Delicate Double-Salmon Fish Cakes

I was going to describe these fish cakes as 'dainty', but it's a word I don't much like, so I've settled for 'delicate'.  The word 'double' in the title of this recipe refers to the fact that these cakes contain fresh salmon and smoked salmon (actually, smoked salmon-trout, but more about that later).

Bowl by David Walters

This recipe is my attempt to reproduce some little fish cakes - not only dainty and delicate, but also quite divine  - that I tasted recently at The Common Room, a newish restaurant in Franschhoek operated by Susan Huxter of Franschhoek's esteemed Le Quartier Francais group, with a menu designed by the talented Margot Janse.

I've seen this restaurant described in reviews as a 'tapas' restaurant, but this term really doesn't do justice to the swooningly delicious dishes on The Common Room's ever-changing menu. Okay, the menu format is similar to that of a tapas bar ( in that the portions are snack-sized appetizers) but the quality of the ingredients, the refined presentation and the deliciousness of the food are several stratospheres above what you might expect in the average tapas bar.

Delicate Double-Salmon Fish Cakes

My mother, who took me out for this meal, warned me that the food was good, but I didn't expect my socks to be thoroughly knocked off (and I'm still hunting for them in the vicinity of the Great Grey-Green Greasy Limpopo, so far were they blasted). Every dish was a little gem; every mouthful a sensation.  As a person who is sent into agonies of indecision when choosing from a menu (I always choose something that isn't as nice as everyone else's, and have severe attacks of menu envy) I loved the fact that I could order a whole range of dishes and taste a bit of everything.

My mum and I shared six dishes, which filled us to the brim. I won't describe them to you - this isn't a restaurant blog - but if you ever go to The Common Room, please try the confit duck (served in a small jar, with apricot mebos 'marmalade').

The food is pleasingly affordable, with the average price of each dish hovering between R20 and R35.

But back to the fish cakes. What I loved about The Common Room's cakes is that they tasted of pure salmon. Not dill, not parsley, not chives, not onion, not potato, nor any of the delicious ingredients you'd commonly expect to find in a good fishcake. I asked the waiter what was in them, and he came back to report that they contained onion, potato, fresh salmon and smoked salmon. I think - although I can't be sure - that the 'smoked salmon' used in the cakes was a superlative locally produced smoked salmon trout from Three Streams Smokehouse.

These fish cakes were served with a 'deconstructed' tartar sauce - all the usual ingredients, but left in bigger pieces and attractively strewn on the plate, with dabs of olive oil and mayo - but I think they're good enough  on their own, perhaps with with a squeeze of lemon juice. And were mine as good as the originals? Of course not. But close.

Delicate Double-Salmon Fish Cakes

300 g fillet of fresh salmon, skinned and boned
½ cup (125 ml) white wine
two small sprigs of thyme
a bay leaf
a thumb-length strip of lemon peel
flaky sea salt
milled black pepper
water to cover
200 g smoked salmon or salmon trout
1 cup (250 ml) very finely chopped fresh leeks, white parts only (about three medium leeks)
3 Tbsp (45 ml) butter
1 tsp (5 ml) finely grated fresh lemon zest
one large free-range egg, lightly beaten
flaky sea salt and milled black pepper
sunflower oil for frying

For the mashed potatoes:
3 large potatoes (enough to make a cup and a half of mash)
salt
2 Tbsp (30 ml) butter
a little hot milk

To coat:
½ cup (125 ml) flour
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup (250 ml) fresh breadcrumbs

First make the mashed potatoes. Halve the potatoes and put them in a pot of cold water, with a big pinch of salt. Turn on the heat, bring to the boil and simmer for 30 minutes, or until they are quite tender. Drain in a colander until cool enough to handle. Slip the peels off the potatoes and place them back in the pan. Add the butter and hot milk and mash until smooth and fluffy. Season with salt and pepper. Cover and set aside.

Put the salmon in a pan just wide enough to contain the whole piece. Add the white wine, one thyme sprig, the bay leaf, lemon peel and a generous pinch of sea salt. Now add just enough water to cover the salmon. Set the timer on your stove to 9 minutes, turn the heat on under the pan and bring gently up to just below boiling point. Now cover the pot and simmer for 9 minutes.  Remove the lid and, using the tip of a knife, poke a small hole through the salmon. If it's still raw on the inside, poach it for another few minutes, or until it is just done.   (How long this takes will depend on the thickness of your salmon piece; the important thing is that you don't allow the water to boil.)

Form the fish mixture into little cakes.

While the salmon is poaching, cut the smoked salmon crossways into shreds about 3 mm wide, and set aside. Remove the fish from the pan with a slotted spoon and set aside to cool slightly. Discard the cooking liquor (or save for a fish stock).

Rinse and dry the pan in which you cooked the salmon. Turn on the heat and add the butter. When the butter has stopped foaming, tip in the chopped leeks and the remaining thyme sprig. Turn the heat right down to its lowest setting and cover the leeks with a circle of greaseproof paper (or cover with the lid of the pot). Gently stew the leeks and butter, without allowing the leeks to brown, for about 10 minutes, or until the leeks are soft. Discard the thyme sprig.

Pull the cooked salmon into flakes the size of your thumbnail and place in a large mixing bowl. Measure out a cup and a half of mashed potato, and add this to the mixing bowl, along with the smoked salmon shreds, the leek/butter mixture, the lemon zest and the beaten egg. Stir thoroughly to combine. Season the mixture with more salt and pepper, if necessary. Place the mixture in the fridge for 30 minutes to an hour, so it can firm up.

Now prepare the coating. Place the flour on one large plate, the beaten eggs on another, and the breadcrumbs on the third plate. Remove the fish mixture from the fridge. Pinch off pieces of the mixture (each about the size of a large litchi) and roll them between your palms to create little balls. Flatten each ball into a disk about 10 mm thick. Coat each disk in the flour and shake to remove the excess. Dip the disks in egg yolk, then in the bread crumbs, patting down gently so that the breadcrumbs stick. Arrange the fish cakes on a large platter or tray.

At this point, you can put the fishcakes aside, or refrigerate them for up to 8 hours. (If you are going to put them in the fridge, keep them uncovered, as this will allow the crumbs to dry out).

To cook the fish cakes, pour enough sunflower oil into a large non-stick frying pan to coat it to a depth of 1 mm. Heat the oil over a medium flame. When the oil is hot, but not smoking, add the fishcakes and fry them on both sides until golden brown and crispy. These cakes brown very quickly, so don't allow the oil to overheat: if the oil is too hot, you'll end up with a dark-brown crumb coating and a cold centre.

Drain the fishcakes on a paper towel. Serve immediatley, with lemon wedges and salt.


Serves 4-6 as a snack

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Apricot Ripple Ice Cream

A scandalously rich ice cream made with eggs, cream and some fresh lightly stewed apricots. It's easy to make, if you can get your head around making a proper custard, and freezes to a lovely velvetiness, even if you don't have an ice-cream maker.

Apricot Ripple Ice Cream

I came up with this ice cream recipe after I bought some beautiful fresh apricots, the very first of the season. I love the taste of apricots, but I can't eat them raw because I have an aversion to the feel of their skin. A mild aversion, actually, compared to the way I feel about peach skin. I don't know if I'm the only person in the world with this affliction, but I cannot tolerate touching - or biting into - peach skin. Even writing about it brings up goosebumps on my arms and sends spiders skittering down the back of my neck. My hatred of the feel of peach skin (and, oddly enough, of the cone of raw wood just below the tip of a sharpened pencil) is so intense that I can't even watch someone else peeling or eating this most delicious fruit.

Naturally, anyone who knows this about me goes out of their way to sneak up behind me and rub a furry peach against my upper arm.

But back to the apricots. It's just as well that I don't eat them raw, because I do think that apricots are one of those fruits that just taste better lightly cooked, or dried, both of which processes bring out their beautiful astringency and perfume.

If you don't have an ice-cream maker, you can use the freeze-and-beat method.

Apricot Ripple Ice Cream

16 whole fresh apricots
½ cup (125 ml) white sugar
an 8-cm-long strip of fresh lemon zest
1½ cups (375 ml) water
1 Tbsp (15 ml) lemon juice

For the custard (crème anglaise):
1 cup (250 ml) cream
1 cup (250 ml) full-cream milk
½ cup (125 ml) caster sugar
6 large egg yolks
½ tsp (2.5 ml) pure vanilla extract

Put the whole apricots, sugar, lemon zest and water into a large saucepan and bring gently to the boil, stirring now and then to turn the apricots over. Cover, turn down the heat and simmer for 10-15 minutes, or until the apricots have collapsed. Set aside and allow to cool. Stir in the lemon juice.

To make the custard, put the cream, milk and 2 T (30 ml) of the sugar into a saucepan and bring gently to just below the boil (watch the mixture like a hawk). In the meantime, using a whisk, beat the remaining sugar and the egg yolks in a large bowl until pale and creamy. Stir in the vanilla. Put the hot cream/milk mixture into a jug and pour it, in a steady stream, over the eggs, stirring vigorously as you do so. Strain the mixture back into the pan, turn the temperature right down, and reheat it very gently, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon. The mixture will begin to thicken slightly within a few minutes. To check whether it is done, coat the back of your wooden spoon with the custard and draw your finger across it. If the channel created by your fingertip remains open, or closes reluctantly, the custard is ready.

Do not, whatever you do, allow the custard to come anywhere near boiling point, as it will curdle and you'll have to turf out the lot.

Remove the custard from the heat, cover its surface with a piece of clingfilm to prevent a skin forming, and allow to cool to room temperature.

Place a metal or glass dish in the freezer. Set a large sieve over another bowl and into it tip the apricot mixture. Using the back of a soup ladle, stir and press down on the mixture, until all you have left in the sieve is the pips and bits of skin. (This is a little laborious, so turn on the music and take your time about it!).

Measure out half a cup (125 ml) of the apricot purée and set aside. Stir the remaining purée into the cooled custard and mix well. Place in the fridge to chill.

If you're using an ice cream maker, churn the mixture until firm and creamy. Tip into the bowl you placed in the freezer earlier and swirl the purée you set aside over the surface. Now gently 'ripple' it into the icecream, using a metal spoon, so it forms little seams of apricot. Cover and freeze until quite firm.

If you're using the freeze-and-beat method, ripple the reserved purée into the ice cream, as described above, about two-thirds of the way through the freezing process, or before the mixture becomes too stiff to stir easily.

Serves 6-8 as a dessert

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Book Review: Ramsay's Best Menus, plus I make Gordon's Italian Meatballs

When Aletta Lintvelt, Food24's new food editor, asked me to review a cookbook from Kalahari.net, it took a split second for me to choose the new Ramsay book. I'm a great fan of Gordon Ramsay's, you see, and I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to cook a dish from his latest book.

I had the chance to see the world's most famous chef in action last year at the Cape Town Good Food and Wine Show (read about this event here, and about why am a Ramsay admirer) and thoroughly enjoyed his presentation. I recall him cooking a sticky chicken dish of some sort at the demo, and that's the first recipe in the book I tried. I didn't like it at all. But more about that later.

Click here to read my review on Food24 and to find out what I thought about Gordon Ramsay's meatballs.
   

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Breakfast Eggs Baked with Tomato, Red Pepper, Smoked Sausage and Feta

In the style of Mexican baked eggs, this versatile breakfast dish is splendid for serving a hungry crowd. This is a great make-ahead dish, because you can prepare the sauce several hours in advance, pop the eggs in at the last minute and sling the lot into a hot oven.  Even better, make the sauce the day before, because, like most stew-like mixtures and curries, it improves upon standing.

Bowl by David Walters

The only tricky part of the dish is getting the eggs just right. How long it will take for the eggs to bake depends on your oven and the size of the dish, so the cooking time I've given in the recipe below is a rough guide. I suggest you check the eggs after ten minutes, and give them longer if the whites are not cooked through. You will need to cover the dish with a lid, or foil if you're using individual serving dishes, to prevent the yolks from drying out and turning a nasty colour as they cook.

This dish is good with a peppery chouriço sausage, but you can use any spicy, smoked sausage. Skin the tomatoes if you want to -  by steeping them in boiling water for a few minutes -  but I honestly can't be bothered to peel tomatoes.

I like to add cold feta cheese to the hot dish - I love the contrast -  but you can bake it along with the eggs, if you like.

Breakfast Eggs Baked with Tomato, Red Pepper, Smoked Sausage and Feta

2 Tbsp (30 ml) sunflower oil
2 red onions, peeled and chopped
2 large red peppers, cored and sliced [bell peppers]
a large chouriço sausage, or similar, cubed
a large sprig of thyme
flaky sea salt
12 large, ripe tomatoes, chopped
1 red chilli, seeds removed and finely chopped
1 Tbsp  (15 ml) Balsamic vinegar
3 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1 tsp (5 ml) Tabasco sauce, or more to taste
2 tsp (10 ml) cumin
1 tsp (5 ml) coriander
1 Tbsp  (15 ml) sweet paprika
freshly milled black pepper
a handful of chopped fresh coriander or flat-leaf parsley
6 free-range eggs
250 g feta cheese, or creamy goat's milk cheese

Turn the oven on to 180ºC. Heat the oil in a large pan. Add the onion, red pepper, sausage, thyme and a pinch of salt and fry, over a medium heat, for five minutes, or until the vegetables are softened, but not browned.  Drain off any excess fat. Add the tomatoes, chilli and vinegar, turn up the heat, and cook, uncovered, at a brisk bubble for 10 minutes, or until the tomatoes are beginning to collapse. Now add the garlic, Tabasco, cumin, coriander and paprika. Season with plenty of milled black pepper, and more salt if necessary. Cover the pan and turn it down to its lowest heat. Allow to simmer for 10 minutes, very gently, until slightly thickened.

Pour the mixture into a large dish with a lid (or one that can be covered with tin foil). If you prefer, you can use individual dishes.  Make six 'wells' in the mixture.  Break an egg into each well. Cover the dish with lid or foil and bake for 10-12 minutes, depending on how you like your eggs done. Remove from the oven and crumble the feta cheese around the eggs. Scatter over the coriander or parsley and serve hot, with buttered toast or hunks of bread.

Serves 6


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