Low-Carb Cucumber, Dill & Yoghurt Salad with Capers and Anchovies

I can't get enough of this light, flavour-packed cucumber salad, and luckily I get plenty of it, because my kids think it's vile. They just don't understand my love affair with Scandinavian flavours such as dill, capers, lemon, salmon, boiled eggs and anchovies, possibly because their Norwegian DNA - courtesy of my Great-Grandma - has been diluted to the point that it makes up just one pitiful eighth of their gene profiles.

Cucumber, Dill & Yoghurt Salad with Capers and Anchovies

This low-carb salad is quick and easy to make, and gorgeous eaten on its own, or as an accompaniment to grilled salmon or tuna, or smoked salmon, or a platter of tenderly boiled eggs. You can leave out the bottled anchovies if their fishiness doesn't appeal to you, but I encourage you to include them, because they add an intense, salty punch to the salad.

Fresh dill is an essential ingredient, because it's that delicate aniseed taste that brings all the flavours together.

I use my easy home-made Greek-style yoghurt in this dish, but you can use any thick and luscious store-bought natural yoghurt in its place.

Cucumber, Dill & Yoghurt Salad with Capers and Anchovies

1 large English cucumber
1 Tbsp (15 ml) fine salt
1 cup (250 ml) thick Greek-style yoghurt
3 Tbsp (45 ml) finely chopped fresh dill
4 Tbsp (60 ml) capers, drained of brine
the juice of a small lemon
white pepper
6 anchovy fillets, drained of any oil
a little olive oil, for sprinkling

Trim the ends of the cucumber and remove the skin, using a light touch and a sharp potato peeler. Cut the cucumber in half lengthways, and use a teaspoon to scrape out the soft pulp and seeds. (Alternatively, and for a neater result, you can cut the peeled cucumber crossways into three sections, bore out the softy pulpy centre using an apple corer, and then cut each section in half lengthways.)

Neatly slice the peeled, de-seeded cucumber into fine crescents.  I use a mandolin for this.  Place the slices in a colander set over your sink and sprinkle over the salt. Toss well, using your hands, and set aside for 20-30 minutes.   During this time, the salt will draw the excess liquid from the cucumber.

Rinse the cucumber slices under cold running water to remove excess salt and pat them dry on a few sheets of kitchen paper, or a clean towel.

Place in a bowl and stir in the yoghurt, dill, capers and lemon juice.  Season to taste with salt and white pepper.  Tip the salad onto a platter - or individual bowls - and top with anchovy fillets.  (You can chop these into small pieces, or drape them in pairs over the top of each serving, as shown in the picture above.)

Sprinkle with a little olive oil and serve immediately.

Serves 4 as a starter or side dish. 

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Sheet Mozzarella Rolls with Sorrel, Lemon, Anchovies and Capers

In the post before this one, I wrote about the interesting sheets of mozzarella I bought from Puglia Cheese in Cape Town, and showed you some beetroot, rocket, lemon and marjoram rolls. Here's the second batch I made, which contain fresh sorrel leaves, lemon zest, white anchovies, capers, garlic and pepper.

As you can see, these rolls don't have the nice circular shape the beetroot ones had. I was going for a pinwheel look, but I found it really difficult to achieve a nice, tight roll when the entire sheet was covered with leaves. (I covered only one edge of the sheet with leaves in the first batch I made; here's a picture). Still, they were delicious, and tasted even better the next day, when the flavours had had a chance to develop. You could blanch the leaves, I suppose, to make them more flat and pliable, but they would lose their fresh bite (and perhaps become slimy in the fridge).

I used red-vein sorrel leaves from my garden, which have a lovely sour bite, but you could use any similar fresh green leaf.

Sheet Mozzarella Rolls with Sorrel, Lemon, Anchovies and Capers

a sheet of fresh mozzarella
the finely grated zest of a lemon
2 large cloves of garlic, peeled
a pinch of flaky sea salt
3 T (45 ml) capers
6 white Italian anchovy fillets, or 4 of the brown, tinned kind
3 T (45 ml) olive oil
salt and freshly milled black pepper
fresh sorrel, beetroot or rocket leaves

To serve:
olive oil
extra capers
crusty bread

Place a sheet of clingfilm or baking paper on your kitchen counter and smear it with some olive oil. Sprinkle with a little salt and freshly milled black pepper. Pat the mozzarella sheet quite dry using kitchen paper, and place it on the clingfilm.

Put the lemon zest, garlic and salt in a mortar and pound to a coarse paste. Finely chop the capers and the anchovies and stir them into the paste, along with the olive oil.  Smear the mixture evenly all over the mozzarella sheet. Season generously with freshly milled black pepper, and a little more salt, if necessary. Arrange the sorrel leaves all over the top; don't worry if they overlap slightly. Now pick up the edge of the clingfilm and nudge the sheet into a roll, as you would do if you were making sushi. Roll, away from you, into a neat sausage. Wrap clingfilm round the roll and tightly twist the ends in opposite directions to make a tight 'salami'.

Place in the fridge to firm up for two hours (or longer). Now, using a very sharp knife, slice directly through the plastic to make discs. Place on a plate for half an hour to bring to room temperature. Just before serving,  drizzle with olive oil and scatter with extra capers and a few grinds of black pepper. Serve immediately with plenty of fresh crusty bread for mopping up the juices.

Makes about 15. Print Friendly

Lemon and Pepper Mini Meat Loaves with a Cool Yoghurt, Cream and Dill Sauce

On the subject of pepper (and I promise I'm nearly done with it, Tellicherry or not), I'm mightily fond of recipes combining good quantities of both pepper and lemon zest. These oven-baked mini-meatloaves are topped with a generous teaspoonful of each, and both ingredients feature in the meat loaf mix.

The inspiration for this recipe comes from my love of  fresh dill, gherkins and anchovies, and I put this down to my Norwegian ancestry. My grandmother was Norwegian, and I'm convinced that a love of these very Scandinavian ingredients is carved into my DNA.

Also, many years ago, I saw a recipe for a moulded meat loaf in an issue of Fairlady, and it contained, I think, dill and capers. I've long since lost the recipe, but it was probably the work of Annette Kesler, long-time food editor of one of South Africa's best-loved women's magazines. Many women of my generation grew up with Annette's recipes, and I bet she's taught several other generations to cook too.

There is one important ingredients in this recipe that shouldn't be omitted, and that is anchovies. My family loathes them with a passion, and they make all sorts of off-colour jokes about my little bottles of anchovy fillets in the fridge. Little do they know that I sneak a finely pounded anchovy fillet into many of the winter stews I make, and several other dishes besides. One of the magic properties of anchovies is that they inject a subtle but lovely rich, round, savouriness into food, without adding a hint of fishiness.

I used beautiful silken white Italian anchovies in this recipe, but as these aren't easy to find, you can use two tinned or bottled anchovy fillets. Be sure to grind them finely to a smooth paste with the garlic, though, or your family will encounter a fishy flake and never eat meat loaf again.

Lemon and Pepper Mini Meat Loaves with a Cool Yoghurt, Cream and Dill Sauce

For the mini meat-loaves:
a small clove of garlic, peeled and finely grated
4 white anchovy fillets [see note above] or 2 bottled or tinned anchovy fillets
a pinch of salt
600 g lean beef mince [ground beef]
600 g pork mince [ground pork]
1 egg, lightly beaten
½ cup (125 ml) thick natural white yoghurt
2 T (30 ml) green peppercorns, drained of their brine and crushed
2 T (30 ml) finely grated lemon zest (loosely packed)
3 T (45 ml) finely chopped fresh dill
3 T (45 ml) finely chopped fresh parsley
3 T (45 ml) chopped capers
4 T (60 ml) chopped cocktail gherkins [small dill pickles]
4 slices brown bread, whizzed in a food processer (or grated) to fine breadcrumbs
milled black pepper

For the sauce:
½ cup (125 ml) thick natural yoghurt
½ cup (125 ml) thick cream, or sour cream
the finely grated zest of a small lemon
the juice of half a lemon
1 tsp (5 ml) finely chopped fresh dill
a pinch of white pepper
salt, to taste

To top:
cracked black pepper
finely grated lemon zest

Preheat the oven to 200ºC. Lightly grease a baking sheet. Put the garlic, anchovy fillets and salt into a mortar and grind to a paste. Scrape the paste into a large mixing bowl and add all the remaining meat loaf ingredients. Using your fingers, lightly knead and squish the mixture until well combined. Tip in the breadcrumbs, and mix lightly again until every thing is almalgamated.

At this point, it's a good idea to test the mixture to make sure the seasoning is right. Pinch off a marble-sized piece and flatten it into a little disk. Fry in hot oil until browned on both sides. Taste it, and add more salt and pepper to the raw mixture if necessary.

Put the mixture in the fridge for thirty minutes to an hour to firm up. (This isn't essential, but it does help develop the flavours.) To mould the mini-meat loaves, generously rub a ramekin dish (or a tea cup) with vegetable oil. Pinch off a large chunk of the meat loaf mixture, and press it firmly into the ramekin, pushing and squishing down well on all sides to force out any air pockets. (There may well be rude noises.) Alternatively, you can roll them into balls, but you will need to reduce the cooking time slightly.

Flatten the top of the mixture, then turn the ramekin dish over in the palm of your hand and smack and shake it smartly to release its contents. If it won't come loose, run a sharp knife round the edges to release any vacuum. Slide the little cake onto the greased baking sheet, and repeat the process until you've used up all the mixture. Using a pastry brush, paint a little olive oil all over the top and sides of the little loaves. Sprinkle the tops generously with cracked black peppercorns and a little grated lemon zest.

Place in an oven preheated to 200ºC for ten minutes. Then turn the heat down to 160ºC and bake for 30-40 minutes, or until cooked right through. You can check this by flipping one of the loaves over, and cutting deep into its centre: if there is any bloodiness within, give them another five to ten minutes.

While the meat loaves are cooking, make the dressing. Combine all the dressing ingredients in a mixing bowl and whisk well to combine. Place in the fridge to chill.

To serve, place the meat loaves on hot plates. Decant the cold sauce into a jug, so it can be poured over the hot loaves. Lovely with a green salad, and baked potatoes, mash or rice.

Serves 6. Print Friendly

Ugly 50s food made yummy: Non-Slip Two-Tone Half-Devilled Stuffed Eggs

My two-tone devilled eggs, looking
just a little lurid.

If you're 40 or over, you may remember stuffed eggs - those ubiquitous canapés of the fifties and sixties - with joy.

Or your stomach may tremble at the childhood memory of rubbery egg-white halves packed with lumpy yellow paste, made doubly vile by the addition of pimento-stuffed olives and hairy whorls of anchovy.

It is certainly off-putting looking at photographs of stuffed and devilled eggs in mid-century cookbooks.There is scarcely a recipe book of that era in my collection that doesn't feature them in all their lurid egginess; in fact, I would go so far as to say that the stuffed egg - along with the tuft of curly parsley - was the number-one subject choice among food photographers at the time.

Fifties Food.

I reckon that stuffed eggs - in all their curried, caviared, capered, devilled, parsleyed and anchovy-draped forms - were on the wane as a party food by the early seventies, and that by the 1980s they had faded away with barely an eggy squeak to mark their departure.

Still, I think a proper stuffed egg is a most superior and delicious snack, and I am frustrated that this gentle comfort food has fallen so far out of fashion in the last 30 years or so. I'm not alone in feeling sentimental. My late mother-in-law used to get a bit misty-eyed when she described her mother's devilled eggs, with their delicate criss-crossing of anchovies, while my own mum hooted with laughter when I told her I was writing about stuffed eggs: 'At teen parties in the Fifties, younger brothers used nick a few stuffed eggs off the buffet table and push them up car exhaust-pipes,' she told me. 'When the cars started, there'd be a muffled rumbling and the eggs would shoot out of the exhausts. Everyone fell around laughing.'

 There are a few drawbacks to the classic stuffed egg, though: one, there's always too much egg white. Two, they are slippery underneath, so they skate around the platter and spring out of your fingers as you grab them.

If made carelessly, the filling will be lumpy and - oh, horror - there will be a greeny-black ring around the yolk hole. And there's always too much for a mouthful (not necessarily bad; half the fun of eating a stuffed egg is having a bulging cheek on one side and, on the other, creamed egg yolk toothpasting onto your shirt front)

I have tried to fix some of these problems in the following recipe. Look, I know these eggs look twee. Such fussinessness involving piping bags and dainty bits of non-slip toast is not my usual style. But do give this recipe a try next time you have a party.

This is a ridiculously long post for such a simple delicacy but, if you like stuffed eggs,  I hope you will indulge me and read it to the end.

There are two important points: one, please sieve the egg yolks so there is not a trace of a lump. Two, use a little good, real mayonnaise, not nasty salad cream: the egg should taste of egg, not vinegar. You can, of course, add any other flavouring you like to the yolk - mashed sardines, for example, are retrolicious. If you want the full fifties experience, steer clear of any newfangled 'garnishings' (chillis, sundried tomatoes and coriander spring to mind) and stick to anchovies, caviar, capers, green olives and parsley. Please don't mix the yolks with tomato ketchup. Or avocado, unless you're planning to serve them to kids (with obligatory ham).

If you can't be bothered to make two-toned eggs, divide the plain mixture and the devilled one between the boiled egg whites.

Oh, one more thing: an essential ingredient is white pepper. This spice has also fallen out of favour over the past decades, as cookery writers have doggedly insisted on only freshly milled black pepper. But fresh white pepper has a distinctive and lovely flavour all of its own and, besides, it doesn't freckle your lovely yolks with black dots.

Non-Slip Two-Tone Half-Devilled Stuffed Eggs

six large eggs
2 Tbsp (30 ml) softened salted butter
a dash of  home-made (or Hellman's) mayonnaise, or a little olive oil
salt and white pepper
½ tsp (2.5 ml) hot English mustard powder
1½ (7.5 ml) fresh, mild red curry powder of your choice
a pinch of turmeric
a pinch of paprika
6 slices of white bread
vegetable oil for frying

To garnish:
cayenne pepper
parsley

First boil the eggs. It doesn't matter how you do this (every cook has their own theory about how to make and peel a perfect hard-boiled egg; if you don't, please refer to the excellent instructions of St. Delia).  What does matter is that the white is firm, and that the yolks are just cooked through, with not a sign of glassiness.  Drain off the boiling water and run cold tap water over the eggs until they are cool to the touch.  Set them aside for an hour to cool completely.

Peel the eggs. Cut the tip (about 5 mm) off each end of the egg so that you have a barrel shape, and then slice the barrel in half, crossways. Using a teaspoon, carefully remove the egg yolks.  (Don't worry if the egg yolks weren't perfectly centred on the white as they cooked: all this will be hidden under artful piping).

Push the egg yolks through a metal sieve, or a potato ricer if you have one, into a bowl. Using a fork, whip in the softened butter and just enough mayonnaise to make a smooth, thick paste that will just hold its shape.  Add the mustard powder and season to taste with salt and white pepper.

Divide the mixture in half, and to one half add the curry powder, turmeric and paprika. Taste the mixture. If it seems too pale or mild for you, add a dot of tomato paste, a glug of Tabasco, some cayenne pepper, or any spice you like.

Fit a piping bag with a large star nozzle. Hold the bag loosely, halfway up, in one hand and fold the top of it down and over your fist.  Spoon the plain egg mixture into the bag, placing it only on one vertical half of the bag (as if you were packing pencils into the left side of a cardboard tube).  Now spoon the devilled mixture into the gap, so that you you have two vertical 'pipes' of different-coloured mixture.  Pull up the sides of the piping bag, twist the top of the bag, and set aside while you make the toast.

Using a cookie cutter or wine glass, cut out 12 small circles - or stars - out of the bread. Heat the vegetable oil in a frying pan and fry until golden and crispy on both sides.  Drain on a piece of kitchen paper.

Arrange the toast on a platter.  Put the prepared egg slices, broad side up, on the toast bits. Carefully pipe a big, billowing mound of filling onto each egg half.

Add any toppings you like - I've used mustard flowers and parsley in the photograph -  and serve immediately.

Serves 6, as a snack. 

Cook's Notes


- don't use very fresh eggs, as you won't be able to peel them neatly.  Your eggs should be four to five days old.  Eggs should be stored in a cool place, and not in the fridge (unless the weather is exceedingly hot).

- these eggs will keep at room temperature for two or three hours after they've been filled, provided that they're covered to prevent any crustiness setting in.  Put them in a deep dish and seal it with cling film.

- don't put them in the fridge after filling them. A cold stuffed egg is shuddery.


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