Oven-Baked Pork, Sage, Cider and Potato Stew

A tender-flavoured winter stew of pork, sage and apple, a well-loved combination that I like to think of as a polygamous marriage (with pork being the boy, of course, and sage and apple the spirited gals*).

Apple is without a doubt the senior wife in this flavour alliance, because few other ingredients have such an affinity with the juicy sweetness of pork. 'On a plate, these two are made for each other,' writes Niki Segnit in her brilliant book The Flavour Thesaurus. 'With a plate of proper roast pork, by which I mean one with a curly roof of crackling, your apple pulls back the curtains and throws open the window of your plate.'

Sage is an interesting but strident herb that works best when used sparingly. (In other words, an aggressive bitch among herbs; delicious in small doses.)

I almost always bake stews in the oven these days because I find that long slow cooking at a steady temperature produces a better result than a pot put over a flame. Oven-baked stews don't catch on the bottom of the pot, and you can neglect them as they gently burble to perfect tenderness. Do stir the stew now and then, though. Or reach into the oven with gloved hands and give the dish a firm shake.

Ask your butcher for the most suitable cut for this dish. I've made it several times using pork neck (and it's faintingly good) but I think, because this is such a mild-flavoured stew, a leaner cut is better suited.

* Please don't admonish me for this. After all, 'pork' is not a suitable name for a woman.

Oven-cooked Pork, Sage, Cider and Potato Stew

4 T (60 ml) oil (mild olive oil or sunflower oil)
2 T (30 ml) butter
4 leeks, white parts only, rinsed and sliced
two stalks of celery, finely sliced
4 large carrots, peeled and cubed
2 bay leaves
a large sprig of fresh sage (about 6 leaves)
an 8-cm sprig of fresh rosemary
3 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
2 kg lean pork (cut from the shoulder or leg), cubed, or in thick strips
3 T (45 ml) flour
2 cups (500 ml) dry cider (such as Strongbow)
2 cups (500 ml) water
½ cup (125 ml) clear apple juice (Liquifruit, or similar)
3 T (45 ml) Dijon mustard
1 tsp (5 ml) finely grated lemon zest
8 large potatoes, peeled and quartered
salt and freshly ground black pepper

To finish:

½ cup (125 ml) cream
the juice of a small lemon
a handful of chopped fresh parsley

Preheat the oven to 170ºC. Heat half (2 tablespoons) of the oil in a large, shallow ovenproof pan or casserole dish. Add the leeks, celery, carrots, bay leaves, sage, rosemary and a pinch of salt. Cook over a medium heat for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, or until the vegetables have softened slightly. Don't allow the onions to catch or burn. Add the garlic and cook for another minute. Remove the vegetables from the pan and set aside.

Put the flour in a deep bowl and season with salt and black pepper. Add the pork and, using your hands, toss well so that every cube or strip is dusted with flour.

Add the remaining oil to the pan and turn up the heat. Brown the pork cubes, in several small batches, for a few minutes, or until they have developed a golden crust. Add more oil, if necessary. Push the browned cubes to one side of the pan while you brown the rest (or set them aside on a plate). If there is a lot of fat in the pan, tip all the cubes into a colander set over a sink and drain off the excess. Now return the vegetables, herb sprigs and set-aside pork to the pot. Mix the cider, water and apple juice in a jug and pour it into the pan, stirring briskly with a spoon or whisk to disperse any lumps. Bring to a gentle boil. Stir in the mustard and lemon zest. Add the peeled potatoes and season with more salt and black pepper, if necessary.

Mix everything together well, cover with a lid or tin foil and place in the oven. Cook for an hour at 170ºC. Open the oven, remove the lid, and give everything a good stir. Turn down the heat to 160ºC and cook for another half hour or so, stirring once or twice, or until the potatoes and meat are very tender, and the gravy has thickened a little. If the gravy seems too thin, put the pan on the hob and allow to bubble gently for ten minutes, or until it has reduced to your liking. Immediately before serving, stir in the lemon juice, cream and chopped parsley. Don't reheat on the stove, as the gravy may curdle. Serve piping hot, with a plain green salad, or some hot buttered peas.

Serves 8

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Slow-Cooked Moroccan-Spiced Beef and Apricot Stew with Naartjie Couscous

This is a deeply savoury, tagine-style stew that needs many hours to cook, but is well worth waiting for. It's a melting, slow-cooked concoction ideal for a frosty winter night, packed with the singing flavours of North Africa.

Slow-Cooked Moroccan-Spiced Beef and Apricot Stew

This is one of the earliest recipes from my blog archive, and one I'd almost forgotten. I've recently resurrected it (the recipe definitely needed some tweaking, showing as it did some signs of an inexperienced hand with spicing) and photographed it, in response to a request from Yuppiechef's Spatula magazine.

The editor of Spatula drew my attention to Eat for the Earth, and asked me to contribute a few of my favourite recipes to this excellent initiative. What's this all about? Please head over to Eat for the Earth to find out more. (Here's a clue: it involves friends and lunch. And possibly a lot of wine.)

Anyway, back to the recipe. Please don't be put off by the prunes in this recipe: they are an essential ingredient, enriching and darkening the sauce as they dissolve. Prunes, like anchovies, are magical ingredients that should never be mentioned when someone says, 'My, this tastes amazing. What did you put in it?'

The couscous: 'naartjie' is the South African word for tangerine. South African naartjies are just delicious, and something of an iconic fruit in our country. You can, of course, use fresh oranges, but tangerines have a special zing and fragrance.

In this recipe, the spicing is done in two stages, for good reason. Because it's a dish that requires long, slow cooking, the spices tend to blur together after a few hours, fading into gentle background music. Half an hour before it's served, the dish is re-spiced and given a smart kick in the pants. Please use really fresh spices.

I've specified shin for this dish - an inexpensive cut that dissolves into the most tender and unctuous meat - but you can use stewing beef of any kind. Ask your butcher. Avoid ordinary chunks of steak ('goulash meat' it's called in South Africa) because it tends to turn stringy and dry after prolonged cooking.You can also make this with a nice cut of pork, such as pork neck, or with cubes of lean lamb.

Slow-Cooked Moroccan-Spiced Beef and Apricot Stew with Naartjie Couscous

For the spicing (added in two stages; please read recipe below)
2 Tbsp (30 ml) ground cinnamon
a generous pinch of saffron threads
2  Tbsp (30 ml) ground cumin
2  Tbsp (30 ml) ground coriander
1  Tbsp (15 ml) turmeric
1  Tbsp (15 ml) ginger

Combine all the spices, and then divide the mixture in half. Set aside.

For the stew: 
4 tsp (20 ml) vegetable oil
4 tsp (20 ml) butter
3 onions, peeled and finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 thumb-sized piece of fresh ginger, peeled and finely grated
1.5 kg stewing beef (preferably boneless shin, see notes above), fat and sinew removed, and cubed
2½ cups (625 ml) stock (chicken, beef or vegetable)
1 cup freshly squeezed naartjie or orange juice
1 x 400g tin of Italian tinned tomatoes, chopped
10 prunes, depipped and chopped
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tsp (10 ml) honey
¾ cup (180 ml) dried apricots, roughly chopped

For the couscous: 
1 x 500g packet couscous
boiling water or stock, according to packet instructions
1 x 400g tin of chickpeas, drained
1 Tbsp (15 ml) finely chopped preserved lemon
the finely grated rind and juice of a naartjie or orange
the juice of a lemon
3 Tbsp (45 ml) olive oil
1 Tbsp (15 ml)  cumin
salt and freshly ground pepper

To top:
a handful of flaked, toasted almonds
finely chopped fresh coriander

Put the olive oil and butter into a big pot or pan and place over a high heat. When the oils have just stopped sizzling, turn down the flame a little and add the onions, garlic and ginger, and the set-aside half-quantity of spices (see above). Cook over a moderate heat, stirring often, until the onion softens and begins to turn golden. Don't allow the mixture to burn, which will make it bitter. Using a slotted spoon (so that fat drains back into the pan), remove the onion-spice mixture and set aside. Now turn up the heat and fry the beef, in batches, until it is lightly browned on all sides.

Return the onion mixture to the pan. Pour in the stock and add the naartjie juice, tinned tomatoes and prunes. Season with salt and pepper. Bring to the boil, and then immediately turn down the heat. Cover the pot with a tilted lid and turn down the heat to a low setting so that the stew bubbles gently.

Cook for three hours, stirring every now and then. The cooking time depends on the ferocity of your hob, but, as as a general guide: when the sauce is rich and slightly thickened, and the meat is very tender when nudged with a fork, it's time to do the second spicing. Remove the lid, add the remaining spice mix, and stir in the apricots and the honey. Allow the dish to simmer, uncovered, for another thirty minutes.

Twenty minutes before serving, make the couscous: Prepare the couscous according to the packet instructions, using hot water or a good stock.  Fluff up the grains with a fork and mix in the remaining couscous ingredients.  Toss well to combine.

To serve: tip the couscous into big warmed serving dish. Pile the beef stew on top, and top with toasted flaked almonds and a chopped fresh coriander.

Serves 6-8 Print Friendly

Lemony Green Beans with Frizzled Prosciutto, Fried Breadcrumbs and Aïoli

A pile of squeaky green beans dressed with lemon, olive oil and garlic is my idea of heaven on a plate. In this recipe, I've added a luxurious touch to the beans by topping them off with crunchy fried prosciutto, breadcrumbs and a flurry of pungent, garlicky home-made aïoli.

Michael Le Grange's photograph of my Lemony Green Beans with Aïoli. In this version of the recipe, from my cookbook, I added toasted, flaked almonds. Image © Random House Struik 2012. Bowl by David Walters.

As I mentioned in my previous post (Dill Baby Potatoes with Smoked-Salmon Mayonnaise) I'm a great fan of dishes that take a small quantity of a luxurious ingredient and spread it between many portions, and this is such a dish. Top-quality Italian prosciutto is very expensive, but you need only six large slices (although of course you are free to add more, if you're throwing caution to the wind).

Here, I've used Richard Bosman's excellent locally cured prosciutto, which is available in selected delis and other outlets in Cape Town. I know it may seem like heresy to fry prosciutto, but it is so splendidly crisp and flavoursome prepared this way that every time I taste it I want to fall into a dead faint.

Although authentic aïoli calls for olive oil only, I use a mixture of good fruity olive oil and sunflower oil for a lighter mayonnaise. Feel free to add more garlic, if you want your mayo to deliver a good punch in the nose.

You can serve these beans piping hot or at room temperature. If you're not serving them hot, don't omit the step of plunging them into iced water to set the colour.

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Lemony Green Beans with Frizzled Prosciutto, Fried Breadcrumbs & Aïoli

two packs of young green beans (enough for six)
4 Tbsp (60 ml) extra virgin olive oil
the juice of a lemon
salt and milled black pepper
six slices of prosciutto
two breadrolls
sunflower oil for frying

For the aïoli:
2 large egg yolks, at room temperature
a pinch of salt
1 tsp (5 ml) Dijon mustard
150 ml light vegetable oil (such as sunflower or canola oil, or any other flavourless oil)
170 ml good, fruity olive oil
the juice of a lemon
a large clove of fresh garlic, finely grated (or more, to taste)
freshly milled black pepper

First make the aïoli. Put the two egg yolks into a small bowl (a ceramic soup bowl is ideal) and add the salt and mustard. Mix the vegetable oil and olive oil in a small jug with a sharp pouring nozzle. Place a damp cloth underneath the soup bowl so that it doesn't skid around while you're making the mayo. Using a rotary beater (electic whisk) beat the egg yolks and salt for a minute. If you don't have such a gadget, use an ordinary wire whisk, and plenty of elbow power.

Now, as you whisk the egg yolks with one hand, pick up the jug of oil with the other, and dribble a little splash of oil onto the yolks. Keep whisking and dribbling, a little splash at a time, with great energy, and within a few minutes you will see the egg mixture begin to thicken rather dramatically. Keep adding the oil, a dribble at a time, until you have a thick yellow ointment. You may not need to add all the oil: stop adding oil once the mayonnaise has thickened to your liking. Stir in the lemon juice, garlic and pepper, and add more salt if necessary. Set aside.

Fill a bowl with cold water and add to it a handful of ice cubes. Top and tail the beans. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil and add the beans. Boil rapidly for 2-3 minutes, or until the beans are just tender. (How long you cook them will depend on the size and age of your beans.)

Drain the beans. If you're not serving this piping hot, immediately plunge them into the ice water. Leave in the water for three minutes, then drain and pat dry.

In the meantime, prepare the toppings.  Heat sunflower oil, to a depth of a millimetre, in a frying pan. When hot, but not smoking, add the prosciutto slices, a few at a time, and cook for a minute or so, or until frizzled and crisp. Drain on a piece of kitchen paper.  Now crumble the breadcrumbs into the hot oil and fry until crisp and golden (remember that they will carry on browning once you remove them from the heat, so don't let them get too dark). Drain on kitchen paper.

To serve, toss the beans in the olive oil and lemon juice and season with salt and pepper.  Pile onto a platter (or onto individual plates) and top with the prosciutto and breadcrumbs.  Serve with a large dollop of aïoli.

Serves 6.

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Dill Baby Potatoes with Smoked-Salmon Mayonnaise, Deep-Fried Capers and Frizzled Dill

I'm a great fan of economical dishes that stretch a luxury ingredient between plenty of hungry people. Here's a new recipe I think you'll love: top-quality smoked salmon (or, in this case, local smoked trout) whizzed into an unctuous home-made mayonnaise, poured over hot new potatoes tossed in fresh dill, lemon juice and olive oil, and then topped with frizzled dill and crunchy deep-fried caper 'flowers'. You've never seen a mayo of such a pale and delicate pink!

I can't resist lovely earthy baby potatoes, boiled until just tender, and this is a new variation on one of my all-time favourite recipes, Hot Garlicky New Potatoes with a Cold & Silken Tuna Sauce.

Please don't be put off by the idea of making your own mayonnaise. It's really easy to do, and once you get the hang of it you'll be making your own mayo once a week. (Here's some great advice about making mayonnaise.)  I've given instructions for using a blender or food processor here. If you don't have such a gadget, you'll need to make the mayo by hand, and pulverise the salmon with a mortar and pestle.

In this dish, I've used Franschhoek company Three Streams's superb cold-smoked trout (which I think is one of the very best ingredients the Cape has to offer) but you can use any local brand of really good smoked salmon.

To my bafflement and disappointment, no one in my family really appreciates dill. I regard this as one of the Rolls Royces of herbs (along with thyme) and it maddens me that the ungrateful wretches turn their noses up at dishes containing more than a whisper of it. If you're faced with such philistines, used finely chopped fresh parsley or chervil instead. The Greek yoghurt is there to add a slight tang and lightness to the mayo, but you can leave it out if you like.

I love the contrast of hot potatoes and chilled mayonnaise, so I suggest you make the mayo a few hours in advance.

Dill Baby Potatoes with Smoked-Salmon Mayonnaise, Deep-Fried Capers and Frizzled Dill

For the mayonnaise:
2 large free-range egg yolks, at room temperature
a small pinch of sea salt
1 tsp (5 ml) Hot English mustard powder (or Dijon Mustard)
200 ml light vegetable oil (such as sunflower or canola oil, or any other flavourless oil)
100 ml good olive oil
the juice of a large lemon
6 large slices of smoked salmon, chopped
a little hot water (see recipe)
3 T (45 ml) thick Greek yoghurt

For the potatoes:
1.2 kg baby potatoes (or enough for six)
1 tsp (5 ml) salt
5 T (75 ml) olive oil
the juice of a lemon
salt and freshly milled black pepper
3 T (45 ml) finely chopped fresh dill (or parsley/chervil)

To garnish:
4 T (60 ml) light vegetable oil, such as sunflower oil
36 capers, drained of their brine
ten small sprigs of fresh dill
6 thin slices of smoked salmon

First make the mayonnaise. Put the egg yolks, salt and mustard powder into the (small) bowl or jug of a liquidiser, blender or food processor. (Or place them in a beaker, and use a stick blender.) Blend for a minute, until slightly frothy. Mix the vegetable oil and olive oil in a small jug with a pouring nozzle. Now slowly dribble the blended oils, in tiny increments to begin with, into the chute of the blender or food processor. Keep adding the oil, a little splash at a time, and within a few minutes you will see the egg mixture begin to thicken rather dramatically. At this point, add the oils in a slow and steady stream.  When the mixture becomes so thick that the blades of the liquidiser refuse to turn, add the lemon juice and smoked salmon pieces, and just enough hot water (add it teaspoon by teaspoon) to blend everything together into a thick, smooth, silky sauce. Season generously with black pepper, and add more salt if necessary. Decant into a mixing bowl, stir in the yoghurt and place in the fridge until you need it.

Put the new potatoes into a large pot, cover with cold water to which you have added the teaspoon of salt, and bring quickly to the boil. Turn down the heat slightly, and boil the potatoes briskly for 10-15 minutes, or until they are tender and cooked right through, but not falling apart.

Now make the fried capers and dill. Using a piece of kitchen paper, pat the capers quite dry. Heat the oil in a small sauce pan until very hot, but not smoking. Drop the dried capers into the oil and fry for a minute or so, or until they open up like flowers, and become very crispy. Remove the capers from the pan with a slotted spoon, drain well on kitchen paper and reserve. Add the dill sprigs to the oil, two at a time (stand back, as they will spit and sputter with great drama as they hit the oil).  Fry for 30-40 seconds, or until crisp.  Drain on kitchen paper and reserve.

Drain the new potatoes in a colander, and allow to cool for a five minutes. Cut them into thick slices, or halve them if they are very small. Place in a mixing bowl and add the olive oil and lemon juice. Season with salt and pepper. Scatter the chopped dill over the potatoes and very gently toss together until each slice is coated with oil and herbs. Strew the fried capers and crisped dill over the top.

Arrange the warm potatoes in a heap on a big platter, arrange a few whole slices of salmon on top, and bring to the table with the bowl of chilled salmon mayonnaise.

Serves 6 to 8. Print Friendly