Vanilla Panna Cotta with a Verjuice-Gooseberry Compote

A delicate, barely set vanilla cream topped with a glorious sunset-orange compote of Verjuice and Cape gooseberries. Verjuice enhances the tartness of gooseberries, and the contrast of cool and creamy with sharp and sweet is sublime. You can prepare this dessert well in advance and merrily assemble it at the last minute.

Vanilla Panna Cotta with a Verjuice-Gooseberry Compote

This is another in a series of new recipes I've developed using Verjuice (available at Woolies). If you don't have Verjuice, poach your gooseberries in a light sugar syrup (see Cook's Notes at the end of this page).

Like this recipe? Try my Fresh Plum Jelly with a Lemon Panna Cotta Topping.

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Wine recommendation by Michael Olivier. He says: "Asara Vine Dried Sauvignon Blanc 2014 - a stunner of a natural sweet wine."

It looks like: Packed in a 375 ml Alsatian Flute.  In the glass a golden straw - and please serve it in a decent sized glass..

It smells like: Soft dried apricots and sliced lime poached in fynbos honey. 

It tastes like: Rich and unctuous: desiccated pineapple rehydrated in fynbos honey. Guava, yellow Canary melon.

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Vanilla Panna Cotta with a Verjuice-Gooseberry Compote

For the panna cotta:

300 ml cream
300 ml full-cream milk
5 Tbsp (75 ml) caster sugar
1 vanilla pod, or a few drops of good vanilla extract
4 tsp (20 ml) tepid water
2 tsp (10 ml) gelatine powder

For the compote:

200 g Cape gooseberries
½ cup (125 ml) Verjuice
2 Tbsp (30 ml) caster sugar (or more, to taste: see recipe)

Put the cream, milk and caster sugar into a saucepan.  Split the vanilla pod lengthways, scrape out the seeds and add them to the pan (or add the vanilla extract, if you’re using that).  Bring gradually to just below the boil, over a low heat, stirring now and then.

When the sugar has dissolved, take the pan off the heat and gently press a sheet of clingfilm directly onto the surface of the mixture (this will prevent a ‘skin’ forming).  Set the cream aside to infuse for 45 minutes, or until it has cooled to blood temperature.

Put the water into a small teacup or ramekin, sprinkle over the gelatine and set aside to ‘sponge’ for 3 minutes.  Now place the cup in a pan of simmering water (the water should come halfway up its sides) and leave it there for a 3 minutes, or until the gelatine has melted and the liquid is clear.  Whisk this into the cream mixture, then strain the cream through a fine sieve into four wine glasses.  Chill for at least 5 hours, or until the panna cotta has set, but is still very wobbly.

To make the compote, put the gooseberries, Verjuice and caster sugar into a saucepan and bring to a gentle simmer, skimming off any white foam as it rises.  If the gooseberries are very tart, you may need to add a little more sugar.   Simmer for about 7 minutes, or until the fruit is just beginning to collapse.  Remove from the heat, tip into a bowl, cover, and refrigerate until very cold.

When you’re ready to serve, remove half the whole gooseberries from the bowl using a slotted spoon and set aside.  Use a potato masher or fork lightly to crush the remaining berries.  Spoon a layer of the crushed fruit over the top of the panna cottas, and top with the whole berries you put aside

Serves 4.

Cook's Notes: 

If you don't have Verjuice, poach your gooseberries in a light sugar syrup.  Here's how: put ½ cup (125 ml) water into a saucepan and add 4 Tbsp (60 ml) caster sugar - or more, to taste, depending on how sour the fruit is.  Bring gently to the boil, stirring occasionally. When the sugar has dissolved, add the gooseberries and continue with the recipe (paragraph 4, above).

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Christmas Gammon in a Wonderbag, with an Oros, Brandy & Ginger Glaze

One of the highlights of my year as a food writer is sharing a new Christmas gammon idea every November, because these recipes are always so warmly received. Much head-scratching went into this year's recipe, and I hope you'll like it. I've varnished this gammon with an Oros glaze because I wanted to use a South African ingredient I know will strike a chord with anyone who grew up drinking this iconic orange squash. (My recipe for Gammon Glazed with Brandy and Coke remains one of the most popular on this blog.)

Christmas Gammon Glazed with Oros, Ginger & Brandy, with my favourite
topping of fresh pomegranate seeds & pink peppercorns.  For a plainer
version studded with cloves, please scroll down the page. 

Oros has a distinctive sherberty taste and a lurid orange colour, which is part of its appeal. (It's free of tartrazine, if you're worried about that). My family were sceptical when I announced this as my choice of glaze. "Seriously, Mom? Oros?"  But the result was spectacular: citrussy and spicy, with glorious sunset colours.

Wine recommendation from Michael Olivier: He says: "Corder Cool Climate Elgin Syrah 2013. Matured in a combination of French and America oak barrels for 14 months.  Lots of fruit and spice which will meet the gammon perfectly."

It looks like:  Deep plum at the core, gem-bright purple garnet around the edges.

It smells like: Ripe bloodplums, pepper and oak spice.

It tastes like: Brambles and elderberries and spicy plums.  Soft and easy to drink with gentle ripe tannins which make it a excellent food wine.  Long and gently waning aftertaste.

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I have used my trusty Wonderbag to come up with a recipe for tender, succulent gammon. I've had many successes and failures cooking Christmas gammons, and after testing this recipe several times, I'll never cook a gammon another way. The meat is deliciously soft and juicy, because its flavours don't leach out into the boiling liquid.  If you don't have a Wonderbag (and I urge you to buy one) you can simmer your gammon in stock, in the usual way. You'll find full instructions at the end of the recipe.

I made two versions of this, with two slightly different glazes: one with white wine wine - which preserved the glorious orange Oros colour - and the next with brandy, which produced a richer burnish. The first I studded with cloves (my family detested these) and the second with my favourite choice of gammon topping: fresh pomegranate seeds and a scattering of crunchy pink peppercorns.

If you don't fancy my Oros glaze, you'll find links to my other gammon recipes at the end of this page.

For this gammon, I used white wine, plus a studding of cloves. My
family didn't like the cloves, but I think they are very Christmassy.
Plate by David Walters

>> To see my gammon glazes of Christmasses past, plus three other recipes using the leftovers of a gammon, please scroll to the very end of this page.

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Christmas Gammon in a Wonderbag, with an Oros, Brandy & Ginger Glaze

1 x boneless uncooked gammon, 1.8 kg to 2 kg, skin on
1 onion, peeled and thickly sliced
water, plus ginger ale or your favourite lager, to taste (see recipe)
2 bay leaves
1 star anise
half a stick cinnamon
1 grape-sized knob fresh ginger
1 small wedge of fresh lemon
4 whole cloves
5 allspice berries (optional)
1 tsp (5 ml) coarsely cracked black pepper

For the glaze:

1 cup (250 ml) Oros, or a similar sweet orange squash
½ cup (125 ml) white wine, or ¼ cup (60 ml) brandy
finely grated zest of a small lemon
4 tsp (20 ml) brown sugar
1½ tsp (7.5 ml) powdered ginger

To cook the gammon: place the sliced onion in the bottom of a pot big enough to fit the gammon, with some room around it. Put the gammon on top of the onions. Do not remove the netting around the meat.

(If you don't have a Wonderbag, please scroll down for my instructions about boiling a gammon.)

Fill the pot to a depth of 2 cm with water. Now add enough ginger ale or lager to bring the level of liquid up to 4 cm.

Add all the remaining spices and bring to the boil. Now turn the heat down to low, cover with a tight-fitting lid, and simmer for exactly 45 minutes.

Without opening the lid (which will cause the temperature in the pot to drop), place the pot in the Wonderbag, quickly cover with the cushion, and draw up the strings. The residual heat in the meat and pot will finish the cooking process. Set aside on the counter for at least six hours, or overnight, without opening the bag.

In the meantime, make the glaze. Put all the ingredients in a large saucepan, stir well and bring to the boil. Turn down the heat to medium and bubble briskly for about 15 minutes, or until the glaze has reduced by two thirds. You might find that the mixture seethes up in the pan: to prevent it from boiling over, stir it now and then, and place a spoon across the top of the pot.

Remove the gammon from the pot (reserve the gorgeous cooking liquid for soup, stock or gravy) and place it in a roasting dish. Use a pair of scissors to cut through and remove the netting. Now gently peel off the gammon's skin, making sure to leave a generous layer of fat behind. With a sharp knife, score the fat in a neat diamond pattern.  If you like, you can press a clove into the intersection of the diamonds.

At this point, you can put the gammon in the fridge for several hours - preferably overnight.  I recommend overnight, because it allows the meat to cool right down before it's glazed.  If you try glazing it while it is still hot, and not properly rested, the juices will leak from the meat and dilute the glaze.

Turn the grill to its hottest setting, and wait 15 minutes for it to heat to blazing.  Pour the glaze all over the gammon (don't worry if most of it runs off) and place the roasting dish about 20 cm below the grill. Watch it like a hawk, turning and tilting the pan often so the parts furthest from the heat brown evenly.  Use a big spoon to trickle the glaze over the gammon every few minutes.  It's really important to give the gammon your full attention while it's glazing - I put on a pair of oven gloves and perch myself on a chair in front of the oven.

When your gammon is sizzling and the fat layer a lovely rich golden colour all over, remove the tray from the oven, place it on the countertop, and tuck a folded-up cloth underneath one end to set it at a tilt. Continue for the next 10-15 minutes scooping and dribbling the run-off glaze gathering in the pan's corners over the gammon. As the glaze cools, it will cling to the fat.

Serve warm or cold, with pickles and potato salad, or as part of a Christmas feast.

Serves 6 as a main course with veggies and/or salad. 

To boil your gammon (This method comes from last year's gammon recipe):

1 x boneless uncooked gammon, 1.8 kg to 2 kg, skin on
1 can (340 ml) ginger ale
1 can (340 ml) lager of your choice
2 bay leaves, dried or fresh
3 cloves
10 peppercorns
½ tsp (2.5 ml) coriander seeds
1 star anise
1 grape-sized knob fresh ginger
1 small wedge of fresh lemon
1 onion, cut in half, skin on
1 large carrot, cut in thirds
a few stalks of parsley
water, to cover

Put the gammon into a big deep pot and add all the remaining stock ingredients. The liquid in the pot should be at a level of about 2 cm above the top of the gammon.

Bring the gammon to the boil, then turn down the heat and simmer at a very low burble, covered with a tilted lid, until it is cooked through. Please use your common sense here. I find that the cooking times given on the packaging for bone-out raw gammon (usually 55 minutes per kilogram) are excessive.

Every now and then top up the pot with more water, and skim off any mocha-coloured froth as it rises.

When the gammon is cooked, remove it from the pot, cover with clingfilm and let it sit for two hours on the countertop. Alternatively - and I recommend this method, as it allows the meat to cool and contract, without drying out - let your gammon cool overnight in its stock. (I always freeze the stock in small plastic boxes for use in future soups and stews.)

Now glaze as described above.

My other gammon glazes, plus five recipes using the leftovers of a gammon:

Christmas Gammon with a Beetroot & Wasabi Glaze

Christmas Gammon with a Pomegranate and Pink Peppercorn Glaze

Christmas Gammon with a Sticky Orange & Ginger Glaze

Christmas Gammon Glazed with Brandy & Coke

And here's what to do with left-over gammon:

• Easy-Peasy Pea & Gammon Soup
• Hearty Soup with Tomatoes, Lentils and Gammon (scroll to the end of the page for the recipe)
• Boiled Gammon with Root Vegetables and Parsley Béchamel Sauce (scroll to the end of the page for the recipe)
• Luxurious Broccoli & Cheese with Gammon and a Parmesan Crust
• Old-Fashoned Ham and Eggs Au Gratin

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New-Potato Salad with Avocado, Wasabi and Seared Tuna

Are you expecting a horde of hungry guests over the festive season?  Here's my light, bright twist on everyone’s favourite salad: tender baby potatoes combined with mayonnaise, creamy avocado and nose-zapping wasabi paste, then topped with a shower of snipped chives and strips of seared tuna.

New-Potato Salad with Avocado, Wasabi and Seared Tuna. Photograph by
  Michael Le Grange, courtesy of Random House Struik. 

This crowd-pleasing recipe, from my book Scrumptious, is  a great way of stretching just a little tuna between many mouths, and you can leave it out entirely if you’re not in the mood mood for seafood, or you’re serving vegetarians.

You can make the potato salad well in advance, but add the avocado cubes, and sear the tuna, just before you serve it.

New-Potato Salad with Avocado, Wasabi and Seared Tuna

1.5 kg new potatoes
1 Tbsp (15 ml) salt
4 ripe Hass or Fuerte avocados
3 Tbsp (45 ml) olive or sunflower oil
4 fresh tuna steaks, weighing about 500 g
1⁄3 cup (80 ml) finely snipped fresh chives

For the dressing:

½  onion, peeled and very finely chopped or grated
juice of 2 small lemons
1½  tsp (7.5 ml) white sugar
1 cup (250 ml) home-made mayonnaise or Hellman’s original
1 cup (250 ml) thick natural yoghurt
1 large clove garlic, peeled and crushed
3–4 tsp (15–20 ml) wasabi paste, or more, to taste
1 tsp (5 ml) Tabasco sauce
salt and freshly milled black pepper

Cook the potatoes in plenty of rapidly boiling salted water for 10–15 minutes, or
until quite tender when pierced with the tip of a sharp knife, but not splitting or
falling apart. Drain in a colander, then cut each potato in half (leave the smallest
ones whole).

To make the dressing, combine the grated onion, lemon juice and sugar in a large
mixing bowl and set aside for 5 minutes (the lemon juice will take the sting out
of the onions). Whisk in the mayonnaise, yoghurt, garlic, wasabi and Tabasco and
season to taste with salt and pepper.

Peel the avocados, cut them into large cubes and immediately add them to the
dressing. Tip in the warm cooked potatoes and toss very gently to combine.
Heat the oil in a large frying pan and, when it’s blazing hot but not smoking, fry
the tuna steaks, in batches, for 2–3 minutes on each side, or until nice and toasty
on the outside but still rosy pink inside. Season with salt, pepper and a spritz of
lemon juice.

Tip the potato salad into a large serving bowl and scatter over the chives. Slice
the tuna and arrange the slices around the edge of the salad. Serve at room
temperature.

Serves 8.

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Amasi Cheese Pops with Herbs and Spices

This recipe has been loafing in my drafts folder for weeks, waiting for me to find a chance to blog it, but I whipped it out yesterday after receiving a call from the producer of Jenny Crwys-Williams' show on Talk Radio 702.  Could I, the producer asked, suggest an iconic dish that might be adopted by South Africans in memory of Nelson Mandela?  And could I talk about this on the radio in 50 minutes' time?

Amasi Cheese Pops with Herbs and Spices. Plate by David Walters.

After yet another outburst of weeping (I'm still, like many South Africans, swollen-eyed about the passing of this extraordinary soul) I applied my mind, and this idea popped up.  As I sifted through the pictures I took a few weeks ago, it occurred to me that these little bites contain ingredients that could symbolise many aspects of the life and spirit of one of the greatest leaders of modern times.

To be honest, I felt a bit silly telling Jenny about my idea on air, not least because chattering about a snacky little recipe seemed irrelevant, even inappropriate, at such a sombre time. Then again, there are scenes of jubilation, dancing and singing all over the country as South Africans honour the life of their beloved leader, so why not celebrate his legacy with food?

And, besides, I felt most honoured to be asked to contribute.  I never met Nelson Mandela, but I feel  privileged to have stood as a young woman in front of Cape Town's City Hall on 10 February 1990 to hear his historic speech, delivered hours after his release from prison.

So, I mused, the amasi cheese in this recipe (made from drained, soured milk) represents Madiba's humble beginnings and his happy childhood in rural Qunu, where he became a herd boy at an early age, looking after his father's cattle.

The lemon represents his great zest for life, and the smoked paprika the dust of Africa, from which all humankind arose. The black pepper recalls his struggle on behalf of the black majority in South African, and his warmth and spicy sense of humour.

The chillies represent his verve and fiery revolutionary spirit, while the white pepper recalls the limestone dust from Madiba's years of back-breaking work in a quarry on Robben Island.

Sprinkle the spices on a piece of paper and roll
the balls around so they are lightly coated.

Parsley is is a symbol of renewal, rebirth and redemption (especially on the Jewish Passover Seder plate, where it is dipped in salt water, recalling the tears shed during Egyptian enslavement).  This, I thought, was a fitting nod to his close relationships with many Jewish activists of the apartheid era.  The aromatic cumin is a nod to his love of Indian food and his fellow Indian-South African activists.

And the cake glitter? Well, I had to scratch my head about that, but then it came to me: the playful spangles refer to his twinkling sense of humour, his profound love of children, and the global celebrities who attached themselves to him like homesick limpets.

One flavour missing here - oh, so missing - is sweetness, but you could make a dessert version of these pops by sweetening the cheese with honey, then dipping them in crushed pistachios or almonds.

Or perhaps fresh pomegranate seeds, which symbolise prosperity, abundance, fruitfulness and, in ancient Israel, the fertility of the promised land.

Amasi Cheese Pops with Herbs and Spice

For the pops:

• 250 g amasi cheese (click here for the recipe), or a good, dense cream cheese if you don't have access to amasi
• the finely grated zest of a small lemon
• salt and white pepper, to taste

For the coatings: 

• smoked paprika
• cake glitter
• finely chopped fresh parsley
• crushed pink peppercorns
• coarsely cracked black pepper
• finely chopped fresh red chillies
• cumin

Lightly knead the fresh cheese on a board together with the lemon zest, salt and white pepper. Go easy on the white pepper, as it has a powerful taste.

Cover your chopping board with a sheet of non-stick baking paper or clingfilm.

Pull the cheese into pieces and roll them between your palms to create neat balls.  Lightly roll each ball in the coatings for your choice, push a lolly stick or slim wooden ice-cream stick into each one, then refrigerate until firm.

Serve with a sweet chilli dipping sauce, or a fruity chutney, or pomegranate syrup.

Makes about 12 cheese pops. 



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Bacon-Wrapped Apricot & Macadamia Stuffing Balls for Roast Turkey

If you roll your eyes every year at the wodges of pallid, soggy stuffing that are scooped from the inside of  the Christmas turkey, here is a recipe I think you'll love.  Crunchy macadamia nuts, fresh herbs and little nuggets of apricot mebos are combined with bread crumbs, then rolled into balls, wrapped in bacon and roasted alongside the Christmas gobbler to make a stuffing everyone will want to eat.

Stuffing balls, rustling roast potatoes and a garnish of fresh thyme and
rosemary will transform a humdrum supermarket turkey into a feast.
This beautiful platter was made by my uncle David Walters.

I'm not a huge fan of turkey, but every year I dutifully stuff and roast a big bird for my extended family's Christmas Eve dinner, partly because it's become a minor tradition, pleasing the British-born members of our clan, but also because there's a lot that pleases me about carrying a big golden bird to the table, where it can roost proudly alongside rustling roast potatoes, jug of gravy and several trayfuls of sizzling bacon-wrapped chipolatas.

 There is something faintly ludicrous about roasting a turkey and all its lovely trimmings in the singing heat of a South African December night, but I don't care, because it's part of the madness I so love about the festive season.  The turkey is always eaten in a desultory sort of way, the bacon-wrapped porkies being the star of the show, and hardly anyone eats the stuffing.

I can understand this aversion. No matter how carefully you season and flavour a stuffing, it's essentially still a ball of bread bound with egg and steamed in the cavity of a pre-frozen turkey of dubious quality.  There are those who argue that cooking stuffing inside a bird helps to infuse it with a turkeyish flavour, but there's not much flavour in there to begin with.

Crisp golden roast potatoes that rustle when you shake them...

Why? Because we can't get luscious, plump, fresh free-range turkeys in South Africa, and because no amount of brining, basting, barding and larding will make the slightest difference to the flavour of a factory-reared bird.  Even more important: cramming flavoured bread crumbs into an inferior turkey will significantly slow down the cooking time, resulting in sawdusty breasts and bone-dry wings.  So, the solution, if you'd like a passable Christmas turkey: roast it fairly quickly without stuffing (but with plenty of fragrant aromatics such as lemon, garlic and herbs in the cavity) and serve it with these crunchy little balls of delight.

You can make this stuffing, and wrap it in bacon, the day before your feast, and then simply sling the balls into the oven towards the end of the turkey-cooking time.

Look out in the supermarket for unsugared mebos, which is made from dried, salted apricots.  It has a powerful tart-sweet flavour, so don't be tempted to use too much of it. If you're not in South Africa, use good dried apricots instead - see recipe below. If you'd like to try another sort of stuffing, you'll find links to three more of my festive recipes at the end of this blogpost.

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Bacon-Wrapped Apricot & Macadamia Stuffing Balls for Roast Turkey

2 Tbsp (30 ml) olive oil
1 large white onion, peeled and very finely chopped
3 cups (750 ml) fresh white bread crumbs
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely chopped unsugared apricot mebos (if you can’t find this, use 3 Tbsp finely chopped dried apricots)
2 small cloves garlic, peeled and finely grated
2 Tbsp (30 ml) Dijon mustard
4 Tbsp (60 ml) chopped fresh thyme leaves
2 Tbsp (30 ml) very finely chopped fresh sage leaves
the finely grated zest of a small lemon
100 g whole macadamia nuts, or a similar nut of your choice
1 extra-large free-range egg, lightly beaten
salt and milled black pepper
6 rashers of rindless streaky bacon
a few extra sprigs of thyme, for decorating
olive oil, for brushing

Heat the oil in a large pan and sauté the onion over a medium-low heat for 4-5 minutes, or until it is soft and just beginning to turn gold.  Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the bread crumbs, mebos, garlic, mustard, thyme, sage and lemon zest.

Now prepare the macadamia nuts. Put them in a food processor fitted with a metal blade and push the pulse button quickly a few times, just enough to process them to a mixture of coarse crumbs and some bigger chunks the size of frozen peas.  If you don’t have a food processor, chop two-thirds of the nuts very finely, and bash the remaining third into big bits using a rolling pin.

Stir the nuts into the stuffing mixture along with the beaten egg and mix thoroughly and gently until everything is just clinging together in a large, soft clump. Season to taste with salt and pepper. At this point, it’s a good idea to take a good pinch of stuffing, press it lightly into a miniature patty and fry it on both sides in a little hot oil until gold.  Taste the stuffing, and perk it up with more salt and pepper if you think it needs it.

Pinch off large pieces of stuffing – each about the size of an apricot - and gently roll them between your hands to form balls.Cut the bacon rashers lengthways into two long, narrow strips.  This is easiest to do using a very sharp pair of scissors. Wrap a length of bacon around the ‘waist’ of each stuffing ball, and press it down gently.

Bake the stuffing balls along with your roast potatoes and turkey at 180 ºC for about 35 minutes, or until the bacon has crisped and the stuffing is golden and crunchy on top. Watch them closely, as they burn fast.

Makes 12 balls. Double this quantity if you are roasting a giant bird.


More stuffing recipes:

• Mango and Macadamia Turkey Stuffing with Sage and Sausage Meat
• Festive Turkey Stuffing with Green Peppercorns, Pork Sausage, Apple and Thyme
• Ricotta, Nut and Apricot Stuffing

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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

Tower of Christmas Ice Cream with Berries and Meringues

Tower of Christmas Ice Cream with Berries and Meringues

I think a Christmas dessert should draw gasps of delight and excitement when it arrives at the table, because that's what feasts are all about, aren't they? My attempt to make a splendid tower of ice cream certainly drew some gasps when my family saw me making it, although whether these were of delight I can't say. Bafflement, more like. "Are you sure that's not going to topple over?" my daughter asked.  Well, I wasn't  sure, but it turned out all right in the end.

Okay, the tower had a rakish tilt to it, but once I'd festooned it with meringues and poured summer berries all over it, it looked pretty spectacular (although it was another matter fitting it back into the freezer, and I think I'll draw a veil over that episode).

I used three plastic flower pots of diminishing size to mould the ice cream, first plugging the holes with a blob of Prestik and lining the bottom of each pot with with a circle of baking paper.

The tower used exactly five litres of just-softened  vanilla ice cream (proper dairy ice cream, that is) and each layer contained a different filling.

To the base layer, I added a jar of fruit mincemeat, chopped hazelnuts, chocolate chips and crumbled Amaretti biscuits.

 A dessert of dizzying height

The second layer contained coffee, whiskey and more chopped up chocolate, and the third layer was plain ice cream (a special concession to picky eaters).

You can add anything you fancy to the ice cream - have a look at my Layered Christmas Ice Cream Cake with White Chocolate and Berries for more ideas.

When the layers were frozen, I pulled out the blobs of Prestik to release the vacuum and then wrapped heated cloths around each pot to loosen the ice cream.

Once the layers were stacked, the tower went back into the freezer for half an hour to firm up (oh, okay, I had to take out two of the drawers to fit it in) and then I poured the berries all over it.

You can make the individual layers a few days ahead of Christmas, but cover each one tightly with clingfilm so that the ice cream doesn't pick up an unpleasant whiff of freezer.

The quickest way to heat a cloth is to wet it and put it in the microwave for 30 seconds. You'll need to reheat the cloth a few times for each mould.

More of my Christmas recipes (find all of them on my festive Pinterest board) 

Boozy, Fruity Trifle Cake for Christmas

Layered Christmas Ice Cream Cake with White Chocolate and Berries

Christmas Gammon Glazed with Brandy and Coke

Butterflied Turkey with a Ricotta, Nut and Apricot Stuffing

Mango and Macadamia Turkey Stuffing with Sage and Sausage Meat

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

Festive Phyllo Crackers with a Spicy Plum and Almond Filling

Roasted Pressed Beetroot with Sour Cream, for a Christmas buffet

Christmassy Plum and Tamarind Sauce
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Onion Tart Cook-Off: I take on two talented South African food bloggers

I've never cooked in front of an audience in my life, let alone given a demo of any sort.

Actually, that's not quite true, because sometimes a small crowd gathers in the kitchen an hour or two after the sun goes down. A crowd of seven, usually, comprising my husband, our three children, our cat Alice, and the two queens of our household, the bassets Velvet and Akamaru.

The latter few in this list are the most attentive. The basset hounds watch my every move while their tongues and ears fall floppily to the floor. Alice flicks her tail and glares at me with her moon-size topaz eyes.  Others (the humans) stand around the kitchen counter rudely drumming their fingers.

So this isn't exactly what I'd call an appreciative audience.

My fortunes are about to change, though, because I've been invited to compete in a real cook-off, in front of a proper audience. The challenge is to make and bake an onion tart - using my choice of secret ingredient - for Paarl's Ommiberg Festival on 12 March 2011; the cook-off will take place at Rhebokskloof Estate.

I'll be pitted against two clever Cape Town food bloggers I've recently met: Matt Allison of I'm No Jamie Oliver, and Linda Harding of The Squashed Tomato.

I'm nervous, to be honest. Both Matt and Linda are somewhat younger than I am (which counts in my favour, I reckon, when one takes into account actual hours spent sweating at the kitchen coal face) but they are also smart, talented and rather scarily motivated (which definitely counts against me, a middle-aged couch-loller of note).

But, then again, I'm glad that these new friends will be my companions on the day.

I don't know Linda well -  I met her for the first time only a fortnight ago, at the South African Food and Wine Bloggers' Indaba - but I'm a big fan of her blog and her beautiful food and photographs, and she's earned many brownie points in my Little Secret Brownie-Point Book by regularly posting encouraging comments on my blog. (See how easy it is to make me happy?).  She's a livewire, Linda is, and  I'm looking forward to getting to know her better.

And as for Matt? We struck up a cyber-friendship last year, after he emailed me about his blog. (Or I emailed him about mine: I can't remember.) After a few months of the usual Twitter and Facebook banter, we met, and now I'm lucky to count him as a friend.

Matt Allison is one of those slappable people who can do everything well. He's a qualified sound engineer, a gardener, a cook, an environmental activist, a designer, a stay-at-home dad and - as I recently discovered, when he performed a few dizzyingly beautiful songs at the Food Bloggers' Indaba - an award-winning musician, singer and songwriter.

So this is what I'm up against. Wish me luck, will you?

I'll be cooking the best onion quiche in my repertoire, and I hope you'll follow the festivities on Twitter on Saturday 12 March 2011 (look for @ommiberg, and the hashtag #mytart).

Here are more details about the event, and about how you can win some nice prizes, and possibly a place as a 'wild card' entry in the cook-off, by nominating a winning secret ingredient.

Press release from Ommiberg: 

A fluent food blogger can use more than onions to make an opponent cry. Armed with secret plans and taunting tweets, four food bloggers are pre-heating the oven for the Ommiberg Onion Tart Cook-off, set to take place at Rhebokskloof, 2pm, as part of the Ommiberg ‘Round the Rock’ Festival, March 12th, 2011.

Three well-known and vibrant food bloggers and a wild-card entry will compete to make the best Zweibelküchen (onion tart) using only a provided list of ingredients, a recipe – which they may choose not to use – and a secret ingredient of their own. It’s votes that count at the end of the bake, from a panel of judges including the chef and the team at Rhebokskloof, the Ommiberg CEO, two members of the public, and as many of the tweeters and Facebook users as the participants can persuade.

The three food bloggers are:

	Matt Alison of I’m no Jamie Oliver - “@Jane_Anne62 @squashed_tom all I’m saying is less time on Twitter, more time in the kitchen. @OmmiBerg #mytart”
	Jane-Anne Hobbs of Scrumptious South Africa - “They have no idea who they are dealing with. *evil snicker* @squashed_tom @imnojamieoliver @ommiberg #mytart”
	Linda Harding of The Squashed Tomato - “@imnojamieoliver Practising is for amateurs. Prepare for certain annihilation! Hahahahaha (evil laugh again) #mytart @OmmiBerg”

Who will the wild card be?

The public is invited to suggest their ‘secret’ ingredient on Twitter or Facebook. The most creative and delectable sounding suggestion will win the originator the (perhaps daunting) prize of competing against the three foodies listed above.

If you’re up for it, tweet your suggestion, including the term @OmmiBerg #mytart; or post your idea on the Ommiberg Facebook page.

Honour, glory, and the chance to gloat could be yours! And of course the prize – a voucher to use with Yuppiechef, wine tasting with the Windmeul winemaker and tickets to the Nia Nel concert.

For more information, contact Ilanda@melespr.co.za.

Text and images supplied by Ilanda of Meles PR.

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Roasted Pressed Beetroot with Sour Cream, for a Christmas buffet

The simplest recipe you can imagine, using only a few humble ingredients. Beetroot is slow-roasted overnight with some woody herbs, olive oil, salt and pepper, pressed for a several hours in a mould, then tipped out and served, oxblood-red and darkly delicious, with a cool topping of sour cream and snipped fresh chives.

What I wanted from this vegetable dish was that it should look as evocatively festive as a dark, fruity Christmas pudding, but at the same time have a pure earthy taste, with not a hint of the aggressive vinegar that so often accompanies beetroot dishes.

This slow-roasting method draws the moisture out of the beetroot and concentrates its flavours beautifully, while a simple accompaniment of sour cream, natural yoghurt or crème fraîche adds a hint of acidity.

If you like your beetroot with real zip, by all means add lemon juice, lemon zest, horseradish, a little garlic, or whatever takes your fancy, to either the beetroot or the topping. But please, not Balsamic vinegar. It's far too strong a flavour for what is quite a subtle dish.

This looks festive if made in round pudding bowl, but you could use a non-stick loaf tin. If you're not confident about the beetroot coming out in one piece, line the bowl or tin with clingfilm.

Keep the dish at room temperature, if you can, and add the sour cream at the last minute. The first time I made this, I used yoghurt and put the leftovers in the fridge overnight. The next morning, the yoghurt topping had turned a fetching Barbie-pink colour.

The fresh little beetroot leaves in the picture are from a mini-crop I've been picking from for weeks now, and they come from a single, elderly beetroot that I planted after I found it sprouting in the vegetable bin. I don't know why it hasn't occurred to me to do this before: if I'd planted six old beets, I'd have overflowing salad bowls by now. (I did stand the bulb with its roots in water for a week before I planted it; see picture above.)

Oven-Roasted Pressed Beetroot with Sour Cream
6 large beetroot
extra-virgin olive oil for sprinkling
a sprig each of fresh thyme and rosemary
two bay leaves
sea salt and milled black pepper

To top:
sour cream, or yoghurt, or crème fraîche
snipped fresh chives

Preheat the oven to 160°C. Trim the leafy tops off the beetroot, leaving 2 cm of stalk intact. Wipe the beetroot with a cloth, but don't wash them. Cut the beetroot in half. Put them on a double layer of foil, sprinkle with some olive oil and dust with salt and pepper. Place the bay leaves and the sprigs of rosemary and thyme on top. Close the parcel with a double pleat, place on a baking sheet and bake for two hours at 160°C. Now open the parcel by peeling back the foil. Turn the oven to its lowest setting - 50°C is ideal - and leave overnight, or until the beetroot are very tender and slightly shrunken (see picture below).

Remove the packet from the oven, discard the herbs and allow to cool.

Trim the beetroot of stalks and roots, slip off their skins, and cut into large cubes. Add more salt, if necessary, and pile the cubes into an oiled bowl just big enough to hold them all. Cover the surface with foil or clingfilm, and then with a saucer or lid that fits neatly into the bowl. (If you're using a loaf tin, cut out a piece of heavy cardboard of the right size and cover it with tin foil). Weigh down with something rather heavy - few stacked tins, or large stone or brick - and allow to stand at room temperature for at least eight hours, or overnight.

Peel off the foil, and, using a sharp knife, gently loosen the edges of the pressed beetroot. Place a large platter on top of the bowl and invert. Tap or shake the bowl to release.  Top with a flurry of sour cream and snipped fresh chives.

Serves 4-6 as a side dish

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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

Layered Christmas Ice-Cream Cake with White Chocolate and Berries

Here's an extravagant, multi-layered ice-cream cake that looks festive, tastes dreamy and packs - at least in one of its layers - a happy Christmassy punch. It's easy to make, and I guarantee it will wow a crowd, from oldies who love traditional fruity, boozy flavours to kids who crave chocolates and sweeties. In short, I've designed this cake to please everyone.

Layered Christmas Ice-Cream Cake with White Chocolate and Berries

A few years back, someone came up with the idea of crumbling a Christmas pudding and mixing it with vanilla icecream: a good idea, all right (no one who lives in a hot climate wants to eat hot Christmas pud) but the recipe had an inherent flaw - kids didn't like it. This ice cream lets you slice off the bits you know the kids will devour, and keep the fruity, brandied layer all to yourself.

Instead of Christmas pud, I've used squashed-up mince pies.  Please trust me on this - it works - but do buy mince pies with a nice, crumbly, shortbready pastry.

The layers have something for everyone.

The casing, which consists of chocolate modelling paste,  is a bit fiddly to make, sets rock-hard in the freezer and is a tough nut to crack (and eat). It's there to look lovely, and to contain the berries, but if you don't feel up to making it, leave it out. Instead, pile whipped cream (look, it is Christmas) all over the top of the cake and stack the berries high. Liquid glucose is available from specialty baking shops.

I wanted to include popping candy in this cake (à la Heston Blumenthal) but I found that the minute the icecream softened slightly, the little granules started to explode. You could, however, mix them into the modelling paste, where they will remain stable until stuck into a small, hungry mouth. (And yes, I tested this.)

Use a very large, deep, non-stick round baking tin for this cake. If you don't have one large enough, use a cake tin (the sort you store cakes in) that you have lined with  several sheets of clingfilm.  Start the cake up to a week in advance of your feast, but keep it covered in the freezer to prevent it from absorbing freezer whiffs.

You need a very large flat platter for this cake. If you don't have one, use your glass microwave turntable, as I did (but I take no responsibility if it gets broken during the festivities!).

You can use any combination of nuts, fruits, sweeties and liqueurs for this cake. Rum-soaked raisins would be nice, as would cherries in brandy. Don't add too much alcohol to the mix, though, as it can inhibit the freezing of ice cream.

The white-chocolate collar is entirely optional.

Layered Christmas Ice Cream Cake with White Chocolate and Berries

2 x two-litre tubs of  real (dairy) vanilla ice cream

For the first layer:
4 mince pies
3 Tbsp (45 ml) brandy
100g chopped pecan nuts, or mixed nuts of your choice
½ cup (125 ml) cream, whipped until firm

For the second layer:
120 g chocolate chips, or a chopped-up bar of your favourite chocolate
2 Tbsp (30 ml) good-quality instant coffee
3 Tbsp (45 ml) cocoa powder
½ cup (125 ml) cream, whipped until firm

For the third layer:
4 Crunchies (chocolate-covered honeycomb bars)
6 ginger biscuits, crumbled
3 Tbsp honey, slightly warmed so that it's runny
½ cup (125 ml) cream, whipped until firm

For the white chocolate:
250 g white chocolate
150 g liquid glucose

For the topping:
Assorted berries, fresh or frozen, or a mixture of both

Make the first layer. Take two-thirds (about 1.3 litres) of the first tub of icecream, place in a large mixing bowl and allow to soften slightly. Crumble the mince pies and add to the ice cream along with the brandy and nuts. Mix quickly and thoroughly.  Fold in the whipped cream. Tip the mixture into the prepared tin (see above) and smooth the top with a spatula. Allow to freeze until firm.

Repeat the same process with the next two layers, using 1.3 l of ice cream at a time, and allowing each one to freeze until firm.

To remove the cake from its tin, briefly warm the sides (click here to find out how to do this easily) and invert onto a large platter. If the surface of the cake looks crinkled as a result of lining the tin with clingfilm (and if you're not making the chocolate case), smooth with a heated spatula.  Put the cake back in the freezer.

Now make the casing. Melt the white chocolate in a metal or glass bowl set over a pot of simmering water. Don't allow it to overheat, as white chocolate is tricky and tends to 'seize'. Gently heat the glucose in another pot (or in the microwave) until it is slightly runny. Remove the chocolate from the heat, tip in the glucose and beat hard, until the mixture forms a ball and comes away from the sides of the pan. Wrap in clingfilm and place in the fridge for 20-30 minutes, or until it's cool enough to handle, but still pliable. Roll the modelling paste into a long sausage and place it between two sheets of baking paper. Roll out into a long strip that is a little taller than your cake, and long enough to wrap all the way round it.

You need to work quickly here, and to apply very firm pressure. If the paste becomes too stiff, fold it, still in the baking paper, in half, and place it in the microwave for a few seconds at a time to warm up.

When the strip is long enough, trim one edge with a sharp knife to make a straight line. Leave the other edge wavy.  Remove the cake from the freezer and wrap the chocolate paste around it, wavy side up. Seal the join with light pressure.  Replace in the freezer.

Just before serving, pile the berries into the centre of the cake.  Use a very hot knife (dip it in boiling water, or heat over a flame) to slice the cake.

Serves 12

Note: The idea for this chocolate casing comes from the June 2008 issue of BBC Good Food magazine. Print Friendly

Christmas Gammon Glazed with Brandy and Coke

I've recently updated, retested and rephotographed this recipe - one of the most popular on my blog  - for the fourth issue of Crush Online!, and here it is again in all its gammony glory.

Christmas Gammon Glazed with Brandy and Coke.

It seems to me that there is a glut of pork in South Africa right now, as the hams and gammons I've seen in the shops are astonishingly inexpensive. I bought a 2.6kg gammon last week for just over a hundred rands, and very good it was too. Scroll to the end of this post, and I'll give you some great tips for stretching a gammon like this over two - or even three - meals.

Brandy and Coke is one of South Africa’s favourite tipples, particularly during the festive season, so what a lekker combination, I thought, with which to glaze a Christmas gammon. Coca-Cola makes an excellent glazing liquid because it cooks to a delicious dark stickiness, being so sweet and spicy (do you know that the top-secret formula is believed to contain vanilla, cinnamon, coriander and citrus fruit?).

In this recipe, a whole gammon is simmered in a beery liquid containing all the usual Christmassy spices, plus some whole star anise, which gives the meat a delicate aniseed flavour. If you don’t like aniseed, leave the star anise out. This is excellent served warm with boiled new potatoes and a green salad, or cold with mustard, pickles, home-made mayonnaise and hunks of crusty bread.

Whether you use a gammon with a bone in or one without is your choice, but please note that the cooking times differ (see recipe). Don’t throw the cooking liquid out: it's wonderfully flavoursome and aromatic, and makes an excellent stock for  soups and stews (see my notes at the bottom of this page).

 Sticky, sweet and so easy to make.

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Christmas Gammon Glazed with Brandy and Coke

For the gammon:
a large gammon, weighing 2.5 to 3 kg, bone in or out
one can (330 ml) ginger ale
one bottle (330 ml) of your favourite beer
2 whole star anise
3 bay leaves
3 whole cloves
1 large onion, peeled and quartered
1 thumb-length quill of cinnamon
a large blade of mace (or a quarter of a nutmeg, grated)
1 tsp (5 ml) whole black peppercorns
water, to cover
whole cloves, to stud

For the glaze:
one can (330 ml) Coca-Cola
4 tsp (20 ml) Dijon mustard
1 tsp (5 ml) hot English mustard powder
100 ml brown sugar
1 tsp (5 ml) good instant coffee
1 Tbsp (15 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
3 Tbsp (45 ml) brandy (Klipdrift, if you want to be authentic)

Weigh your piece of gammon, or make a note of the weight printed on the label. Put the gammon, ginger ale, beer, star anise, bay leaves, cloves, onion, cinnamon, mace and peppercorns into a large, deep pot. Add enough water just to cover the gammon. Bring to the boil, then turn down the heat so that the gammon cooks at a slow simmer. Partially cover the pot with a tilted lid. If you’re using a boneless gammon, cook the meat for 30-40 minutes per kilogram. If you’re using a gammon with a large bone, cook it for 45-55 minutes per kilogram, or according to the instructions on the wrapping. Check the pot now and then, and top up with more water if necessary.

Poaching the gammon in a rich, aromatic stock.

Turn off the heat and leave the gammon in the liquid to cool completely. (It’s a good idea to boil the gammon the day before, and to leave it overnight to cool.)

Preheat the oven to its hottest setting (220-240 ºC.) Pour the Coca-Cola into a large, fairly shallow pan (a wok is ideal), turn on the heat and bubble briskly until the liquid has reduced by half. Whisk in the Dijon mustard, the mustard powder, the sugar and the coffee powder. Turn up the heat and boil fast, stirring often, for 5 to 7 minutes, or until the liquid has reduced and is slightly syrupy. At this stage, you should be left with about 200 ml of liquid. Remove from the heat and stir in the lemon juice and brandy.

Fish the gammon out of its cooking liquid, pat quite dry and place in a roasting pan. Carefully peel away the rind and discard. Using a sharp knife, score the top of the gammon in a diamond pattern. Stud the gammon with whole cloves.

Pour the glaze over the gammon and place the roasting pan in a blazing hot oven. Cook for 20-30 minutes (how long this takes will depend on the heat of your oven), basting the meat every four to five minutes by scooping the glaze off the bottom of the pan and trickling it all over the top and sides. The glaze will thicken and reduce as time goes by: watch it like a hawk, as it burns easily.

When the gammon has a mahogany-brown sticky crust, and there is just a little glaze left in the bottom of the pan, remove it from the oven. Using a pastry brush, paint any remaining glaze over the top and sides of the gammon. Set aside to rest for ten minutes, then serve hot with boiled new potatoes and a green salad. If you’re serving this cold, store it, uncovered, in the fridge, for up to four hours.

Serves 8-10 as part of a festive feast


A Gammony Meal on a Shoestring

As I mentioned above, gammons are very inexpensive at the moment, so here's a way of stretching a large gammon over two meals. This will serve six people for two meals, or more if you have an enormous gammon. And you might have some left over for sandwiches!

Boiled Gammon with Root Vegetables and Parsleyed Béchamel Sauce
Boil the gammon as described above, but omit the star anise and the ginger ale. Half an hour before the end of the cooking time, add a selection of vegetables to the pot: halved or quartered potatoes in their skins, thickly sliced carrots, parsnips and turnips, and some peeled, quartered onions.

In the meantime, make a parsley sauce (recipe below).  Remove the gammon from the pot, pull off the rind and discard. Scrape away most of the white fat with a knife. Slice some of the hot gammon and place it on a large, deep platter. Surround the gammon with the cooked vegetables, and ladle over a little hot stock. Serve immediately, and pass the parsley sauce around in a jug.

Hearty Soup with Tomatoes, Lentils and Gammon
Put the remains of the gammon in the fridge.  Strain the stock into a large bowl and refrigerate.

The next day, remove any fat that's congealed on top of the stock.  In a separate, large pot, fry chopped carrots, onions and celery in a little olive oil, until softened. Add the cold stock, two bay leaves, a large sprig of thyme, two cloves of crushed garlic, two tins of peeled, chopped tomatoes, and a large handful each of brown and split red lentils.  Simmer for an hour. At this point, you can whizz the soup a little with a stick blender, or you can leave it chunky. If the mixture seems very thick, thin it down with water

Now season the soup with herbs, spices and condiments of your choice: a little cumin and paprika, perhaps, some pungent dried oregano, chilli flakes, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco sauce, and so on.  Twenty minutes before you're going to serve it, dice the remaining gammon and add it to the pot. (Some quartered, boiled potatoes will stretch the meal even further.) Season generously with salt and pepper and serve hot, with a scattering of chopped fresh parsley, a dollop of cold natural yoghurt and some crusty bread.

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Parsleyed Béchamel Sauce
3 T (45 ml) butter
3 T (45 ml) flour
350 ml cold milk
350 ml hot ham stock
1 tsp (5 ml) Dijon mustard
juice of half a lemon
½ cup (125 ml) finely chopped fresh parsley
salt and white pepper

Put the flour and the butter in a saucepan over a medium heat. Using a whisk, stir briskly until the butter melts, and allow to cook for two minutes. Now tip in a cup or so of the cold milk, whisking well as you pour. When the mixture begins to thicken, add the remaining milk and the ham stock, turn up the heat to its fullest setting, and continue whisking until the sauce has thickened and come to the boil. Turn the heat down to its lowest setting and allow it to bubble gently for another two minutes. Remove the sauce from the heat and stir in the mustard, the lemon juce and parsley. Season with salt and pepper.

Makes 700 ml 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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