Curry in a Hurry: Spicy Prawns with Paprika and Coconut Milk

A perky sauce made with fresh spices and coconut milk can work wonders with prawns that have come straight from the freezer. It can also perform miracles with defrosted prawns that have been abandoned - by a gin-giddy cook - in their lemon-garlic marinade for a full 36 hours.

Plate by David Walters

I was intending to flash-fry these prawns as a late-night snack for guests at my husband's 50th birthday party last week, but lost all interest in the idea once the party was in full swing (and - okay - once I had a number of beetroot-and-gin shots under my belt).

It was hardly a great surprise that  no one felt like eating prawns the day after the party ('Don't point your fokken tentacles at me!' growled my husband when he found them in the fridge, quoting his favourite line from the movie District Nine). But I certainly was not going to throw away two boxes of plump Italian prawns -  which I'd bought on a special at Woolworths -  no matter how sulky they might have felt at being left to languish in the fridge. I'm not going to pretend that they had the bounce of fresh prawns harvested at dawn from limpid waters, but I was surprised to find that they were still sweet and succulent, and as springy between the teeth as any prawn that's done time in a deep-freeze

You could use prawn tails for this recipe, but your sauce won't have the rich flavour that comes from the juicy heads and other whiskery bits.

Note: my prawns were still okay to use after 36 hours because of the preserving qualities of the lemon juice and salt.  If you're defrosting prawns, I recommend you use them within 4 hours.

Curry in a Hurry: Spicy Prawns with Paprika and Coconut Milk

1.5 kg whole frozen prawns, defrosted for 1 hour

For the marinade:
3 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
juice of 2 lemons
2 T (30 ml) olive oil
1 tsp (5 ml) salt

For the sauce:
3 T (45 ml) olive oil
1 thumb-length cinnamon quill
2 tsp (10 ml) black mustard seeds
10 curry leaves
340 ml coconut milk
1 T (15 ml) freshly ground cumin
1½  tsp (7.5 ml) paprika [smoked paprika if you can find it]
1½  tsp (7.5 ml) red chilli powder or chilli flakes [to taste]
1 tsp (5 ml) turmeric
milled black pepper and salt
the juice of a lemon

To serve:
6 spring onions
a small bunch of fresh coriander
paprika

Devein the prawns and place them in a bowl.  Add the garlic, lemon juice, olive oil and salt and, using your hands, toss well so that every prawn is lightly coated. Cover and place in the fridge for an hour or two. Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan or a paella pan. Add the cinnamon quill, mustard seeds and curry leaves and fry, over a brisk heat, until the mustard seeds begin to pop and crackle.  Add the prawns and cook, tossing frequently, for a few minutes, or until the prawns have turned to a rich coral colour.  Turn down the heat and stir in the coconut milk, cumin, paprika, chilli powder and turmeric. Cook gently - a slow bubble is just right -  for 5 minutes.  In the meantime, finely slice the spring onions (all the white parts, and some of the green) and chop the coriander. Season the prawns with pepper and add a little more salt if necessary. Squeeze the lemon juice over the prawns and toss to coat.  Tip the prawns onto a heated platter and sprinkle with the spring onions and coriander, and a dusting of paprika.

Serves 4.

Print Friendly

Easter holiday recipes: lazy, lovely high days and braai days

I'm hopping from foot to foot in excitement, because I'm going to the beach, for a week, on Thursday. Not any old beach, but the warm, dozy stretch of sand and ocean that is a stone's throw, down a jungly path, from my family's beach cottage on the south end of the Kwa-Zulu Natal coast.

And not just any beach cottage, but the place where I've spent virtually every holiday for the last 46 years; I first went there when I was just six months old.

You'd think that, by now, I'd be feeling ho-hum at the idea of going back for yet another same-old week in the same-old spot, but I'm just fizzing with excitement at the thought of all the familiar, ancient family rituals that go with holiday at the beach: driving out of Johannesburg in the dark, kids dozing like puppies in the back seat. Unwrapping the padkos - always sandwiches, and little spicy meatballs - as the sun rises over fields of nodding pink-and-white cosmos.

Swooping down Van Reenen's Pass, with the Drakensberg a jaggy slash of indigo on the western horizon. Spotting the first waving banana tree, just outside of Durban, then rolling down the windows and inhaling the humid iodine tang of the Indian Ocean as we barrel southwards past fields of rippling sugar cane; and finally arriving at the cottage, waving and hooting, where aunts and cousins and nieces and nephews come boiling out of every door and window with big sweaty hugs and shouts.

Hauling the suitcases out of the boot, and dumping them on the beds in bedrooms that look and smell exactly the same as they did when I was five: plain as monks' cells, with their speckled mirrors, creaky little teak wardrobes, whitewashed walls and gulping geckos.

But there's more: the first icy bite of an industrial-strength gin-and-tonic, the first, cleansing dive into a fizzing ocean, the scent of smoke from a driftwood fire rising through the branches of the milkwood trees. And then, the evening spread out before me like a jewelled quilt: a long, lazy gathering on the beach as the sun sets behind us; tramping up to the cottage in the dark, through a singing glade; fresh fish sizzling over hot coals; happy conversation around a long candlelit table; children giddily swinging in the hammocks; and many bottles of wine. And then tumbling into beds made up with crisp white cotton sheets, under lazily turning fans - to fall into a coma that lasts for 12 hours.

Until I wake up, in a sunbeam, to the sound of vervet monkeys galumphing on the roof and Natal robins tweetling in the bush, and the smell of bacon drifting from the kitchen.

Can you blame me for being excited? Doesn't that sound like paradise to you?

I almost forgot, during this attack of nostalgia, to tell you about the wonderful holiday food. Most nights, we braai. (That is, have a barbeque.) We always assume that we're braaiing, unless the rain is pelting down, in which case we get a beach umbrella and a torch - and lots of wine to raise our spirits - and cook over damply steaming coals, as the rain water dribbles from the milkwood tree down our necks. I use the term 'we' loosely: actually, to be honest, we girls sit gossiping on the warm comfortable veranda with big glasses of wine while we watch the designated Braai Meisters (husbands and/or brothers-in-law) squat miserably in the dark, turning over the lamb chops and boeries. We might throw them with a beer, every now and then, if they don't complain too much.

Okay, okay, the food: here are some of my favourite beach-cottage recipes:

Durban-Spiced Prawns with Coconut Milk

Squashed Crispy Potatoes with Rosemary

Light Potato Salad with Garlic, Lemon and Yoghurt (scroll down to end of post to find recipe)

I will post more recipes (from our cottage's recipe book, to which everyone contributes) in the next ten days.

Enjoy your holidays, and drive safely, my friends. Print Friendly

Durban-Spiced Prawns with Coconut Cream

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

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

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

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

Durban-Spiced Prawns with Coconut Cream

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

For the marinade:

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

To finish:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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