Friday, 21 August 2009

A wild craving finds its cure: Beetroot, Cumin and Garlic Dip

I don't often feel like plunging my face into a bowl of food and inhaling it like a starving piglet, but when I tasted the glorious scarletness of this beetroot dip for the first time, the taste pathways in my brain went beserk. There were sighs, there were low moans of pleasure, and there were showers of cortical sparks.

I don't know why my tastebuds (and my brain) were so excited and astonished by this addictive combination of earthy blood-red baby beetroot, warming ground cumin, crème fraîche and garlic, but what I can say is that this is the best dip I've tasted in many years, and that I intend to eat it every day - spread on toast, or over a baked potato, dobbled over a soup, or spooned directly from the bowl - until my body says it's had enough, and it's time to turn to horseradish or bitter chocolate or orange peel, or whatever my brain's flavour-du-jour is.

I first tasted this dip in Hout Bay, Cape Town, last week, when my sister Sophie casually whipped it up as a starter to be served before a delicious Cape-Malay style chicken curry made in advance by her nanny/au pair.

Sophie gave me the basic ingredients, although she couldn't, off-hand, remember the quantities.

So here is my version. If you don't feel like buying and baking fresh beetroot, use pre-prepared cooked fresh beetroot chunks, available in South Africa from Woolworths. But please, don't use pickled or canned beetroot, which tends to be so vinegary. This dish is best with freshly ground, toasted cumin seeds, but you can use pre-powdered cumin if it is very fresh.

Beetroot, Cumin and Garlic Dip

4 small fresh beetroot [or a pack of Woolworths beetroots chunks]
1 t (5 ml) cumin seeds
1 fat clove garlic, peeled and finely crushed
4 T (60 ml) crème fraîche, or sour cream or Greek yoghurt, or a combination
2 T (30 ml) olive oil
a squeeze of lemon juice
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 200 C. Trim the leafy tops off the beetroot (but don't peel, or cut into, the bulbs), wrap tightly into a parcel of tin foil (or put in a lidded ceramic dish) place in the oven for an hour, or until completely tender when pierced with the point of a sharp knife. Remove the parcel from the oven and allow to cool for half an hour. In the meantime, put the cumin seeds in a frying pan and set over a medium-high heat. Toss the cumin seeds until they are just warmed through and toasty, and then grind them to a fine powder in a mortar or coffee grinder.

Rub the skin off the beetroot with your fingers, cut off the tops and tails, chop roughly and place in a liquidizer or blender. Add the toasted cumin powder, the garlic, the crème fraîche (or yoghurt) and the olive oil and process to a fine puree (or a chunky one, depending on your preference). Taste the mixture: if it seems bland, add a tiny squeeze of fresh lemon juice. Season well with salt and pepper.

Tip the mixture into a bowl and top with a shower of cumin, a lick of olive oil and perhaps a little yoghurt.

Serves 6, as a snack
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Wednesday, 19 August 2009

Slow-cooking with a wonderful Wonderbag: easy Chilli Beef Tacos

The Wonderbag amazed me.
I am bowled over by the Wonderbag: a simple, brilliant, energy-saving South African innovation.

I'd heard of this product but never managed to get my sticky paws on one. When I carried my bag - which looks like a bean bag with a drawstring - home, I couldn't help but feel sceptical. Although it's a beautiful thing (my bag is covered in gorgeous navy Shweshwe cloth; see left and below), it seemed improbable to me that a polycotton bag stuffed with little polystyrene beads would hold food at a sufficiently high temperature for long periods. How wrong I was.

I was astonished, the first time I used the bag, to discover that the pot handles were so hot (after it had nestled in the bag for a full six hours) that I needed oven gloves to lift it out. What's more, every single dish I've tried in it has turned out perfectly, except for a pot of rice, which I foolishly left in the bag for two hours (oh me of little faith!). When I took it out, it was so overcooked I could have plastered a wall with it. (Instructions for cooking rice, quinoa and pap properly here.)

You can read all about the bag, its incredible energy-saving capacity and its potential to alleviate grinding rural poverty, here.

The Wonderbag is one of Africa’s first projects to be registered with the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) as a Clean Development Mechanism (CDM) project. In a nutshell, this means that means that for every wonderbag sold, verified carbon offsets will be traded on the international market.

From a cooking point of view, a Wonderbag can do exactly what a conventional slow cooker (or very low oven) can do, but it uses a fraction of the electricity. There are two stages to cooking a meal in a Wonderbag: first, you bring your pot of food to the boil on a conventional hot plate or hob. When it reaches boiling point, you clamp on a tight-fitting lid, let it simmer for a few more minutes, then transfer it immediately to the bag. A little cushion fits snugly on top, and a sturdy drawstring pulls up the edges of the bag to form a perfectly insulated container. The contents of the pot remain at a whisper below boiling point for hour after hour, making the bag perfect for slow-cooked stews, curries, soups, casseroles and even potroasts.

Some important tips: if you open the bag before the end of the cooking time, the temperature will drop. If you can't resist the temptation to peek, make sure to bring the contents of the pot back up to a boil before you replace it in the bag.

Second, never put a warm or lukewarm pot in the bag, because bacteria will burst forth and multiply. (With two exceptions: the Wonderbag is ideal for making yoghurt, and I have used it with great success to hold delicate hollandaise and Béarnaise sauces at the correct temperature for up to an hour.)

Third, you will get best results if your pot is almost full (it's vital to choose the correct-sized pot for the amount of ingredients it holds).

Fourth, make sure that there is enough liquid just to cover the ingredients. Finally, it pays to give the bag a gentle shake every hour or so - without opening it - to ensure that the ingredients are well mingled during the cooking process.

Here is a quick beef chilli I made for the kids last night. I will never make chilli or a bolognaise sauce on top of the stove again. You can serve this in tacos, or wraps, or on its own in a bowl, topped with all the lovely crunchy bits. (It was this very dish that persuaded my teens to start loving salad when they were kids.)

Note, 5 August 2013: I've updated and amended this blog post to repair the broken links so they point you to the new Wonderbag site.

Wonderbag Chilli Beef Tacos

3 Tbsp (30 ml) vegetable oil
1 kg lean minced (ground) beef
1 large onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 large red or green pepper (capsicum), chopped
2 Tbsp (30 ml) tomato paste
3 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1 x 200 g tin chopped Italian tomatoes, or tomato-and-onion mix
½ cup (125 ml) white wine
1½ tsp (7.5 ml) cumin
1 tsp (5 ml) coriander powder
1 tsp (5 ml) red chilli flakes[optional, and to taste]
2 tsp  (10 ml) dried oregano
1 x 200 g tin kidney beans and its liquid
salt and freshly milled black pepper, to taste

Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a large pot (it needs to be a pot with its own tight-fitting lid). Brown the minced beef, over a high heat, in two or three batches. Tip the cooked beef into a bowl and set aside. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the pot, turn the heat down to medium, add the onion and pepper and fry until just softened (about 4 minutes). Stir in the tomato paste and garlic and cook for exactly one more minute, without allowing the garlic to brown.  Return the beef mince to the pot and add in all the remaining ingredients.

The liquid should just cover the mince; if there is not enough liquid, add a little water, wine or stock.

Bring to the boil, cover with a tight-fitting lid and cook at over a medium flame for about 4 minutes, or until the pot is very hot and puffs of steam are escaping from under the lid. (The lid should feel very hot to the touch - too hot for you to place your hand on it - before you proceed with the next step.)

Open the Wonderbag, remove the cushion and place the bag next to the hob. Transfer the pot to the bag and immediately cover it with its cushion. Draw the string up tightly and tie a secure bow.

Leave the pot in the Wonderbag for at least two hours, without opening the bag. This mixture is lovely after four hours, and heavenly after eight.

Serve with taco shells, sour cream (or Greek yoghurt whisked with lemon juice, a clove of crushed fresh garlic and a few tablespoons of mayonnaise), grated cheese, avocado, chopped tomatoes, cucumber and coriander, and a shower of shredded lettuce.

Serves 4-6

Wonderbag picture courtesy of Natural Balance.


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Thursday, 6 August 2009

Muriel's Pecan Pie

My friend and co-blogger Muriel has written one of her ever-sparkling pieces on our shared blog, Salmagundi, about teaching her wine-maker pal Dean how to make a pecan pie. Now, I haven't tasted this pie, but if it's Muriel's, it's bound to be toothsome, because she's a fine cook. (Okay, that's enough mutual backslapping for today.)

Muriel has asked me to post the recipe here, and this is what she has to say about it:

'I’ve always loved pecan pie, but it’s always seemed to me to be one of those exotic desserts you could never conjure up at home. (A Chinese friend recalls how Three Cup Chicken seemed ‘a restaurant dish’, and was astonished when she learnt – at school – how easy it was to make; this is my Western version of that.) But then pecan season came around and there were loads of fresh pecans in the local co-op, and I thought I should at least give it a try. I looked for several recipes but none came out how I remembered pecan pie from when I was a teenager (which was the first time I had it). Through a bit of trial and error (all the results were edible, although some didn’t look so good), we came up with this one. It’s fabulously decadent, fun and easy to make (someone can help you while dinner is on), and so successful that now we make two at a time: one isn’t enough.'

Muriel's Pecan Pie

For the pastry:
1 cup (250 ml)cake flour
a pinch of salt
100 g cold butter
2 t (10 ml) caster sugar
1 egg
4 t (20 ml) ice-cold wter
1 t (5 ml) lemon juice
a little fresh lemon zest (optional)

For the filling:
130 g pecan nuts
about 60 g butter, melted
200 ml (just under a cup) brown sugar (treacle sugar if you’re feeling particularly decadent)
3 eggs, beaten
100 ml golden syrup
5 ml (1 teaspoon) vanilla essence

1. Sift the flour and salt. Cut the butter into the flour, then rub it in with cold fingertips until it resembles rough breadcrumbs. Add the caster sugar. In a separate bowl, mix together the egg, water, lemon juice and zest. Add to the flour and butter and mix quickly and lightly into a dough (the less you handle it, the better). Wrap in clingwrap and put in the fridge for about 30 mins. Take it out, roll it quickly and lightly into a circle, and use it to line a pie dish. Bake the case at 200 C for about 10 minutes (don’t let the edges brown).

2. Take the pastry case out of the oven and arrange the pecans over it in a single dense layer.

3. Beat the melted butter, sugar and beaten eggs together until foamy. Continue beating while adding the syrup. Add the vanilla essence.

4. Pour the syrup mixture carefully over the nuts (they will float to the top). Bake at 180 C for about 40 minutes. When you take the pie out the oven, it will still look runny – leave it for about 20 minutes to set.

Serve with vanilla ice cream.

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Monday, 3 August 2009

Smoky Aubergine and Hummous Dip and other Mediterranean delights

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

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

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



Here's what I made:

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

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

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

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

* Smoked Brinjal and Hoummous Dip (recipe below)

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

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

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

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

Smoky Aubergine and Hummous Dip

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

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

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

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

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

Makes about 600 ml dip.

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

Cook's Notes: tips for home-made hoummous

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

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

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