottle, so I've refined the recipe and turned it into a sauce. This keeps well in the fridge for up to a week, and freezes nicely. If your plums are very tart (taste them first!) you may need to add a little more sugar than the amount I've specified below.

Christmassy Plum and Tamarind Sauce

4 Tbsp (60 ml) sultanas, roughly chopped
16 large, ripe red plums
30 g pressed tamarind (a piece about the size of a matchbox)
1 cup (250 ml) white sugar
a quill of cinnamon the length of your thumb
5 whole allspice berries (or 1 tsp - 5 ml - ground allspice)
2 star anise
a long strip of pared lemon rind
2 Tbsp (30 ml) white wine vinegar
2 cups (500 ml) water

Two hours before you make the sauce, put the chopped sultanas into a small bowl and cover with a little warm water (or port, if you like). Wash the plums and put them whole into a deep saucepan. Drain the sultanas, discard their soaking liquid and add them to the pot, along with all the remaining ingredients. Bring slowly to the boil, stirring occasionally to help the sugar dissolve. Now turn down the heat and simmer for 25-30 minutes, or until the plums have collapsed. Cover and allow to cool completely.

Place a sieve over a large bowl and tipped the cooled mixture into the sieve, in batches if necessary. Using the back of a soup ladle and plenty of elbow power, press the sauce through the sieve. This is a bit laborious, but pour yourself a glass of sherry, put on some music and persist until you have only skins and pips left in the sieve. Tip the sauce into a clean jug and refrigerate.

Makes about 750 ml sauce.


>> Another way to use the plums in season now: my Fresh Plum and Almond Cake

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Moroccan-Spiced Chicken Pie with Phyllo Pastry

I'm smitten by the particular fragrance of Moroccan spicing, and in this phyllo-pastry-topped pie I've used some of the flavours you might find in a chicken tagine. I'm not a great fan of cinnamon in savoury dishes, but there's something about the combination of this spice and preserved lemon that makes my tongue want to tie itself in happy knots. This is a long recipe with many ingredients, but it's really worth the effort for a special occasion.

Moroccan-Spiced Chicken Pie with Phyllo Pastry

The idea for this dish came about when I used the left-overs of a chicken tagine to use up a few sheets of phyllo pastry languishing in the fridge. These I folded up into samoosa shapes, and they were good, but not quite moist enough. So I've come up with a new recipe that I hope you are going to enjoy.

There's a slightly unusual method here: the chicken breasts are first marinated, Indian-style, in tenderising yoghurt, and then tipped into an aromatic tomato gravy, where they poach gently over a very low heat. I've done this to produce soft and succulent chicken pieces: strips of chicken breast turn into rubbery curls if they're cooked too fiercely.  And I've added some of the spices to the chicken and marinade, not to the gravy, so that they endure very little cooking time and thus surge eagerly to the front of the flavour queue.

This is best with ripe, fresh tomatoes, but you could use an equal quantity of whole tinned ones. You can peel the tomatoes if you like, but I don't bother. If you don't have a food processor, cut the tomatoes in half, press the cut side of the tomato against the coarse teeth of a grater and grate vigorously until the skin flattens out under your palm.

If you leave out the chunk of butter added to the sauce at the end (to enrich it and give it a gloss) this is a low-fat dish. If you add the butter, it's not. (Add the butter, I say!)

Preserved lemons are available from good delicatessens. If you can't find them, add an extra two teaspoons of lemon zest to the recipe. Most supermarkets stock frozen phyllo pastry, but the unfrozen variety (available at Woolworths) is the easiest to work with.

Moroccan-Spiced Chicken Pie
12 skinless, deboned chicken breasts
5 sheets of fresh phyllo pastry
melted butter for brushing
a little ground cinnamon for dusting

For the marinade:
1 cup (250 ml) plain white yoghurt
the juice of 2 lemons
2 tsp (10 ml) finely grated lemon zest
2 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
4 tsp (20 ml) powdered cumin
1 tsp (5 ml) chilli powder
a pinch of saffron threads

For the sauce:
2 onions, peeled and finely chopped
2 Tbsp (30 ml) sunflower oil
one 8-cm stick cinnamon
8 large, ripe tomatoes
80 ml ground almonds
2 tsp (10 ml) ground ginger
2 tsp (10 ml) ground coriander
3 tsp (15 ml) mild paprika
3 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
salt and freshly milled black pepper
75 g cold butter, cubed [optional]
24 green olives, pitted
3 Tbsp (45 ml) preserved lemon peel, finely chopped
½ cup (125 ml) chopped fresh coriander (loosely packed)
½ cup (125 ml) chopped fresh parsley (loosely packed)

Cut the chicken into strips as big as your little finger (or into large cubes, if you prefer). Place all the marinade ingredients into a large plastic or glass bowl and mix well. Stir in the chicken strips. Cover and set aside in the fridge for two hours.

Heat the olive oil in a large, shallow pan and add the chopped onion and cinnamon stick. Cook, over a medium flame, until the onions have softened. In the meantime, quarter the tomatoes and put them in a liquidiser or a food processor fitted with a metal blade.  Process at high speed until you have a pale pink, mushy liquid. Pour this into the pan containing the onions and add the almonds, ginger, coriander, paprika and garlic. Season with salt and pepper. Cook at a fairly brisk bubble for 15 minutes, or until the sauce has reduced and thickened slightly.  To check whether it's ready, draw a wooden spoon across the base of the pan. If the channel created by the spoon closes reluctantly, the sauce is thick enough.

Turn the heat to its lowest setting. Tip the chicken and its marinade into the pan and stir. Cook very gently (the mixture should barely bubble) for 10 or so minutes, or until the chicken is just cooked through, and nowhere near dry. Add the butter and toss gently.

Stir in the olives, preserved lemon, coriander and parsley, and set aside to cool. Check the seasoning and add more salt and pepper if necessary. (At this point, the mixture can go into the fridge overnight, but add the coriander and parsley only just before you assemble the pie).

Heat the oven to 180 ºC.

Use phyllo pastry to top the pies, and sprinkle with a little cinnamon.

Unroll the phyllo pastry and remove five sheets. Place a sheet of pastry on a piece of greaseproof paper or a clean tea towel (cover the remaining sheets with a damp cloth) and brush all over with melted butter.  Place another sheet on top, and brush with butter again. Continue until you've used up all five sheets.

Grease a rectangular pie dish that's a little smaller than the phyllo pastry. Remove the cinnamon stick from the chicken mixture. Pile the filling into the dish and carefully place the layered phyllo on top. Tuck the excess pastry down along the edges, or crimp it neatly, as shown in the photograph below. Brush melted butter over the top of the pie and dust with a little ground cinnamon.

If you're making individual pies, find a saucer a little bit bigger than your pie dish. Place it face-down on the layered pastry and cut around it with the tip of a very sharp knife. Place the circles on top of the pie dishes and tuck in the edges.

Bake at 180ºC for 20-30 minutes, or until the pastry is crisp and golden. Watch the pie like a hawk: if it looks like it's browning too quickly, loosely cover it with tin foil.

Serve immediately, with a green salad.

Serves 8.

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Spiced Kumquat Compote

Perfumed winter kumquats

How very rude the word 'cumquat' looks in black and white. I can barely type it without blushing, let alone say it out loud to my greengrocer or my children.

It doesn't help to spell it 'kumquat', with a 'k', or to know that its Cantonese etymology is entirely innocent: it's the sound of the word colliding with my brain-bank of slang words that makes my ears shrivel.

It reminds me of that apparently innocent yet raspingly vulgar-sounding name, 'Slartibartfast'. Invented by the late, great Douglas Adams, this is a word that one really cannot say out loud in polite company. (Here, by way of contrast, is my post about evocative food words.)

I always know that winter has arrived in Johannesburg when I visit my greengrocer and find mountains of beautiful little oval citrus fruits, each one a dazzling orange and about the size of a quail's egg. Thin-skinned and wonderfully aromatic, these little kumquats darlings are dirt-cheap and plentiful when in season in South Africa, and are just lovely when cooked in a light, spicy sugar syrup, or pickled with sugar and vinegar.

This compote keeps well in the fridge for up to three weeks. It' s delicious with a slab of cold smoky ham and wedges of sharp Cheddar, and equally good poured over vanilla ice cream, along with an optional dash of Van Der Hum or Cointreau. Or try the fruits dipped in dark chocolate: see end of this post.

I used a small quantity of whole spices in this dish (all of them warming spices that pair nicely with citrus flavours) because I wanted the sharp citrus fragrance of the orangey rind to predominate. You can add whatever spices your heart desires, but I would advise against cinnamon, which, in spite of its gentle, woody, spicy name, is just too aggressive a flavour.

If you like kumquats, try my recipe for Chocolate-Dipped Half-Candied Kumquats.

Spiced Kumquat Compote

1½ cups (375 ml) water
1 cup (250 ml) white granulated sugar
a 10-cm strip of thinly pared lemon rind
juice of half a lemon
1 blade of mace
8 whole coriander seeds
6 whole peppercorns
1 cardamom pod, lightly crushed
300 g ripe kumquats

Put the water, sugar, lemon rind, lemon juice and whole spices into a saucepan. Bring to the boil, stirring now and again to dissolve the sugar. Cook briskly for 5 minutes. Now tip in the whole kumquats, reduce the heat, and simmer gently for 25 minutes or so, or until the fruit is soft, slightly transparent and beginning to look wrinkled. Remove from the heat.

Set aside and allow to cool completely. Remove the spices and lemon rind, decant into a lidded container or a glass jar, and place in the fridge.

Makes about two jars.

Cook's Note: if you'd like a really spicy compote, leave the whole spices in the syrup.


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Curried Salt-Sprinkle

A lovely, zingy, all-purpose spicy salt-sprinkle for grilled chicken and meat, rice, stews, soups, dips, curries and popcorn.

I am a great fan of home-made spiced and herbed salt mixtures, and about once a month make two or three small batches - a cup at a time - of flavoured salt, which I use for seasoning our everyday family meals. These mixtures keep well for a month or two in tightly sealed glass or plastic jars, provided that everything is perfectly dry.

For this recipe, curry leaves are an essential ingredient. They are available whole and dried from spice shops, Indian supermarkets and greengrocers. If you can only find fresh ones, you will need to dry them on a windowsill for a few days - or in a barely warm oven for a few hours - before you use them. Or, you can blend the whole fresh leaves into the mixture, and then set the salt outside, thinly spread on a baking tray, in the sun, for a few hours so that all the moisture evaporates. The the same applies to bay leaves.

Whole, fresh spices (or very fresh powdered spices) are essential for this mixture.

Curried Salt Sprinkle

1. 3 T (45 ml) whole coriander seeds
2. 3 T (45 ml)) whole cumin seeds
3. 1 T (15 ml) fenugreek seeds
   
4. 6 whole white cardamom pods
5. 3 whole cloves
6. 1 small stick cinnamon, broken into small pieces
7. 3 T (45 ml) yellow mustard seeds
8. a handful of dry curry leaves (or fresh, see above)
9. 3 dry bay leaves
10. 4 dried red chillies, seeds removed (or 20 ml dried red chilli flakes)
11. 1 T (15 ml) turmeric
12. 1 T (15 ml) black or green dried peppercorns
    
13. 1 and 1/2 cups (375 ml) coarse sea salt

Heat a dry frying pan until moderately hot and add ingredients 1- 7. Toss the ingredients and allow to toast over the heat for a few minutes, or until they begin to release their fragrance. Don't allow them to brown or burn. Tip all these ingredients into a coffee grinder or spice grinder, or one of those little mini-bowls on your food processor, add a few tablespoons of coarse salt, and whizz until well blended. If you don't have an electric grinder, put them in a mortar and bash hard with a pestle. Add all the remaining ingredients and grind to a powder. Tip into a dry jar and seal tightly. You will find that the bigger, dryer particles and husks 'float' to the top of the mixture - which is fine, but do shake well before using. Makes about 2 cups. Print Friendly

Dried green peppercorns: try them in this pungent salt mix

If you have a taste for freshly milled black pepper, look out for whole dried green peppercorns. These are the unripened, dehydrated form of black peppercorns and they are milder and slightly fruiter, with a clean and sparky aroma - ideal for using in dishes where you'd like a mellow, peppery flavour without the aggression and throat-catching pungency of black pepper.

Dried green peppercorns aren't available in supermarkets in South Africa, but you will be able to find them at your local Indian spice shop (I've also seen them at the spice stand at the Rosebank Rooftop Market). Put them in your pepper mill and grind them directly over the food (I've put green peppercorns in both my grinders and have banished the black 'corns to the back of the cupboard, for use only in the heartiest of stews, roasts, pickles and potjies.)

These pale green, puckered little beauties can also be rehydrated by soaking them in wine, stock or water for an hour or so - a lifesaver you're fresh out of brined Madagascar green peppercorns and in the mood for steak with a creamy pepper sauce.

Here's a nice all-purpose flavouring salt-and-pepper mix, à la Jamie Oliver, using dried green peppercorns. This recipe makes a big quantity, but it keeps well in a sealed jar or tupperware box. Delicious with roast chicken, lamb chops and steak, in soups, stews and salad dressings, or sprinkled over potatoes before they're roasted.

Green Peppercorn, Rosemary and Lemon Salt

finely grated rind of 5 lemons
120 ml (8 T) dried rosemary (or fresh rosemary needles, very finely chopped)
120 ml (8 T) dried green peppercorns
1 cup (250 ml) flaked or coarse salt

Spread the grated lemon lemon rind and (if you're using the herb fresh) the rosemary needles on a baking sheet or chopping board and place in a beam of sunlight until dry (how long this takes will depend on where in the world you live. In South Africa in summer, an hour is enough. If you don't have many sunbeams, place the mixture in a warmish, well-ventilated area overnight, or in a warm oven or airing cupboard). Add the peppercorns and the salt and mix well.


Now grind the mixture to a coarse powder using a stone mortar and pestle (you'll need to do this in batches) or - even better - a coffee grinder. You can also grind the mixture using a liquidiser with a strong metal blade. If the mixture still seems a little wet, spread it out and allow it to dry completely before giving it a good final mix and decanting into a lidded jar or plastic container. Print Friendly

Quick oven-baked chicken breasts in a spicy yoghurt-coconut sauce

Try these tender, fragrant chicken breast fillets when you're in the mood for something spicy, but can't face an unctuous and complex curry (or don't have the energy to make one).

This is one of those happy-accident recipes: I'd come home with a stash of lovely fresh spices (I am a complete sucker for spice shops) and a large packet of beautiful organic deboned chicken breasts. My idea was to marinate them for an hour or two in a subtle yoghurty mixture, cut them into strips and cook them quickly on a ridged griddle, but I ran out of time, so I tipped the whole breasts, still coated in their marinade, into a ceramic dish and chucked them in a very hot oven for 20 minutes. The result was just sublime: the combination of quick cooking in a cold marinade and the tenderising effect of yoghurt made the chicken so buttery and soft that I could cut it with a fork the next day (I had the leftovers for breakfast the next morning, on toast).

Only the freshest, sparkiest spices will do for this dish. If your stash of powdered cumin or coriander is more than two months old, or smells a bit dusty, chuck the lot in the bin and buy two dirt-cheap little fresh packets from your local greengrocer. A whiff of freshly ground cumin should deliver a good smack to the nostrils.

Quick oven-baked chicken breasts in a spicy yoghurt-coconut sauce

For the marinade:

3 small cloves fresh garlic, skinned
1 T (15 ml) grated or chopped fresh ginger
1 T (15 ml) powdered cumin
2 t (10 ml) powdered coriander
1 tsp (5 ml) turmeric
1 tsp (5 ml) cayenne pepper or chilli powder (to taste; leave this out if you are feeding heat-sensitive kids. One or two depipped, finely shredded fresh green chillies will also do the trick)
juice of 1 lemon
1 cup (250 ml) thick fresh white yoghurt (Bulgarian, Greek or whatever looks fresh)
1 cup (250 ml) tinned coconut cream
salt and milled black pepper

For the dish:

8 deboned, skinned chicken breasts
5 thin slices of lemon, with peel
a few fresh curry leaves (optional)

For the garnish:
a handful of fresh coriander (cilantro), finely chopped

Put all the ingredients for the marinade into a food processor or liquidiser. Give the mixture a blitz at high speed, so that all the ingredients are thoroughly blended. Put the chicken breasts, lemon slices and curry leaves into an ovenproof ceramic dish and aggressively prick the chicken pieces, top and bottom, with a fork.



Pour the marinade ingredients over the chicken breasts and, using your hands, toss and turn the chicken and the lemon slices to that everything is thoroughly coated in marinade. Cover the dish with a piece of cling film and set aside in a cool place for an hour or two. (If you're going to marinate them for longer than two hours, put them in the fridge, and increase the cooking time - given below - by 8 or so minutes).

About 35 minutes before you're ready to eat, turn the oven on high (200°C) and allow to preheat for 15 minutes. Remove the clingfilm and the lemon slices from the dish and put it into the oven.

Cook for 20-25 minutes, or until the marinade is bubbling gently. Remove the dish from the oven and make a deep cut through the thickest part of the biggest fillet. If there is no pinkness in the flesh, remove the dish from the oven. If there is a little rosiness, return the dish the oven and cook for another five minutes (but not a second more). The chicken should be just cooked.

Just before serving, sprinkle the chopped fresh coriander all over the breasts.

Serve with spicy rice, or a green salad, or on its own.

Good on toast the next morning.

Serves 4 - 6 Print Friendly

Durban-Spiced Prawns with Coconut Cream

I am in raptures at the idea of crunching down on a garlicky prawn, and then shlurping the buttery, lemony, shellfishy juices from its head. I got the chance to do this twice in December, while on holiday on the KZN South Coast. Am I the lucky one?

Yes, I jolly well am. I'm lucky because I can occasionally (very occasionally, ie, once a year) afford to buy 2 kg of beautiful big pink Mozambiquan prawns, and cook them on a griddle, over a campfire, under the stars, in the singing bush, close to the beach, in the company of good friends and fine wine... oh, I wish it was December again.

Even though they're bought frozen, and so aren't as springy-fleshed as the expensive beasts you get in top-notch South African restaurants, Mozambique prawns are very, very good. A quick griddling and a bowlful of lemon-garlic butter is all you need, but if you're in the mood for something utterly delicious, try them in a mildly curried, garlicky, creamy, zingy, coconutty sauce. I call this recipe 'Durban-spiced' because of the fragrant, spanking-fresh spices it contains. Although I buy them from a wonderful spice shop in the coastal town of Shelly Beach, they come to South Africa via Durban. And if you haven't tasted a Durban curry, well.....

If you can't find freshly ground spices, buy the seeds and roast and grind them yourself: it makes all the difference.

Durban-Spiced Prawns with Coconut Cream

2 kg prawns, in their shells
olive oil
4 T (60 ml) black mustard seeds

For the marinade:

4 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
a thumb-sized piece of fresh ginger, finely grated
juice and finely grated rind of two fat lemons
4 T (60 ml) olive oil
2 T (30 ml) freshly ground coriander
2 T (30 ml) freshly ground cumin
1 T turmeric
1 T paprika
1-4 t (5-20 ml) cayenne pepper or fresh chilli powder (depending on how hot you'd like your prawns)
1 tsp (5 ml) Tabasco sauce
a handful of curry leaves, fresh or dried
salt and freshly milled black pepper

To finish:

350 ml tinned coconut cream (or more, if you'd like plenty of sauce)
1 big bunch fresh coriander, finely chopped
a squeeze of lemon juice
thin lemon slices

Devein and clean the prawns and put them in a deep plastic bowl. Add all the marinade ingredients to the bowl and, using your hands, toss the prawns so that they are well coated in the marinade. Cover with clingfilm and set aside in a cool place for at least an hour.

Heat a few teaspoons of olive oil in a large, deep frying pan, or on a flat griddle or ridged skottel placed over a wood fire or a gas braai. When the oil is very hot, but not yet smoking, add the mustard seeds and fry until they begin to pop and sputter. Tip into a bowl, drain off the oil, and set aside. Add more olive oil to the pan and turn up the heat. Remove the prawns from the marinade dish using a slotted spoon and fry them, in batches, over a high flame, until they are just cooked (about 4-5 minutes). Don't overcrowd the pan. Set aside and keep warm.

When the last batch is done, tip the remains of the marinade into the frying pan or griddle pan. Now add the coconut milk and the reserved mustard seeds, and stir or scrape briskly to dislodge the golden-brown residue on the bottom of the pan. Allow to bubble for a minute over a high flame. Now tip the reserved prawns back into the pan, and toss well to coat. Add a squeeze of lemon juice and, if necessary, season with more salt and pepper.

Tip the prawns into a heated platter and top with thin lemon slices and fresh coriander.

Serve as a main course with Basmati rice, or as a starter.

Serves 6-8 (main course) or 12 (starter)


*** Or am I the angry one? Read my rant about holidaymakers plundering this coastline for a handful of miniature mussels. Print Friendly