Valentine's Day: Shemeji Mushrooms-on-Toast with Cream and Pepper

Delicate mushrooms, with a delicate taste, need nothing more, I think, than butter, a dab of cream and some salt and pepper. You could add a little finely chopped rosemary, or some garlic, but I think they're best tasting just of the forest floor.

These lovely little mushrooms, the packet tells me, are a product of China; I bought them from Woolworths.

For a Valentine's Day breakfast, serve these on heart-shaped croutons. I think a level of neatness is required here. Cut out a heart-shaped cardboard template, place it on a piece of bread, and cut round it with the tip of a sharp knife. Don't worry about raggy bits. When you've fried the crouton, and it has cooled slightly, neaten off the edges with a microplane, or by rasping and shaping it gently on the fine tooth of a cheesegrater.

The sweet little heart-shaped leaves in the picture are mustard-seed sprouts from my garden. A showering of chopped fresh parsley would do very nicely too.

Shemeji Mushrooms-on-Toast with Cream and Pepper
2 slices of white bread
vegetable oil for frying
150 g shemeji mushrooms, or similar small mushrooms
2 Tbsp (30 ml) butter
salt
black pepper
4 T (60 ml) cream
a little chopped fresh parsley

First make the croutons. Cut out two heart shapes, as described above. Heat the oil, to a depth of about 2 mm, in a frying pan and fry the croutons gently on both sides. Watch them like a hawk and remember that they continue to brown after you've taken them out of the pan, so remove them when they are a light golden colour. Drain well on kitchen paper.

In a new saucepan, heat the butter.  Toss the mushrooms over a medium heat for a few minutes: they cook very quickly. Pour in the cream, allow to bubble furiously for 30 seconds, then turn down the heat and simmer for another minute. Season with salt and plenty of black pepper.

Pile the creamy mushrooms on the croutons and dust with some chopped fresh parsley.

Serves 2

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Passion Fruit, Crème Fraîche and White Chocolate Cream Pie

In the second of my series of Valentine's Day food for lovers, I present to you this wickedly creamy and rather delicate pie, gently scented with fresh passion fruit (granadillas, we call them in South Africa) and enriched with white chocolate.

Isn't 'passion fruit' a perfect name for this most erotic exotic of fruits?  The name, however, refers not to the juicy fruit of this South American vine, but to its beautiful, orchid-like flowers, which are said to resemble symbolic elements of the Passion of Christ.

According to this Wikipedia article, Spanish Christian missionaries in the 15th and 16th centuries adopted the unique physical structures of this plant, particularly the numbers of its various flower parts, as symbols of the last days of Jesus and especially His crucifixion. For example, the tendrils represent the whips that were used in the flagellation of Christ, while the flower's radial filaments represent the crown of thorns.

(And as for the word 'granadilla', I believe this is derived from the Spanish 'granada', meaning pomegranate. I have no idea why South Africans say 'granadilla' and not 'passion fruit'; I put this question to my friends on Twitter the other night, and even that clever bunch couldn't come up with an answer. I'll do some digging and get back to you.)

I love the heady sharp-sweet taste of granadillas, but I find them quite intense, even aggressive, so I've used them sparingly in this tart.  Because I wanted a soft, voluptuous tart, I've avoided cream cheese and instead used crème fraîche, a slightly sour, thick cream with a lovely light zinginess.

Granadillas are in high season now in South Africa, and I was anticipating a bumper crop from the three vines I planted against a sunny wall last year. Alas, the vines have produced, between them, three fruits: let's call them A, B and C. A fell off and rotted in the flowerbed, and B and C are as hard and green as tennis balls, though not anywhere as big.  So, supermarket granadillas it was.

This is fairly easy to make, but do measure all the ingredients - especially the gelatine - very precisely, using level cups and teaspoons, to ensure a perfect, whippy texture.

Lining the base of the tin with clingfilm allows you to lift it easily onto a pie plate (see Cook's Notes, below)

Passion Fruit, Crème Fraîche and White Chocolate Cream Pie

For the biscuit crust:
one packet (200 g) Tennis biscuits, or similar crumbly coconut biscuits
100 g unsalted butter, softened

For the filling:
200 g white chocolate
20 ml (4 tsp) tepid water
2 tsp (10 ml) gelatine powder
one 250-gram tub crème fraîche (I use Lancewood, or Woolies)
½ cup (125 ml) fresh passion fruit pulp
½ cup (125 ml) condensed milk
the finely grated zest of half a lemon
20 ml (4 tsp) fresh lemon juice
1 cup (250 ml) whipping cream

To top:
a little fresh passion fruit pulp

Break up the biscuits and process them to fine crumbs in a food processor (or crush them with a rolling pin). Place in a bowl, add the soft butter, and stir well to combine. Wet the base of a non-stick 24-cm springform cake tin and cover with a sheet of clingfilm. Tuck the edges of the clingfilm under the base, and place it in its ring. (If there are  wrinkles, gently stretch out the clingfilm.)

Press the biscuit mixture evenly onto the base of the tin and place in the fridge while you make the topping. A good way to get a nice even crust with a sharp edge:  lay a small shot glass on its side, rim touching the side of the tin, and roll it lightly round in a circle.

Break up the white chocolate and place it in a glass or metal bowl over a pot of simmering water. Allow to melt gently (and take care not to allow steam into the chocolate, as it has a tendency to 'seize').

Put the water in a little bowl, sprinkle the gelatine evenly on top and set aside to sponge.

Put the crème fraîche, passion fruit pulp, condensed milk, lemon zest and lemon juice into a mixing bowl and whisk until smooth and well combined. Stir the chocolate and scrape it into the mixing bowl (work quickly here, or it will set). Whisk until quite smooth.

Put the sponged gelatine into the pot of simmering water (the water should come half way up the sides) and allow to melt. When the liquid is clear, remove the bowl and set aside to cool for a minute. Whisk the melted gelatine into the other ingredients.

Whip the cream to a nice firm peak. Stir a large spoon of cream into the crème fraîche mixture to slacken it, then very gently fold in the rest of the cream.

Pour the filling onto the prepared crust (pile it all in the middle, and then gently press down in the centre with the back of a big spoon so that the filling spreads evenly outwards to 'kiss' the edges of the tin. Cover with clingfilm and refrigerate until set (two to three hours).

Warm the sides of the tin (as described below) and release the cake. Slide a palette knife between the crust and the clingfilm, turning the pie as you go and using gentle levering movements, and then slide the cake onto a platter. Pour a little fresh granadilla pulp on top. Slice the pie using a knife dipped in hot water.

Makes one 24-cm pie; serves 6-8


Cook's Notes 

These are a repeat of the instructions on the post about my Buttermilk Cheesecake with a Strawberry Topping

There are various methods of loosening a gelatine-set dessert from its mould. Professional chefs use a blowtorch, which is briefly flicked over the outside of the tin, but this is a risky business, as a few seconds too long can liquefy the outside of the cheesecake and, besides, it's useless if you're using a plastic jelly mould. A better way is to dip a kitchen cloth in boiling water, and press it to outside of the cold tin for a few seconds. But the best way of all, I've found, is to use a hot pack designed for soothing acheing muscles.

If you don't have a Happy Hugger, here's how to make one yourself. (I keep one of these in my kitchen drawer for the sole purpose of loosening jellies!). Steal a long cotton sock from someone's drawer. Fill it with rice or barley, and tie a firm knot in the open end. Place the sock in a microwave oven for 2-3 minutes, or until very warm to the touch. Press the hot pack around the edges of the tin, for 30 seconds at a time, moving it around the edges as necessary. At the same time, release the spring-form lever (or lift the cake ring)  in small increments.

 When you cut the pie, use a hot knife (heated over a flame, or in a bowl of boiling water) for slicing. Print Friendly

Lemon and Pepper Mini Meat Loaves with a Cool Yoghurt, Cream and Dill Sauce

On the subject of pepper (and I promise I'm nearly done with it, Tellicherry or not), I'm mightily fond of recipes combining good quantities of both pepper and lemon zest. These oven-baked mini-meatloaves are topped with a generous teaspoonful of each, and both ingredients feature in the meat loaf mix.

The inspiration for this recipe comes from my love of  fresh dill, gherkins and anchovies, and I put this down to my Norwegian ancestry. My grandmother was Norwegian, and I'm convinced that a love of these very Scandinavian ingredients is carved into my DNA.

Also, many years ago, I saw a recipe for a moulded meat loaf in an issue of Fairlady, and it contained, I think, dill and capers. I've long since lost the recipe, but it was probably the work of Annette Kesler, long-time food editor of one of South Africa's best-loved women's magazines. Many women of my generation grew up with Annette's recipes, and I bet she's taught several other generations to cook too.

There is one important ingredients in this recipe that shouldn't be omitted, and that is anchovies. My family loathes them with a passion, and they make all sorts of off-colour jokes about my little bottles of anchovy fillets in the fridge. Little do they know that I sneak a finely pounded anchovy fillet into many of the winter stews I make, and several other dishes besides. One of the magic properties of anchovies is that they inject a subtle but lovely rich, round, savouriness into food, without adding a hint of fishiness.

I used beautiful silken white Italian anchovies in this recipe, but as these aren't easy to find, you can use two tinned or bottled anchovy fillets. Be sure to grind them finely to a smooth paste with the garlic, though, or your family will encounter a fishy flake and never eat meat loaf again.

Lemon and Pepper Mini Meat Loaves with a Cool Yoghurt, Cream and Dill Sauce

For the mini meat-loaves:
a small clove of garlic, peeled and finely grated
4 white anchovy fillets [see note above] or 2 bottled or tinned anchovy fillets
a pinch of salt
600 g lean beef mince [ground beef]
600 g pork mince [ground pork]
1 egg, lightly beaten
½ cup (125 ml) thick natural white yoghurt
2 T (30 ml) green peppercorns, drained of their brine and crushed
2 T (30 ml) finely grated lemon zest (loosely packed)
3 T (45 ml) finely chopped fresh dill
3 T (45 ml) finely chopped fresh parsley
3 T (45 ml) chopped capers
4 T (60 ml) chopped cocktail gherkins [small dill pickles]
4 slices brown bread, whizzed in a food processer (or grated) to fine breadcrumbs
milled black pepper

For the sauce:
½ cup (125 ml) thick natural yoghurt
½ cup (125 ml) thick cream, or sour cream
the finely grated zest of a small lemon
the juice of half a lemon
1 tsp (5 ml) finely chopped fresh dill
a pinch of white pepper
salt, to taste

To top:
cracked black pepper
finely grated lemon zest

Preheat the oven to 200ºC. Lightly grease a baking sheet. Put the garlic, anchovy fillets and salt into a mortar and grind to a paste. Scrape the paste into a large mixing bowl and add all the remaining meat loaf ingredients. Using your fingers, lightly knead and squish the mixture until well combined. Tip in the breadcrumbs, and mix lightly again until every thing is almalgamated.

At this point, it's a good idea to test the mixture to make sure the seasoning is right. Pinch off a marble-sized piece and flatten it into a little disk. Fry in hot oil until browned on both sides. Taste it, and add more salt and pepper to the raw mixture if necessary.

Put the mixture in the fridge for thirty minutes to an hour to firm up. (This isn't essential, but it does help develop the flavours.) To mould the mini-meat loaves, generously rub a ramekin dish (or a tea cup) with vegetable oil. Pinch off a large chunk of the meat loaf mixture, and press it firmly into the ramekin, pushing and squishing down well on all sides to force out any air pockets. (There may well be rude noises.) Alternatively, you can roll them into balls, but you will need to reduce the cooking time slightly.

Flatten the top of the mixture, then turn the ramekin dish over in the palm of your hand and smack and shake it smartly to release its contents. If it won't come loose, run a sharp knife round the edges to release any vacuum. Slide the little cake onto the greased baking sheet, and repeat the process until you've used up all the mixture. Using a pastry brush, paint a little olive oil all over the top and sides of the little loaves. Sprinkle the tops generously with cracked black peppercorns and a little grated lemon zest.

Place in an oven preheated to 200ºC for ten minutes. Then turn the heat down to 160ºC and bake for 30-40 minutes, or until cooked right through. You can check this by flipping one of the loaves over, and cutting deep into its centre: if there is any bloodiness within, give them another five to ten minutes.

While the meat loaves are cooking, make the dressing. Combine all the dressing ingredients in a mixing bowl and whisk well to combine. Place in the fridge to chill.

To serve, place the meat loaves on hot plates. Decant the cold sauce into a jug, so it can be poured over the hot loaves. Lovely with a green salad, and baked potatoes, mash or rice.

Serves 6. Print Friendly

Valentine's Day: Steak with Pink Peppercorn, Rosemary and Lemon Butter

At this time of the year, there's lots of talk about food for lovers, which interests me because (have you guessed?) I'm a lover of food. In particular, I'm a lover of steak and butter. This is what I might cook for my dearly beloved on 14th February, if he plays his cards right.

As the butter melts, the heat of the steak releases the pepper, lemon and rosemary aromas.

This recipe is quick and easy, but you will need a small heart-shaped biscuit cutter. (Unless you're not a romantic, in which case you can shape the butter into discs.) These cutters are available from good kitchen shops. Pink peppercorns are less easy to find, but well worth tracking down.

Pink peppercorns (via Wikimedia Commons) )

They have a sweetish taste quite distinct from black and green peppercorns, and are in fact not true peppercorns at all, being the fruit of Schinus terebinthifolius, a Brazilian flowering plant belonging to the cashew family, and also known as a Brazilian pepper tree, Christmas berry, or Florida holly.

My husband bought a bottle of these for me from Germany after a business trip three or four years ago, and they're still as pungent as they were when I first opened the bottle.

The papery seeds are a beautiful deep coral-pink and crush very easily under light pressure from the blade of a knife. I'm smitten by their lovely colour and aroma, and I think you will be too, but as pink peppercorns have been known to cause allergies and dermatitis in certain people, I advise you to eat one and wait for a few hours before inflicting them on your darling.

You can use any sort of good quality, well-matured steak here. I like a good, juicy piece of rump (and no Valentine's Day sniggers from the peanut gallery, please) or rib-eye or sirloin, with a nice marbelling of fat. Everyone has their own method for cooking steak, but I find the best way to achieve a crusty, well-caramelised outside and perfect rosy pinkness within is as follows:

• Don't marinate the steaks.
• Bring them to room temperature before you cook them. 
• Season the steaks with salt and pepper immediately before you cook them.
• Heat the oil until it's ferociously hot and shimmering, but not yet smoking.
• Lay the steaks in the shimmering oil and allow to cook for a minute and a half to two (depending on the thickness of the steak) without moving or prodding them. Turn them over with a pair of tongs when they're beautifully browned, and the add a knob of butter to the pan (see recipe, below). Cook for another minute and a half, basting frequently with the butter.
• If you're not confident about cooking steak, turn one of them over and sneakily cut a deep slit in its thickest part.  You will lose some juices from the steak by doing this, but the loss is minimal.
•  If the middle of the steak is a lovely dark pink, and you're looking for medium-rare, remove the steak from the heat immediately (it will continue to cook as it rests).
•  If it looks disturbingly bloody on the inside, give it a little longer.

I love to serve steak with a baked potato brimming with sour cream and chives (or a mixture of sour cream and yoghurt, just to keep heart attacks from the door), but this would also be nice with a zingy potato salad, or little new potatoes, or a pile of warm, buttery mash.

The salad leaves in the picture are mustard greens and red-vein sorrel leaves, both of which I grow in pots on my veranda.

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Steak with Pink Peppercorn, Rosemary and Lemon Butter

2 well-matured rump, sirloin or rib-eye steaks
2 Tbsp  (30 ml) olive oil
salt and milled black pepper

For the flavoured butter:
4 Tbsp (60 ml) softened butter
12 fresh rosemary needles
1½ tsp (7.5 ml) pink peppercorns
1½ tsp (7.5 ml) finely grated fresh lemon zest

First make the butter. Put a handful of ice chips on a small plate, and place it in the freezer. Finely chop or snip the rosemary needles and gently crush the peppercorns using a mortar and pestle, or a rolling pin. Don't pound them too hard, or they'll turn to a paste.

Stir the rosemary, crushed peppercorns and fresh lemon zest into the butter, and mix well. Season to taste with salt and black pepper. Take the plate with the ice out of the freezer and push the ice chips to one side. Place the heart-shaped cutter on the plate, and fill with the flavoured butter.

Smooth the top and place back in the freezer for 10 minutes, or until firm. Push the heart-shaped butter pat out of the mould and set to one side of the plate. Repeat the process to make a second heart-shaped butter piece. Reserve the remaining butter.

Heat the oil in a frying pan over a high heat. When the oil is very hot and shimmering, add the steaks and cook on one side until nicely browned and caramelised (see my notes, above). Flip the steaks over. Add any remaining flavoured butter to the pan, and, using a spoon, baste the steaks every twenty seconds. When the steaks are done to your liking, remove them from the pan and place on a plate to rest for 5 minutes.

Slide the steaks onto plates and top each one with a pat of flavoured butter. Serve immediately with green salad and a baked potato.

Serves 2.

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