Creamed Curried Mushrooms on Toast

Mushrooms, even bog-standard supermarket buttons, have a delicate taste, so it may seem illogical to pair them with warm and assertive spices.   But if you use your spices with a light hand, and allow the forest-floor flavours of the mushrooms to shine gently in the background, you will be amazed at how good lightly curried (and very creamy) mushrooms can be. This dish makes a lovely mid-week meal, and is very good for breakfast.

This dish is inspired by a curried mushroom soup my late mother-in-law Audrey Rayner used to make; the recipe came from a fine book called The Old Cape Farmstall Cookbook (by Judy Badenhorst and others).

I pored over this  book when I was learning to cook in my twenties, but of course someone has nicked my copy, so I can't give you the original recipe. I do miss it, because it is such an honest cookbook, and one refreshingly of its time. In the early 1980s, the Old Cape Farm Stall in Constantia was a genuine farm shop with no foodier-than-thou pretensions, selling tubs of wondrous home-made things you just didn't see on supermarket shelves - exotic veggies, newfangled hummous, brilliant chicken-liver and snoek pâté and warm wholewheat loaves. No picnic at Kalk Bay or Cecilia Forest or Llandudno was considered complete without a trip to the Old Cape Farm Stall to stock up.

But back to the mushrooms. You can make an okay version by frying the mushrooms, tossing in a teaspoon or two of mild curry powder and stirring in some cream, but it is best with a more subtle blend of very fresh spices.  I always use Rajah medium-strength curry powder because it has a generic taste that reminds me of the curries of my childhood.  A good Spanish paprika makes all the difference - the stuff you buy in bottles at the supermarket is a puny substitute. I am a devotee of La Dalia sweet Pimentón de la Vera, which you can buy in tins at good delis and specialist suppliers.

This is excellent with crisp toast, and very nice too wrapped  in warmed naan breads.

If you like the idea of curried mushrooms, try my piquant mushrooms: Devilled Mushrooms on Toast, Downton Abbey, and devilish old recipes



Creamed Curried Mushrooms on Toast

1 kg (4 punnets) portebellini and button mushrooms, or mushrooms of your choice
2 Tbsp (30 ml) olive oil
2 tsp (10 ml) mustard seeds
8 dried curry leaves
3 cloves garlic, peeled and finely grated
½ tsp (2.5 ml) cumin
½ tsp (2.5 ml) coriander powder
½  tsp (2.5 ml) good, fresh paprika
1 tsp (5 ml) medium-strength curry powder
½ cup (125 ml) cream
lemon juice, to taste
fresh coriander or flat-leaf parsley, to garnish

Wipe the mushrooms and cut them in half if they are very large. Heat the oil in a large pot and add the mustard seeds and curry leaves. When the seeds begin to crackle, add all the mushrooms and cook, over a medium-high heat, for about 10 minutes, or until the juices are running freely and the mushrooms are soft. Add the grated garlic and cook for another minute, and then add the spices and cream. Let the mushrooms bubble for a few more minutes. When the liquid has reduced and thickened slightly, the mushrooms are ready.

Add a squeeze of lemon juice (just enough to give the dish a pleasant zing), dust with a whisper of paprika and serve immediately on hot toast, with a shower of chopped coriander or parsley.

Serves 4 as a meal; 6 as a snack. 

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Old-fashioned Potted Salmon (or Trout) with Mace and Cayenne Pepper

Old-fashioned Potted Salmon (or Trout) with Mace and Cayenne Pepper

One of the only disadvantages, I reckon, of living on the southern tip of Africa is that salmon don't live here too. We can buy salmon flown in from northern waters, but it's eye-poppingly expensive and often not that good, unless it's very wild or very fresh.

I'd rather spend my pennies on the high-quality trout that's now quite extensively (and substainably) farmed in South Africa.

I've mentioned Franschhoek company Three Streams's superlative trout before on this blog (here, here and here) and I've used it instead of salmon in this very old recipe. This will, of course, work perfectly well with ordinary salmon.

In this recipe, I've used a whole fillet of still-raw, delicately smoked trout (available, in South Africa, at Woolworths). Because it's already lightly smoked, it takes only five minutes to poach, but if you're using ordinary salmon, you may need to leave it in its cooking liquor a little longer.

This recipe (see original, left) dates from 1795, but is doubtless a lot older, as English cookery has a long tradition of potting meats and fish.

The recipe comes from a book called The New Experienced English Housekeeper  by Mrs Sarah Martin, which is available online at Google Books. In her admirably clear and simple instructions, Mrs Martin calls for an ingredient called 'chyan'. This had me scratching my head for many hours, and even a concerted search of Google didn't throw out the answer. After hunting through some other recipe books of the period, I eventually realised that she meant 'cheyenne' pepper: in other words, cayenne pepper.

At the end of this post you will find a slightly more complicated recipe for potted salmon - one I haven't yet tried -  which comes from the The Experienced English Housekeeper by Elizabeth Raffald (1786).

I was a little doubtful at first that smoked fish would taste good without a hint of lemon or any other sort of acidity, but once I'd tried this dish, I was quite smitten by the combination of lightly smoked fish, ground mace and cayenne. This is very good spread on slices of very hot buttered toast. (Have I mentioned that you can make excellent hot, golden toast using a sandwich press and thinly cut day-old baguettes?)

You can clarify the butter, if you have the time and energy, but this really isn't necessary if you're going to serve this within a day or two.

Mace (the hard filigreed case that encloses a whole nutmeg) isn't a spice that's seen in supermarkets these days, but it's well worth hunting down. I buy it whole from Indian spice shops and grind it to a powder using a mortar and pestle. If you can't find mace, very finely grated whole nutmeg will do, but use it sparingly.

I can't give you exact ingredients here: my advice is to add the spices a pinch at a time, and taste the mixture as you go along. You probably won't need to add extra salt to this dish, as I've specified salted butter. If you must use pepper (which I don't think is necessary), use white pepper.


Old-fashioned Potted Salmon (or Trout) with Mace and Cayenne Pepper

To poach the fish:
a large fillet of lightly smoked trout, or a nice fillet of raw salmon
2 bay leaves
a thin slice of lemon, peel on
6 black peppercorns, lightly crushed
a large sprig of fresh thyme
a pinch of salt
hot water to cover

To pot:
salted butter
freshly ground mace
cayenne pepper
bay leaves and sprigs of fresh thyme

Pull the skin off the fish and remove any bones.  Put the fish into a large pan and add the bay leaves, lemon slice, peppercorns and thyme. Add just enough hot water to the pan to cover the fish. Turn the heat on under the pan and poach very gently, in barely bubbling water, for 5 to 10 minutes (see my notes above), or until the fish is just cooked through, and beginning to fall into tender flakes on the outside. Don't allow the water to boil vigorously. Remove the fish from the liquid using a slotted spoon, cover and set aside to cool for a few minutes. Don't discard the cooking liquid.

Melt a slab (about 100 g, or one-fifth of a block of butter) in  your microwave oven, or in a small pan set over a medium heat.

Using your fingers, pull the warm salmon into big flakes and place on a plate or chopping board. Add the mace and cayenne pepper, one pinch at a time, and mix gently together using your fingertips. Taste as you go along. When the fish is seasoned to your taste, pack it lightly into a flattish dish (or several small ramekins) and moisten with a teaspoon or two of the liquid in which you cooked the fish. Pour the warm melted butter over the fish flakes, prodding the mixture gently with a fork so that the butter fills all the gaps. The butter layer should cover the fish to a depth of one millimetre. Press a fresh thyme sprig and bay leaf onto the top of each dish, and sprinkle with extra cayenne pepper. Refrigerate.

Take the dish out of the fridge an hour or so before you serve it, so the mixture can be easily spread.

Serve with hot buttered toast and a scattering of capers.



 Image above from The Experienced English Housekeeper by Elizabeth Raffald (1786). Print Friendly

Mango and Cheddar Toasties

I hesitate to post this recipe, because it's so peculiar. But it's very, very good, especially if you like the combination of cheese and fruit. This was made for me by a friend many, many years ago, in a tiny little flat in Dublin, and was the perfect pick-me-up after a long, gruelling, overnight ferry trip across the Irish sea. I won't go into details, suffice to say that it was lucky I had a big plastic handbag, because the crossing was so rough and nauseating that there was no chance of making it to the... well, that's enough for now.

Mangoes are in season in Johannesburg right now, my goodness, it is a bumper season - the shops are filled with the most beautiful globes in riotous sunset colours.

Mango and Cheddar Toasties

8 slices white or brown bread
2 firm, ripe mangoes, peeled and thinly sliced
2 tsp wholegrain mustard
a block of sharp matured Cheddar, thinly sliced
milled black pepper

Preheat the oven grill for 10 minutes.

Put the slices of bread in a single layer on a baking sheet and place under the hot grill. When they're nicely toasted on once side, remove from the oven and turn over. Spread a thin lick of mustard on each slice. Top with two or three slices of mango. Now cover with thin slices of Cheddar, making sure that the corners of the toast slices are covered in cheese. Grind over plenty of black pepper.

Put the baking sheet back into the oven and grill until the cheese is bubbling and beginning to turn golden brown. Cut into quarters.

Serve hot.

Serves 4-6 as a snack

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