#RealFood For Kids: Low-Carb 'Grannies in Blankets'

This is a new twist on a beloved South African dish: Ouma Onder Die Komberse. Big, juicy meatballs are flavoured with nutmeg, onion and lemon zest, wrapped in soft cabbage ‘blankets’, then baked in a creamy lemon sauce.

The paragraph above comes directly from just-published Real Food: Healthy, Happy Children, by Kath Megaw (Quivertree, 2015), and I'm honoured to have been asked to contribute some of my low-carb recipes to the book.

South African paediatric dietician Kath Megaw is a leading fundi on low-carb and ketogenic diets for children. "Wait!" I hear you cry. "Low carb for kids?" Yes, that's right, but I can assure you that this is not some faddish, irresponsible book leaping onto the banting bandwagon. It's a painstakingly researched, well-informed, sensible guide that advocates a return to real, 'living' food using the wholesome unprocessed ingredients so familiar to our grandparents.

If you're looking to banish sugar, stodge and boxed foods from your family's diet, you've found the only guide you'll ever need, whether you're pregnant, or feeding a baby, or a coping with teens who have hollow legs. If you still need convincing, click here to listen to a podcast of Kath talking about her book, and here to read more about her low-carb philosophy.  

When I first picked up my copy of this hefty 300-page book at last week's launch, I was astonished at how much detailed information is packed between the pages. It's bursting with tips, tricks and accurate nutritional info, with lovely photographs and illustrations adding whimsy along the way. Journalist and cookery writer Daisy Jones, who wrote the text, has a chatty yet precise style, and she's brilliantly conveyed Kath's 20 years of clinical experience in this field.

What's pleased me so much about contributing to this project  is seeing my name on the same line as Phillippa Cheifitz's.  Phillippa, who wrote many of the gorgeous recipes in the book, is one of the grande dames of South African cookery writing, and I have greatly admired her since I cooked my way through her inspiring Cosmopolitan Cookbook in my twenties.

I hauled my tattered, cake-spattered copy of that book to the launch, and my day was complete when Phillippa graciously signed it for me, 29 years after I bought it.

I'm so looking forward to trying the recipes on my own family - specially the mouth-watering treats from the party food section.  (My beloveds feel so deprived of puds these days.)

Nutty Exploding Apples with Vanilla Custard: another of my recipes
from  Real Food: Healthy, Happy Children

Now to the recipe. I've used a Swedish-style creamy sauce to cloak these cabbage-wrapped meatballs, but you could also bake them in a fresh tomato sauce.  Meatballs tend to be a little dense when they don't contain breadcrumbs, but I've found that a big dollop of natural Greek yoghurt helps to tenderise them. This #LCHF recipe is suitable for diabetics.

Low-Carb 'Grannies in Blankets' 

12 outer leaves from a cabbage (or baby savoy leaves)
2 lemons
salt and milled pepper, to taste
1 large onion, peeled
900g beef mince
1 extra-large free-range egg, lightly beaten
2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely grated
3 tbsp thick Greek yoghurt
1½ tsp nutmeg
1 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp white wine vinegar
1 cup cream
4 tbsp finely chopped parsley
butter, for greasing

1. Preheat the oven to 170°C (fan off).
2. Trim away the thick lower ‘ribs’ of the cabbage leaves. Bring a large saucepan of water to a
rolling boil, then add a wedge of lemon and a pinch of salt. Plunge the leaves into the water,
partially cover with a lid and blanch for 7 to 9 minutes, or until the leaves are wilted.
3. Drain (reserving the poaching water), then run the leaves under cold water for 3 minutes and
set aside to drain further.
4. Grate the onion on the fine tooth of a grater to create a soft, juicy pulp. Tip this into a large
mixing bowl and add the mince, egg, garlic, yoghurt, nutmeg and the zest of 1 lemon, plus
seasoning. Combine the mixture well using your hands., then roll the mince into 12 balls, each
about the size of a golf ball.
5. Heat a little olive oil in a non-stick frying pan and brown the meatballs on all sides, in batches,
over a medium-high heat – this should only take a few minutes per side as they should be nicely
caramelised, but still raw on the inside. Set the meatballs aside on a plate.
6. Turn up the heat and add the vinegar, plus half a cup of the cabbage poaching liquid. Let this
mixture bubble vigorously for 3 to 5 minutes, or until it has reduced by half.
7. Remove the pan from the heat, wait a minute, then stir in the cream. Return the pan to a
medium heat and let the sauce bubble for 1 minute, stirring now and then, until it has slightly
thickened. Now stir in the juice of half a lemon and the parsley and set aside.
8. Pat the cabbage leaves very dry on kitchen paper. Tuck a leaf around each meatball and arrange
in a buttered baking dish. Pour the sauce around and over the cabbage parcels and cover the dish
loosely with tin foil. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the ‘grannies’ are cooked right through.


Serves 4-6 Per serving: energy: 514 kcal protein: 33g fat: 39g carbs: 7g ratio: 1.0 :1

Recipe courtesy of Quivertree Publications. 

More of my meatball recipes:

• No-Carb Lemon Turmeric Meatballs in Lettuce Cups 
• Low-Carb Swedish-Style Meatballs in a Creamy Lemon Sauce
• Meatballs in a Spicy Tomato and Yoghurt Gravy
• Mini Pita Breads with Spicy Meatballs and Hummous
• Quick Oven-Baked Meatballs with Tomato & Spag

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Low-Carb Silken Chicken-Liver Pâté with Green Peppercorns

If you're looking for a brilliant snack to serve friends and family over the festive season, try this velvety chicken liver pâté with green peppercorns.  My formula is the culmination of many years of making retro party pâtés, and I hope this easy, inexpensive dish will knock the socks off your guests. (Scroll to the end of this page for links to more of my potted pleasures).

My Low-Carb, Silken Chicken Liver Pâté with Green Peppercorns. 

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Wine recommendation from Michael Olivier: He says: "Leopard's Leap Culinaria Muscat de Frontignan Collection 2013, made from Muscat de Frontignan grapes from Robertson. A sweet wine goes very well with paté."

It looks like: Elegant packaging. The wine is pale salmon in colour. 

It smells like: Rose petals and Turkish Delight.

 It tastes like: Rich and sweet grapiness. Though not cloying in its sweetness. Percent balance of beautiful aromas, luscious sappy fruits, good counterbalancing acidity and a long gently waning aftertaste with an undertow of rose geranium.

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I can't bear gritty, greyish chicken-liver pâtés: for me even to consider eating liver (shudder), the mixture must be very smooth and fine, with a complex flavour, a boozy undertone and a slight rosy blush on the inside. I've added Madagascan green peppercorns to this recipe because I love the way the way their peppery pop surprises your tongue and adds lovely contrast to the richness of the livers.

There are two important watchpoints here: Don't overcook the livers - a gentle pinkness as you cut into the pâté is essential - and do strain the mixture through a fine sieve to remove any gristle and ensure a silken result. The clarified butter topping isn't essential to seal the top of the pâté, but it looks so pretty, with its scattering of both crunchy pink peppercorns and brined green ones.

This recipe is low in carbohydrates and suitable for diabetics. If you're on a #LCHF regime, I suggest you serve it with slim discs of cucumber or crisp celery sticks, or caperberries, as shown in the picture above. If you're not banting, serve this with slices of fresh baguette or Melba toast.

Low-Carb Silken Chicken-Liver Pâté with Green Peppercorns 

500 g chicken livers, thawed
150 g (150 ml) salted butter
a small onion or two shallots, peeled and very finely chopped
1 large sprig fresh thyme
1 clove garlic, peeled and finely chopped
2 Tbsp (30 ml) brandy, plus an extra teaspoon
2 Tbsp (30 ml) cream
4 tsp (20 ml) brined green peppercorns
a grating of whole nutmeg
salt and milled black pepper, to taste

To top:

50 g (50 ml) salted butter
a few green peppercorns
a few red peppercorns
a sprig of thyme

Trim any gristle or unpleasant-looking bits off the chicken livers, rinse under cold water and drain for 10 minutes in a colander.  Pat them dry on kitchen paper. If they are of unequal size, cut the biggest ones in half.

Melt 100 g of the butter in a large frying pan, over a medium heat, and add the onion and thyme sprig. Cook gently for 4-5 minutes, until the onion bits are soft. Don't allow the onions to brown  - they must seethe happily in their bath of golden butter, without catching. When the butter begins to turn a rich golden-brown at the edges of the pan, add the garlic and cook for a further minute.

Now turn the heat right up and tip in all the chicken livers. Cook for about 3-4 minutes, turning them over now and then. The butter should bubble enthusiastically, and the livers must must take on a little colour, while remaining pink in the middles. To check, cut the biggest piece in half - it should be rosy, but not raw, on the inside.  Remove the livers with a slotted spoon and put them in a blender.

Add the brandy to the pan - stand back, in case it ignites - and bubble furiously for a minute or two, or until the alcohol has burned off and the liquid has reduced by about half. Remove the thyme sprig and pour the hot pan juices into the liquidizer.

Put the cream, the remaining 50 g butter and 1 tsp brandy (to taste; you might want to add a little more) into the goblet, and blitz to a smooth pureé.

Put a fine sieve over a bowl and tip the warm mixture into it.  Strain it through the sieve by pressing down on the mixture with the back of a large spoon.

Stir in the green peppercorns and a little freshly grated nutmeg, to taste.  Season with salt and black pepper. Let the mixture cool to for a 5-10 minutes (this is to prevent the peppercorns sinking to the bottom), stir well, then pour into a clean pâté dish. Smooth the top to as level as you can get it.

Scatter over a few more green peppercorns, and some pink peppercorns if you fancy those, and lightly press a sprig of thyme to the centre. Cover with clingfilm and refrigerate for 2 hours.

To prepare the clarified butter, melt 50 g butter in a pan or your microwave.  Place a new or laundered cloth (a dishcloth like this is perfect) in a sieve, and pour the butter through the sieve over the pâté, to form an even layer.

Cover and refrigerate until ready to eat.

Serve with crackers and pickles.

Serves 6 as a snack or starter.

Like this recipe? Try some of my other potted pleasures:

Potted Pork Shoulder with Green Peppercorns

Easy Duck Rillettes

Potted Pork Belly with Mace & Pepper

Old-Fashioned Potted Salmon or Trout

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Seared Beef or Venison ‘Carpaccio’ with a Thai-Style Dressing

Carpaccio is a brilliant choice of starter or snack if you're on a low-carb or diabetic regime. I'm always astonished when people tell me they don't fancy carpaccio, because to my mind the combination of rosy leaves of beef fillet, sharp salty Parmesan shavings, fruity olive oil and a spritz of lemon juice is the food of the gods. It may seem like heresy to tinker with this formula by using a zippy Asian dressing, but the result is sensational. Follow my measurements to the letter, though, because the punchy ingredients will overpower the delicate meat if they're not used with restraint.

Seared Gemsbok 'Carpaccio' with a Thai-Style Dressing.
Plate by David Walters, Master Potter of Franschhoek

Wine recommendation from Michael Oliver. He says: "Du Toitskloof Tunnel White."
 Go to the end of this page for more detail about this wine pairing.

It’s impossible to produce paper-thin slices of carpaccio at home unless you have an industrial slicing machine, or you freeze the fillet first. I don’t have the former and won’t ruin the texture of the meat by doing the latter, so my solution is to flatten the leaves of fillet with a rolling pin.

I usually make this with beef, but it's also excellent with good-quality venison fillets. In this picture, I used gemsbok from the Gardens Continental Butchery in Kloof Street, which was as tender as a baby's cheek.

Strew the top of the dish with any tiny leaves or micro-herbs you can find - I used the tiniest flat-leaf parsley leaves, from the heart of a plant that cheekily seeded itself in a crack between two paving stones in my garden.

The recipe contains a very small amount of sugar (essential to create the perfect hot-sour-sweet-salty balance that characterises Thai food) but if you're on a punishing no-carb regime, you can leave this out. Or add a whisper of your favourite sugar substitute.

This recipe - which serves 6-8 as a starter - comes from my book Scrumptious: Food for Family and Friends, and is reproduced here courtesy of Random House Struik.

If you like this recipe, try my low-carb Halloumi and Beef Carpaccio Salad with Crisp-Fried Capers, and Low-Carb Seared Tuna with a Burnt Tomato & Caper Dressing

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Seared Beef or Venison ‘Carpaccio’ with  a Thai-Style Dressing

750 g fillet steak, or the equivalent weight of venison fillet
a little olive oil, for rubbing
4 tsp (20 ml) oil, for frying
small herb leaves, for garnish
white and black sesame seeds, for garnish

For the dressing:

2 limes (see Cook's Notes, below)
1 tsp (5 ml) white sugar
3-cm piece of lemon grass, bruised, peeled and finely sliced
1 Tbsp (15 ml) finely grated fresh ginger
1 clove garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1 small green chilli, deseeded and finely sliced
2 Tbsp (30 ml) sunflower oil
1 tsp (5 ml) finely grated palm sugar (or ordinary sugar)
1 tsp (5 ml) soy sauce
1 tsp (5 ml) fish sauce
2 drops sesame oil

Rub a little olive oil all over the fillet. Wrap the meat lengthways in a large sheet of clingfilm and twist the ends in opposite directions to create a tight Christmas-cracker shape. Tuck the ends underneath and chill for at least 2 hours, or until needed.

Heat the oil in a large pan and, when it is blazing hot (but not yet smoking), quickly brown the meat on all sides. This should take no more than 2-3 minutes - less, if you have a slim venison fillet - and the meat should remain quite raw inside. Place in the fridge to cool for 15 minutes.

Cut the fillet into slices 3-4 mm thick. Place the slices between two sheets of clingfilm and use a rolling pin to thin and gently stretch the meat to the desired thickness. Alternatively, you can use the back of the blade of a heavy knife to stretch and flatten the slices.

To make the dressing, cut the limes in half and dip the cut end in the white sugar. Place them, sugar-side down, in a hot non-stick frying pan. Cook until the cut surface is nicely browned and caramelised. (If you're on a sugar-free regime, leave out this step and squeeze the lime juice directly into the dressing.)

Cool the limes for a few minutes, then squeeze the warm juice into the jug attachment of a stick blender. Add all the remaining dressing ingredients and whizz at high speed until well combined. The dressing should be slightly coarse, with tiny 'bits'.  If you don't have a blender, very finely slice the ingredients and pound everything together with a mortar and pestle before whisking in the liquid dressing ingredients.

Spread a little dressing on the base of a platter or several smaller plates. Arrange the meat slices on top and drizzle with the remaining dressing. Strew over the herb leaves, sprinkle with sesame seeds and serve immediately.

Serves 8 as a starter.

Cook’s Notes

The fillet can be seared, sliced and refrigerated, and the dressing made, up to 3 hours in advance, but put them together just before you serve the dish or the dressing will ‘cook’ the fillet. If you can’t find fresh limes, use lemons instead.

Wine pairing by Michael Olivier

It looks like: Very refreshing in a dew dropped bottle. Pale golden straw in colour with some lime green flashes around the rim of the glass.
It smells like: Grapey, fresh, yellow apples and a lime squirt.
It tastes like: Crisp off-dry fruity.

This is a non-vintage wine.

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Low-Carb Paprika Chicken with Tomatoes, Green Beans and Olives

Low-Carb Paprika Chicken with Tomatoes, Green Beans & Olives 

An easy family dinner with gutsy tomato and olive flavours, freshened with snappy green beans. My fixation with excellent paprika  - both smoked and sweet - has not abated, and I can't get enough of this gorgeous ingredient. This dish is low in carbohydrates and suitable for anyone on a #LCHF or diabetic regime.

I'm sorry the picture is a bit fuzzy. I always snap pictures for this blog as I'm cooking the food, and that's usually in the late afternoon when the light is fading fast. This was demolished by my family before I had a chance to put some aside to photograph the next day.

Good tinned tomatoes are convenient, but they vary in quality and can be rather acidic, with a tinny taste, so I always use a large quantity of fresh ones in any tomato-based sauce, chucking in a tin for good measure. Tomatoes are packed with umami, and they are great for low-carb sauces because they reduce and thicken quickly.

I don't believe in peeling tomatoes for sauces, nor do I chop them. It's so easy to sling them into a blender or processor and whiz them to a pulp, and cherry tomatoes in particular are a breeze to liquidise because they're small enough to fit between the blades.

I have used both sweet paprika and smoked hot paprika in this recipe. The smoked paprika adds heavenly flavour, and it's well worth hunting for. You can find it at Woolworths, or order my favourite brand - La Dalia - from Yuppiechef. Use it sparingly though, as it is robust and can easily overpower the other ingredients.

A modest splash of cream at the end rounds out all the flavours, but you can use yoghurt instead - find tips for cooking with yoghurt here. I use leeks because I often can't face peeling onions, but if you don't have any to hand, you can use three onions, finely chopped.

Low-Carb Paprika Chicken with Tomatoes, Green Beans and Olives

8 chicken thighs and 8 drumsticks
2 Tbsp (30 ml) sunflower or olive oil, for frying
3 large leeks or 6 small ones (about 300 g)
1 x 500 g punnet ripe cherry tomatoes
2 Tbsp white wine vinegar
½ cup (125 ml) water
4 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
½ cup (125 ml) white wine
1 x 410 g tin chopped Italian tomatoes
a pinch of sugar
2 bay leaves
a large sprig of thyme
salt and milled black pepper, to taste
1 tsp (5 ml) smoked hot paprika
2 tsp (10 ml) sweet paprika
1 x 300 g punnet slim green beans, topped, tailed and cut in half crossways
¾ cup (180 ml) pitted Calamata olives, or a mixture of green and black olives
4 Tbps (60 ml) cream

Trim any visible fat off the chicken pieces and set aside.

Some of the ingredients for Paprika Chicken.

Heat the oil in a large shallow pan, over a medium-high heat, and cook the chicken pieces, skin-side down and in two batches, for 4-5 minutes, until the skin is crisp and golden. Take your time about this. Don't overcrowd the pan, and resist the temptation to poke or stir them - the skin will loosen from the bottom of the pan when it's ready.

Remove the chicken pieces - they will still be raw on their insides - and set aside on a plate.

While the chicken is frying, prepare the leeks by trimming off the dark-green upper parts and making a long horizontal slit three-quarters of the way through their lengths.  Fan out the ‘pages’ of the leeks under a cold running tap to rinse away any grit hiding in the outer leaves.  Now cut them into thick slices and set aside.

 Put the cherry tomatoes, vinegar and water into a liquidiser (or a food processor fitted with a metal blade) and whizz to a fairly fine pink purée.  If you don't have a liquidizer, chop them finely. Set aside.

Drain all but two teaspoons of fat from the pan, add the leeks and fry gently for 3-4 minutes, or until slightly softened and beginning to take on a little colour. Add the garlic and fry for another minute, without allowing it to brown.

Turn up the heat and pour in the wine.  As it bubbles furiously, use a wooden spatula to scrape away the golden residue on the bottom of the pan so it dissolves into the wine.  Tip in the reserved tomato/vinegar/water mixture, the tin of tomatoes, the sugar, bay leaves and thyme sprig. Cook over a medium-high heat, uncovered,  for 15-20 minutes, or until the mixture has reduced by a third and has thickened (see picture below).

When the tomato sauce has thickened, it's time to add the
paprika and the browned chicken pieces.

You can tell when the sauce is right by dragging a wooden spoon or spatula across the pan: if it forms a channel that closes reluctantly, it's ready.

Season to taste with salt and black pepper. Add the two paprikas and return the chicken pieces to the pan, skin-sides up, along with any juices that have accumulated beneath them. Cover with a tilted lid and braise over a medium-low heat for 15-20 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through to the bone.

Now add the green beans, olives and cream, give the pan a good shake, and simmer, covered, for a further 4-5 minutes, or until the beans are bright green and just cooked through.

Serve immediately with (if you're on a low-carb regime) Cauliflower Mash or (if you're not) normal creamy mash, or rice.

Serves 8. 


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Low-Carb Tomato & Onion Beef Curry with Herby Cauliflower 'Couscous'

An aromatic slow-cooked curry in a tomato and onion gravy, served with low-carb cauliflower & turmeric 'couscous' and a refreshing cucumber, mint and coriander raita.  This curry takes some time to put together, but once you've assembled it, you can boot it into the oven and leave it to burble for several hours, during which time you can drift into the kitchen to make the raita and cauliflower couscous.

Low-Carb Tomato & Onion Beef Curry with a fresh yoghurt/cucumber raita.

This is a delicately spiced curry, just the way I like them.  Although I'm smitten by the warming spices of Indian cuisine, I don't like aggressive curries with bitter or overly pungent spices. Last year, watching one of the interminable series of MasterChef Australia, I wanted to tweak the nose of one of the judges, who added fistfuls of every spice known to mankind to his curry. No need for that, boet!

Some spices are so powerfully perfumed that they can easily ruin the taste of a curry - cumin, cardamom, cinnamon and cloves are good examples.  I like a curry with many subtle layers of flavour, with no one spice stomping bossily over all the others. A subtle hand with spicing is the secret to creating complex and intriguing curries.

Having said that, I think you might quail when you read the long list of ingredients in my recipe, and I don't blame you. Because of my love of curry, I have tightly sealed jars of all these whole spices in my cupboard, and I restock them by visiting my favourite specialist spice shops every three months. I also buy packets of spanking-fresh pre-ground spices such as cumin and coriander every fortnight or so. (By the way, it's not true that you'll get better flavour from your spices by roasting and grinding them yourself. This is a foodie affectation, in my view. Roasting and blending spices should be left to the professionals; buy fresh powdered spices from a reputable merchant and you cannot go wrong.)

If you don't have a similar array of spices in your cupboard, you can make this curry using whatever you have available or - at a push - a few tablespoons of a good fresh generic curry powder, such as Rajah Medium Strength.

What sort of beef to use in this recipe?  I always use shin in stews because in my opinion it's the best cut for this purpose - not too fatty, and soft, flavoursome and fork-tender after a few hours of cooking. Be sure to cut away the membrane that encircles the slices of shin and, if you'd like your curry to have wonderful depth of flavour, toss in the bones so their marrow melts into the stew. You can also make this with bog-standard 'goulash' cubes, or topside, but the meat will be somewhat dry.

This recipe contains a large quantity of fresh ripe tomatoes, which I always add to stews because they have a delectable umami-ness that somehow is lacking in tinned tomatoes. I throw in a tin of chopped Italian tomatoes and a few tablespoons of tomato paste anyhow, to help create deep colour.  It's time-consuming to peel fresh tomatoes - and I have no objections to tomato peel - so now I chuck them whole into my blender to create a thin tomato purée that cooks down over 15-20 minutes to a beautiful thick brick-red.

The 'couscous' that accompanies this curry is made from the new darling of low-carb and diabetic cooking: cauliflower.  I've become a big fan of cauliflower since I switched to a very low-carb regime, and this is one of my favourite ways to eat it.  Most people steam or boil cauliflower 'couscous' and what's known as 'cauli-rice', but I've found that the best way to cook it is to zap it quickly in the microwave, which retains its flavour and gentle bite.

The low-carb 'couscous' in this picture is made of blitzed cauliflower yellowed
with healthy turmeric and flavoured with butter, toasted almonds and fresh herbs.

There is no need to brown the beef cubes before you add them to the tomato base, but be sure to take time over cooking the onions to a rich golden tangle.

Low-Carb Tomato & Onion Beef Curry with Turmeric & Almond Cauliflower 'Couscous'

For the curry: 
2.3 kg stewing beef, such as boneless shin
4 Tbsp (60 ml) sunflower oil, or a similar vegetable oil
1 stick cinnamon, or a thumb-sized piece of cassia bark
1 whole star anise
16 dried curry leaves
1 Tbsp (15 ml) black mustard seeds
2 fresh bay leaves, or 3 dried ones
4 whole cloves
4 green cardamom pods, lightly crushed
5 medium onions, peeled and finely sliced
900 g very ripe fresh tomatoes
1 x 410 g tin low-fat coconut milk
6 cloves garlic, peeled and finely grated
1 thumb-sized piece fresh ginger, grated
3 Tbsp (45 ml) tomato paste
1 x 410 g tin chopped Italian tomatoes
1 tsp (5 ml) chilli powder (or more, to taste)
1 tsp (5 ml) coriander powder
2 tsp (5 ml) tumeric
2½ tsp (7.5 ml) cumin
salt and milled black pepper
a squeeze of lemon juice
fresh chopped coriander, to serve

For the cucumber raita: 
1 large English cucumber
1 tsp (5 ml) salt
1 cup (250 ml) thick Greek yoghurt
the juice of a small lemon
4 Tbsp (60 ml) finely chopped fresh coriander [dhania; cilantro]
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely chopped fresh mint
milled black pepper

For the cauliflower 'couscous'
2 heads of fresh crisp cauliflower
2 Tbsp (30 ml) warm water
1 tsp (5 ml) turmeric
3 Tbsp (45 ml) butter, or olive oil if you like
½ cup (125 ml) toasted whole almonds or almond flakes
½ cup (125 ml) finely chopped fresh parsley, mint or coriander - or all three
salt and milled black pepper

Heat the oven to 160 ºC. Trim any fat or sinew off the beef, cut it into large cubes and set aside.

Heat the oil in a large ovenproof pot, wait until it is very hot (but not yet shimmering or smoking) and add the cinnamon stick, star anise, curry leaves, mustard seeds, bay leaves, cloves and cardamom pods. Fry the whole spices for a minute or so, or until the mustard seeds begin to crackle and pop.

Tip in all the sliced onions and fry them over a medium heat, stirring frequently, for 10 to 15 minutes, or until they have reduced by about half and are golden. Don't let them to catch or burn!

In the meantime, prepare the fresh tomatoes. Roughly chop them and put them in the goblet of a liquidizer or a food processor, along with a third of the contents of the tin of coconut milk.  Whizz them to a fairly fine, pale-pink purée and set aside. If you don't have a liquidizer, you will need to grate the tomatoes, or chop them very finely.

When the onions are ready, stir in the garlic, ginger and tomato paste and fry gently for a further minute. Don't allow the garlic to brown, or it will add a bitter taste to the curry

Tip in the puréed tomatoes, the remaining coconut milk, and the tin of chopped tomatoes.  Now stir in the chilli powder, coriander, turmeric and cumin.  Season the mixture with salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste.

Let the sauce bubble briskly for 10-15 minutes, lid off, or until it has thickened and reduced by about one third.  Stir now and then, and skim off any foam that rises to the top.

Now add all the beef cubes and stir well. Bring back up to the boil, and then put the pot into the oven, with its lid on.  Cook your stew at 160 ºC for two to two-and-a-half hours, or until the meat is fork-tender and falling apart. If the sauce seems a little thin, place the pot back on your hob and simmer it briskly so the sauce can reduce.

In the meantime, make the cauliflower 'couscous'. Break off the florets and discard the stalks.  Place the florets - several batches at a time -  in a food processor fitted with a metal blade, or in the jug attachment of a stick blender. Whizz to fine crumbs. Place 2 tablespoons of warm water in the bottom of a microwave-safe bowl and stir in the turmeric.  Now add the cauliflower crumbs, stirring well to distribute the colour.  Cover with clingfilm and microwave on high for 6-8 minutes, or until the crumbs are just tender, but retain a slight bite.  Drain well in a sieve, tip back into the bowl, and stir in the butter. Allow to cool for a few minutes, then mix in the toasted almonds and chopped herbs.

Add a squeeze of fresh lemon juice to the curry and serve it with the turmeric couscous, a dollop of raita and a shower of fresh coriander.

Serves 8. 



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Low-Carb Slow-Cooked Courgettes & Cherry Tomatoes with Melty Feta

Vegetables cooked to a tender mush are frowned upon these days, and I have to agree with the general sentiment that bright, fresh and tender-crisp is the way to go. I very seldom cook any plant to the point of disintegration but, then again, there are a handful of vegetables that are sublime when subjected to long, slow seething, among them aubergines, fennel, leeks, onions, waterblommetjies and tomatoes. And - as you will see in this this recipe - courgettes!

Slow-Cooked Courgettes & Cherry Tomatoes with Melty Feta Wheels.

Courgettes are meek veggies packing very little punch in the flavour department, but I love them in all forms - shaved raw into salads, grated and tangled into fritters and quiches, pencilled into stir-fries, and pan-fried in thick coins, all ready for a simple dressing of olive oil, lemon and salt.

They're also gorgeous when carefully cooked to a state of silken collapse: just think of the best ratatouilles of your life!  In this recipe, I've added cherry tomatoes, which are blistered in a very hot pan before they go into the oven.

This is good piping hot, with wheels of peppered feta, and it's also delicious cold as a snack or starter: see my Cook's Notes at the end of this blog post for further tips.

A simple but intense baked tomato sauce. Try this with halloumi cheese
instead of feta!

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Slow-Cooked Courgettes & Cherry Tomatoes with Melty Feta 

3 Tbsp (45 ml) olive oil
1 kg cherry tomatoes
a large sprig of thyme
2 fat cloves of garlic, peeled and finely chopped or grated
5 Tbsp (75 ml) dry white wine
1 kg courgettes [baby marrows/zucchini]
salt and milled black pepper
3 'wheels' or squares (about 220 g in total) of feta cheese, patted dry on kitchen paper
baby mint or basil leaves, or fronds of fresh dill (see Cook's Notes)
extra olive oil, for sprinkling

The tomatoes are first blistered in a
frying pan, then roasted with the
courgettes.

Heat the oven to 180 ºC. Place a large roasting tray over a fierce heat on your hob and add the olive oil. When the oil is very hot - but not yet smoking -  add the cherry tomatoes and cook them, tossing the pan energetically, for a few minutes, or until their skins begin to blister and peel. Add the thyme, garlic and wine, stir well, and cook for another minute or two. Remove the tray and set aside.

Rinse the courgettes to get rid of any grit, top and tail them and cut them into 5-cm lengths. Add them to the roasting pan and mix everything together. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Cover the pan tightly with tin foil and bake at 180 ºC for 30 minutes. Now remove the foil, give the veggies a good stir and turn the heat down to 160 ºC, fan on (or to 170 ºC if your oven has no fan).

Cook uncovered for another 65-75 minutes, or until the tomato sauce has reduced and slightly thickened (see Cook's Notes, below). Add the feta to the tray, turn the heat up to 220 ºC, fan on, and blast for another 5-10 minutes, or until the feta is soft and bubbling. Drizzle with a little fruity olive oil, scatter over the mint or basil leaves, and serve immediately, with hunks of bread.

Serves 6 as a side dish; 4 as a main course. 

Cook's Notes

• The tomatoes need to cook down slowly to a deep, intense sauce. If the sauce seems watery, leave the veggies to bake for a little longer.
• This dish needs a topping of young herb leaves, but I advise that you choose just one type of herb, because clean, simple flavours are important here. Mint and basil are good, and it's also lovely with small snippings of fresh dill.  
• You can bake the dish well ahead of time and keep it, covered, on your counter top. Add the feta wheels when you reheat the tray in a very hot oven. 
• This is a great served cold as a topping for bruschetta: dollop it onto toasted ciabatta slices and add cheese: nuggets of goat's milk cream cheese, or Parmesan shavings, or milky slices of excellent mozzarella.    

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Easy Maas (Amasi) Drained Cheese with Capers, Radishes & Herbs

A creamy, delicate white cheese that's incredibly easy and inexpensive to make. I'm excited to share my recipe with you, and hope you'll try it, because it's so versatile and delicious. I've used a beloved Southern African staple ingredient - amasi, or maas, a soured/fermented milk - to create this drained cheese, and combined it here with some spiky contrasting flavours.

Radishes, capers, lemon zest, olive oil and salt contrast with the
delicate milky flavours of the maas cheese.  I've used rocket and parsley
 seedling leaves from my garden to strew over the cheese. 

If you're fed up with paying through the nose for cream and cottage cheeses, you'll love this method of making your own soft white cheese at home. A two-litre bottle of amasi retails for around R25, so the cheese shown in the picture above, made from a one-litre bottle of maas, will set you back about ten rand.

I can't understand why amasi doesn't feature more prominently in restaurant dishes or, for that matter, in workaday South African recipes. Full-fat maas is a superb local ingredient: it has a light, tangy taste, it's pleasingly creamy, and it has many well-documented health benefits. 

The shiny slick visible at the top of this beautiful plate is not
 olive oil, but a brush-mark of fired-on, glassy glaze, placed there for a
 specific reason by my uncle, master ceramicist David Walters. More about
 this towards the end of this blogpost!  

Amasi also has multiple uses in the kitchen. You can use it in place of natural yoghurt (my obsession this year!) in many dishes: it's a good tenderising agent in marinades for chicken and red meat, it's lovely in raitas, salad dressings and creamy dips, and it's useful for dolloping at the last minute into curries and similar spicy stews. I always add maas to fruit smoothies, and often whizz it up with frozen cubes of fruit to make instant ice cream.

It's also an excellent alternative to buttermilk and/or yoghurt in scones and quick breads: the best scones I've ever tasted are made with maas: you can find the recipe for Irene Ngcobo's legendary feather-light scones here, on my Scrumptious Facebook page.

If you're wary of maas because it sometimes has a slightly lumpy texture, don't worry! The long draining process produces a beautifully creamy, smooth-textured cheese, all on its own, without any need for stirring.

You can lightly knead this cheese (once it has finished draining) with salt, pepper, garlic, herbs and any other zippy flavours you fancy, but I think it's best just as it is, with all the bells and whistles served on the side of the plate. I love the contrast of the delicate milky-bland flavours and a few crunchy/sour accompaniments, mashed together under a fork with plenty of fruity olive oil and flaky sea salt.

Try it, also, with ribbons of honey and a scattering of toasted flaked almonds or pistachios, or with stewed grapes or baked figs.  Or roll the cheese into balls, coat them with pepper and marinate them in olive oil, rosemary, garlic and similar sunny Mediterranean flavours (see picture below).

Maas-cheese balls rolled in pepper and smoked
paprika, and marinated in olive oil, garlic and rosemary.
  Plate by David Walters. 

There's nothing mysterious about this recipe: it's a basic drained cheese, similar to a Middle-Eastern labneh. If you're not in Southern Africa, you can make this using Greek yoghurt (here's my recipe for a garlicky, herby yoghurt cheese).

Finally, a note about the beautiful black plates in the pictures above. My uncle David Walters, master potter of Franschhoek, works closely with some of South Africa's top chefs to produce bespoke dinnerware for their restaurants. He's designed these matte black plates with great care and attention, brushing a slick of shiny glaze right across its middle  Why? Because he doesn't want your fork to make a nasty scraping fingernails-on-blackboard noise as you clear the plate.

Which brings me to a little grumble. As I may have mentioned on this blog before, I can't bear good food served on rough slate roof tiles, a gimmick that has spread like a black fungus all over the restaurant world. (I was annoyed to see this fad eagerly reproduced by contestants on the latest series of South African Masterchef, along with the ubiquitous spoon-dragged 'swoosh' of sauce, or what I like to call a Plate Skidmark.) There are many studio potters in South Africa producing the most beautiful hand-made dinnerware, and I wish restaurateurs would support them, instead of buying their 'crockery' at builders' yards.

My feeling is this: if you're going to spend a lot of time and effort making exquisite, flavoursome food, please dish it up on a spotlessly clean, unchipped, smooth piece of porcelain, preferably a shining white or black plate with a lip  - or crafty concave surface - to prevent your jus from sliding off the edge.

Easy Amasi Drained Cheese with Capers, Radishes & Herbs

a litre of full-cream maas (I use Inkomazi brand)
baby herb leaves, to garnish
finely grated zest of half a lemon
Maldon flaky sea salt
freshly milled black pepper
1 cup (250 ml) small radishes, halved
4 Tbsp (60 ml) baby capers
4 Tbsp (60 ml) fruity extra-virgin olive oil
a squeeze of lemon juice, to taste

Line a large sieve with a closely woven cloth. I use a fine, clean cotton dinner napkin, but a brand-new J-Cloth (one of these) or a laundered dish cloth/tea towel will do just as well. Avoid waffle-textured cloths, however.

Place the cloth-lined sieve over a big bowl and pour in the maas.  Let it sit, undisturbed, for about 10 hours, or overnight.

The clear whey will drip into the bowl below, and it will also soak right to the edges of the cloth. Don't stir or scrape at the cheese: let it drain at its leisure.

Gather up the edges of the cloth, twist them tightly together and secure with an elastic band.

Hang the bundle over a bowl, or suspend it from a tap over the sink, for another 12-16 hours, or longer, if you'd like a firmer cheese. The longer you leave it, the dryer and denser it will become. If you don't have a tap like the one shown in the picture below, hang your cheese from a broomstick placed across the backs of two facing chairs, or a similar rig.

Hang the cheese up until you're
 satisfied with its texture.  

If you're going to hang it for longer than two days, or the weather is very hot, it's best to finish the draining process in the fridge. If your fridge has wire racks, clip the knot of the cloth to the rack with clothes pegs, and place a bowl underneath. If your fridge has glass shelves, you will have to hang the cheese in the coolest place in your house.

Tip the cheese out of its cloth onto a plate. Alternatively, you can press it firmly into a mould of some sort - a little bowl, or perhaps two small ramekins - a few hours before you serve it, and then unmould it onto a plate.

Scatter over the baby herb leaves and lemon zest, and season generously with salt and pepper. Arrange the radishes, capers and any other accompaniments around the cheese. Generously douse the cheese with olive oil, and finish off with a good spritz of lemon juice.

Serve with melba toast or crackers, or with celery and carrot sticks if you're on a low-carb eating plan.

Serves 4-6 as a snack.



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Freddy's Smashed Green Olives Marinated with Garlic and Coriander

This is a famous recipe in my family, because my brother-in-law Freddy, who is of Cypriot descent, makes it every time our tribe gathers for a feast.  It's an absolute zinger of a snack: big shining green olives drenched in garlicky, lemony olive oil, with plenty of coarsely crushed coriander seed. The warm, citrussy coriander notes are heavenly with green olives, while the lemon juice adds an irresistible acidity. This dish, elies tsakistes (literally, crushed olives) is popular all over Cyprus, and I am pretty sure Freddy learned the recipe at the elbow of his late mother Amaranth Sitas, who wrote an excellent book about Cypriot cooking (Kopiaste,  K P Kyriakou Books, Cyprus, 1989).

I snapped this on Christmas Day, just before the hungry hordes
 polished off the lot. 

I know how to make this, but mine never taste quite as good as Freddy's, so on Christmas Day I pinned him down and made him write out the recipe. You can use any sort of green olive here; Freddy uses a combination of what are called 'buffet' olives in South Africa - the smaller olives in the picture on the left - and big juicy queen olives. This can be made with pitted olives, but it isn't as nice as using whole ones (and, besides, half the fun of eating olives is seeing how far you can spit the pips).

Serve this with a loaf or two of warm bread for soaking up the olive oil.  If there is any marinade left over, cover it and use it the next day to douse some new olives, adding a little extra fresh garlic and lemon juice. These keep for a long time in the fridge: if you're going to chill them, decant them into lidded jars, but take them out of the fridge a few hours before you serve them so any congealed oil has a chance to come up to room temperature.

Don't skimp on the coriander seed - it's essential for an authentic taste.

I know Freddy will frown on me for saying this, but a handful of dried chilli flakes - or a sliced fresh chilli - is a fine variation on this theme.

This is a great choice of snack if you're on a low-carb regime.

If you like this recipe, do try my version of Freddy's baked aubergines with garlic yoghurt.

Freddy's Smashed Marinated Green Olives

2 packets small green 'buffet' olives, drained (about 2 cups/500 ml after draining)
2 packets queen olives, drained of brine (about 2 cups/500 ml after draining)
5 big cloves of garlic, peeled and roughly chopped
4 Tbsp (60 ml) whole coriander seeds
2 large, juicy lemons
1 cup (250 ml) extra-virgin olive oil
salt and pepper, to taste

Tip all the olives onto a board. Using a small, sharp knife, cut a slit in the side of each one. Now gently bash each olive, using a rolling pin or the blade of a heavy knife, just firmly enough to crack it open.  Tip the olives into a bowl. Using a mortar and pestle, coarsely crush the coriander seeds and add them to the olives along with the chopped garlic. Squeeze the lemons over the olives and mix well.  Cover the bowl with clingfilm and set aside to steep for six hours or longer (but a minimum of three).

Tip the olives into one or two pretty serving dishes and pour over the olive oil.  Add salt and pepper, to taste (although Freddy never does).

Serve with warm bread.

Serves 8-10, as a snack with drinks. 


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Old-Fashioned Ham and Eggs Au Gratin

Thick-sliced ham and tenderly boiled eggs in a parsley béchamel sauce, with a bubbly golden crust. This is a singularly comforting dish that I like so much I've made it three times in ten days, using the excuse that it's okay to hoover protein and fat when one is following the now-famous Tim Noakes low-carb diet*.  I ate this as a child, but I don't remember who made it for me. My granny Peggy, I think, who knew how to fry an egg and make proper crumpets and coleslaw.

Old-Fashioned Ham and Eggs Au Gratin

I prefer these days to make dishes I recall from my childhood from taste-memory, as opposed to Googling a recipe or hunting through my old cookbooks, not only because I have a horror of inadvertently nicking someone else's original recipe, but also because so many of the recipes I find online and in cookbooks aren't quite what I'm looking for.

The particular charm of this dish, as I remember it, is its plainness: it's just ham and eggs in a white sauce, with a nice cheesy topping. The first time I recreated the recipe, it was good, and I ate it with my normal gusto, but it wasn't quite as delicious as I remembered it.  Then I embellished the recipe, adding some newfangled ingredients that weren't available to my granny in the early 1960s -  Dijon mustard, a spot of Tabasco, freshly grated Parmesan, a sifting of feathery panko crumbs, paprika, freshly milled white pepper - and the result sent me into raptures.

Comforting, creamy and homely. 

This is makes a fine light lunch or supper, served with bread and a leafy salad plainly dressed with lemon juice, salt and olive oil.  It's important to use thick slices of ham, so ask the person behind the deli counter at your supermarket to adjust the slicing machine to cut the ham into leaves at least 7 mm thick.  If you're worried about the eggs cracking as you put them into the boiling water (and there is always one that does, no matter what precautions you take), wrap each egg tightly in tin foil before it goes into the water. I've tried this trick three times now, and haven't had a failure.

Old-Fashioned Ham and Eggs Au Gratin 

8 extra-large free-range eggs
400 g sliced, good ham (about 6 slices, each cut 7 mm thick)
4 Tbsp (60 ml) butter
4 Tbsp (60 ml)  flour
2½ cups (375 ml) whole milk
1 Tbsp (15 ml)  Dijon mustard
2 tsp (10 ml) fresh lemon juice
5 Tbsp (75  ml) finely chopped curly parsley
2 tsp (10 ml) Tabasco sauce [optional]
flaky sea salt
a pinch of white pepper
6 Tbsp (90 ml) freshly grated Parmesan or Grana Padano
6 Tbsp (90 ml) fine dry breadcrumbs
1 tsp (5 ml) fresh paprika, or cayenne pepper if you'd like extra tingle
4 Tbsp (60 ml) melted butter

First boil the eggs. Bring a pot of water to a gentle, burbling boil, slip in the eggs and boil them for exactly eight minutes (set a timer).  Drain the eggs and place the pot under a cold trickling tap for 7-8 minutes, or until they are cool.

Set the oven to 200 ºC. Generously butter a shallow ovenproof dish; it should be just big enough to hold all the ham slices (it's fine if they overlap). Arrange the ham on the bottom of the dish. To make the béchamel (white) sauce, melt the butter in a saucepan and tip in all the flour. Cook over a medium-high heat, stirring constantly, for a minute, without letting the flour brown. Pour in the milk, all in one go, and beat with a wire whisk to break up any lumps. Bring the mixture to the boil, stirring constantly. When the sauce is thick and smooth, turn down the heat and let it burble very gently for 2 to 3 minutes. Remove the sauce from the heat, let it cool for a few minutes and then whisk in the mustard, lemon juice, chopped parsley and Tabasco. Season to taste with salt and white pepper.

Peel the boiled eggs and cut each one, crossways, into four thick slices. Arrange these neatly on top of the ham. Pour the warm béchamel sauce evenly over the top. Sprinkle the surface of the sauce with the Parmesan, bread crumbs and paprika (or cayenne pepper) and drizzle the melted butter on top.

Bake, uncovered, for 10-15 minutes, or until the crumb topping is golden, and the filling is gently bubbling. Serve hot.

With a salad, serves 6. 

* This isn't a strictly carb-free dish, as it contains four tablespoons of flour.  But that's not much, split between six people.

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Low-carb veggies: Marinated Mushrooms, Beans & Feta

This blimmin' low-carb regime, as espoused by the man whose name is on everyone's lips in South Africa right now, Professor Tim Noakes, has recently presented some severe catering challenges. It's annoying enough to have to cook a rib-sticker of a meal for my family of five every night, but to have to make one that excludes potatoes, pasta, bread, pulses and rice (and which includes some of the aforementioned carbohydrates for the two Skinnies in my house) has become intolerable. The only consolation is that, after two weeks or so, there are looser waistbands all round. (My waistband is, I admit, perhaps less loose than the rest, but that's only because I refuse to give up fruit pastilles and wine.) Anyhow, here's a dish I've made several times, that vanishes in a jiffy, and that is as satisfying as any salad lacking potatoes can be.

Bowl by David Walters www.davidwalters.co.za 

This is based on a recipe for marinated mushrooms that I first made when I was 10 or so, and became interested in cooking. My mum quite often made marinated mushrooms - a quintessential dish of the Seventies -  for special occasions, and over the past few decades I've altered and tweaked the recipe to my liking; you of course can do the same by adding your choice of flavourings to the mix. For low-carb-meal purposes, I've added some just-cooked, squeaky green beans and generous blocks of creamy feta cheese. If you're pressed for time, buy ready-sliced green beans, and cook them in your microwave oven.

Low-Carb Marinated Mushrooms, Beans & Feta

For the marinated mushrooms:
500 g portabellini mushrooms, or similar small button mushrooms
2 cloves garlic, halved lengthways, and skin left on
1 bay leaf
2 big sprigs fresh thyme
3 Tbsp (45 ml) white wine vinegar
4 Tbsp (60 ml) dry white wine
2 Tbsp (30 ml) olive oil
2 tsp (10 ml) Kikkoman soy sauce (optional)
1 tsp (5 ml) white sugar
salt and milled black pepper

For the salad:
500 g fresh green beans, topped and tailed
2 'wheels' (about 160 g) creamy, firm feta cheese
the juice of a small lemon
4 Tbsp (60 ml) extra-virgin olive oil

Put all the ingredients for the marinated mushrooms in a big saucepan and bring slowly to the boil, stirring occasionally. Cover with a lid, turn down the heat and and simmer for 10-15 minutes, or until the mushrooms  are tender. Take the pan off the heat and set aside to cool for at least two hours. If you're not going to make the salad immediately, place the pot in the fridge for up to 24 hours.

Cut the beans into thirds crossways and set aside. Bring a large pot of salted water to a vigorous boil. Throw in the beans and cook them for 7-8 minutes, or until they are just tender but retain a slight bite. While the beans are cooking, fill a big bowl with cold water and add a few handfuls of ice cubes. Drain the beans and plunge them into the iced water. Leave them for 5 minutes, then drain them again, pat them dry and place in a large bowl.  Add the lemon juice and olive oil and toss well. Now fish the mushrooms from their marinade with a slotted spoon and add them to the bowl, along with about 8 tablespoons of the marinade, or more, to taste. Stir in the feta cubes and season to taste with salt and pepper.  Set aside to soak for 20 minutes before serving (but don't leave the salad to stand for too long, or the beans will turn muddy).

Serves 4. 

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Lemony Green Beans with Frizzled Prosciutto, Fried Breadcrumbs and Aïoli

A pile of squeaky green beans dressed with lemon, olive oil and garlic is my idea of heaven on a plate. In this recipe, I've added a luxurious touch to the beans by topping them off with crunchy fried prosciutto, breadcrumbs and a flurry of pungent, garlicky home-made aïoli.

Michael Le Grange's photograph of my Lemony Green Beans with Aïoli. In this version of the recipe, from my cookbook, I added toasted, flaked almonds. Image © Random House Struik 2012. Bowl by David Walters.

As I mentioned in my previous post (Dill Baby Potatoes with Smoked-Salmon Mayonnaise) I'm a great fan of dishes that take a small quantity of a luxurious ingredient and spread it between many portions, and this is such a dish. Top-quality Italian prosciutto is very expensive, but you need only six large slices (although of course you are free to add more, if you're throwing caution to the wind).

Here, I've used Richard Bosman's excellent locally cured prosciutto, which is available in selected delis and other outlets in Cape Town. I know it may seem like heresy to fry prosciutto, but it is so splendidly crisp and flavoursome prepared this way that every time I taste it I want to fall into a dead faint.

Although authentic aïoli calls for olive oil only, I use a mixture of good fruity olive oil and sunflower oil for a lighter mayonnaise. Feel free to add more garlic, if you want your mayo to deliver a good punch in the nose.

You can serve these beans piping hot or at room temperature. If you're not serving them hot, don't omit the step of plunging them into iced water to set the colour.

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Lemony Green Beans with Frizzled Prosciutto, Fried Breadcrumbs & Aïoli

two packs of young green beans (enough for six)
4 Tbsp (60 ml) extra virgin olive oil
the juice of a lemon
salt and milled black pepper
six slices of prosciutto
two breadrolls
sunflower oil for frying

For the aïoli:
2 large egg yolks, at room temperature
a pinch of salt
1 tsp (5 ml) Dijon mustard
150 ml light vegetable oil (such as sunflower or canola oil, or any other flavourless oil)
170 ml good, fruity olive oil
the juice of a lemon
a large clove of fresh garlic, finely grated (or more, to taste)
freshly milled black pepper

First make the aïoli. Put the two egg yolks into a small bowl (a ceramic soup bowl is ideal) and add the salt and mustard. Mix the vegetable oil and olive oil in a small jug with a sharp pouring nozzle. Place a damp cloth underneath the soup bowl so that it doesn't skid around while you're making the mayo. Using a rotary beater (electic whisk) beat the egg yolks and salt for a minute. If you don't have such a gadget, use an ordinary wire whisk, and plenty of elbow power.

Now, as you whisk the egg yolks with one hand, pick up the jug of oil with the other, and dribble a little splash of oil onto the yolks. Keep whisking and dribbling, a little splash at a time, with great energy, and within a few minutes you will see the egg mixture begin to thicken rather dramatically. Keep adding the oil, a dribble at a time, until you have a thick yellow ointment. You may not need to add all the oil: stop adding oil once the mayonnaise has thickened to your liking. Stir in the lemon juice, garlic and pepper, and add more salt if necessary. Set aside.

Fill a bowl with cold water and add to it a handful of ice cubes. Top and tail the beans. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil and add the beans. Boil rapidly for 2-3 minutes, or until the beans are just tender. (How long you cook them will depend on the size and age of your beans.)

Drain the beans. If you're not serving this piping hot, immediately plunge them into the ice water. Leave in the water for three minutes, then drain and pat dry.

In the meantime, prepare the toppings.  Heat sunflower oil, to a depth of a millimetre, in a frying pan. When hot, but not smoking, add the prosciutto slices, a few at a time, and cook for a minute or so, or until frizzled and crisp. Drain on a piece of kitchen paper.  Now crumble the breadcrumbs into the hot oil and fry until crisp and golden (remember that they will carry on browning once you remove them from the heat, so don't let them get too dark). Drain on kitchen paper.

To serve, toss the beans in the olive oil and lemon juice and season with salt and pepper.  Pile onto a platter (or onto individual plates) and top with the prosciutto and breadcrumbs.  Serve with a large dollop of aïoli.

Serves 6.

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Spiced Baked Aubergines with Yoghurt and Pomegranate Seeds

Every family has a handful of famous recipes, and a famous recipe in my family is my brother-in-law Freddy's Aubergines with Garlic Yoghurt. (We call them brinjals, as do most people in South Africa.) Freddy, who is of Cypriot descent, always makes this excellent dish for family gatherings, along with his equally famous Smashed Olives).

Spiced Baked Aubergines with Yoghurt and Pomegranate Seeds

Freddy's recipe involves salting and rinsing thick slices of brinjal, frying them in hot oil until crisp and golden, then layering them in a dish with thick, garlicky yoghurt and few secret ingredients. (I assume he has secret ingredients, because when I make this, it doesn't taste half as good as Freddy's.)

This recipe is a variation on the theme, except that I have added lemon thyme, and lightly spiced the slices with some warming flavours of the middle east. The combination of aubergines, cumin, coriander and yoghurt brings to mind Persan cuisine, so I've also added a scattering of fresh pomegranate seeds, which pop gloriously in your mouth and provide a bright crunchy contrast to the silken centres of the brinjal slices.

Also, I've baked these, not fried them, to prevent the spices from turning bitter in the pan.

This is a good party dish because you can prepare the brinjals in advance and keep them, covered, in the fridge until you're ready to bake them. You will find that the slices suck up the oil like blotting paper (especially if you haven't degorged them; see below), but don't be tempted to add more before you bake the dish: I promise they'll be beautifully golden and crispy-edged when they come out of the oven.

It's not strictly necessary to degorge the brinjals before you bake them (today's modern varieties are not as bitter as the brinjals yesteryear) but I have found that this process helps to prevent the slices from absorbing too much oil. Choose firm, tight-skinned brinjals with a dark glossy skin, and not too big.

A very rich, creamy Greek yoghurt is essential. Use ordinary thyme if you can't find lemon thyme.

The sumac sprinkled on the slices at the end of cooking gives them a lovely tang. Sumac is available at good delis and spice shops, but if you can't find it, leave it out. Smoked paprika is now widely available, but you can use ordinary paprika. As always, use very, very fresh cumin and coriander (and by that I mean that you bought them less than a week ago!).

Spiced Baked Aubergines with Yoghurt and Pomegranate Seeds

4 medium aubergines
1 tsp (5 ml) salt
⅓ cup (80 ml) olive oil
1.5 tsp (7.5 ml) cumin
1 tsp (5 ml) coriander
½ tsp (2.5 ml) smoked paprika
½ tsp (2.5 ml) chilli powder (or more, if you'd like some real heat)
milled black pepper
8 sprigs of lemon thyme
1 tsp (5 ml) sumac

To serve:
thick natural Greek yoghurt
fresh pomegranate seeds
extra olive oil
lemon wedges

Heat the oven to 180 ºC. Remove the tops and tails of the aubergines and cut them into 1-cm thick discs. Sprinkle the slices with the salt, place them in a colander, put a small plate on top and allow to degorge for half an hour. Pat them dry with a piece of kitchen paper (but don't rinse them).

In a small bowl, mix together the olive oil, cumin, coriander, smoked paprika, chilli powder and pepper. Take a spoonful of the oil and smear it across the bottom of a baking sheet. Rub each slice, top and bottom, with a little of the remaining oil. Arrange the slices on the baking sheet, scatter over the thyme sprigs and season quite generously with black pepper.

Brush the aubergine slices with the spiced olive oil. 

Bake the slices at 180 ºC for 25 minutes. Now turn the heat down to 160 ºC and bake for another 20 minutes, or until the slices are golden and rustling on the outside and soft and silky inside. Crumble the now-dry thyme leaves over the slices and discard the stalks. Sprinkle the sumac over the slices and season with salt, if necessary (but remember they may be salty enough after degorging).

Arrange the slices on a plate. Add dollops of yoghurt and drizzle with a little extra olive oil. Scatter with pomegranate seeds and serve piping hot or warm, with lemon wedges.

Serves 6 as a starter or side dish.


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Easy Crustless Courgette, Mint and Feta Tart

Flavoured with mint, dill and lemon, this light, easy crustless tart is inspired by the sunny flavours of Greek cuisine.

Easy Crustless Courgette, Mint and Feta Tart

This recipe is easily doubled, and excellent served warm for brunch, with a leafy salad and a dollop of extra-garlicky tzatziki. If you'd like a bit of extra crunch, sprinkle the top of the tart with poppy seeds just before it goes into the oven.

If you're not mad about dill - my family has a disappointingly iffy attitude to it - leave it out, or add some finely chopped parsley. But don't omit the fresh mint, which adds a lovely sparkle to this dish.

The grated courgettes are quickly fried, until slightly wilted.

Here are three more courgette dishes you may enjoy:

Feta, Blue Cheese, Herb & Toasted-Walnut Pesto with Griddled Courgettes

Crispy Courgette 'Fritters' with a Gingery Lemon Dressing

Slow-Cooked Courgettes & Cherry Tomatoes with Melty Feta Wheels

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Easy Crustless Courgette, Mint and Feta Tart

12 courgettes, topped and tailed
3 Tbsp (45 ml) butter
1 Tbsp (15 ml) olive oil
1 clove garlic, peeled and finely grated
1 Tbsp (15 ml) lemon juice
4 extra-large free-range eggs
½ cup (125 ml) natural yoghurt
½ cup (125 ml) cream
3 Tbsp (45ml) finely chopped fresh mint
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely chopped fresh dill
1½ cups (375 ml) crumbled feta cheese
the finely grated zest of half a lemon
1 tsp (5 ml) baking powder
salt and milled black pepper, to taste

To top:
12 cherry tomatoes, halved
3 Tbsp (45 ml) finely grated Parmesan or 2 tsp (10 ml) poppy seeds [both optional]

Set the oven to 180 ºC. Grate the courgettes on the coarse side of a cheese grater. Heat the butter and olive oil in a large pan, add the courgettes and cook over a fairly high heat for 3-5 minutes, or until the courgette has wilted slightly and any liquid has evaporated. Stir in the garlic and lemon juice, cook for another minute, then tip into a large bowl and set aside to cool slightly.

Whisk together the eggs, yoghurt and cream. Pour this mixture over the courgettes, along with all the remaining filling ingredients. Stir well to combine. Tip the mixture into a well-greased ceramic or metal tart dish. Press the cherry-tomato halves into the filling, cut side up. Bake at 180 ºC for 30-40 minutes, or until slightly puffed and golden, and just set in the middle.

Serves 6

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Potted Pork Belly with Mace and Pepper, in the English style

A meltingly tender dish of slow-cooked pork belly, shredded, combined with mace, pepper and salt, packed into a pot and sealed with butter. These could, I suppose, be called pork rillettes, but they're not cooked in seasoned fat, as French rillettes are, and there is something very English about this dish.

Potted meats have a long history in English cookery: pounding cooked meat with butter and spices, and packing the mixture into porcelain pots, was an easy way to preserve surplus meat for long periods. Elizabeth David wrote a whole booklet on the subject, English Potted Meats and Fish Pastes, which she published privately and sold through her famous kitchen shop in Pimlico. Parts of this booklet (which is as rare as hens' teeth) are reproduced in her book 'An Omelette and A Glass of Wine', and to my fury I seem to have mislaid my copy of it. (Or I lent it to someone: don't get me started on that topic).

In this recipe, pork belly is slow-cooked in a bath of flavoured water until fork-tender. You can slow-roast the belly without water, if you like, but I prefer this method because you end up with a great bonus: a lot of rich, jellied, aromatic stock, which you can use in soups, stews and gravies.

Take the dish out of the fridge an hour or so before you serve it, so the mixture can be easily spread. Clarify the butter if you have the energy (see recipe) but this isn't necessary if you intend serving this within a day or so; the purpose of removing the milk solids from the butter in olden times was to prevent it from becoming rancid.

You can add as much or as little seasoning to this dish as your tastebuds demand: I prefer to keep the spices in the background. It does, however, need a lot more salt than you would think. Lovely with fresh bread or Melba toast, a few crunchy little gherkins and a dab of wine jelly.

Potted Pork Belly
one 1.5 kg pork belly
water
2 bay leaves
2 medium carrots, snapped in thirds
a sprig of thyme
a few parsley stalks
an onion, skin on, sliced
10 peppercorns
4 whole cloves
flaky sea salt
milled black pepper
1 tsp (5 ml) ground mace (or nutmeg)
cayenne pepper, to taste
2 tsp (10 ml) chopped fresh thyme leaves
½ cup (125 ml) butter

Preheat the oven to 130 ºC. Put the pork belly, skin-side up, in a deep  roasting pan. Pour in just enough water to barely cover the belly: the fat should be poking up out of the water. Add the bay leaves, carrots, thyme, parsley stalks, onion, peppercorns and cloves (but no salt). Cover tightly with a double layer of tin foil. Place the dish in an oven heated to 130ºC, and bake for 5-6 hours, or until the pork meat is so tender you can pull it apart with a fork.

Remove the belly from the pan, pull off the skin and discard it.   Strain the stock through a sieve into a clean jug.  Allow the belly to cool for 15 minutes, then pull the meat into shreds, using two forks or your fingers, and discarding any silvery bits of sinew, but retaining any soft white fat. Now coarsely chop the belly meat: it should look like mashed tuna. (You can pound it to a smooth paste, if you like, but don't put it in a food processor, which will ruin its texture).  Place in a bowl.

Add the salt, pepper, mace, cayenne pepper and chopped thyme, tasting the mixture as you go along until it is seasoned to your liking. Mix well and pack into a shallow terrine dish or individual ramekins. Pour just enough warm stock over the meat to moisten it well - it should not feel wet or saturated. Press down well and allow to cool.

Melt the butter in a saucepan and skim all the white foam off the top. Remove from the heat, allow to cool for a few minutes, and then strain through cheesecloth or a fine sieve onto the top of the potted belly. Place a bay leaf or a sprig of thyme on top, and press down well. Refrigerate.

Serves 6 as a starter. Print Friendly