Cold Cucumber, Herb & Yoghurt Soup with Verjuice Granita

I hope you'll enjoy this cold yoghurty cucumber soup, topped with feathery flakes of frozen Verjuice. With its lovely contrast of herbal creaminess and sweet, crunchy acidity, this is a splendid starter for a blazing day. There are deep, clean, singing flavours here that make you want to drink it in buckets, as if it is exactly what your body craves.  This low-carb recipe is suitable for diabetics.

Cold Cucumber, Herb & Yoghurt Soup with Verjuice Granita 

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Wine recommendation by Michael Olivier.  He says: "Klein Constantia Metis Sauvignon Blanc 2014." 

 It looks like: Packed in the bottle embossed with the Constantia logo, the fusion of philosophies is reflected in the flower on the label that is a hybrid of the South African Protea and French Iris. In the glass a pale gold with green amber flashes. 

 It smells like: Pure classical good Sauvignon aromas. White fleshed peaches and nectarines. Grapefruit oil. 

 It taste like: Rich, vibrant palate. Generous fruit, blackcurrant leaves, almost savoury. Minerals present in the exciting lime squirt in the long aftertaste. This is a laster if well stored could go up to 8 years after vintage.

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I've had fun this month developing a series of new recipes using Verjuice, and this is the first of nine. Are you familiar with Verjuice?  It's a delicate, slightly tart, somewhat sweet, unfermented juice made from unripe grapes, popular as an acidulating agent in Roman times and the Middle Ages.

In recent times, this ingredient's been revived by Maggie Beer, one of Australia's best-loved cooks, food writers and restaurateurs. My aunt, the brilliant Gilly Walters of Wedgewood Nougat fame, introduced me to this ingredient some years ago, and I always have a bottle of it in my kitchen. What I love about Verjuice is that it doesn't have any of the throat-raspiness of vinegar - it's a gentle ingredient that sings sweetly in the background.

Over the next few weeks I'll be sharing some of my new Verjuice recipes with you, and I hope they encourage you to experiment with this intriguing ingredient over the festive season (you'll find it at Woolies).

When I first wrote this recipe down, I recommended serving it immediately, but I found that its flavour developed and mellowed over the next day, so feel free to make it up to 24 hours in advance (but keep it in the fridge, tightly covered, in a non-metallic bowl).

Make sure the serving bowls are very well chilled, or make pretty ice bowls in which to serve this beautiful starter.

Cold Cucumber, Herb & Yoghurt Soup with Verjuice Granita 

For the granita:

½ cup (125 ml) Verjuice

For the soup:

2 chilled English cucumbers (about 700 g)
2 Tbsp (30 ml) Verjuice
1 cup (250 ml) Greek yoghurt
1 small clove garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1/3 cup (80 ml) chopped curly parsley
1/3 cup (80 ml) chopped chives
3 Tbsp (45 ml) chopped dill
1 tsp (5 ml) Tabasco sauce
3 Tbsp (45 ml) cream
salt & milled black pepper

First make the granita.  Pour the Verjuice into a small metal pan and freeze for 45-90 minutes, or until just frozen - the time it takes will depend on how efficient your freezer is.  Use a fork to scratch and scrape at the surface to create light, feathery crystals. Return the dish to the freezer.

Lightly peel the cucumbers, leaving a little green skin here and there. Roughly chop and place in a food processor with all the remaining ingredients, except the cream and seasoning.  Whizz until very smooth. Now stir in the cream and season to taste with salt and plenty of black pepper.

Serve immediately in chilled bowls, topping each serving with a heaped spoonful of Verjuice granita, plus a scattering of chives or dill fronds.

Serves 4.  

(Note/Disclaimer:  I was paid a professional fee to develop these recipes and supply photographs, but this fee did not include featuring them on my blog and elsewhere. This I do because I'm pleased with these dishes and want to share them with you.)

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Glittery Christmas-Tree Bread with Garlic & Rosemary

Here's the first of my Christmas recipes for 2013: an easy flat-bread made with supermarket dough, cherry tomatoes, olives and caperberries. And for a funky festive finish, a snowstorm of edible glitter.  (Cake glitter is normally associated with cupcakes and other dreadful instances of kitchen juvenility, but even so I keep a stash of it in my baking drawer for strewing over savoury dishes, such as Home-Made Glitzers.)

I sketched this on my iPad while I was plotting Christmas recipes.

I hope this festive flatbread will draw gasps from your guests as you carry it triumphantly to the table. The hot bread smells gorgeous with its lashings of fresh garlic and olive oil, and looks so pretty all bedecked with rosemary and glitter. Even the fussiest kids will, I hope, show an interest.  Sure, they may pick out the pimento-stuffed olives and caperberries, but they'll wolf down the hot bread.

This is so quick and easy to make if you use supermarket dough.

You can ring the changes by adding any ingredients you fancy: pork chipolatas, bacon bits, shaved vegetables, nuggets of feta, and so on.

Puffed up and crusty, and studded with edible decorations.

If you can't find packets of fresh dough in your supermarket, make your own by using one kilogram of bread flour to one 10-gram sachet of instant dry yeast, plus a teaspoon of salt, another of olive oil, and just enough warm water to bind the mixture into a pliable dough.

 Knead it well, let it rise until doubled in size, punch it down in the usual fashion and continue with the recipe.  Here are good basic instructions for bread dough.

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Glittery Christmas-Tree Bread with Garlic & Rosemary

1 kg ready-made white or wholewheat bread dough
500 g cherry tomatoes (about 24)
16 pimento-stuffed green olives
a few sprigs of fresh rosemary
½ cup (125 ml) olive oil
3 cloves garlic, peeled and finely grated
flaky sea salt
freshly milled black pepper
12 caperberries, well drained [optional]
edible cake glitter

Heat the oven to 200 ºC.

Lightly dampen a large baking tray and cover with a sheet of baking paper.  The water on the baking tray will help the paper to stick.

Dust some flour over the top of the paper, then pull and push the dough into a rough tree-shaped triangle. You will find that the dough creeps back, but if you persist with pulling and stretching, you'll eventually have an acceptable shape.

Use a pair of sharp scissors to snip the dough.

Using a pair of kitchen scissors or a sharp knife, cut diagonal slits in the dough to form the 'branches' of the tree.

Don't worry if these aren't perfectly symmetrical - the bread will do its own thing in the oven as it rises and crisps up, and there really is no point in faffing about when you should be relaxing on the lawn with with a gin and tonic.

Press the cherry tomatoes deep into the dough.  Cut the olives in half crossways and push them into the dough between the tomatoes. Strip the leaves off the rosemary sprigs and scatter them between the tomatoes and olives.

A flurry of edible glitter goes over the bread as
it comes out of the oven. 

Now, using your fingertips, make deep dimples all over the bread.

Mix the olive oil and garlic together in a bowl and paint this all over the bread, using a pastry brush or your fingertips.

Generously scatter the bread with flaky salt, grind over plenty of fresh pepper and bake at 200 ºC for about 30 minutes, or until the bread is well risen, golden brown and crisp on top.

Remove the bread from the oven, let it cool for 5 minutes, then arrange the caperberries on top.

Trickle a little more olive oil over the top, and dust lavishly with cake glitter.

Serves 6-8 as a snack. 



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Olive, Mozzarella and Rosemary Christmas wreath

Inspired by a picture I pinned to my Pinterest festive board, I thought I'd expand on this lovely idea and create a wired-together rosemary wreath that can be rinsed off after Christmas and hung up to dry on a kitchen wall.

Olive, Mozzarella and Rosemary Christmas wreath

I've used green and black olives, baby gherkins, caperberries, cherry tomatoes, peppadews and beautiful bocconcini to make this wreath, but of course you could add anything you like to it - marinated feta, roast peppers and baby aubergines, rolled anchovies, sundried tomatoes, quails' eggs, and so on.

When you're done with the wreath, rinse it under running
water, shake off the moisture, and hang it up in a breezy
place to dry out. Crumble the dried rosemary into stews,
casseroles and roasts.

I photographed this on a board because it looked so pretty against the white and then (because I wanted to take it along to a carols-by-candlelight evening at my sister's house) transferred it to a big green platter. I tore the mozzarella balls into smaller bits to make sure everyone got a piece or two, and drizzled the whole wreath with olive oil, home-made pesto and plenty of black pepper.

This is so easy to make. You need:

- about 32 twelve-cm end-sprigs of fresh rosemary
- a long length of bendy vine, stripped of leaves
- green florists' wire
- pliers

I used a length of grape vine, stripped of leaves, but you could use any flexible branch from a non-toxic climbing plant.  A bent-into-a-circle wire coat-hanger covered in green florists' tape would work too.

First bend the vine into a circle, using your biggest, most beautiful platter as a size guide. Twist the vine ends around the circle, and secure with florists wire.  Coax the circle into a neat shape if it looks a little wonky.

Now, starting at the top, wire the rosemary sprigs onto the circle, their tips pointing slightly outwards, and overlapping one another by about two-thirds of their length (see picture below).

Loosely wire the sprigs to the vine circle, overlapping them by two-thirds of
their  length, and nudging them so the florists' wire is hidden. 

Put your wreath on its platter and arrange the cheese around the circle. Add all the other ingredients, drizzle with olive oil and season with salt and milled black pepper.

If you're entertaining two days in a row, you can rinse off the wreath and put it in the fridge overnight to  'refill' the next day.



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Roast Aubergine, Gammon & Mung Bean Salad, to please a Christmas crowd

My festive recipes every year always include a dish made with left-overs from the main feast, and this year I thought I'd devise a big, sumptuous salad ideal for feeding a hungry horde the day after Christmas.  But once I'd made it - using left-overs from this dish - I liked it so much that it struck me it's worth buying a small gammon specifically for this recipe. So the second time I made this, I bought a 1.5 kg boneless gammon, used half of it for the salad, and put the other half in the fridge for filling future sandwiches. It was flattened in a day, but I'm not complaining, because gammon is still remarkably inexpensive compared to lamb or beef, and it's way cheaper than buying sliced ham at your local deli counter.

I love the mysterious browns and greens of this salad,  and adore the earthy combination of beans, salty pork, garlic, lemon and cumin, but I have to say my kids weren't wild about it. Then again, they are suspicious of anything resembling a lentil.

If you're a vegetarian, or expecting vegetarian guests, I suggest you use crisp-fried halloumi cheese in place of gammon in this recipe: make the salad a few hours ahead, and then add the hot cheese at the last minute.

The first time I made this, I noticed that the flavours of the dressing had faded considerably by the next morning as they were absorbed by the beans.  In my second try, I tweaked the dressing to make it more punchy, so please don't be alarmed by all the garlic and mustard - the flavours will mellow and mingle as the salad sits.  This is best at room temperature, so if you make it the day before, take it out of the fridge an hour or two before you serve it.

This quantity serves six to eight as part of a festive meal; make double this amount if you're entertaining a bigger crowd, or serving it as a meal in its own right.  If you can't be bothered to soak and cook dried mung beans, used tinned lentils (4 tins should be enough), but rinse them in a sieve and drain them well before you add them to the salad.  You don't need to salt and rinse the brinjals if they are very young and sleek, but I usually do as this stops them from soaking up oil like a sponge.

Roast Aubergine, Gammon and Mung Bean Salad, to please a Christmas crowd

2 cups (500 ml) dried green mung beans, soaked for an hour in water
6 large aubergines
5 Tbsp (75 ml) olive oil
salt and milled black pepper
1 tsp (5 ml) cumin
about 3 cups (750 ml) of gammon chunks or shreds (see gammon recipe at the end of this page)
6 spring onions, green parts only, finely sliced
150 g (about two 'wheels') feta cheese, crumbled
½ cup (125 ml) pumpkin seeds
5 Tbsp (75 ml) finely chopped fresh mint

For the dressing: 
4 fat cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
a pinch of salt
a pinch of sugar
4 tsp (20 ml) Dijon mustard
1 tsp (5 ml) cumin
1 tsp (5 ml) good quality paprika
the juice of two medium lemons
¾ cup (180 ml) olive oil

Heat the oven to 190 ºC. Drain and rinse the mung beans and simmer them in unsalted water for 30-40 minutes, or until soft. Drain and set aside. Skip this step if you're using tinned lentils.

In the meantime, cut the aubergines into large cubes.  Place these in a large colander, in layers, and sprinkle with salt. Weigh down with a plate and allow to degorge for 20 minutes. Rinse the aubergine cubes under running water to remove excess salt, and pat dry on a tea towel. Arrange the pieces in a single layer in a  roasting tray, drizzle with the olive oil and, using your hands, toss well to coat. Roast for 35-45 minutes, or until they are golden and rustling, soft on the inside and beginning to collapse. Sprinkle with one teaspoon (5 ml) of  cumin and season generously with salt and pepper.

Put the mung beans, aubergine cubes, gammon chunks, feta and spring onions in a large mixing bowl.  Whisk together the ingredients for the dressing and pour it over the salad, tossing gently to combine. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Cover with clingfilm and set aside for an hour or two so the flavours can mingle. Just before you serve the salad, stir in the freshly chopped mint.  Taste the salad, and add a little more lemon juice if you think it needs sharpening up. Pile the salad onto a platter and drizzle with a little extra olive oil.  Toast the pumpkin seeds in a dry frying pan, over a low heat, and sprinkle them over the salad.

Serves 6. 

To cook the gammon:

1 x 1.5 kg boneless gammon
one bottle (330 ml) of your favourite beer, or ginger beer, or apple juice, or cider
1 large onion, peel on, quartered
3 carrots, peeled and thickly sliced
2 bay leaves
12 black peppercorns
4 whole cloves
a small bunch of parsley
water, to cover

Put the gammon, fat side up, in a large, deep pot and add the beer, onion, carrots, bay leaves, peppercorns, cloves and parsley. Pour in enough water to cover the gammon to a depth of 2 cm. Bring to the boil, then turn down the heat so that the gammon cooks at a brisk simmer. Partially cover the pot with a tilted lid.  Cook the meat for 30-35 minutes per kilogram (an hour and a half for a 1.5 kg piece), or according to the directions on the packaging. Check the pot now and then, and top up with more water: the meat must be completely submerged. Turn the gammon over half way through the cooking process.

Turn off the heat and leave it in its liquid to cool completely. Strip off the skin and trim off all the fat.  Put half in the fridge for sandwiches, and shred the other half to use in the salad. Print Friendly

Low-Carb Bacon-Wrapped Chipolatas with Whipped Mustard Sauce

I took this snap of Happy Piglets (with mustard sauce in the background)
while my book's  photographer Michael Le Grange was setting up the shot.
Bowl and plate by my uncle David Walters.

Flops and failures are part of the process of developing new recipes from scratch, and often I have to remake a dish several times before I'm satisfied with it. Sometimes, though, a recipe falls into place in one go, and this whipped mustard sauce - which I dreamed up for my cookbook - is one of of those.

This is a light, silken, creamy sauce with a good zip of mustard and a lovely mild aniseedy note of tarragon;  it stiffens a little when chilled, and keeps beautifully in the fridge for up to 5 days without any loss of taste or texture.

As I've mentioned about a thousand times elsewhere on this blog, bacon-wrapped chipolatas (which I call 'Happy Piglets') are the highlight of our festive feast, to the point that mild panic sets in a few days before the big day, with various sisters surging from supermarket to butcher in order to hunt them down and corral them into freezers and fridges.

We usually dish them up with the turkey, but they also make excellent festive snacks. I served them with this sauce at both my 50th birthday party and my book launch, and they were gone in a flash; I recommend that you double the recipe if you are expecting a crowd.

Half-cook the piglets to save oven space.

This Christmas we partly cooked the happy piglets ahead of time because we had limited oven space.

To do the same, place them in the oven for 15-20 minutes, or until they are half cooked, then set aside, covered with foil. Then put them in a blazing-hot oven for 10 minutes to crisp up just before you serve them.

This sauce is a little fiddly to make because it's egg based, but if you follow my directions to the letter you cannot go wrong.

If your eggs curdle because you've over-heated them, you'll have to throw them out and start again.

Fresh tarragon isn't easy to come by, so I use dried tarragon, which is beautifully pungent.  If possible, use Maille Dijon mustard, and not some over-yellowy substitute.

This recipe is low in carbohydrates, and suitable for anyone on a #LCHF or diabetic regime.

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Low-Carb Bacon-Wrapped Chipolatas with Whipped Mustard Sauce

16 rashers streaky bacon, halved crossways
32 pork chipolatas
fresh rosemary sprigs

For the sauce:
5 Tbsp (75 ml) white wine vinegar
half an onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 tsp (5 ml) dried tarragon
3 free-range egg yolks
2 Tbsp (30 ml) water
1½ tsp (7.5 ml) hot English mustard powder
4 Tbsp (60 ml) Maille Dijon mustard
1 Tbsp (15 ml) butter
salt and milled black pepper
175 ml cream, whipped to a soft peak

You can prepare the Happy Piglets well
 in advance and keep them in the fridge.

Heat the oven to 180 °C. Wrap the bacon around the sausages and tuck a small rosemary sprig into each. Place on a non-stick baking sheet and bake for 20–30 minutes, or until the sausages are cooked and the bacon crisp.

For the sauce, simmer the vinegar, onion and tarragon in a saucepan for 4–5 minutes, or until reduced by half. Put the egg yolks, water, mustard powder, Dijon mustard and butter into a metal or glass bowl and whisk until creamy.

Strain the warm vinegar onto the eggs and mix well. Put the bowl over a pan of simmering water and cook, whisking constantly, for 4–5 minutes, or until hot and very thick. Do not allow the mixture to come anywhere near boiling point. You'll know it's ready when it suddenly thickens.

Season to taste, cool for 5 minutes, and then fold in the whipped cream. Chill.

 Serve the sausages hot with the cold mustard sauce.

Serves 8 as a snack. 

Cook’s Notes

Although best hot from the oven, the sausages can be baked a few hours in advance and reheated in a moderate oven. You can make the mustard sauce up to 24 hours in advance.

Recipe from Scrumptious Food for Family and Friends by Jane-Anne Hobbs, courtesy of Random House Struik.


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Easy Rum and Raisin Popsicles

I have a particular fondness for rum-and-raisin-flavoured ice cream because it reminds me of my childhood. These fruity, boozy ice creams are so easy to make and make a great finish to a Southern Hemisphere festive meal.  They contain that most unfashionable ingredient, condensed milk, and are whipped together ready for freezing in under ten minutes (although you will need to soak the raisins for six hours in advance).

Easy Rum and Raisin Popsicles. I took this picture on a hot day, and my oval
ice tray shattered as I placed it on the board. 

I'm impatient with foodsters who consider condensed milk (like its cousin evaporated milk) a trashy ingredient.  It's really versatile for quick desserts, its chief advantage over sugar being that you don't have to wait for it to dissolve. This recipe is loosely based on my Frozen Lemon Cream Dessert (from my book Scrumptious Food for Family and Friends).

I use shot/tequila glasses as moulds because I love their shape - you can buy these in bulk in big hypermarkets. If you don't have any ice-cream sticks, use silvery teaspoons (bowl side down), which work just as well.

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Easy Rum and Raisin Popsicles

½ cup (125 ml) raisins
½  cup (125 ml) dark rum, plus more to taste
1 x 385 g tin condensed milk
1 Tbsp (15 ml) lemon juice
1 Tbsp (15 ml) good instant coffee (this produces a pleasing colour)
1 tub (250 ml) whipping cream

Soak the raisins in half a cup of rum for about six hours, or until they have absorbed most of the alcohol. Strain them (reserving the liquid), place them on a board and chop them roughly, leaving a few whole. Put them into a mixing bowl along with the rum they soaked in and add the condensed milk, lemon juice and coffee. Whisk well to combine. In a separate bowl, beat the cream to a soft peak, then  fold the cream very gently into the condensed milk mixture.

At this point, you may want to add more rum to give the ice creams a proper kick.  I add about a quarter of a cup (80 ml) more, but you can gently mix in up to 100 ml extra.  Don't overdo the rum, however, as alcohol can inhibit the freezing of ice cream, and your lollies will not hold their shape when you unmould them.

Spoon (or pipe) the mixture into the glasses or your moulds, filling them right to the top, and push in a stick or teaspoon. If the sticks won't stand upright, wait for 20 minutes, or until the mixture has firmed a little.  Freeze for 6-8  hours, or until solid.  It's tricky getting these to stand up in a freezer with drawers, so I suggest you empty out a drawer and put a small tray in it. Push the drawer half closed so it's standing level, then put the glasses on the tray one by one before pushing the drawer all the way closed.

To remove them from their moulds, heat a damp dishcloth in the microwave and briefly wrap it around each glass while gently twisting the stick and pulling upwards.

Serve on a bed of crushed ice, or on an ice sheet made by pouring water into a tray and freezing it overnight.

Makes about 12 lollies, depending on the size of your mould.  

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Feeding a crowd: Roast Butternut and Baby Corn Salad

Lovely nutty flavours and sunset colours make this bountiful salad a real crowd pleaser. Roasting the vegetables takes a little time, but you can do this well in advance and let them steep in their own toasty juices for a few hours before you assemble the salad. And making stuff ahead is the key to success when you're tackling a big festive feast, isn't it?

I'm a fan of big composite salads like this one because they go a long way and don't cost very much to make. I served this with my Christmas Gammon with a Sticky Orange and Ginger Glaze and a platter of crunchy potato wedges, and it easily fed ten very hungry people.

I'm not crazy about butternut - sweet vegetables aren't my cup of tea - but I don't mind it at all plainly roasted with tender ears of corn and baby carrots, then combined with feta, watercress, spinach and peppery rocket. Lemon juice in the dressing adds necessary acidity, while soy-sauce-coated sunflower seeds provide a bit of crunch and texture.

Roast Butternut and Baby Corn Salad with Feta and Sunflower Seeds

1 large butternut, peeled, deseeded and cubed
2 cups (500 ml) tiny little carrots (or big carrots, peeled and cut into cubes)
1 large punnet baby sweetcorn
7 T (105 ml) olive oil
salt and milled black pepper
2 large packets mixed rocket, watercress and baby spinach, or similar dark leaves
1 stick celery (no leaves), finely sliced
140 g (about two 'wheels') peppered feta cheese
½ cup (125 ml) sunflower seeds
2 T (30 ml) Kikkoman soy sauce

For the dressing:
reserved juices from the roast vegetables
a pinch of Hot English Mustard powder, or ½ tsp (2.5 ml) prepared Dijon mustard
a pinch of caster sugar
the juice of a small lemon
1 tsp (5 ml) Kikkoman soy sauce
2 T (30 ml) white wine vinegar
3/4 cup (180 ml) olive oil, or a mixture of sunflower and olive oil
salt and milled black pepper

Heat the oven to 190ºC.  Put the butternut cubes on a roasting tray and drizzle them with half the olive oil. Season generously with salt and black pepper and, using your hands, toss well to coat. Roast the butternut, uncovered, for 25-30 minutes, or until the edges are nicely freckled with brown. Push the cubes to one side of the tray and arrange the baby sweetcorn and carrots on the other side. Drizzle the remaining oil over them, season, toss well and return the tray to the oven. After 15 minutes, remove the butternut cubes, place them in a large bowl and cover with clingfilm. Leave the sweetcorn and carrots in the oven for another 15 minutes, or until they are toasty and just tender. Add them to the cooked butternut cubes and set aside at room temperature until you're ready to use them.

To make the dressing, tip any juices that have accumulated under the roast vegetables into a small mixing bowl.  Add the mustard powder, caster sugar, lemon juice, soy sauce and vinegar and stir until the sugar has dissolved. Now whisk in the olive oil to make a smooth emulsion.  Season with salt and pepper. If you'd like a tangier dressing, add more lemon juice or vinegar to taste.

Put the sunflower seeds in a large frying pan and toss them gently over a medium-low flame until lightly toasted.  Turn the heat up to medium, add the soy sauce and stir well so all the seeds are coated. Leave over the heat for 30 seconds, or until the pan is dry, then set aside to cool slightly.

Lay the leaves on a big serving platter and arrange the roast vegetables, chopped celery and feta - broken into chunks - on top.  Immediately before you serve the salad, pour over just enough dressing to coat the leaves lightly, and sprinkle with sunflower seeds.

Serves 10 as a side salad, or 6 as a main course. Print Friendly

Christmas: Butterflied Turkey with a Ricotta, Nut and Apricot Stuffing

Cooking a whole turkey is a pain in the neck, isn't it? I can't think of any other component of a Christmas feast that causes more anxiety to home cooks than the confounded, damned, blasted (and sometimes bloody) turkey. In this dish, my first Christmas recipe for 2011, I've tried to solve the twin and contradictory problems of turkey dryness and turkey undercookedness in one go by butterflying the bird and pushing a tenderising stuffing directly under its skin.

I would happily ban turkey from my extended family's Christmas feast if I could. Over the past few years,  I've tried. 'How about a leg of lamb?', I ask. 'Or a lovely slow-roasted shoulder of pork?'. Turkeys, after all, have nothing at all to do with South Africa and are spectacularly inappropriate for a festive meal on a sweltering December day. But my husband and two of my three brothers-in-law were born in Britain, and they need a turkey on the table on Christmas Eve in the same way  they need apple crumbles, custard, mashed potatoes, and packets of choccie biscuits in the cupboard at all times. (And, okay, I was firmly in the turkey camp for many years. This backfired on me because my kids quickly acquired a taste for Christmas turkey - and especially for the gravy and bacon-wrapped pork chipolatas and crunchy roast potatoes that accompanied it - and now they eagerly look forward to the moment an enormous, golden, crisp-skinned gobbler appears on the table. They don't care if the breasts are a bit dry, and the wings so tough you could use them to crowbar open a car door: the Christmas turkey is all about ceremony.)

I've figured out, after cooking many whole turkeys with varying degrees of success, that the most you can expect  is succulent dark meat and lovely crisp skin.  The breasts will always be slightly dry and chalky, no matter how carefully and slowly you cook and baste the bird. This has everything to do with the anatomy of a turkey and nothing to do with your turkey-roasting skills. Breast meat on turkeys (and all other birds, for that matter) doesn't need to be cooked for long to achieve perfect tenderness and succulence, but dark, dense thigh and leg meat needs plenty of time.

I often butterfly roasting chickens when I'm in a hurry to get a meal on the table. There are two advantages to removing the backbone of a chicken and flattening it out. One, it cooks in just under an hour. Two, the breasts (wedged as they are in the middle) stay moist and tender while the legs (splayed on the outside of the bird) cook to perfection. I thought I'd try the same method with a small turkey, and it worked beautifully. The breasts were soft and juicy, and the thigh meat succulent. And, as a bonus, the bird was cooked through in an hour and fifty minutes. I left it to rest in its pan for 25 minutes, under a bonnet of foil, and I found it very easy to carve. (Have you noticed how people who fancy themselves expert carvers vanish when it's time to cut up the turkey? It's a thankless task. Even if you're an experienced carver, the bird always ends up looking as though a hand grenade detonated in its cavity. You only need to look at the photograph above for proof of this.)

Butterflying a whole turkey is not at all difficult, but you will need a pair of heavy kitchen scissors, or a heavy knife with a very sharp blade. Pushing the stuffing under the skin and deep into the thighs and drumsticks is also easy to do, although this is, I admit, not a job for the fainthearted.  The turkey, when butterflied, looks faintly ridiculous, very like a fat, bossy school mommy with her hands on her hips (see picture below).  I ended up with my arm shoved almost elbow-deep under the stretchy skin of the turkey, and couldn't stop laughing because I was irresistibly reminded of the scene in which Mr Bean climbs so far into a turkey that he gets it stuck on his head.

This is a long recipe - I thought it important to give you detailed instructions so there are no disappointments on the big day - but rest assured that this is really quite easy to make, provided that you take a little time with the stuffing and stock.  You can prepare both of these well in advance.

The stuffing in this recipe contains fresh ricotta cheese which, I have found, has an almost magical tenderising effect on poultry breasts; I can only imagine it is the lactic acid in the cheese that (like yoghurt) helps soften the flesh.  You can, however, use any poultry stuffing of your choice. Try my 2010 Turkey Stuffing with Green Peppercorns, Pork Sausage, Apple and Thyme, or my 2009 recipe Mango and Macadamia Turkey Stuffing with Sage and Sausage Meat.

The cooking time of a butterflied turkey will depend on its size and the ferocity your oven; see recipe and Cook's Notes (at the bottom of this page) for more information.

Roast Butterflied Turkey with a Ricotta, Almond and Apricot Stuffing
one turkey (about 3.5-4 kg is ideal), thawed
a large onion, roughly sliced, skin and all
3 bay leaves
2 sprigs fresh thyme
a little olive oil
salt and milled black pepper

For the stuffing: 
3 T (45 ml) olive oil
1 onion, peeled and finely chopped
6 rashers streaky bacon, finely diced
1 clove garlic, peeled and crushed
finely grated zest and juice of an orange

1/3 cup (60 ml) chopped dried apricots (or fresh ones)

1/3 cup (60 ml) chopped dried cranberries (optional; I used dried pomegranate arils)
1/3 cup (60 ml) flaked almonds (toast them if you have time)
3 sprigs fresh thyme, leaves stripped
1 cup (250 ml) breadcrumbs, fresh or dried
1 cup (250 ml) ricotta cheese
3 T (45 ml) softened butter
1 extra-large free-range egg, lightly beaten
salt and milled pepper

For the stock and gravy:
3 Tbsp (45 ml) butter or vegetable oil
trimmings from the turkey (see recipe)
1 large onion, peeled and sliced
1 stick celery, finely sliced
1 large carrot
a few parsley stalks
4 cups (1 litre) water
3 T (45 ml) cake flour
1 cup (250 ml) white wine
1 T (15 ml) redcurrant jelly or smooth apricot jam

If you're going to cook the turkey right away, heat the oven to 170 ºC.  Alternatively, you can butterfly and stuff the turkey and place it in the fridge for up to 8 hours before roasting it.

First make the stuffing. Heat the olive oil in a pan and fry the onions and bacon over a medium heat for 4-6 minutes, or until the onions are soft and golden. Stir in the garlic, orange zest and juice and let the mixture bubble for one minute. Tip the contents of the pan into a large mixing bowl and add all the remaining stuffing ingredients. Using your fingers, gently combine the mixture. Don't overwork it, or it will turn mushy. At this point, it's a good idea to test the stuffing for seasoning. Press a small ball of stuffing into a little patty and fry it in hot oil until lightly browned. Taste the mixture and add more salt, pepper and other seasonings of your choice if necessary. Cover the stuffing and set aside.

Now butterfly the turkey. Unwrap the bird and remove the plastic packet of giblets. (You can use these for the stock if you like but because I'm not a fan of gizzardy-looking or offally bits, I always fish out the neck of the bird and give the rest to the dogs.) Rinse the turkey with cold water, inside and out, and pat it dry using kitchen paper. Remove the pop-up plastic device (that is, the cooking indicator) stuck into the breast.  Place the turkey, breast side down and with the ends of the drumsticks facing you, on a big chopping board. Cut off the pope's nose and set it aside for the gravy. Using a pair of heavy kitchen scissors or a sharp knife, cut out the backbone by making a long incision on either side of the spinal column, crunching right through any small ribs you encounter. This is a bit of a grisly task, but be bold, and don't worry if your cuts are ragged.  Set the backbone aside for the stock. Turn the turkey around so the ends of the drumsticks are facing away from you and snip through the small, tough band of cartilage that connects the two breasts at the neck end. Now turn the bird over so it’s skin side up and bring your fist down smartly between the breasts to break the breast bone. Flatten out the turkey with the heel of your hand. Tuck the wing tips under and behind the bird. You'll end up with what looks like a buxom and knock-kneed person lying on her back with her hands on her hips (very comical, a butterflied turkey looks!).

Starting a the neck end, slip your hand under the skin over the breast and gently loosen it to form a pocket (use a hooked finger to break through the membrane connecting the breast to the skin). Now push your hand deeper under the turkey skin and separate the skin over the thighs and thicker parts of the drumsticks in the same way (turkey skin is elastic and quite tough, so have no fear about fearlessly plunging in, Mr Bean style). Pack half the stuffing into the pockets over the thighs and drumsticks, and the remaining half over the breasts. Gently pat the skin to smooth and even out the stuffing.  Pull the neck skin down and under the turkey and secure it with toothpicks.

Put the onion slices, bay leaves and thyme in a large roasting pan and place the turkey, skin-side up, on top. Drizzle a little olive oil over the skin and season generously with salt and pepper. Cover the turkey loosely with a large piece of tin foil and roast at 170 ºC for an hour.  Now remove the foil and roast for another 40-60 minutes (see Cook's Notes, below), or until the skin is crisp and golden, and the bird is cooked through to the bone. Baste the bird with a little melted butter now and then, and watch the breast portion like a hawk, because it will brown  quickly. If the skin over the breasts looks as if it's darkening too quickly, tightly cover it with a triple layer of tin foil.

In the meantime, make a quick stock. Brown the turkey neck, the backbone, the pope's nose and the sliced onion in the olive oil or butter for a five minutes, or until golden. Add the celery, carrots, parsley stalks and  water and bring to the boil. Turn down the heat and simmer very gently for an hour. Strain into a clean jug, cover and set aside.

Remove the turkey from the oven, lift it from the pan using two spatulas, place it on a platter and allow it to rest, lightly covered with foil, for up to 25 minutes while you make the gravy and get a any vegetable accompaniments ready.

Put the roasting pan - don't remove the onions or herbs -  over a medium heat and, when the fat begins to sizzle, stir in the flour. Cook, stirring constantly, for a minute or two, then whisk in the white wine and two cups of turkey stock, scraping to dislodge any sediment on the bottom of the pan. Turn down the heat and let the gravy bubble very gently for 8 minutes. If it seems too thick, add more stock or water. If you'd like a thicker, gloopier gravy, thicken it with a little slaked cornflour.

Serve the turkey with gravy, peas, roast potatoes and (essential, in my opinion) bacon-wrapped pork cocktail sausages.

Serves 8, depending on the size of your turkey

Cook's Notes

I can't give you an exact time for cooking a butterflied turkey because this will depend on the size of the turkey and on your oven. It will certainly take a shorter time to cook than the time specified on its plastic wrapping. As a general rule of thumb, a spatchcocked turkey will cook through in well under two-thirds of the cooking time recommended on the packet. I suggest that you roast the a medium turkey for 90 minutes (see recipe, above) and then test it for 'done-ness'.  Use a sharp knife to make a deep cut, right to the bone, in the thickest part of the thigh.  If there is any trace of pinkness, or if the flesh and bone are lukewarm to the touch, roast the turkey for a little longer. The turkey is done when the biggest, deepest thigh bone is very hot to the touch and the juices run quite clear.

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Double-Craggy Garlic Bread with Herbs, Lemon and Peppered Cream Cheese

Garlic bread was one of the first eating sensations of my childhood, and I hold it personally responsible for my life-long addiction to both garlic and melted butter. It's not something I make often (I make weak stabs at keeping my family's diet wholesome), but I do think this great classic of the Sixties and Seventies needs to be given the respect it richly deserves. I've called my new version 'double-craggy' because the bread is sliced in a grid formation, and I've done this - licking my lips as I slice this way and that - in order to maximise the surface area to be basted with garlicky, herby butter.
 

Double-Craggy Garlic Bread with Herbs, Lemon and Peppered Cream Cheese

The first time I tasted garlic bread was when I was six or seven, at a birthday party, and I have never forgotten that first heavenly bite. Our friends, the Spences, lived not far from our house, near Swartkop in Muldersdrift, some 30 km north of Johannesburg. Situated close to the famous Sterkfontein Caves and the Cradle of Humankind, Swartkop is a twin-peaked hill that was a distinctive feature in a landscape of rolling golden grassland, or veld. It probably has townhouse developments gnawing at its lower slopes nowadays - I haven't been there for years - but when I was a child, it was the closest thing to a mountain I'd ever seen. In our family, it was always called 'Bosom Mountain'.

Anyway, the Spences lived just under Bosom Mountain, in a big house thatched with shiny grass the colour of a lion's pelt. Malcolm Spence (who died this year, at 73) was an interesting and clever man who - according to his obituary - had the distinction of winning the 400m bronze medal at the 1960 Rome Olympics,  in what has been billed as 'one of the greatest sprint races of all time'. Malcolm apparently didn't like to talk about his triumph, but on this occasion I remember him showing all the kids a jumpy black-and-white movie of his famous sprint (projected onto a white bedsheet nailed to the wall, which was how we watched movies in those days). After that, we watched an old and terrifying film about a sabre-toothed tiger that lived in a cave. Petrified, I crawled under a blanket and stuck my thumb in my mouth, vowing never to go to a birthday party at the Spences again.

But all was made right when Naomi Spence called us to the table. She'd made three or four loaves of garlic bread, tightly wrapped in foil and packed with garlic, chopped fresh curly parsley and lashings of farm butter. There was a cake too, strewn with little silver balls, and iced Marie biscuits with hundreds-and-thousands, and orange-skin wedges filled with red jelly, but all these delights paled when I tasted the garlic bread. I ate a lot of it, and threw up on the back seat of the car on the way home. This may have been the bumpy farm road, but it was probably the butter.

I can't eat garlic bread without remembering that party, and here's my attempt to recreate a special food memory. I've used a flat-topped, poppyseeded potbrood here, but any big loaf of good, fine-textured white bread will do. Don't worry if stalagmites of bread fall off when you've cut it in a grid pattern: tie everything loosely together with a piece of string or raffia, and remove the string just before you serve the bread.

A fabulous crowd-pleaser for a braai.

Double-Craggy Garlic Bread with Herbs, Lemon and Peppered Cream Cheese

a large, circular loaf of bread, a day or two old
1 cup (250 ml/250 g) salted butter
8 large cloves garlic, peeled and finely grated
the finely grated zest of a lemon
1 cup (250 ml) chopped fresh herbs (parsley, rosemary, oregano, rosemary, thyme, or whatever you have to hand)
freshly milled black pepper
125 g pepper-crusted cream cheese or goat's milk cheese

Heat the oven to 190 ºC. Place the loaf of bread on a board. Using a very sharp serrated knife, cut the bread, to within a centimetre of its base, into thick (2 cm) slices. Now turn the loaf the other way, and cut across the slices to form a grid. Take your time about this, and use quick, light, sawing motions, pressing the slices you've just cut firmly together.

Melt the butter in a pan set over a medium heat (or in your microwave oven) and stir in the garlic, lemon zest, fresh herbs and pepper.

Squeeze the base of the loaf gently to splay out the 'fingers' of bread and, using a pastry brush or a turkey baster, liberally coat each finger of bread with the flavoured butter.

Brush the top and sides of the bread with more melted butter. Tie a piece of string or a strand of raffia firmly around the loaf. Put the bread on a baking sheet and place in the oven. Cover lightly with a sheet of tin foil and bake for 10 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for a further 10 minutes, or until it's beginning to crisp and turn golden. Take the loaf out of the oven, and crumble the peppered cream cheese over and around the 'fingers' of bread. Bake for a further five  minutes, or until the cheese is hot and just beginning to bubble.

Serve immediately.

Serves 6-8 as a side dish.

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Festive Turkey Stuffing with Green Peppercorns, Pork Sausage, Apple and Thyme

I've used squashed green peppercorns as an ingredient for my turkey stuffing this Christmas not only because I want a change from the usual apricot-bacon-nut theme, but also because 2010 has been my personal Year of Pepper. I've always been partial to this splendid, much-adored spice - the king of spices, don't you agree? - but in recent months my love of pepper has developed into something of a craving.

Image from Wikipedia Creative Commons

I just can't get enough of the dark, warm, aromatic, citrussy scent and taste of peppercorns. White pepper, in particular, has featured in several of my recipes this year - it's my personal blogging mission to revive this rather neglected and unfashionable ingredient - and I am also very fond of green peppercorns in brine.

In this recipe, I've combined crushed green peppercorns with grated fresh apple, pork-sausage meat, breadcrumbs, thyme, lemon zest, onions, garlic and nuts to create a light, flavoursome stuffing that I think will be a good accompaniment to my run-of-the-mill supermarket turkey. I can't offer you a photograph, because I haven't stuffed the turkey yet, but I have fried up a few small patties of the stuffing to check the balance of flavours and the seasoning, and I'm very happy with the result.

I've used chopped, lightly toasted Brazil nuts in this stuffing because I love their slightly bitter, woodlandy taste - a bit like chewing on a branch, I always think - but you could quite easily use any similar crunchy nuts, such as macadamias or cashews. If you're making the stuffing in advance, as I've done, add the toasted nuts just before you stuff the turkey.

I found that this stuffing held together so well that I didn't need to add any egg. But if your stuffing mixture doesn't come together smartly when you squeeze a ball of it in your fist, add a beaten egg.

For the breadcrumbs, use slices of white or brown bread (or rolls) that are at least three days old. If your breadcrumbs are too soft and fluffy, the stuffing will be stodgy and pasty. Tear the bread slices into tatters and whizz them up, in batches, in a food processor or liquidizer.

Festive Turkey Stuffing with Green Peppercorns, Pork Sausage, Apple and Thyme

4 tsp (20 ml) olive oil
1½ cups very finely chopped onion (a very large onion, or two average-sized ones)
2 cloves fresh garlic, very finely chopped
the finely grated zest and juice of a lemon
2 red apples, cored
6 pork sausages (Eskort or Woolworths)
4 large sprigs of fresh thyme, leaves stripped (about 2 tablespoons of leaves)
4 tsp (20 ml) Madagascar green peppercorns
1 tsp (5 ml) flaky sea salt
5 cups (very loosely packed) fresh breadcrumbs
100 g chopped Brazil nuts (or similar; see my notes above)

Heat the olive oil in a frying pan over a medium flame. Add the finely chopped onions and the garlic, turn down the heat and cook very gently for 7-10 minutes, tossing now and again, until the onion is soft and transluscent. Don't allow the onion or garlic to brown.

Place the lemon zest and juice in a large mixing bowl. Grate the apple, skin and all, on the coarse side of a cheese grater, and tip the gratings directly into the bowl containing the lemon juice. Toss well so that the apple is coated with lemon juice. Squeeze the filling out of the pork sausages (discard the sausage skin) and add it to the mixing bowl, along with the thyme leaves and the cooked onion and garlic.

Put the green peppercorns in a mortar with the salt and pound them to a rough paste. (Or, if you don't have a mortar, squash them on a chopping board using a rolling pin or a heavy-based pot.) Add the pepper paste to the mixing bowl. Using your hands, squeeze and squish the contents of the mixing bowl together. Now tip all the fresh breadcrumbs into the bowl and, using a fork or your fingertips, lightly mix until combined. Don't overwork the mixture, or it will turn into wallpaper paste.

Toss the Brazil nuts in a hot, dry frying pan, over a medium flame, until lightly toasted. Lightly mix the nuts into the stuffing mixture.

At this point, it's a good idea to test the stuffing for flavour and seasoning. Take a small ball of the stuffing, press it into a little patty and fry it in hot oil until lightly browned. Taste the patty, add more salt if necessary, and then cover and place in the fridge until you're ready to stuff your turkey.

Makes enough stuffing for a large turkey. Print Friendly