Gin-Cured Salmon Gravadlax, Tartare-Style

Gravadlax (fresh salmon cured in the fridge with dill, salt and sugar) is usually served in delicate petals, but I’ve struggled to create perfect thin slices at home, no matter how energetically I brandish my rapier of a filleting knife. So now I serve it chopped in the style of a salmon tartare.

Gin-Cured Salmon Gravadlax, Tartare-Style

This is extremely easy to make and - if you follow my instructions carefully - is foolproof. The only part about the recipe you might  find tricky is cutting very even, thin strips of cucumber. You will need a mandolin for this, or a lot of patience. If you have neither, serve the tartare in elegant little heaps piled on a circle of fine cucumber rings.

This dish is ideal for casual entertaining because you can start the gravadlax up to 48 hours ahead, then chop it all up and fill the cucumber rings an hour or two before your guests arrive. It's also a great low-carb #LCHF choice, and suitable for diabetics.

I was given this recipe many years ago by  Lorraine Deans, who was co-owner of the Hertford Country Restaurant and Inn, close to where I grew up in Elandsdrift, north of Johannesburg. I went to interview Lorraine for a book I was writing, and she bought out a platter of the most delicious salmon I'd ever tasted. Not that I'd tasted much salmon at that point (you didn't often see fresh salmon in the shops when I was in my twenties), but it make a big impression. I begged her for the recipe, and I've been making it ever since, with a few tweaks of my own.

Instead of the traditional vodka, I use gin, for its lovely juniper note. (Oh, and okay, because there's always a bottle of gin in the house.)

This is best with top-grade imported fresh salmon, but you can also use excellent ThreeStreams lightly smoked trout.

Postscript: Here's a December 2014 wine pairing by Michael Olivier.

Gin-Cured Salmon Gravadlax

two fillets fresh salmon, skin on, weighing a total of 750 g
4 tsp (20 ml) coarse sea salt (Kosher salt)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) black peppercorns
4 tsp (20 ml) white sugar
a large bunch of fresh dill
1 tsp finely grated lemon zest
4 Tbsp (60 ml) dry gin
3 Tbsp (45 ml) small capers, coarsely chopped
3 Tbsp (45 ml) finely snipped fresh chives
3 Tbsp (45 ml) finely chopped fresh dill
milled black pepper

To serve:
2 long, thin English cucumbers
½ cup (125 ml) crème fraîche
lemon wedges

Ask your fishmonger to pin-bone the salmon fillets and cut away the blood line.  Place a fillet, skin side down, on a large sheet of clingfilm. Using a mortar and pestle, grind the salt, peppercorns and sugar to a coarse powder and sprinkle it all over the salmon fillet. Cover the fillet with 10-12 big sprigs of dill and sprinkle with lemon zest and 2 tablespoons of gin. Place the other salmon fillet flesh-side down on top.

You can also make this using a smaller quantity of
salmon, as I've done in this recipe

Wrap tightly in clingfilm, place in a big shallow dish and put a weight (a brick is ideal, or use tins from the cupboard) on top. Refrigerate for 12 hours, then turn the parcel over, weigh it down again, and cure for a further 12 hours. Unwrap the parcel, remove the dill and wipe off the curing spices. Sprinkle the remaining 2 tablespoons of gin over the lower fillet, cover with a new layer of dill sprigs, replace the top fillet, wrap in new clingfilm and refrigerate for up to 36 hours, or until needed.

To serve, remove the dill sprigs and pat dry with kitchen paper. Cut the salmon flesh away from the skin, place on a board and chop into small pieces using a sharp knife or mezzaluna. Place in a bowl and stir in the capers, chives and dill. Season with plenty of black pepper (you shouldn’t need to add more salt). Don't add any lemon juice, as this will 'cook' the fish.

Use a mandolin or a very sharp knife, cut the cucumbers, lengthways, into strips each about millimetre thick. Curl each strip into a neat ring and press the ends to secure. (If the cucumber strips refuse to stay in a ring, fix the ends in place with big paper clips. Or remove the bottoms of tuna tins using a tin opener and use those as rings to form the cucumber circles.) Place the cucumber rings on individual plates or a single large platter. Pile the tartare into the cucumber rings and top each one with a flurry of crème fraîche.

Serve with lemon wedges and melba toast.

Serves 8 as a starter or snack.

More of my recipes using salmon:

• Gin-Cured Gravadlax with Crisped Capers
• Delicate Double-Salmon Fish Cakes
• Salmon, Rice, Egg & Dill Pie with Lemon-Caper Butter
• Old-fashioned Potted Salmon with Mace and Cayenne Pepper
• Old-Fashioned Pinwheel Sandwiches with Smoked Salmon, Crème Fraîche & Horseradish

Print Friendly

Passion Fruit, Crème Fraîche and White Chocolate Cream Pie

In the second of my series of Valentine's Day food for lovers, I present to you this wickedly creamy and rather delicate pie, gently scented with fresh passion fruit (granadillas, we call them in South Africa) and enriched with white chocolate.

Isn't 'passion fruit' a perfect name for this most erotic exotic of fruits?  The name, however, refers not to the juicy fruit of this South American vine, but to its beautiful, orchid-like flowers, which are said to resemble symbolic elements of the Passion of Christ.

According to this Wikipedia article, Spanish Christian missionaries in the 15th and 16th centuries adopted the unique physical structures of this plant, particularly the numbers of its various flower parts, as symbols of the last days of Jesus and especially His crucifixion. For example, the tendrils represent the whips that were used in the flagellation of Christ, while the flower's radial filaments represent the crown of thorns.

(And as for the word 'granadilla', I believe this is derived from the Spanish 'granada', meaning pomegranate. I have no idea why South Africans say 'granadilla' and not 'passion fruit'; I put this question to my friends on Twitter the other night, and even that clever bunch couldn't come up with an answer. I'll do some digging and get back to you.)

I love the heady sharp-sweet taste of granadillas, but I find them quite intense, even aggressive, so I've used them sparingly in this tart.  Because I wanted a soft, voluptuous tart, I've avoided cream cheese and instead used crème fraîche, a slightly sour, thick cream with a lovely light zinginess.

Granadillas are in high season now in South Africa, and I was anticipating a bumper crop from the three vines I planted against a sunny wall last year. Alas, the vines have produced, between them, three fruits: let's call them A, B and C. A fell off and rotted in the flowerbed, and B and C are as hard and green as tennis balls, though not anywhere as big.  So, supermarket granadillas it was.

This is fairly easy to make, but do measure all the ingredients - especially the gelatine - very precisely, using level cups and teaspoons, to ensure a perfect, whippy texture.

Lining the base of the tin with clingfilm allows you to lift it easily onto a pie plate (see Cook's Notes, below)

Passion Fruit, Crème Fraîche and White Chocolate Cream Pie

For the biscuit crust:
one packet (200 g) Tennis biscuits, or similar crumbly coconut biscuits
100 g unsalted butter, softened

For the filling:
200 g white chocolate
20 ml (4 tsp) tepid water
2 tsp (10 ml) gelatine powder
one 250-gram tub crème fraîche (I use Lancewood, or Woolies)
½ cup (125 ml) fresh passion fruit pulp
½ cup (125 ml) condensed milk
the finely grated zest of half a lemon
20 ml (4 tsp) fresh lemon juice
1 cup (250 ml) whipping cream

To top:
a little fresh passion fruit pulp

Break up the biscuits and process them to fine crumbs in a food processor (or crush them with a rolling pin). Place in a bowl, add the soft butter, and stir well to combine. Wet the base of a non-stick 24-cm springform cake tin and cover with a sheet of clingfilm. Tuck the edges of the clingfilm under the base, and place it in its ring. (If there are  wrinkles, gently stretch out the clingfilm.)

Press the biscuit mixture evenly onto the base of the tin and place in the fridge while you make the topping. A good way to get a nice even crust with a sharp edge:  lay a small shot glass on its side, rim touching the side of the tin, and roll it lightly round in a circle.

Break up the white chocolate and place it in a glass or metal bowl over a pot of simmering water. Allow to melt gently (and take care not to allow steam into the chocolate, as it has a tendency to 'seize').

Put the water in a little bowl, sprinkle the gelatine evenly on top and set aside to sponge.

Put the crème fraîche, passion fruit pulp, condensed milk, lemon zest and lemon juice into a mixing bowl and whisk until smooth and well combined. Stir the chocolate and scrape it into the mixing bowl (work quickly here, or it will set). Whisk until quite smooth.

Put the sponged gelatine into the pot of simmering water (the water should come half way up the sides) and allow to melt. When the liquid is clear, remove the bowl and set aside to cool for a minute. Whisk the melted gelatine into the other ingredients.

Whip the cream to a nice firm peak. Stir a large spoon of cream into the crème fraîche mixture to slacken it, then very gently fold in the rest of the cream.

Pour the filling onto the prepared crust (pile it all in the middle, and then gently press down in the centre with the back of a big spoon so that the filling spreads evenly outwards to 'kiss' the edges of the tin. Cover with clingfilm and refrigerate until set (two to three hours).

Warm the sides of the tin (as described below) and release the cake. Slide a palette knife between the crust and the clingfilm, turning the pie as you go and using gentle levering movements, and then slide the cake onto a platter. Pour a little fresh granadilla pulp on top. Slice the pie using a knife dipped in hot water.

Makes one 24-cm pie; serves 6-8


Cook's Notes 

These are a repeat of the instructions on the post about my Buttermilk Cheesecake with a Strawberry Topping

There are various methods of loosening a gelatine-set dessert from its mould. Professional chefs use a blowtorch, which is briefly flicked over the outside of the tin, but this is a risky business, as a few seconds too long can liquefy the outside of the cheesecake and, besides, it's useless if you're using a plastic jelly mould. A better way is to dip a kitchen cloth in boiling water, and press it to outside of the cold tin for a few seconds. But the best way of all, I've found, is to use a hot pack designed for soothing acheing muscles.

If you don't have a Happy Hugger, here's how to make one yourself. (I keep one of these in my kitchen drawer for the sole purpose of loosening jellies!). Steal a long cotton sock from someone's drawer. Fill it with rice or barley, and tie a firm knot in the open end. Place the sock in a microwave oven for 2-3 minutes, or until very warm to the touch. Press the hot pack around the edges of the tin, for 30 seconds at a time, moving it around the edges as necessary. At the same time, release the spring-form lever (or lift the cake ring)  in small increments.

 When you cut the pie, use a hot knife (heated over a flame, or in a bowl of boiling water) for slicing. Print Friendly

Black Fruit Salad with Figs and Brown-Sugar Crème Fraîche

Figs are in high season in the Cape now, and my goodness they are luscious things. We had a fig tree in our garden when we were children, and every time I taste a fresh fig I'm reminded of standing under that tree inhaling the musky perfume of sun-warmed green figs and marvelling at the sticky white sap that welled from the stalks.

Actually, the figs of my childhood are not a patch on the beautiful figs in the shops now:  with their dusty purplish-black skins and gorgeous coral-coloured flesh, they look and taste just  irresistible. These dark figs are grown in the Paarl area, I believe, while the bulk of South Africa's fig crop comes from the Klein Karoo region.

Also in season in the Cape are blackberries, blueberries and table grapes, so I've combined them with figs to make this mysterious-looking black (well, mostly black) fruit salad.   The first time I made it (and photographed it) I left it undressed; the second time, I tossed it with a little lemon juice and icing sugar, which gave the fruit a lovely zingy gloss.

Mix the brown sugar with the cream just before you serve the salad, so it stays thick and retains a crunch: if you make it in advance the sugar will dissolve and liquefy the cream. Chill all the fruit before you make the salad.

Black Fruit Salad with Brown-Sugar Crème Fraîche

1 big bunch sweet black grapes, halved and deseeded
1 cup (250 ml) blackberries
1 cup (250 ml)blueberries
4 purple figs, quartered
1 Tbsp (15 ml) icing sugar
the juice of half a lemon
1 cup (250 ml) crème fraîche or mascarpone
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
2 Tbsp (30 ml) brown sugar

Combine the fruit in a bowl and stir in the icing sugar and lemon juice. Place in the fridge for 10 minutes. Just before you serve the salad, mix together the crème fraîche, vanilla and brown sugar. Divide the salad into four bowls and place a dollop of crème fraîche over each portion.

Serves 4.

Note: the redcurrants adorning this salad come straight from my deep freezer: they're locally grown redcurrants, which you can read about here.

Print Friendly

Spinach and Pea Soup with a Creamy Lemony Mint Topping

This lovely fresh green soup takes minutes to make, using baby spinach and frozen peas, but it does need a good chicken or vegetable stock to add depth. You can use your own home-made stock, or buy a fresh carton from the supermarket.

Spinach and Pea Soup with a
 Creamy Lemony Mint Topping.

Don't omit the zingy topping: it's the contrast between the cool minty lemony creaminess and the metallic tang of the hot soup that gives this dish its special character.

I really think mint is the most underrated of herbs, and I don't know why it's not used with the same abandon as coriander and parsley.

Take care not to overcook the spinach, or you will end up with a mess of muddy olive green.

---

Spinach and Pea Soup with Creamy Lemony Mint Topping

For the soup:
1 Tbsp (15 ml) olive oil or butter
a small onion, peeled and chopped
1 clove garlic, chopped
400 g baby spinach, rinsed (two 'pillow' packs)
3 cups (750 ml) frozen peas
a thumb-long sprig of mint
1.25 litres (5 cups) boiling chicken or vegetable stock
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) grated nutmeg
salt and milled black pepper

For the topping:
¾ cup (180 ml) crème fraîche or sour cream
the finely grated zest of half a lemon
4 tsp (20 ml) fresh lemon juice
10 fresh mint leaves, very finely shredded
salt and pepper (white pepper, if have have it)
finely chopped chives

First make the topping. Put the crème fraîche into a small bowl and beat for 30 seconds until soft. Add the lemon zest and juice and the mint, stir well and season with salt and pepper. Refrigerate while you make the soup.

Heat the olive oil or butter in a large pot and add the onion and garlic. Cook for a few minutes until soft and translucent, but don't allow the garlic to brown. Pile all the wet spinach, the peas and the mint sprig into the pot, toss well to coat and cook over a high heat for two to three minutes, until the spinach is just wilted. Add a generous pinch of salt and pour in the hot stock.

Cover and bring rapidly to the boil. Cook for five or so minutes, or until the peas are just tender and the spinach is still bright green. Remove from the heat. Fish out the mint sprig and discard. Whizz to a fine purée using a liquidizer or stick blender. Skim off any accumulated foam. Stir in the nutmeg and season, to taste, with salt and pepper.

Serve piping hot, topped with big blobs of cold crème fraîche and chopped chives.

Serves 6.

Cook's Notes

You can use young Swiss chard in place of spinach, but take care to remove all the fibrous stems.

If you're watching calories, use thick white Greek yoghurt in place of crème fraîche or sour cream.

Print Friendly

Parsnip, Potato and Cumin Cakes with Crème Fraîche and Chives

I love a parsnip. Partly because 'parsnip' is such a great word (it sounds like the tip of a pair of sharp scissors snicker-snacking a parson's robe) but also because this humble vegetable is so earthily delicious, so cheap, so nourishing and so easy to cook.

Crisp parsnip 'latkes' dolloped with crème fraîche.  

 It might not be the most alluring-looking vegetable, with its whiskers and scrawny legs, but it has a lovely, nutty flavour that I find quite addictive.

These pancakes are similar to latkes, but have a warm hint of cumin. I wouldn't consider making them if I didn't have a food processor, which makes the preparation so quick and easy. If you don't have a food processor, grate the ingredients by hand. If you have the patience.

I can't quantify the size of the potatoes or parsnips in this recipe, because I don't know how big yours are (that sounds rude; parsnippy snicker!). But the ratio of potato to parsnip should be roughly equal.

---

Parsnip, Potato and Cumin Pancakes with Crème Fraîche and Chives

For the cakes:

the juice of one lemon
1 onion, peeled and cut into chunks
3 medium-sized, floury potatoes
3 large parsnips
2 cloves of fresh garlic, peeled and crushed
2 tsp (10 ml) ground cumin
salt and freshly milled black pepper
vegetable oil and butter, for frying

For the topping:
crème fraîche
snipped fresh chives

Cut the lemon in half and squeeze its juice into a deep mixing bowl. Put the onion chunks into the goblet of a food processor and blitz until finely chopped, but not a mushy paste. Leave them in the food processor bowl.

Now fit a coarse grating blade to your food processor. Peel the potatoes, cut them into chunks, and feed them quickly through the grater. Peel the parsnips and do the same. Tip the blitzed onions, and the grated potatoes and parsnips into the bowl containing the lemon juice and, using your hands, toss well (this will prevent the gratings from browning). Leave to stand for 15 minutes, and then tip the contents of the bowl into a sieve or colander. Place the sieve over the sink, and, using your hands, press down on the gratings to squeeze out any remaining liquid.

Put the gratings back in the bowl and stir in the crushed garlic and cumin. Season with salt and pepper.

Place a few sheets of absorbent kitchen paper on your counter, next to the stove. Heat equal quantities of vegetable oil and butter in a large, flat frying pan (to a depth of about 2 mm). When the butter has stopped sizzling, take a handful of the grated mixture, squeeze it well to remove any more liquid, and place a mound of it in the hot fat.

Using a spatula, press down hard on the mixture to compress it into a flat pancake. Allow it to brown, pressing down on it once or twice, but not stirring or poking, for three minutes, or until the edges are golden and crispy and the cake is holding together. If the frizzly edges are turning to a dark, dangerous brown, turn down the heat. Flip the pancake over, and fry for another three minutes, or until golden brown and crisp.

Drain on kitchen paper.

To serve, top each pancake with a teaspoon of crème fraîche, and a shower of snipped chives.

Makes about 12 small cakes.

Print Friendly

Paprika Chicken with Sour Cream and Thyme

This creamy oven-baked chicken dish, subtly flavoured with smoked paprika and thyme, is perfect for family dinners. The chicken pieces are smeared with a yoghurt marinade two or three hours before they're baked, which gives them a great succulence. If you want to cut down on calories, you can use plain yoghurt in place of the sour cream, but it will curdle slightly in the oven (see notes).

I used whole chicken legs (that is, Marylands, or pieces with drumstick and thigh still joined) but any cut of chicken will do. You could also use skinned, deboned chicken breasts, but you will need to reduce the cooking time by at least half.

If you can't find smoked paprika, use ordinary, fresh paprika (which should be a vivid brick-red colour, not brown or dusty).


This is lovely with new potatoes and sugarsnap peas, or a green salad. My kids really liked this, although the oldest was a bit huffy because he doesn't like 'gristly bits' in any sort of meat and is a boneless-breast and fillet-steak sorta guy. Hmmmph.

Baked Paprika Chicken with Sour Cream and Thyme
12 pieces of free-range chicken
salt and milled black pepper
200 ml plain white yoghurt
1 Tbsp (15 ml) olive oil
1 onion, peeled and very finely chopped
2 cloves fresh garlic, peeled and crushed
the juice of 1 lemon
1 Tbsp (15 ml) paprika
1 tsp (5 ml) smoked paprika
a handful (about 3Tbsp; 45 ml) fresh thyme leaves
300 ml sour cream or crème fraîche

Season the chicken pieces well with salt and pepper. Place them, skin-side up and in single layer, in an ovenproof dish. In a separate bowl, combine the yoghurt, olive oil, onion, garlic, lemon juice, paprika, smoked paprika and half the thyme. Mix well, and then, using your hands, smear the paste all over the chicken pieces, top and bottom. Cover with clingfilm and set aside to marinate for two to three hours.

Heat the oven to 200°C. Bake the chicken pieces in a hot oven, for 25 minutes, or until the skin begins to brown and crisp. Now cover the dish with a lid or tin foil, turn down the heat to 160° C and bake for 1 hour. Remove the dish from the oven and scoop off any excess fat with a large spoon (or drain by tilting the dish over the sink). Pour the cream (see note below) all over the chicken pieces, sprinkle with the remaining thyme and give the dish a good shake to combine the juices. Bake, uncovered, for another 20 minutes, or until the cream is slightly thickened.

Serves 6-8

Notes:
- If the sour cream or crème fraîche is too thick to pour, thin it down first with a little warm milk or water.

- If you use yoghurt instead of cream, choose a thin pouring yoghurt, and whisk in 1 tsp (5 ml) of cornflour [Maizena or cornstarch] before you pour it over the chicken. This will help to minimize (not prevent) curdling. Print Friendly