Mini Pita Breads with Spicy Meatballs and Hummous

With the kick-off to the 2010 World Cup less than 39 days away, my home town Cape Town is all abuzz, and South Africa is polishing her biggie boots and laying out the welcome mat for the hundreds of thousands of visitors who'll soon be winging our way. 

Mini Pita Breads with Spicy Meatballs and Hummous

My thoughts have naturally turned to soccer food, and so for the next couple of weeks I'll be focusing on fan fodder: delicious snacks with a South African flavour, ideal for stadium food, or for serving to your mates as you gather round the TV set to enjoy the greatest show on earth. ('What do you mean by soccer food?' snorted my husband when I told him about this project. 'The only soccer food you need is beer.' )

South African cuisine is often dubbed 'rainbow food' because of its myriad cultural influences, but I imagine it as a many-textured crazy-patchwork quilt, stitched together with shining thread that is anchored in the soil and unfurls northwards through Africa to Europe, and west to the Middle East and Asia.

There's no space here to give justice to the diversity of dishes you'll find in South Africa: if you're interested, take a look at Wikipedia's entry on the subject, which is a reasonable (though disappointingly incomplete) summing-up of what we 'Saffers' eat, and why.  Suffice to say that you will find delicious indigenous food in South African villages, towns and cities, and that the culinary heritage of various immigrant communities - from Greece to Ghana, from Mozambique to Malaysia, Nigeria to the Netherlands, India to Israel to Italy - bubbles with great vigour in kitchens all over our country.

So, where to start?

Among South Africa's most beloved snack foods are meatballs, also known as frikkadels or - enchantingly -   'frikkies'. These spicy nuggets are quintessential padkos (this means, literally, 'road food', but is so much more than that) and no car, bus, train or taxi journey is the same without them. The best ones are home-made, always to grandma's secret recipe, and are eaten cold out of a lidded plastic container (known, in Afrikaans, as a blikkie), or from a crumpled nest of tin foil. Finding a decent frikkadel in a shop is not easy: I'd rather chew a gallstone than one of the gnarled, over-peppered bullets produced, for example, by our swankiest food retailer, Woolworths.

Frikkies are easy and inexpensive to make, and are great for feeding a crowd. Here, I've made marble-sized frikkadels, and stuffed them into toasted mini-pita breads with lashings of hummous and some fresh coriander. If you like, you can add a lick of garlicky tzatziki to the inside of each pita bread. If you can't find mini pita breads, cut big ones in half.  And if almost-raw onion isn't your thing, you can fry the onion in a little olive oil before you add it to the mixture, but I just love the crunchy onioniness of these frikkies. My instructions presume that you have such a food processor, or a similar appliance: if you don't, you'll need to chop everything finely by hand (or grate the ingredients).

The dusting of chickpea (channa) flour and turmeric gives the meatballs a lovely golden crust, but you can use ordinary flour instead. The yoghurt helps prevent the meatballs from toughening as they cook.

Mini Pita-Breads with Spicy Meatballs and Hummous

For the meatballs:
3 slices fresh bread, white or brown
a large handful of fresh coriander leaves (125 ml, loosely packed)
1 small onion, peeled and roughly chopped
1 clove garlic, sliced
2 large free-range eggs
4 Tbsp (60 ml) thick natural yoghurt
750 g minced beef (or half-and-half beef and pork)
1½ tsp (7.5 ml) cumin
1 tsp (5 ml) ground coriander
a finely minced green chilli (optional, and to taste)
1½ tsp (7.5 ml) salt
milled black pepper
½ cup (125 ml) chickpea [channa] flour (ordinary flour will do)
1 tsp (5 ml) turmeric
3 Tbsp (45 ml) vegetable oil

To serve:
pita breads (40 mini ones, or 10 big ones)
a tub (about 250 ml) hummous
sprigs of fresh coriander
1 tsp (5 ml) paprika
lemon wedges

Tear up the bread, place the pieces in a food processor fitted with a metal blade and whizz to a fine crumb. Add the fresh coriander and press the pulse button a few times, until the coriander is finely chopped. Tip the mixture into a large mixing bowl and set aside. Now put the chopped onion, garlic, eggs and yoghurt in the food processor and blitz until you have a gritty slush. Tip this mixture into the bowl containing the breadcrumbs and add the minced beef, cumin, coriander, chilli, salt and several generous grinds of the peppermill. Using your hands, squish and squeeze all the ingredients until well combined. Now test the seasoning: take small piece of the mixture, flatten it to a disc and fry it quickly in a lick of oil. Add more salt or spices, if necessary. Once you're satisfied with the taste of your mixture, pinch off pieces the size of a large marble and roll them into balls. Place on plate, cover with clingfilm and put them in the fridge for 30 minutes so they can firm up.

Heat the oven to 100°C. Put the chickpea flour on a plate, season with a little salt and pepper and stir in the turmeric. Heat the oil in a frying pan over a medium-high flame. Dust the meatballs, eight or ten at a time, with the seasoned chickpea flour. Fry the meatballs in batches in the hot oil, turning them often, until they are golden brown and crusty on the outside and cooked through inside. Place the cooked meatballs in the warm oven while you fry the rest.

When you've cooked all the meatballs, heat the pita breads on a baking sheet in the oven. Using a pair of scissors or a sharp knife, cut a 5 mm slice off the top edge of each pita bread. Use a knife blade to open a pocket in the bread (this has to be done while they are piping hot: if you allow them to cool off, they will tear). Add a generous dollop of hummous to each pita, then fill the pocket with a hot meatball. Tuck in a sprig of fresh coriander. Pile into a bowl and serve immediately, with lemon wedges.

Serves 10 as a snack. Makes about 40 marble-sized meatballs.

Print Friendly

Borscht in Small Glasses: Iced Beetroot and Gin Shots

Iced Beetroot and Gin Shots

Here's an idea for a zinging cocktail: cool, earthy beetroot soup, spiked with gin and served in smoking-cold shot glasses. I made this, last weekend, for my husband's 50th birthday party. I laughed my pants off when a guest (my sister, I think it was) said: 'What's good about this recipe is that it contains Vitamin C, and Vitamin G.'

Vitamin G being, of course, neat gin, a nutritious basic foodstuff for anyone over the age of 40. Or fifty.

Earlier that morning, in a pre-party kitchen frenzy, I'd wrapped six tennis-ball-sized beetroot in foil and put them in the oven, with a view to making my beetroot hummous. When I took the parcel out of the oven at noon, I was feeling grumpy, footsore and frazzled, and wondering how the hell I'd feed the 40 people expected at the party, considering I'd made only three trays of  hors d'œuvres (or horse-da-oovrays, as they are known in my family).

But my mood improved when I opened the foil and inhaled the glorious scents of earth, water, stone and blood: what I craved, I realised on the spot, was a borscht (of corscht!); very cold, with ginsk. And spring onionsk.

If you've read this far down, you must be a lover of beetroot.  And, if so, I don't think I need to sing its praises to you.

Here's what Tom Robbins had to say about beetroot in his novel Jitterbug Perfume:  "The beet is the most intense of vegetables. The radish, admittedly, is more feverish, but the fire of the radish is a cold fire, the fire of discontent, not of passion. Tomatoes are lusty enough, yet there runs through tomatoes an undercurrent of frivolity. Beets are deadly serious." 

You do need a good vegetable stock to give this soup some depth. In this recipe, the peelings of the baked beetroot are combined with basic vegetable flavourings to make a tasty broth.

A big mistake I made, on the eve of this party, was that I didn't chill the soup for long enough. It needs to be very cold (but, then again, not so icy that it numbs your tastebuds).  Next time, I'll chill the shot glasses in the freezer before I serve it.

Beetroot and Gin Shots
6 large beetroot, or 12 smaller ones

For the stock:
1 stick celery, chopped
3 stalks parsley
a large carrot, scraped and roughly chopped
1 onion, peeled and quartered
1 clove
1  bay leaf
6 peppercorns
½ tsp (2.5 ml) caraway seeds
1 tsp (5 ml) salt
1.2  litres water
beetroot trimmings [see recipe]

To serve:
white pepper
1 tsp (5 ml) Tabasco sauce
300 ml gin, or more, to taste
small spring onions, trimmed

Preheat the oven to 180°C. Trim the leafy tops off the beetroot, leaving 5 cm of stalk intact. Wipe the beetroot with a cloth, but don't wash, peel or cut them. Wrap them in a double layer of foil and place in the oven.  Bake until completely tender when pierced with a sharp knife (how long this will take will depend on the size and age of the beetroot; for baby beetroot, an hour is enough. Very elderly beets can take up to 3 hours.)  Remove the packet from the oven and allow to cool.

Put a piece of newspaper or greaseproof paper on your kitchen counter. Trim the beetroot of stalks and roots, slip off their skins, and set all these trimmings to one side. Quarter the peeled beetroot and place in the goblet of a liquidiser.  Blitz until you have a fine purée (if the mixture is too thick for the blades to turn, add a little water).  Pour into a large bowl and refrigerate.  Now make the stock:  put the reserved beetroot trimmings into a saucepan and add the remaining stock ingredients. Bring to the boil, then turn down the heat and simmer for an hour, topping up with water every now and then if necessary, and skimming off any foam.

Strain the stock through a colander onto the chilled beetroot purée.  Add the Tabasco sauce and season with white pepper, and a little more salt, to taste. Stir well.

Now pass the soup through a fine sieve. Place in the fridge again and chill for two to three hours. An hour before serving, place the shot glasses and the gin in the freezer.  Remove the soup from the fridge and stir in the cold gin.  Put the soup into a jug with a sharp pouring nozzle and fill each glass almost to the brim.  Add a spring onion to each glass. Serve immediately.

This recipe makes 36 shots of 60 ml (4 T) each, or two litres of soup (which will serve 8 people, as a starter). Print Friendly

Chickpea and Feta Fritters with a Mint &Paprika Dressing

Chickpea Fritters with a perky mint & paprika dressing 

A chewable form of hummous is how I'd describe these little fritters, because they contain all the ingredients (and flavours) of that heavenly Middle Eastern dip, with the bonus of a little crunch when you bite into them.

I am mad about hummous, and could eat it every day (in fact, I usually do). It's extraordinary that chickpeas - which, face it, taste as dull as ditch water, especially if they've been been boiled to buggery and then tinned - can be transformed, with the addition of just a few sparky ingredients, into a paste that is so zingingly delicious. But it's their very blandness and flouriness that makes these little legumes such good carriers of flavour, and they really come into their own when paired with pungent spices and fresh herbs.

These aren't really fritters, because they're not deep-fried: they're more like griddle cakes. Whatever you want to call them, they're very quick and easy to make if you have food processor fitted with a metal blade. Watch them closely as they fry, as they turn from golden brown to charcoal in a matter of seconds.

When I was imagining this recipe (it's usually when I'm lying awake and fidgeting in the middle of the night that my thoughts turn to food) I thought it would be interesting with grated halloumi cheese, for extra texture, but my local shop doesn't stock it, so feta had to do, and it did well.

Feel free to use dried chickpeas, if you have the patience to soak and boil them. I don't.

Chickpea and Feta Fritters, with a Mint and Paprika Dressing

2 x 250g tins chickpeas, drained
2 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped
half a white onion, peeled and sliced
1 tsp (5 ml) Tabasco sauce
1 Tbsp (15 ml) tahini
finely grated zest of half a lemon
the juice of a lemon
1 tsp (5 ml) salt
3 eggs
½ cup (125 ml) chopped flat-leaf parsley
½ cup (125 ml) chopped fresh coriander [cilantro]
3/4 cup (180 ml) white flour
2 tsp (10 ml) powdered cumin
milled black pepper
100 g feta cheese
vegetable oil for frying

For the dressing:
5 Tbsp (75 ml) olive oil
the juice of a lemon
a pinch of salt
1 tsp (5 ml) smoked paprika
3 sprigs fresh mint

Put the chickpeas, garlic, onion, Tabasco, tahini, lemon zest, lemon juice and salt into the bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade, and whizz to a paste. If the mixture is too stiff for the blades to turn, break an egg into the chute of the food processor. Now add the parsley and coriander and press the pulse button a few times so that the herbs are finely chopped but not puréed.  When the mixture looks smooth, tip it into a mixing bowl and add the remaining two eggs, the flour and the cumin. Mix very well. Crumble the feta cheese into the batter and season with black pepper and more salt, if necessary.  Place in the fridge for 15 minutes to firm up.

Heat the oven to 140°C and put a platter in to warm. Heat a few tablespoons of oil in a large frying pan. Using a spoon, drop blobs of batter (about 20 ml/4 tsp each) into the hot oil. Fry for about a minute, or until golden brown and crusty underneath, then flip over and cook for another minute. Drain on a piece of kitchen towel and place in the oven while you fry the rest of the fritters.

To make the dressing, whisk together all the ingredients, except for the mint, and decant into a little bowl. Just before you serve the fritters, strip the mint leaves from their stalks, slice into fine shreds, and stir into the dressing.

Serve the fritters piping hot, with the dressing as a dipping sauce.

Makes about 30 fritters. Print Friendly

Beetroot Hummous with Wilted Greens, Feta and Lemon

Blood, iron, rubies and cold water running over pebbles come to mind as I fall like a deprived vampire on this earthy feast. Sorry to come over all po-hetical, but the mysterious deliciousness of brilliant-cerise beetroot hummous piled on dark, lemony greens sends my brain-buds into rhapsodies.

Beetroot Hummous with Wilted Greens, Feta and Lemon

And do you like this gorgeous red-glass plate? (Er, it might actually be yours, because I can't remember ever having bought it, and found it in my cupboards during a turf-out. If it is yours, may I keep it?) The red of this dish was so intense that my cheapie camera couldn't cope with it, which is why this picture looks rather redly surreal.

I developed this recipe by combining two dishes I  have so enjoyed this year: Mike Karamanof's fresh beetroot greens with olive oil dressing, and the lovely beetroot, cumin and garlic dip my sister Sophie made me last time I was in Cape Town.

I've added chickpeas and tahina to the beetroot to make a more substantial dip, and feta cheese to the greens for a lovely, creamy and salty contrast.  Any sort of dark, leafy green will do for this recipe: I used a combination of Swiss chard and beetroot greens, but it would also be good with baby spinach leaves, pak choy, or similar.

If you don't feel like eating wilted greens, make up a batch of beetroot hummous, anoint with a good slick of olive oil and cover with cling film. It will last up to four days in the fridge, and is just heavenly spread on toast, piled on a baked potato or spooned directly from the dish into your mouth, for breakfast.

I  haven't given exact quantities here: taste the dish as you go along. This dish is best served warm.

---

Beetroot Hummous with Wilted Greens, Feta and Lemon

For the hummous:
6 medium-sized beetroot bulbs, untrimmed
6 fat cloves fresh garlic, unpeeled
salt and milled black pepper
a little olive oil for baking
1 Tbsp (15 ml) tahina (sesame-seed paste)
a can of chickpeas, drained of their liquid
1 and 1/2 tsp (7.5 ml) freshly ground cumin
the juice of a lemon
about 125 ml (half a cup) olive oil

For the greens:
a large bunch of young Swiss chard, baby spinach, beetroot greens or similar
the juice of a lemon
olive oil
salt and milled black pepper
feta cheese

First make the hummous. Preheat the oven to 180° C. Lightly scrub the beetroot bulbs to remove any grit, but don't trim or peel them. Put them, and five cloves of unpeeled garlic, on a large sheet of tin foil. Add a pinch of salt and a grinding of pepper, and drizzle over a little olive oil. Fold up the edges of the foil and seal tightly to make a loose parcel. Place the parcel in the hot oven and bake for an hour or two (the time will depend on the age of your beetroot) or until the beetroot is quite soft when pierced with a sharp knife.

Trim off the tails and stalks of the beetroot. Cut into cubes and place in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade (if you're making  the hummous on its own, reserve half a beetroot, and a few chickpeas, for garnishing).  Squeeze the softened garlic cloves out of their papery casings and add to the food processor bowl along with the tahina, chickpeas, cumin, lemon juice and half  (about 60 ml) of the olive oil. Blitz the mixture, at high speed, to a purée, adding just enough extra olive oil to create a smooth, thick paste.   Season with salt and pepper, to taste.  If the hummous needs a little more zing, add another squeeze of lemon juice. Decant into a bowl. (If you're serving this as a dip on its own, top with the finely diced reserved beetroot, a few whole chickpeas, a dusting of cumin and/or cayenne pepper and olive oil.) Cover with clingfilm and set aside.

Now prepare the greens. Heat a big saucepan, wok or frying pan. Trim away any very thick stalks (but leave all the slender remaining stalks on). Rinse the leaves well under cold running water, give them a good shake, and put them, with water still clinging to their leaves, in the hot pan. Cook for seven to ten minutes, tossing frequently, or until the stalks are tender ( but have a little crunch remaining) and most of the liquid has evaporated. Don't worry if the greens begin to lose their fresh green colour as the stalks cook: this is vegetable dish, not a salad!  Remove from the heat, drain off any remaining liquid and dress with lemon juice and olive oil. Season with salt and pepper and toss well.

Swirl the the greens onto a warmed platter and crumble over the feta cheese.  Pile the warm beetroot hummous on top.

Lovely with fresh bread for mopping up the juices.

Serves 6 as a starter or 8 as a side salad.

Print Friendly

Smoky Aubergine and Hummous Dip and other Mediterranean delights

I try not to begin a recipe with an excuse or a complaint, so I won't (although I am sorely tempted. After all, I have a bloody good reason* for having neglected this blog).

Here is a lovely, easy and quite delicious party dip I made last Thursday for an impromptu celebratory party with my dearest friends. The whole arrangement was very last minute (we were celebrating the Bloody Good Reason*) and as I didn't have time to plot, plan or do an in-depth shopping spree , I used what I had in the fridge and cupboard to produce an array of little snacky things and hors d'oeuvres ( or what my sister calls 'Horse der Ervrays').

It took just over two hours to get the Horse der Ervrays ready: a record time for me, although I admit I did get grumpy, and emitteda few rumbling and mewing noises.



Here's what I made:

* Marinated green and Calamata olives (drain the brine off the olives and soak them, in a warm or sunny place, for two hours, in olive oil spiked with crushed fresh garlic, dried red chillies, fresh rosemary, thyme and oregano, grated lemon zest, a few crushed coriander seeds and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice). A similar recipe here.

* Ten-minute phyllo pastry cases with blue cheese, caramelised leeks and cherry tomatoes, topped with fresh rocket and a dash of olive oil and lemon juice. So quick and easy to make: recipe here.

* Oven-baked pork chipolatas with hot English mustard and a creamy wasabi dip (half Hellmann's mayonnaise, half thick Greek yoghurt, a squeeze of lemon juice and wasabi paste to taste).  Or try my Whipped Mustard Sauce

* Spicy, crunchy potato wedges with a roasted red-pepper dip (recipe here)

* Smoked Brinjal and Hoummous Dip (recipe below)

* Shop-bought tubs of pale-pink, creamy taramasolata and a punchy tapenade

* Fresh red and yellow cherry tomatoes with marinated mozzarella, a garlic-basil dressing and fresh basil leaves

* Fresh, shop-bought ciabatta bread, rye bread and little salty crackers (Salticrax, they're known here in South Africa)

* Umami Tomato Soup with croutons, Greek yoghurt, chives and Tabasco sauce. Recipe here.

Smoky Aubergine and Hummous Dip

I used home-made hoummous in this recipe (see notes at end of this post), but a good commercial hoummous will do just as well, provided that it is suitably lemony, zingy and garlicky. If your shop-bought hoummous seems to be punching below its weight stir in some extra fresh lemon juice, cumin and garlic (see Cook's Notes, below).

2 very large, shining aubergines (brinjals or eggplant), or three medium-sized ones
200 ml good hoummous (see note below)
3 Tbsp (45 ml) olive oil
2 small cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
the juice of half a lemon
1 tsp (5 ml) powdered cumin
salt and freshly milled black pepper
extra cumin and/or cayenne pepper, to top

Preheat the oven to 200 ºC. Rinse and dry the aubergines and place them, whole, on the hot oven racks (put a baking sheet underneath them to catch any drips). Bake the aubergines for 35-45 minutes, or until they blistered, collapsed, and soft to the touch. Remove from the oven and cool for 15 minutes. Put the aubergines on a big chopping board and open them out by slitting their skins. Using the back of knife, scrape out all the pulp (it doesn't matter if a few flecks of black skin remain) ) and put it into a sieve set over a bowl. Allow the pulp to drain for a few minutes, but don't discard the drained liquid.

Put the aubergine pulp into a liquidiser or food processor fitted with a metal blade and add the hoummous, olive oil, garlic, fresh lemon juice and cumin. Process at a medium speed until you have a well amalgamated though slightly rough mixture. If the mixture is too stiff to allow the blades to turn, add a little of the reserved drained liquid. Season with salt and pepper.

Tip the dip into a bowl and top with a generous splash of olive oil and a sprinkling of cumin and/or cayenne pepper.

Makes about 600 ml dip.

* Bloody Good Reason is this: our family is moving back to Cape Town, after 17 years in Johannesburg. My dearly beloved has just started a new job in the fairest Cape of them all, and I - and the three kids - will move down to join him at the end of November. This involves all sorts of time-gobbling administrative tasks - sell house, find new house, pack old house, find schools for kids, get son through Matric, and so on. And we won't mention the extreme annoyance of having to spruce up one's house so it is ready for a show day. How come you never notice the grimy, grungy bits of a house until you see it through the eyes of someone who (you hope) wants to buy it?

Cook's Notes: tips for home-made hoummous

1. Use tinned chickpeas if you're in a hurry. For a smoother result, drain the tinned chickpeas and simmer them in water or stock for 30 minutes.

2. If you're making your hoummous from scratch, I suggest that you use less tahina (sesame paste) than specified in the recipe. I find that too much tahina in a hoummous makes it sticky, bitter and slightly peanut-buttery. And make sure the tahina is fresh: this ingredient doesn't have a good shelf life, once opened. Good tahina has a mild, nutty smell and taste. It should never taste stale or rancid.

3. Add a pinch of citric acid to your hoummous. I don't normally recommend additives, but I think a good hoummous needs to have a really zingy, lemony flavour. You can certainly achieve this by adding a lot of fresh lemon juice, but this will make your hoummous unpleasantly sloppy. A whisper of citric acid (available in the baking section of most supermarkets) really does the trick. Print Friendly