My Epic Chicken Soup with Nutmeg, Thyme & Cream

I can't think of a recipe that stirs more emotion among cooks than home-made chicken soup. I reckon that's because it's one of the world's favourite comfort foods, and a jealously guarded childhood memory for anyone with the slightest sense of nostalgia.

A silken chicken soup with nutmeg, cream, thyme and parsley.

How you like your chicken soup is likely to have everything to do with the dish tenderly handed to you by your mother in your most miserable, tired and sick moments as a youngster.

If you're Jewish, for example, you might fall to the floor in a dead faint at the thought of an intensely flavoured broth with bobbing little kneidlach. Restorative clear broths with noodles, lime, lemon grass and fish sauce may be your idea of heaven if you were raised in many places in Asia, while lemon and rice are essential ingredients for Greeks (and other children of the eastern Mediterranean) who grew up inhaling their mothers' avgolemono-style soups.  Or you might have a passion for creamy Mexican-style soups with sweetcorn and abundant toppings of avocado, grated cheese, chilli, lime and coriander.

A little cornflour gives this chicken soup a silky texture.

I've made countless pots of chicken soup for my family over the past two decades, and this recipe is the result. It's is a homely, creamy soup, crammed with vegetables. It's thick and silken, but not at all gloopy, and it has a lovely intense chickeny taste, which can only be achieved by patiently making a good stock from the bones of the bird.

I admit this is a long recipe, that it has a lot of ingredients, and that it takes time to make, but I promise you won't be disappointed by the result. (If you just don't have time to faff around, you might like to try my Quick, Thick Chicken Soup, Using the Remains of the Roast.)

Potatoes and other veggies are the thickening agents in my chicken soup, but I always add a little slaked cornflour towards the end because I find that this - quite magically - gives the soup an agreeable silken texture.  Nutmeg is an essential ingredient, and so is fresh cream.

Like most soups and stews, this tastes better the next day, after its flavours have had a chance to mingle and deepen. I'd recommend, if you're making this for a special occasion, that you prepare it a day ahead, but please refrigerate it overnight during the summer months.  Chicken soup left out in the heat can turn in a flash into a vile witch's cauldron.

You can make this with a whole chicken, or use the remains of your roast (see my Cook's Notes, below, about freezing chicken carcasses).  If you are using a fresh chicken, you need not add the poached chicken breasts, because you will use the meat you've stripped away from the whole bird.

The stock below appears in the 'Basic Recipes' section of my cookbook Scrumptious Food for Family and Friends, and is reproduced here courtesy of Random House Struik.

I always add a packet of chicken wings to my stock pot, as they help to create a good rich stock (and by that I mean one that jellies overnight in the fridge).

My Epic Chicken Soup with Nutmeg, Thyme & Cream

For the stock:
a large free-range chicken, trimmed of excess fat, OR the remains of your roasts (see Cook's Notes, below)
8 chicken wings
3 litres water, or enough to cover the chicken to a depth of 7 cm
1 cup (250 ml) white wine
1½ tsp (7.5 ml) sea salt
1 large onion, skin on, quartered
2 leeks, trimmed, rinsed and sliced
3 large carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
2 stalks celery, thickly sliced
6 stalks flat-leaf parsley
3 whole cloves
2 bay leaves
1 tsp (5 ml) black peppercorns

For the soup:
2 Tbsp (30 ml) butter
1 Tbsp (15 ml) olive oil
3 onions, peeled and sliced
3 leeks, white and pale green parts only, sliced
3 large carrots, peeled and sliced
2 sticks celery, sliced
a large sprig of thyme
2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
salt and milled black pepper
6 large potatoes, peeled and cubed
1½ cups (375 ml) milk
5 skinless chicken breasts (omit these if you've used a whole fresh chicken for your stock; see recipe)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) cornflour, or more, if necessary (see recipe)
1 cup (250 ml) cream
freshly grated nutmeg, to taste
a little lemon juice
freshly chopped curly-leaf parsley, to serve

Begin with the stock. Place the whole chicken (or carcasses) and the wings into a large stock pot and add the water, wine and salt. Bring gently to the boil, then turn down the heat and simmer for 10 minutes. Skim off all the grey foam as it rises.

Now add all the remaining stock ingredients and bring back up to the boil. Cover with a tilted lid, turn down the heat and simmer gently – the water should remain at a calm burble – for two hours, topping up with more water if necessary.

NB: If you've used a whole fresh chicken to make your stock, fish it out of the pot after about 45 minutes and cut away the chicken breasts, using a sharp knife. Set these to one side. Return the chicken to the pot, wait 20 minutes or so, then take it out again and cut off the thighs and drumsticks. Let these cool, strip off all the cooked flesh and set aside. Put the leg bones and skin, and what's left of the chicken, back into the pot and carry on simmering the stock. These steps prevent the chicken flesh from cooking to a mush.

Let the stock cool a little, then strain it into a large clean bowl through a sieve lined with a fine cloth (a laundered napkin or a brand-new kitchen cloth is ideal). Discard the solids. Skim the fat off the top of the stock, or refrigerate it overnight and then lift off the fat.

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In the meantime, get started on the vegetables. Heat the butter and olive oil in a large pot (I use my wok, because it is so good for frying veggies) and add the onions, leeks, carrots, celery and thyme sprig. Cook over a medium heat until just softened (about 6-7 minutes), then add the garlic and cook for another minute, without letting the garlic brown. Add the potatoes, milk and a few ladles of hot stock - it doesn't matter if the stock hasn't finished boiling. The liquid should just cover the vegetables.

NB: If you used chicken carcasses and not a whole chicken to make your stock, push the deboned chicken breasts into the bed of vegetables (after you've added the liquid) so they can poach gently. Once they're just cooked through, remove them and set them aside, covered, on a plate.

Season with a little salt and pepper, and turn the heat down to a gentle bubble. Cook gently for 20 minutes, or until the potatoes and carrots are just soft.

Transfer the vegetables and liquid to your rinsed-out stock pot and top up with more hot stock. How much you add depends on the volume of vegetables, but as a rule of thumb, the amount of liquid in the pot should be about double the volume of vegetables. Simmer the soup for a further 10 minutes, or until the potato cubes are on the point of collapse.

Remove the sprig of thyme and, using a stick blender or liquidiser, whizz the soup until it's beautifully smooth and fine. Patiently skim any foam off the top, then add the cream. Now mix the cornflour to a thinnish paste with a little water, and gently whisk this into the soup. Cook, stirring constantly, over a medium heat, for a few minutes. If the soup seems too thick, thin it down with more stock or milk. If it is too thin for your liking, mix up another batch of cornflour paste and dribble it into the pot until the soup if of the consistency you desire.

Shred the chicken meat you've set aside and add it to the soup pot. (Don't be tempted to liquidise any of the chicken bits, as this will ruin the soup's texture). Season generously with salt and plenty of milled pepper.

Simmer the soup for a few more minutes, or until the shredded chicken has heated through. Now, using the fine teeth of a grater, rasp the nutmeg into the soup. I usually use about a third of a whole nutmeg, but this is up to you.  If you're using powdered nutmeg, add it just a pinch at a time, or until you're happy with the taste.

Immediately before you serve the soup, add a spritz or two of fresh lemon juice, to taste. This puts a little spring in its step!

Pour into warmed bowls, scatter with parsley and serve with bread or rolls.

Makes about 3 litres of soup.

Cook’s Notes, and stock tips:

• If you often roast chickens, or buy ready-roasted ones, save their carcasses for an epic chicken soup by freezing them in a large plastic bag. I often make a stock with four carcasses I've 'saved' over a fortnight. There's no need to defrost them before you put them into the stock. 
• Another way to create a really deep-flavoured stock (and tender poached chicken to use in another dish) is to simmer a carcass and wings for two hours, as described in the recipe, then add a whole, new chicken, and let that simmer for another hour, or until cooked through.
• For an extra-rich stock, you can lightly fry all the vegetables, herbs, spices and carcass bones in a mixture of hot olive oil and butter before you add the water and whole chicken. For warm colour, add a few roughly chopped tomatoes.
• A good way to clarify and de-fat a stock is to use chef Heston Blumenthal’s method: freeze the stock in a round bowl, then place it in a big sieve or colander lined with several layers of kitchen paper. Set the sieve over a large bowl. As the stock thaws and drips into the bowl, the fat and impurities stay behind on the paper.
• If you’d like a really intense-tasting stock, put the pot back on the stove and simmer, uncovered, until the liquid has reduced by half. Store, covered, in the fridge for up to 3 days, or freeze in lidded plastic containers or clingfilm-covered ice trays for up to 3 months.

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Paprika Pork Fillet with Greek Yoghurt, plus top tips for cooking with natural yoghurt

When you spend a lot of time cooking and thinking about food and writing new recipes, you can't help but develop ridiculous fascinations for particular ingredients.  You scatter these ingredients all over your blog, hoping your readers will find the flavours as compelling as you do, and then all of a sudden your tastes swerve in another direction and you move onto something new.

Over the years I've been writing this blog, I've fixated on a number of ingredients, among them nasturtium leaves, white pepper, paprika, fennel, capers, quinces, fresh horseradish, dried mint, pork neck and prickly pears. This year, it's Greek yoghurt: not necessarily eaten thick and cold with fruit or honey or nuts, but as a brilliant substitute for cream or coconut milk in piping-hot savoury dishes and curries, and as a cool and calming note in chilled mayonnaisey ones.

Before I give you this recipe, may I warm to the topic of Greek yoghurt? I don't like fruit-flavoured commercial yoghurts, but for many years I've been an ardent fan of tangy Greek yoghurt so thick you can stand a spoon up in it. Mixing glorious natural yoghurt with fresh garlic, herbs and lemon juice to make a low-carb, low-fat smothering sauce has become a habit whenever I go on any sort of diet (about twice a month, and to no avail, I'm afraid).

Postscript, 15 March 2014: Here is my foolproof recipe for home-made Greek-Style Yoghurt.

My particular interest over the last few months has been in cooking with yoghurt, and specifically using it as a substitute for sinful dairy cream (and butter, and fatty coconut cream) in soups, stews, sauces, curries and casseroles.

Full dairy cream wins many glittering prizes when it comes to taste and mouth-feel because - along with its cousin, glorious salty butter - it adds superb silkiness, savour and luxury to so many of the world's best-loved classic sauces. Restaurant chefs all over the world make use of scandalous amounts of cream and butter to make sauces taste heavenly, and who can blame them for that?  A white-wine reduction designed to be draped over fish would be rubbish without a splash of cream to round it off,  and what would a trembling emulsion such as Hollandaise or Béarnaise be without butter?

I haven't much cared, over the years, about using dobbles of cream and cubes of butter in family dishes because I vehemently reject the notion that there are 'bad' and 'good' foods ('Everything in moderation', as Granny used to say).  I always keep a carton or two of cream in the fridge, for dribbling into sauces, scrambled eggs and soups, and when I brown chicken or fish or red meat in olive oil I will always pop in a knob or two of cold salty butter for basting purposes.

But recently I've given thought to cutting extraneous dairy fats out of our family meals, and so my interest has turned again to Greek yoghurt as a 'creamifying' and enriching agent.

Anyone who has tipped a carton of Greek yoghurt into a seething pan filled with lovely ingredients and seen it curdle in an instant to nasty white lumps may give a sympathetic nod at this point.  But please don't give up hope.

After some experimentation, I've figured out how to use yoghurt to enrich hot dishes. If you follow these steps, you'll find you can very effectively enrich soups and stews with Greek yoghurt in place of cream.

In my experience, there are two things that yoghurt hates: 1. Acidity and 2. Fierce heat.  Or a fatal combination of both.

I've found that it is possible to add fairly large quantities of Greek yoghurt to dishes containing much acidity - in the form of fresh or tinned tomatoes, for example, or freshly squeezed lemon juice - without ending up with a curdled mess you wouldn't feed the cat.

Here are my three golden rules:

1. Add the yoghurt in small quantities, at the last minute, dollop by slow dollop, and never in one big go.

2.  Never add yoghurt to a dish that's energetically boiling, or bubbling briskly. Turn the heat down to the lowest it can go, or turn the heat off.

3. Mix the yoghurt with a small amount of cornflour - just a teaspoon, or less, depending on the dish  - to stabilise it, before you add it to the hot pan.  This isn't strictly necessary, but it is a great help.

But on to the recipe, which is a good example of how you can use yoghurt to add lovely softness to dishes traditionally enriched with cream.  This is a quick and easy dish that takes some short cuts (not browning the onions, for example), and it's a good choice for a family meal. Pork fillet isn't expensive compared to chicken or beef fillets, and it's exceptionally lean if you trim off every bit of fat.  Although this dish is quite acidic because it contains fresh tomatoes, it accepts the yoghurt gracefully, and is - I reckon - the better for it.

A top-quality paprika makes all the difference to this dish. I'm not saying you can't make it with ordinary supermarket paprika, but what a difference a beautiful Spanish paprika makes.

One or two tablespoons of cream will help to round off the flavours (sorry, I just can't resist it). See my Cook's Notes at the end of the recipe.

Paprika Pork Fillet with Greek Yoghurt

1 kg pork fillet (about three fillets - or tenderloins - of 300 g each)
4 Tbsp (60 ml) cake flour
salt and milled black pepper
2 Tbsp (30 ml) olive oil
2 Tbsp (30 ml) butter
2 medium onions, peeled and roughly chopped
500 g ripe cherry or Rosa tomatoes
3 cloves garlic, peeled and roughly sliced
1 tsp (5 ml) white granulated sugar
1 Tbsp (15 ml) tomato paste
a large (10 cm) sprig of fresh thyme
¾ cup (180 ml) dry white wine
¼ cup (60 ml) water
the finely grated zest and juice of one lemon
1 Tbsp (15 ml) mild Spanish paprika, or more, to taste
1 tsp (5 ml) good quality smoked paprika [optional]
1 cup (250 ml) thick natural Greek yoghurt
a handful (125 ml) finely chopped fresh parsley

Trim the pork fillets of any fat or sinew. Cut into slices 3 cm thick. Put the flour into a big mixing bowl and season it generously with salt and milled black pepper.

Heat a large frying pan and add the oil and butter. While the fat is heating, put the fillet slices into the bowl of seasoned flour and toss them around so they're well coated.  Pat and shake the slices energetically to remove the excess flour - they should be just lightly dusted.  When the fat is very hot, brown the slices on both sides (in two or three batches, and without overcrowding the pan) until they have a nice golden crust, but are still somewhat raw on the inside.  Set each batch aside on a plate while you finish frying the rest.

In the meantime place the onions, tomatoes, garlic and sugar into a food processor, or similar liquidising device, along with any remaining flour left over in the bowl in which you dredged the meat slices. Whizz the mixture to a fairly fine coral-pink purée, but don't over-process it, because it will become foamy.

Once you've browned the final batch of pork slices, tilt the pan over the sink to drain away any excess fat, turn down the flame and add the tomato paste. Cook the tomato paste over a gentle heat for a minute, then pour in the white wine to deglaze the pan, stirring and scraping energetically to release any golden sediment clinging to its base. Add the water and the puréed onion/tomato/garlic mixture, along with the thyme sprig. Turn up the heat again and cook at a lively bubble for about 10 minutes, or until the mixture has slightly reduced and thickened, and has darkened in colour.  It's ready when you drag a spoon across the mixture and your spoon leaves a narrow channel that closes reluctantly.

Add the yoghurt patiently, a dollop at a time, stirring carefully between each addition.
 Don't boil the sauce, or the yoghurt might curdle. 

Put the browned pork slices back into the pan and add the lemon zest, paprika and smoked paprika. Turn down the heat and gently simmer the pork slices in their sauce for 4-5 minutes (turning them over once or twice during that time), or until they're cooked right through.

Stir in the lemon juice, to taste, and bubble the sauce for another minute. Now turn the heat down to the very lowest it can go and add the yoghurt, tablespoon by tablespoon, stirring well between each addition. When all the yoghurt has been incorporated, remove the thyme sprig and taste the sauce. Add more salt and pepper if you think it's necessary, plus an extra spritz of lemon juice to add some pleasant acidity. Stir in the chopped parsley and serve immediately, with mashed potatoes and steamed green beans, or a pile of fresh rocket, beetroot and watercress.

Serves 4-6 as a main course.

Cook's Notes

• Two or three tablespoons of fresh creamed stirred in at the end will beautifully finish off the flavours.
• I've found that ultra-low-fat yoghurts are more unstable in the pan than full-fat yoghurts.
• You can use tinned tomatoes in this dish, if you are in a hurry, but please bear in mind that tinned tomatoes are often extremely acidic, and that they may cause your sauce to curdle once you've added the yoghurt. A pinch of bicarbonate of soda added along with the tinned tomatoes may prevent this.

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Sausage, Pumpkin, Potato and Halloumi Tray-Bake

A garlicky tray-bake in jewel colours that doesn't take long to put together and tastes gorgeous, especially if you finish it off - wickedly - with halloumi cheese and a handful of fresh basil leaves.

I often make all-in-one tray-bakes for family dinners - usually with chicken and veggies - because they're easy, and involve so little washing up. This is a good recipe for feeding a stampede of teens, because it stretches 12 sausages into a filling meal for six people (oh, okay, four, if you have very voracious teens).

The pork sausages add a lovely meaty flavour to the dish, but it's a good idea to drain the excess fat away half-way through baking, or you'll end up with veggies up to their waists in a golden puddle.

You can use either pumpkin or butternut here; I prefer pumpkin cubes (ready-cut ones, of course) because they have a denser texture. The halloumi at the end is an indulgence: use feta if you'd like something a little lighter, or leave the cheese out.

A handful of fresh herbs added at the end of cooking freshens up the whole dish.  I like basil because it adds a faint but intriguing aniseed note, but you could use rocket or flat-leaf parsley, or even some peppery watercress.

It isn't strictly necessary to parboil the potatoes before you start, but I recommend it, because it prevents the potatoes from turning leathery as they roast, and they will also be crisper.

To cut down on time and dishes, I parboil them in the roasting tin before adding the other ingredients and slinging the dish in the oven.

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Sausage, Pumpkin, Potato and Halloumi Tray-Bake

6 medium-large potatoes
boiling water
1 tsp (5 ml) salt, for parboiling
½ cup (125 ml) good olive oil
juice of a small lemon
4 cloves garlic, peeled and finely grated
12 pork sausages
500 g romanita tomatoes, or similar large cherry tomatoes
500 g pumpkin or butternut cubes 
a small bunch of fresh thyme (rosemary is also lovely)
salt and milled black pepper
250 g halloumi cheese, or feta cheese
a handful of fresh basil leaves

Heat the oven to 190 ºC. If you have an oven fan, heat it to 180 ºC.  Boil the kettle. Cut the potatoes in half lengthways, and then slice them into thick chunks. Place in a large, deep roasting tray and cover them to three-quarters of their depth with boiling water. Turn on a fierce heat under the pan, add the salt and cover loosely with a large sheet of tin foil. Set the timer for exactly 7 minutes. In the meantime, whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice and garlic, and set aside. Twist each sausage half-way along its length to make two smaller ones, and cut through the new link with a pair of scissors. Cut the tomatoes in half crossways.

After seven minutes, drain the water off potatoes - don't worry if they're still a little wet -  and put the pan back on the hob. Turn down the heat and cook for a minute or so, tossing the pan energetically, until all the water has evaporated and the potatoes are a little roughened at the edges. They'll begin to squeak when they're nice and dry.  (Watch the pan like a hawk as the spuds will burn fast through the thin bottom of the pan.)

Take the pan off the heat and pour the olive oil mixture over the hot potatoes. Add the tomatoes, pumpkin and thyme sprigs. Season generously with salt and black pepper and toss everything together so each piece is coated with dressing.  Tuck the sausages into the veggies (try to place them over the tomatoes, so they don't prevent the spuds from browning). Bake at 190 ºC for 40-50 minutes, or until the sausages are nicely browned and the potatoes and pumpkins beginning to turn golden. Turn the sausages over, using a pair of tongs, then tilt the pan over a bowl and drain off all but a few tablespoons of the fat.  If the veggies look a little dry, paint a little of the drained fat over them using a pastry brush.

Return the pan to the oven, turn down the heat to 170 ºC (180 ºC if your oven has no fan) and roast for another 20-25 minutes, or until the pumpkin is very tender. Cut the halloumi cheese into cubes and scatter them over the vegetables. Turn on the oven grill and cook for a further 4-5 minutes, or until the cheese is soft and beginning to turn golden on the corners.  Scatter the basil leaves over the pan and serve immediately.  A spritz of lemon juice just before serving gives this dish a lovely lift.

Serves 6.  Print Friendly

Warm Marinated Olives with Lime, Thyme and Chilli

Fresh limes and olives are unlikely bedfellows, I know, but I was fresh out of lemons when I made this yesterday, so slices of lime it had to be. And, my goodness, the lime tasted good! (Although there's no startling difference in the final taste, a green and perky note of lime adds special zip to the olive-oil marinade.)  I often make this dish in summer as a snack to go with drinks: it's so quick and easy to prepare in advance, it tastes gorgeous, and it goes a long way if you serve it with a big platter of sliced crusty bread for dipping.

Warm Marinated Olives with Lime, Thyme and Chilli

It's not essential to warm the flavouring ingredients in the olive oil (if you're in a hurry, pack everything into a jar and leave it to steep for three days) but I've found that heating the marinade helps to release the lovely aromatic oils in the thyme, citrus zest, chilli, garlic and pepper.

It takes less than a minute gently to reheat the olives before you take them to the table, and it's well worth the effort, because the aromas that drift from the warm oil are quite irresistible.

You can stone the olives if you like, but I think half the fun of eating an olive is rolling its pip around your mouth (and then seeing how far you can spit it  placing it daintily on the side of your plate).

I alway use Calamata olives because they're so big and glossy and delicious, but you can use any sort of black brined olive, or a mixture of green and black olives.



Warm Marinated Olives with Lime, Thyme and Chilli

1 large jar Calamata olives, drained (or olives of your choice)
enough extra-virgin olive oil to cover the olives (about a cup and half; 375 ml)
2 slices of fresh lime or lemon
½ tsp (2.5 ml) dried red chilli flakes
1 large fresh red chilli, split in half lengthways (or more, to taste)
4 cloves of garlic, unpeeled and sliced in half lengthways
2 large sprigs of fresh thyme
2 fresh lemon leaves, if you can find them
milled black pepper
flaky sea salt
the juice of half a lemon

If you have time, cut a slit in the side of each olive.  Pour the olive oil into a saucepan and stir in the olives, lime slices, chilli flakes, fresh chilli, garlic, thyme and lemon leaves. Add plenty of freshly ground black pepper (eight to ten twists of the mill). Very gently heat the olive oil over a low flame, until it's quite hot and beginning to seethe, but not yet bubbling; this will take 3-4 minutes.

Take the pan off the heat and, using the back of a fork, squash and squish the garlic cloves to release more of their flavour. Tip the mixture into a lidded plastic container (or a very large glass jar) and set aside at room temperature to steep for at least six hours - preferably overnight.

If you'd like to make this a few days in advance, you can refrigerate the mixture. Don't worry if the oil solidifies in patches: it will melt down again when you rewarm the mixture.

When you're ready to serve the olives, tip the mixture back into the saucepan and reheat it gently over a medium flame for one minute, or until very warm, but nowhere near piping hot.

Remove the pan from the heat and squeeze in the fresh lemon juice. Season with flaky sea salt, add a few more grinds of black pepper and stir well. Tip the mixture into a shallow serving dish and take it straight to the table with some sliced fresh bread.

Serves 6-8  as a snack





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Seared Peppered Tuna with Fresh Oregano, Radishes and Verlaque Dressing

Seared fresh tuna is often served with oriental-style dressings, and it's certainly good this way, but it's not often you see it combined with the singing flavours of Mediterranean

Plate by David Walters

herbs. Fresh, pungent oregano, in particular, is just lovely with almost-raw tuna, as are thyme and basil.

The trick here is to use the herbs quite sparingly so that they don't overwhelm the delicate tuna: I raided my recently planted herb-garden-in-pots and pinched off just the tiniest new leaves.

In this dish, tuna is rolled in crushed black pepper, seared in a blazing-hot pan, sliced, and combined with fresh herbs, a little chopped red chilli and crunchy radishes.

You can use any salad dressing you like - this is good, for example, with a zingy lemon vinaigrette - but I cut corners and dressed the tuna using a local bottled dressing: Verlaque Sweet Basil, Sundried Tomato and Olive Oil Spash.

I seldom buy bottled dressings (they are always too salty and creamy and they taste so... well... so bottled. And, besides, it's so easy to make your own dressings).  My attitude has changed, though, since I asked my friend, Adrienne Verlaque, to bring me a few bottles from her Verlaque range.

I'd admired Adrienne's beautifully labelled bottles of balsamic reductions, infused olive oils and salad 'splashes' in my local Woolworths, but had thriftily (and rather snobbily, I'm afraid) passed them over.


After eagerly tasting my way through several bottles, I have learned the error of my ways (that is, don't judge a dressing because it's bottled). Adrienne is a wizardess in the flavour department, and has incorporated into her dressings a range of  wonderful exotic ingredients  that I don't have a chance of procuring locally:  Persian pomegranates, Turkish figs, cranberries, white truffles and porcini mushrooms among them.

 Exotic ingredients aside, it's Adrienne's clever use of distinctive South African flavours that really appeals to me:  these include Cape gooseberries, Cape rough-skin lemons, guavas, passion fruit, mangos, marula, wild garlic, fynbos honey and Rooibos tea.

These ingredients are not merely waved over the dressings, either: using her particular magic, Adrienne has managed to distill the essence of each flavour, giving each product in the range a distinctive and authentic South African punch. Click here to find out where to buy Verlaque dressings.

This recipe serves four as a starter but is easily doubled.

Seared Peppered Tuna with Fresh Oregano, Radishes and Verlaque Dressing

one 400 g loin of fresh tuna
a little olive oil
2 tsp (10 ml) coarsely ground black peppercorns
8 little radishes
1 small red chilli [optional]
a few young sprigs of fresh oreganum, thyme and basil, or any combination of Mediterranean herbs
a pinch of flaky sea salt

For the dressing:
Verlaque dressing of your choice (see notes, above)
OR
4 T (60 ml) fruity olive oil
4 tsp (20 ml) good vinegar, or fresh lemon juice

Heat a non-stick frying pan until it is blazing hot.  Trim the tuna loin of all raggedy bits and coat generously on all sides with olive oil. Strew the crushed black peppercorns on a chopping board, and roll the tuna loin firmly over the pepper, pressing so that it is well coated on all sides. Open the windows in your kitchen - there will be some smoking.  Place the tuna in the ferociously hot pan, press down hard with a spatula, and cook for 45 seconds on one side, or until about 1 mm of flesh on the cooking side turns opaque.  Flip over, then cook the remaining three sides for 45 seconds each. The fish should be remain a rosy, raw pink in the middle, with a thin outer crust.  Remove from the heat and allow to cool for a minute.

Cut the tuna into thin slices using a very sharp knife (this is easiest if you squeeze the loin tightly to compress the flesh).  Arrange the slices on a platter. Top and tail the radishes and cut them into paper-thin slices using a mandolin or sharp knife. Cut the red chilli in half horizontally, scrape out the seeds and cut into a very fine dice. Strip the baby herb leaves from their stalks. Scatter the radish slices, chilli and baby herb leaves on top of the tuna.  Sprinkle the dressing over the tuna slices, and scatter over the flaky salt.  Allow to stand at room temperature for 15 minutes, then serve.

Serves 4 as a starter. 

PS: Have you noticed how foodie photographs of seared tuna show perfectly round or - ludicrous! - square slices of tuna? Cheffy cooks achieve this by wrapping the raw tuna in clingfilm - in a tight salami-like sausage for round slices, or pressed into a rectangular mould for square ones - and then refrigerating the fish until it holds its shape. I sincerely hope you won't be tempted to do this. Print Friendly

Slow-baked Cherry Tomatoes with Ricotta and Thyme

Slow-baked Cherry Tomatoes with Ricotta and Thyme

A simple, sublime, slow-cooked dish combining only four beautiful ingredients: ripe tomatoes, fruity olive oil, ricotta cheese and fresh thyme. I came up with this recipe in a panic, when I realised that the shoulder of lamb I'd bought to make my slow-cooked lamb was so small and under-meaty that there was no ways it would have fed seven rather special people.

And this was a special gathering of friends: six out of the seven people sitting around my table were in my house, also for dinner, a year ago, when an armed gang burst through our gates and held us at gun point. We all escaped without injury that night, and went on to eat our dinner of lamb two hours later, once the police had gone. A year down the line, I figured that we should draw a line under the incident by having the same dinner, with the same people. It wasn't a celebration: just a time of sober (actually, not very sober) reflection.

Anyway, back to the tomatoes: what makes this dish so good is the contrast between the sweet, deep, gloriously summery flavour of the baked tomatoes in olive oil and the delicate (bland-and-almost-soapy) taste of the ricotta. Don't be tempted to use a salty or aggressively flavoured white cheese (such as feta or goats' cheese): shreds of good mozzarella would, however, be very nice.

The second time I made this, I let the tomatoes stand at room temperature, overnight, before adding the ricotta and reheating the dish, which greatly enhanced the thyme flavour.

Faintingly good with bruschetta, and excellent piled on top of a piece of grilled linefish.

Slow-baked Cherry Tomatoes with Ricotta and Thyme

500 g (1 punnet) of ripe, plump cherry tomatoes (I used Rosa variety)
3 Tbsp (45 ml) fruity olive oil
A few sprigs of thyme
1 200-gram block ricotta cheese
salt and milled black pepper

Pre-heat the oven to 170°C. Tip the cherry tomatoes, whole, into a small-oven proof bowl or dish. Stir in the olive oil and scatter over the thyme sprigs. Season with salt and pepper. Place, uncovered, in the hot oven, and allow to bake, undisturbed, for 1 hour.

Remove from the oven and stir gently to distribute the juices. Cover and allow to stand for a few hours, or overnight. Crumble the ricotta into dice-sized pieces over the tomatoes. Sprinkle with a little more olive oil, but do not stir. Replace in a hot oven for 5 minutes, or until the ricotta has warmed through.

Serve warm, or at room temperature.

Serves 6 as a side dish.


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Paprika Chicken with Sour Cream and Thyme

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

Serves 6-8

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

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

Roast Pork Neck with Leeks, Carrots and Apples

Roast Pork Neck with Leeks, Carrots and Apples

Pork neck is an inexpensive yet most tender cut, with a delicate, sweet taste that lends itself to all sorts of flavour combinations. I don't know why you can't buy pork neck (or pork belly, for that matter) in your average South African supermarket: I suppose because the words 'pork' and 'neck' put together just sound tough and brutish, like 'knuckle gristle' or 'elbow grind'.

If you have a good butcher - I buy my pork from the incomparable Seemann's, in Strydom Park, Johannesburg - ask him for this cut. It's excellent in stews and casseroles, and lovely roasted in the oven with garlic, olive oil and fresh herbs. It also lends itself well to dark, spicy Oriental glazes: try coating a piece of pork neck in a mixture of soy sauce , honey, rice wine and orange juice wine flavoured with ginger, garlic and five-spice powder, and baking it at a low temperature for three or four hours until it's so tender you can shred it with a fork.

In this recipe, the pork is slow-cooked (after a preliminary hot-firing for browning purposes) on a bed of carrots, leeks and onions, with apple wedges and fresh sage adding sweetness and punch.

Roast Pork Neck with Leeks, Carrots and Apples

For the roast:
a piece of pork neck (about 1.3 kg), trimmed of large bits of fat
2 Tbsp (30 ml) wholegrain mustard
2 Tbsp (30 ml) olive oil
salt and freshly milled pepper
3 cloves fresh garlic, peeled and sliced
a large sprigs of fresh sage

For the vegetables:
8 big carrots, peeled
8 leeks, white parts only, rinsed
2 onions, peeled
2 Tbsp (30 ml) olive oil
1 Tbsp (15 ml) butter
3 eating apples (I used Golden Delicious)
3 cloves fresh garlic, roughly chopped
1 Tbsp (15ml) fresh thyme (see note below)
2 Tbsp (30ml) fresh sage leaves, sliced
1½ cups (375 ml) chicken, beef or vegetable stock or a combination of stock and dry white wine
salt and milled black pepper

For the gravy:
4 tsp (20ml) flour
2 cups stock, or a combination of stock and white wine
a dash of Kikkoman soy sauce (optional)
salt and milled black pepper

Preheat the oven to 220°C. Place the pork neck in a roasting pan and smear the mustard all over it. Sprinkle with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Tuck the garlic slices and sage sprig under the pork and place in the oven, on the top rack. Roast for 35-45 minutes, or until the pork is beginning to turn a golden brown on top. Remove from the oven and drain off any excess fat.

In the meantime, prepare the vegetables. Top and tail the peeled carrots and cut into batons as long and thick as your ring finger. Cut the leeks into 2-cm slices, and quarter the onions. Heat the olive oil and butter in a big pan or wok and add the carrots, leeks and onions. Cook, stirring frequently, over a high heat for five minutes, or until the leeks and onions begin to take on a little colour. Core the apples and cut into wedges, but do not peel. Now add the apple to the pan along with the garlic, the thyme, and the sage.

Cook, tossing frequently, for another three minutes, then season with salt and pepper.

Remove the pork neck from its pan and put it aside. Spread the vegetables and apple in the roasting pan and set the pork neck on top. Pour in the stock and/or white wine. Put the pan back in the oven and reduce the heat to 150° C. Bake, uncovered, for about an hour and a half, or until the vegetables are soft and glazed and the pork is meltingly tender. Check the dish every half hour or so: if the stock has boiled away, add a little more. By the time it's finished cooking, there should be just a few tablespoons of liquid left in the pan.

Remove the pork and set aside to rest for ten minutes. Lift the vegetables from the roasting pan - leaving a few bits of carrot, leek, onion and garlic behind - using a slotted spoon, and keep warm. Put the roasting pan on the hob and turn the heat onto high. Sprinkle the flour into the pan and stir well, scraping to dislodge any golden residue. Cook for two or so minutes, pressing on the remaining veg bits with the back of a spoon. Now pour in a cup of stock or stock/wine combination, and, using a whisk, stir vigorously until the sauce thickens and bubbles alarmingly. Thin the gravy with more stock, water or wine to the desired consistency (I know it's old-fashioned, but I like a thickish gravy). Turn down the heat to very low and and allow to bubble gently for five minutes. If the gravy seems a bit pallid, add a dash of soy sauce.

Carve the pork into thickish slices and serve with the vegetables and gravy.

Serves 6.

Note:
You really do need fresh thyme and sage for this dish. My thyme bush is so poorly that I have taken to buying fresh bunches of thyme and freezing them, still in their packets. When a recipe calls for thyme, I open the packet, and scrunch it in my hands over the pan, so that the little frozen leaves shower out, leaving the stalks behind. And there is no loss of flavour or texture at all. Print Friendly