Scrumptious South Africa
Recipes and inspiration from an independent African food blog.
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5 hours 45 min agoSeptember 9, 2010
22:10
Egg and Fennel Salad with Nasturtium-Leaf Mayonnaise
This delicious salad of boiled eggs and shaved fennel, dressed with a caper & anchovy vinaigrette and a nasturtium-leaf mayonnaise, is surprisingly light and delicate, considering how much oil and egg it contains.
Bowl by David WaltersEgg salads aren't very popular these days, no doubt because of the bad rap eggs have received in the past two cholesterol- and fat-conscious decades.
Whether the cholesterol in eggs is damaging to your health is still a matter of heated debate, and frankly I couldn't give a flying feather.
Boiled eggs are very dear to my heart because they evoke many comforting memories of childhood meals: softly cooked to golden runniness, and served with crispy toast soldiers, or hard-boiled, halved and stuffed, Fifties-style, with mashed yolk, butter, mayo and cayenne pepper.
But what about the nasturtiums, I hear you cry. I came up with the idea for this recipe when I noticed, while pootling around Hout Bay this week, that the sidewalks are brimming with nasturtiums: green banks of tender little leaves, dotted here and there with brilliant orange and yellow flowers. These are all garden escapees (nasturtiums are indigenous to central and South America) and although they have no business rioting all over the Cape Peninsula's sensitive floral region, I couldn't help screeching to a halt and picking several big bunches. (This, in the high-falutin' world of foodie correctness, is known as 'foraging').
I love nasturtium leaves because, like eggs, they remind me of my childhood. As a kid, I picked them, ate them, grew them from seed and - most important of all - spent happy hours marvelling at how water, when splashed on a leaf, formed a perfect silver sphere and skipped around like a bead of liquid mercury. Apparently, nasturtium leaves repel water because they are covered with tiny nano-crystal bundles, with each bundle being about a thousand times smaller than the width of a human hair.
Tiny these bundles may be, but they're not nano enough for my tender tastebuds. Nasturtium leaves may have a lovely fresh, peppery taste, but they feel unpleasantly hairy on the adult tongue. This I learned when I made the first version of this salad, which combined small whole nasturtium leaves with wedges of hard-boiled egg. So I abandoned the idea of using the whole leaves, and instead chopped them finely into a thick mayonnaise. To add crunch to the salad, I added fine shavings of fresh fennel bulbs, and a scattering of spring onions.
Some important points about this salad. The dressing and the mayonnaise must be made at least an hour in advance, to allow the flavours to infuse. Boil the eggs 20 to 30 minutes before you serve the salad, so that they are still tender and retain a trace of warmth. Add the spring onions (or chives) at the very last minute, or their pungency will overwhelm the other flavours. Use eggs that are 3-4 days old, or they will not peel well.
I strained the dressing over the salad to prevent bits of anchovy and caper from flecking the eggs, but you can use it unstrained if you like. Last, this salad doesn't keep: after two or three hours in the fridge, it tastes of nothing but onion.
If you can't find nasturtium leaves, use finely chopped rocket.
Egg and Fennel Salad with Nasturtium-Leaf Mayonnaise
12 eggs
3 small bulbs of fresh fennel
2 spring onions, very finely chopped, or a handful of snipped chives
a few sprigs from the top of the fennel
a few fresh nasturtium leaves and flowers, to garnish
For the dressing:
1 very small clove of garlic (or a third of a big clove)
2 small anchovy fillets, from a tin or bottle
2 tsp (10 ml) capers
a pinch of Hot English Mustard Powder
a pinch of white sugar
freshly milled pepper
3 T (45 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
5 T (60 ml) extra virgin olive oil, or a mixture of olive oil and light vegetable oil
For the nasturtium mayonnaise:
2 large egg yolks, at room temperature
1 tsp t (5 ml) flaky sea salt
200 ml light vegetable oil (such as sunflower or canola oil, or any other flavourless oil)
100 ml good olive oil
1 cup (250 ml, loosely packed) fresh nasturtium leaves
the juice of a large lemon (about 2 T/30 ml)
freshly milled black pepper
First make the dressing. Put the garlic, anchovies, capers, mustard powder and sugar into a mortar and grind to a rough paste. Stir in the lemon juice, and then whisk in the oils. Season with pepper (but no salt, as the anchovy fillets are salty enough). Set aside and allow to stand for an hour.
Now make the mayonnaise. Put the two egg yolks into a small bowl and add the salt. Mix the vegetable oil and olive oil in a small jug, or put them in a plastic squeezy bottle with a nozzle. Using a rotary beater or whisk, beat the egg yolks and salt for a minute. Now, as you whisk the egg yolks with one hand, dribble a little splash of oil onto the yolks with the other hand. Keep whisking and dribbling, a few drops at a time, until the mixture begins to thicken rather dramatically. Now add the rest of the oil in a steady stream, beating all the time until the mayonnaise is thick and creamy. (Detailed instructions here).
Finely chop the nasturtium leaves and stir them into the mayonnaise along with the lemon juice. Season with pepper and more salt, if necessary. Cover, set aside and allow to stand for an hour.
Half an hour before serving the salad, hard-boil the eggs. It doesn't matter how you do this (every cook has their own theory about how to make and peel a perfect hard-boiled egg; if you don't, please refer to Delia Smith's careful instructions). What does matter is that the white is firm, and that the yolks are just cooked through, with not a sign of glassiness. Drain off the boiling water and run cold tap water over the eggs until they are just warm to the touch. Set them aside for ten minutes.
In the meantime, prepare the fennel. Trim the stalks and leaves off the bulbs, and cut each one into quarters. Chip out the hard pulpy core at the centre of each quarter. Using a mandolin or a very sharp knife, cut each quarter vertically into fine slices.
Peel the eggs and cut them length-ways into quarters or eighths. Arrange the egg quarters and fennel slices on a flat salad platter. Strain the dressing through a sieve or tea-strainer into a bowl, pressing down well with the back of a spoon to extract all the anchovy and caper flavours. Drizzle just enough of the dressing over the salad to lightly coat the eggs and fennel. Scatter with the spring onions or chives. Finely chop a few of the fine, feathery fennel tops and sprinkle them over the salad. Decorate the platter with fresh nasturtium leaves and flowers. Serve immediately, with the nasturtium mayonnaise on the side.
Serves 6
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
September 6, 2010
22:41
Magic Marbled Microwave 'Meringues'
I'm not a maker of cupcakes or sweet fancies, but this recipe intrigued me, because it's quite unlike anything I've ever seen before. How could a stiff paste of unbeaten egg white and three cups of icing sugar make anything meringue-like? I had my doubts, but was interested enough to hotfoot it to the supermarket to buy several bottles of eye-poppingly bright food colouring.The recipe, which appeared in a local newspaper under the byline of Angela Day (a pseudonym used by the writers of a food feature that is run every week in newspapers of the Independent Group, and which first started in The Star in 1964), was accompanied by a photograph of some dainty, rather flattened pale-pink meringues sandwiched with whipped cream.
My enthusiasm turned to frustration within minutes. There wasn't enough egg white to bind the specified amount of icing sugar into a pliable paste. The marble-sized balls of meringue puffed up dramatically, and then flattened out to burnt-sugar discs. Some of them caught fire. Others unfurled and then exploded. I tried shortening the cooking time, but the 'meringues' turned into sticky globs. Those bits that did escape incineration tasted like over-sugared air.
But, by gad, I was not going to be defeated. Three batches later, after much experimentation and swearing, I'd used almost a kilogram of icing sugar, covered the kitchen in a sticky layer of goo, and stained my fingers in all the colours of the rainbow. But I had what looked, and almost tasted like, a meringue. The flattening problem was fixed by using paper cups (instead of placing blobs on a piece of baking paper); the explosion issue was resolved by cooking at least six meringues at a time.
Six important points about this recipe. First, the drawbacks:
-These are not true meringues: their texture is too dusty, they are overly sweet, and they have none of the delicate, billowing loveliness of a proper oven-dried meringue.
-You will need to experiment with the cooking times. Every microwave oven is different, and it may take a few tries before you figure out the optimum number of seconds - and yes, seconds count here - it takes to cook the meringues to a perfect crispiness. For this reason, I recommend that you make a double batch of the paste (cover whatever you're not using with clingfilm) to allow for mistakes.
Now the reasons I like this recipe:
- These are a perfect, last-minute sweetie-treat for birthday parties and cake sales. They are quick to make, and look very pretty, especially when sprinkled, just before cooking, with edible cake glitter.
- This is a wonderful recipe to make with kids: there is something magical about the way the meringues puff up, quadrupling in size, as they cook.
- These are a great standbye if you're making Eton Mess, or any recipe that calls for crumbled meringues (but do omit the food colouring).
- They remain super-crispy for at least 12 hours, and get crispier the longer they stand.
Magic Marbled Microwave Meringues
3 cups (750 ml) icing sugar
2 egg whites
1 tsp (5ml) vanilla extract or essence
food colouring
edible cake glitter (optional)
Sift the icing sugar into a large bowl. Put the egg whites and vanilla into a separate, small bowl, and whisk very lightly for 30 seconds, or until the mixture is lightly frothed and smooth, with no gloopy bits. Make a well in the centre of the icing sugar, and add a tablespoon of the egg white/vanilla mix. Using a spoon, or your fingers, mix well, adding a little more egg white as you go - less than a teaspoon at a time - so that you end up with a rather stiff, but pliable, paste. If you add too much egg white, and the mixture seems too runny, sift some more icing sugar into the bowl.
Tip the paste onto a board covered with a sheet of baking paper and knead lightly with your fingertips for a minute. Poke two holes, using a fingertip, into the paste. Add a few drops of different food colouring to each hole. Lightly knead the paste again, twisting and turning as you go, to achieve a marbled effect. If you don't want to stain your fingers, wrap the paste in a big piece of clingfilm or put it in a polythene bag.
Make the meringues six at a time. Pinch off pieces of the paste (the size of a large marble) and place each one in a paper case. Sprinkle with a little edible cake glitter, if you have it. Cover the remaining paste to prevent if from drying out. Arrange the six paper cases in a circle on the turntable of your microwave oven. Set the time for two minutes, on high, and press the start button. Watch the meringues closely as they cook: after 45 seconds or so, depending on the power of your microwave, they will billow upwards with great flamboyance. Once they've stopped billowing, cook them for another 30-40 seconds (again, you will need to experiment here). Remove from the oven and set aside to cool.
Makes about 40 'meringues'
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
September 3, 2010
10:46
Scrumptious wins a place in the Foodista Best of Blogs Cookbook
I'm happy to announce that my recipe for Prickly Pear Granita has won a place in the Foodista Best of Food Blogs Cookbook. This is the first of my recipes (and food photographs) to be published in a book. If my back weren't so creaky, I'd be doing delighted cartwheels across my kitchen counter.
I submitted three recipes to the competition, but did so without much enthusiasm: there are many hundreds of exceptional food blogs out there, and I didn't think I stood a chance. Fifteen hundred recipes were entered, and members of the Foodista community were asked to vote on them. To my surprise, this particular recipe soon became one of the eight top-rated entries, so I felt a little prickle of hope. Later, when the book's editor Sheri Wetherell contacted me to ask for a hi-res photograph of myself, I began to hold both thumbs.
The final 100 recipes were chosen by an editorial team, taking the voting results into consideration. Born out of the “Blog to Book” panel at the first International Food Blogger Conference (IFBC) in 2009, the cookbook celebrates the best food bloggers worldwide. It has been published by Andrews McMeel Publishing, and will be released late in October 2010.
Here is the online version of the post and recipe, at the Foodista site, and here is the original post.
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Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
August 29, 2010
23:54
Ricotta-and-Parsley-Filled Paccheri Baked with a Tomato, Butter and Sage Sauce
The defining deliciousness of this sunny baked pasta dish comes from a sauce made from just a few ingredients: burstingly ripe cherry tomatoes cooked to a stickiness in hot butter, then lightly mashed with a whisper of garlic, a few shredded fresh sage leaves and a splash of cream.
The sauce is simplicity itself, but the pasta part of this dish - big tubes stuffed with a mixture of ricotta, parsley, egg and nutmeg - is a bit fiddly to make, and will take you a good half-hour to prepare.
If you're up to spending that much time stuffing a pasta tube, and you think life is long enough to do so, put on some good music and pour yourself a glass of wine. If you don't have the time to spare, make the sauce - in double the quantity - tip it over a bowl of freshly cooked fettuccine, and top with fresh rocket and grated Parmesan.
I devised this dish because my family are getting a bit sick of the old pasta standbyes, namely spag bol, pasta-and-pesto and fettuccine Alfredo. It's very similar to that classic Italian dish of cannelloni filled with ricotta and spinach, except that I used paccheri - large, hollow pasta tubes - instead of cannelloni, and parsley instead of spinach.
I am a great fan of flat-leaf parsley, and think it deserves to be treated as an actual vegetable, rather than a last-minute garnishing flourish, or as a humdrum stock ingredient.
You might think it odd that the uncooked pasta tubes are placed upright in the dish before they're baked, but I've done so to prevent the filling from squidging out while the dish sits, soaking in a cup of water, for an hour before baking.
If you can't find big pasta tubes, use cannelloni instead. And, as always, please use the best ingredients: really ripe, sweet cherry tomatoes, fresh garlic, crisp parsley and good butter.
Ricotta & Parsley Filled Paccheri with a Tomato Butter Sauce
1 bag (500 g) paccheri, or giant pasta tubes
For the stuffing:
2 T (30 ml) oil
1 T (15 ml) butter
1 medium onion, peeled and very finely chopped
1 cup (250 ml) finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley (about 70 g)
1 T (15 ml) fresh lemon juice
400 g ricotta cheese, crumbled
2 medium eggs
quarter of a whole nutmeg, finely grated
flaky sea salt
milled black pepper
about 4 T (60 ml) pouring cream
1½ cups (375 ml) hot water
For the sauce:
800 g ripe cherry tomatoes
80 g butter
1 T (15 ml) olive oil
2 cloves fresh garlic, peeled and finely chopped
6 sage leaves, finely shredded
4 T (60 ml) pouring cream
flaky sea salt
milled black pepper
To top:
½ cup (125 ml) grated Parmesan
First make the stuffing. Heat the oil and butter in a frying pan, and add the finely chopped onion. Fry, over a medium heat, for three minutes or so, or until the onion has softened, and is beginning to turn golden. Do not allow to brown. Turn down the heat, add the chopped parsley, stir well so that it is coated, and cook very gently for another minute. Remove from the heat and tip the mixture into a bowl. Add the lemon juice, ricotta, eggs and nutmeg, and stir well to combine. Season with salt and pepper. Now add just enough cream to turn the mixture into a slack paste that can be easily squeezed through a piping bag.
Generously butter a deep ceramic or glass baking dish big enough to hold all the pasta tubes upright (note: the pictures in this blog were made with a half-quantity of this recipe, so you'll need a dish double the size). Put the filling into a piping bag fitted with a medium nozzle, and squeeze a little filling into each pasta tube. The best way to do this is to place each tube upright on a chopping board, and to fill it from the top (no need to fill each tube to the brim: three-quarters full is fine). Place the filled tubes upright in the dish, leaning them against each other until the dish is full. If you run out of stuffing before the dish is full, put a few empty pasta tubes between the full ones so that the dish is fairly tightly packed. Pour a cup of hot water into a jug with a pouring nozzle, and trickle the water down the side of the ceramic dish, so that the bottoms of the tubes are standing in water. Set to one side while you make the sauce.
To make the sauce, cut a small slash in each cherry tomato. Heat the butter and olive oil in a large, flat pan. When the butter stops foaming, add the tomatoes and cook, over a brisk heat, tossing often, for 7 to 10 minutes, or until the tomatoes begin to brown and a sticky golden residue forms on the bottom of the pan. Add the garlic and shredded sage, and use a potato masher to lightly crush the tomatoes and release the juices. Turn down the heat and simmer very gently for another 10 minutes, crushing down on the tomatoes now and again, until you have a thick, chunky sauce. Stir in the cream and season to taste with salt and pepper.
Remove the sauce from the heat and pour it evenly over the top of the pasta tubes, without stirring. Give the dish a gentle shake, cover with clingfilm [saran wrap] and allow to stand for an hour.
In the meantime, heat the oven to 170ºC. Remove the clingfilm from the dish and sprinkle the grated Parmesan evenly over the top. Place in the oven and bake for 35-45 minutes, or until the pasta is cooked through, and the sauce is bubbling vigorously.
Serve with fresh rocket or mixed greens.
Serves 8.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
August 11, 2010
14:36
Half-Candied Kumquats Dipped in Dark Chocolate
Here's a sweetmeat that will appeal to you if you're smitten, as I am, by the combination
of orange and chocolate. Plump little winter kumquats are stewed in a strong sugar syrup, left to dry out for a while, and then half-dipped in bitter dark chocolate. These make a lovely after-dinner nibble, and they go a long way (unlike a bar of chocolate, which in my house is flattened before anyone's had a chance to peel off the wrapper).
I do love the spicy zestiness of kumquats (even though their name is unspeakably rude; read my earlier post about kumquat compote) but they are, I admit, not the most versatile of fruits.
This is an easy recipe, although it takes a little time. I've called them 'half-candied' because they're not truly candied, as traditional crystallised fruits are. In order to crystallise fruit, it needs to be soaked in successively stronger solutions of sugar syrup until the syrup has replaced the fruit's natural moisture, thereby preventing it from spoiling.
Don't discard the zesty syrup once you've drained it off - it's wonderful for making syrup-based ices and exotic cocktails, and delicious poured over vanilla ice cream. Place the syrup in a lidded container and store in the fridge: it will keep for two to three weeks.
Half-Candied Kumquats Dipped in Dark Chocolate
500 g kumquats, washed
water
2 cups (500 ml) white granulated sugar
a little extra sugar for dredging
a slab of good-quality dark chocolate
Cut the kumquats in half length ways. Put them in a pan and pour in just enough water to cover. Bring to the boil, then turn down the heat and simmer for 25 minutes. Drain in a colander. Put the kumquats back in the same pan and add one and a half cups (375 ml) of the sugar. Now add just enough fresh water to cover the fruit. Heat gently, stirring as the sugar dissolves. Simmer for 35 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat, cover and allow to sit for three hours. Now put the pan back on the heat, add the remaining half cup (125 ml) of sugar and heat, stirring now and again, until the new batch of sugar has dissolved into the syrup. Remove from the heat, cover, and leave for another few hours, or overnight.
Place a colander on top of a bowl and pour in the fruit and syrup. Allow the fruit to drain for 30 minutes. Decant the syrup into a bowl and store in the fridge for use in an ice cream or dessert. Arrange the fruit, cut side up, on piece of baking paper set on baking sheet. At this point, you can leave the kumquats in a warm, draughty place to dry out for a day or two, or you can dry them in your oven (this works very well if you have a fan-assisted oven). Turn the oven to its lowest temperature setting and leave the fruit to dry out overnight. How long you dry the fruit for depends on how chewy you'd like it: mine were perfect after 12 hours in the oven.
Dredge white granulated sugar over the fruit and toss well so that each piece is lightly coated. Melt the chocolate in a metal or glass bowl set over a pan of simmering water. Stir well. Using your fingers or some small tongs, half-dip (or fully dip!) each piece of fruit into the chocolate. Set aside in a cool place to dry.
The kumquats will continue to dry out over the next few days. I was hoping to tell you how long these kept, but of course, in my house of chocolate fiends, they didn't.
Makes about 50 pieces.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
August 9, 2010
22:53
Roast Ratatouille Soup with Basil Mayonnaise
I'm so excited to share my new recipe with you: I think you're going to love it. It tastes as rich and and sunny as a beautiful deep-summer ratatouille and is - I promise - ridiculously easy to make. The only part of this recipe you might consider remotely tricky is the home-made basil mayonnaise, but you can omit this topping if you don't feel confident about making it, and the soup will still taste very good without it. Do give the mayonnaise a try, though: like Béarnaise sauce, it's not anywhere as difficult to make as TV chefs will have you believe.
I'm a devoted fan of ratatouille. Not the watery, chuck-everything-in-a-saucepan-and-stew-to-pap variety but a beautiful mingling of ripe tomatoes, shiny eggplants, snappy courgettes, onions and red peppers, slowly roasted with olive oil and garlic to a silken, jewel-bright deliciousness (try my oven-roasted ratatouille recipe).
I made this soup on Friday, as a late-night warmer for my family, who had come over for a glass or five of champagne, and some light snackery. I served it piping hot, topped with cold basil mayonnaise, in small shot 'glasses' (clear, square plastic ice-cream holders, which I bought from a Cape Town baking shop), and did so only because I foolishly hadn't made enough soup to give everyone a hearty bowlful. But the soup-shots worked well, and everyone stumbled off homewards with warm tummies.
(I've become something of a fan of soup-shots since the evening my friends got rat-faced on my Iced Beetroot and Gin Shots).
And - joy - there was some left over the next morning. As is always the case with stews and soups, the flavour had improved overnight. I had some for breakfast, with some hot buttered toast.
As always, the quality of the raw ingredients determines how good the soup will taste. Ripe, plump, vividly coloured vegetables with fresh, unbruised stalks will produce a soup of unrivalled quality.
This recipe serves 6, but is easily doubled.
Roast Ratatouille Soup with Basil Mayonnaise
5 large, perfectly ripe tomatoes
2 fat eggplants [aubergines/brinjals], or four smaller ones
2 large, deep-red peppers [capsicums]
8 courgettes [zucchini]
2 large white onions, peeled
½ cup (125 ml) good virgin olive oil
flaky sea salt
freshly milled black pepper
6 fat cloves garlic, unpeeled
5 cups (1.25 l) water, plus more for thinning
For the basil mayonnaise:
2 large egg yolks, at room temperature
salt
200 ml light vegetable oil (such as sunflower or canola oil, or any other flavourless oil)
100 ml good olive oil
1 cup (250 ml, loosely packed) fresh basil leaves
1 t (5 ml) flaky sea salt
the juice of a large lemon
freshly milled black pepper
Preheat the oven to 200ºC. Using a very sharp knife, top and tail the tomatoes, eggplants, red peppers, courgettes and onions, and cut them into thinnish slices (5 mm, or so, thick). Pile all the vegetable slices into large, deep-sided roasting tin, or an ovenproof ceramic dish. Pour the olive oil over the vegetables, season very generously with salt and pepper and, using your hands, toss well to coat. Tuck the six unpeeled garlic cloves deep into the vegetable bed (but remember where you've hidden them).
Place the roasting pan, uncovered, in an oven heated to 200ºC, and bake for 25-30 minutes, or until the vegetables are beginning to turn golden brown in patches. Cover the roasting pan with a layer of tin foil (or a lid, if you have one that fits), turn the oven down to 180ºC, and bake for a further 20-30 minutes, or until the veggies are soft. Remove the roasting tray from the oven. Fish the whole garlic cloves out of the pan, and set aside on a plate. Pour the water (1.5 l) into the pan, replace the foil, and bake at the same temperature for another 15 minutes. Remove the roasting tray from the oven and set aside to cool slightly.
While the vegetables are cooling, make the basil mayonnaise. Put the two egg yolks into a small bowl (a ceramic soup bowl is ideal) and add the salt. 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. (If your mayonnaise doesn't thicken, or it curdles, click here)
Set the mayonnaise aside. Roughly chop the basil leaves and put them into a mortar along with the salt. Pound to a rough paste. (If you don't have a mortar, put the leaves and salt onto a wooden chopping board, and smash them with a rolling pin). Scrape the pounded basil into a little bowl. Take three of the roast garlic cloves you have set aside and squeeze the soft, baked pulp into the basil mixture. Add the fresh lemon juice and stir well. Now stir this mixture into the mayonnaise, season to taste with salt and pepper, tip into a clean bowl, and refrigerate.
Now liquidise the soup. Tip the contents of the roasting pan into a big bowl, and blitz with a stick blender, or use a food processor or liquidizer to process to a slightly rough puree. If the soup mixture seems too thick, or the blades refuse to turn, thin it down with a little boiling water. Squeeze the pulp of the remaining three cloves of baked garlic into the mixture, season with salt and pepper to taste, and blitz for another minute.
Return the soup to the stovetop and reheat. Serve piping hot, topped with a dollop of cold basil mayonnaise.
Serves 6.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
August 4, 2010
14:18
Ripe Figs with Baked Camembert and Spicy Caramel Walnuts
This is such a versatile, sexy recipe, because it can be served as a starter, a snack or right at the end of a meal as a combination dessert and cheese course. I found these gorgeous purple figs at my local Woolies, and, as I don't like eating figs whole, melted some lovely ripe Camembert over their middles. But the final result was too evenly voluptuous, so for texture and crunch I added walnuts, which I coated in caramel and then tossed in paprika, cayenne pepper and salt.
You could use any sort of nut here - macadamias and cashews, for example - but I like the slightly bitter taste of walnuts. If you're serving this as a savoury course, dress the rocket leaves with a little olive oil and freshly squeezed lemon juice before you arrange them on the platter. If this is a sweet course, omit the salad leaves and the salt and pour a little warmed honey over the figs.
Note: This is a repost of an earlier recipe, and I'm republishing it here as my entry to the Fairview Food Blogger's Competition. If you like this, head over to the competition page and vote for it!
Ripe Figs with Baked Camembert and Spicy Caramel Walnuts
6 ripe figs
a round of ripe, but not oozing, Fairview Camembert
16 walnuts
4 T (60 ml) white sugar
1 tsp (5 ml) fresh paprika
½ tsp (2.5 ml) cayenne pepper or chilli powder (or more, to taste)
flaky sea salt
fresh rocket or salad leaves
Preheat your oven's grill to its hottest setting.
First prepare the walnuts. Put the nuts into a dry frying pan and toast, tossing frequently, for a minute or two, or until just beginning to turn golden on the edges. Set aside. Sprinkle the sugar evenly into the saucepan, set it over a medium heat, and watch it like a hawk. The sugar will begin to liquefy and then turn golden in patches. At this point, give the pan a sharp swirl, or stir gently to redistribute the melted bits. (Here are some great tips for making caramel). The moment the sugar is melted and turning a light copper colour, remove the pan from the heat (it will continue to darken after you've removed it). Toss the walnuts into the hot pan and shake to coat. Fish them out with a fork, put them on a plate or sheet of greaseproof paper and sprinkle with paprika, cayenne pepper and plenty of salt. Leave to harden.
Put the figs on a baking sheet. Cut a cross in the top of each fig, stopping a little short of its bottom. Squeeze the base of the figs so that the four 'petals' open up. Lightly press a little wedge of cheese (how much is up to you) into each fig. Place under a very hot grill - on a rack in the middle of the oven - and grill until the cheese is just melted. Watch the figs closely as they grill, making sure that they don't burn. Serve on a bed of dressed greens, sprinkled with the whole, or chopped, caramelised walnuts.
Serves 6.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
August 1, 2010
14:15
Potted Pork Belly with Mace and Pepper, in the English style
A meltingly tender dish of slow-cooked pork belly, shredded, combined with mace, pepper and salt, packed into a pot and sealed with butter. These could, I suppose, be called pork rillettes, but they're not cooked in seasoned fat, as rillettes are, and there is something very English about this dish.
Potted meats have a long history in English cookery: pounding cooked meat with butter and spices, and packing the mixture into porcelain pots, was an easy way to preserve surplus meat for long periods. Elizabeth David wrote a whole booklet on the subject, English Potted Meats and Fish Pastes, which she published privately and sold through her famous kitchen shop in Pimlico. Parts of this booklet (which is as rare as hens' teeth) are reproduced in her book 'An Omelette and A Glass of Wine', and to my fury I seem to have mislaid my copy of it. (Or I lent it to someone: don't get me started on that topic).
In this recipe, pork belly is slow-cooked in a bath of flavoured water until fork-tender. You can slow-roast the belly without water, if you like, but I prefer this method because you end up with a great bonus: a lot of rich, jellied, aromatic stock, which you can use in soups, stews and gravies.
Take the dish out of the fridge an hour or so before you serve it, so the mixture can be easily spread. Clarify the butter if you have the energy (see recipe) but this isn't necessary if you intend serving this within a day or so; the purpose of removing the milk solids from the butter in olden times was to prevent it from becoming rancid.
You can add as much or as little seasoning to this dish as your tastebuds demand: I prefer to keep the spices in the background. It does, however, need a lot more salt than you would think. Lovely with fresh bread or Melba toast, a few crunchy little gherkins and a dab of wine jelly.
Potted Pork Belly
one 1.5kg pork belly
water
2 bay leaves
2 carrots, snapped in thirds
a sprig of thyme
a few parsley stalks
an onion, skin on, sliced
10 peppercorns
4 whole cloves
flaky sea salt
milled black pepper
1 tsp (5 ml) ground mace (or nutmeg)
cayenne pepper, to taste
2 tsp (10 ml) chopped fresh thyme leaves
½ cup (125 ml) butter
Preheat the oven to 130ºC. Put the pork belly, skin-side up, in a deep roasting pan. Pour in just enough water to barely cover the belly: the fat should be poking up out of the water. Add the bay leaves, carrots, thyme, parsley stalks, onion, peppercorns and cloves (but no salt). Cover tightly with a double layer of tin foil. Place the dish in an oven heated to 130ºC, and bake for 5-6 hours, or until the pork meat is so tender you can pull it apart with a fork.
Remove the belly from the pan, pull off the skin and discard it. Strain the stock through a sieve into a clean jug. Allow the belly to cool for15 minutes, then pull the meat into shreds, using two forks or your fingers, and discarding any silvery bits of sinew, but retaining any soft white fat. Now coarsely chop the belly meat: it should look like finely mashed tuna. (You can pound it to a smooth paste, if you like, but don't put it in a food processor, which will ruin its texture). Place in a bowl. Add the salt, pepper, mace, cayenne pepper and chopped thyme, tasting the mixture as you go along until it is seasoned to your liking. Mix well and pack into a shallow terrine dish or individual ramekins. Pour just enough warm stock over the meat to moisten it well - it should not feel wet or saturated. Press down well and allow to cool.
Melt the butter in a saucepan and skim all the white foam off the top. Remove from the heat, allow to cool for a few minutes, and then strain through cheesecloth or a fine sieve onto the top of the potted belly. Place a bay leaf or a sprig of thyme on top, and press down well. Refrigerate.
Serves 6 as a starter.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
July 22, 2010
22:15
My Scrumptious Blog news. Reluctantly.
I don't like interrupting the flow of recipes on this blog for general chit-chat, opinion and news, because I reckon the least you deserve when you land on a food blog is a recipe (and a photograph that looks good enough to eat). Regular readers of this blog may have noticed that I've steered away from chit-chat over the past year or so, and have concentrated on the actual food, and the story behind each recipe I present to you.
This hasn't been a deliberate strategy, but rather a gradual attuning to what the readers of this blog really want. In the early days of this blog, I posted a lot of indignant opinions about food, recipe-writing and food blogging. As time went on, I noticed that the amount of traffic (page views, in other words) these posts attracted was negligible. Few people read these posts, fewer commented on them, and nobody linked to them. On the other hand, tried-and-tested recipes, especially those with an interesting personal 'back-story', have prospered, and attracted a steady stream of pageviews over the years. (Here is a list of the most popular recipes on this blog.)
I've also avoided sharing every aspect of my life and my family with you, as many other bloggers do with great, and deserved, success. This is not because I'm a shrinking violet - in real life, I'm noisy, opinionated, outgoing, bossy and a champion chatter - but because I have a wariness about the Internet. It's a story that's too long to tell here but, in a nutshell, I was on the receiving end of a nasty campaign, waged by a bunch of teenagers, in the earliest days of the Internet in South Africa, and since then have tried to stay anonymous. That's why I started this blog using the pseudonym 'Juno'.
I loathe self-congratulatory blogs, and boasting or preening of any sort, but I have come to understand that my blog won't grow unless I actively promote it.
The rise of social media over the past 18 months has forced me to step, blinking like a bewildered mole, from under my little brown cloak. Also, as this blog has grown, I've been obliged to stand up and speak my mind, in the real world.
And this hasn't been a bad thing. After my presentation at the South African Food Bloggers' Conference last year, I met a whole lot of new, interesting, enthusiastic people - some of them friends I've made online; others complete strangers - who have really enriched my tentative Facebook and Twitter experiences.
And here endeth the sermon, and beginneth the news.
- I'll be speaking, bossily, and along with winemaker Mike Radcliffe of Warwick and Vilafonte, at the Food & Wine Bloggers’ Club meeting next Wednesday. If you'd like to come along and hear me speak about food blogging, recipe development and recipe writing, please click here to book. Mike Radcliffe will be presenting a selection of his wines for tasting.
- My recipe for Sweetcorn Chilli-Bites with a Mint Yoghurt Dip has just won the 'Battle Corn' food challenge on this blog
- I've taken on the job of writing recipes for Verlaque Fine Foods, a Cape Town company specialising in balsamic reductions, infused olive oils, preserves, jellies and grilling glazes. Try my Peri-Peri Calamari With Chouriço, Parsley and Preserved Lemon.
- My recipe for Pricky Pear Granita is one of the eight top-rated entries in the Foodista Best of Food Blogs competition, and I'm hoping it will make it into the Foodista cookbook, which will be published in October.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
July 20, 2010
21:14
Oven-Baked Vegetables in a Spiced Coconut Gravy
This is, of course, a vegetable curry, but I'm loathe to use those two words in the title of this recipe because I don't want to put you off trying this most delicious and satisfying dish.
And you might well have been put off, as I have been, by the slush passed off as 'vegetable curry' by certain restaurants and eager vegetarian friends. Pulpy vegetables padded out with cheap lentils and over-spiced with bitter cardamom pods and creaking canoes of cinnamon are just not my cup of ghee - and are certainly not worth giving up meat for.
Not that I want my family to give up meat - the verrry thought, Gertrude ! - but I would like my teen sons to stop pulling faces when when I announce a Meatless Monday, or a present a veggie dish containing not a trace of flesh, cheese or egg. They do, at a push, enjoy a plate of oven-baked ratatouille or pasta-with-pesto, but only if it's smothered in grated Cheddar or Parmesan.
This mild vegetable curry finally broke the deadlock. Okay, I did add lots of interesting retro toppings (in my opinion, the best way to encourage kids and teens to try new things), but I was pleased to hear not a single cry of 'But I'm still hungry!'
Gently baking (rather than boiling) the vegetables in their gravy prevents the chunks from disintegrating, and at the end of the cooking time the veggies still taste like themselves. (Oh, all right, my gas bottle ran out and I was forced to sling the curry into the oven. But it worked, and I won't ever again simmer a veggie curry on the stove-top.)
I used a pack of pre-chopped soup vegetables (fine cubes of carrot, leek, onion, turnip, celery and potato) from my local supermarket for the base-gravy of this dish, and I suggest you save time by doing the same. If you can't find a fresh soup-pack, you'll need to chop them yourself. The only essential ingredients for the base gravy are onions (or leeks), celery, carrot and potatoes; the first three ingredients flavour the gravy, while the potato cubes thicken it as they disintegrate. As always, please use very fresh curry spices.
Oven-Baked Vegetables in a Spiced Coconut Gravy
For the gravy:
3 T (45 ml) vegetable oil
1 4-cm quill cinnamon
10 curry leaves, dried or fresh
2 t (10 ml) black mustard seeds
1½ t (7.5 ml) fenugreek seeds
2 onions, peeled and finely chopped
3 carrots, peeled and cut into 1-cm cubes
2 large potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-cm cubes
1 stick celery, finely sliced
two tins peeled, chopped tomatoes
3 cloves fresh garlic, peeled and sliced
a thumb-sized piece of fresh ginger, coarsely grated
one tin low-fat coconut cream
4 t (20 ml) fresh cumin powder
2 t (10 ml) fresh coriander powder
2 t (10 ml) mild curry powder
2 t (10 ml) turmeric
1 t (5 ml) chilli powder, to taste
salt and pepper
a little water
For the vegetables:
a large butternut, peeled, deseeded and cut into chunks
12 young potatoes, sliced in half, or in thirds if they are bigger than plums
2 big aubergines, cut into big chunks
4 red or yellow peppers [capsicums], or two of each each, sliced into big strips
To top:
natural yoghurt
freshly chopped coriander [cilantro] or flat-leaf parsley
plus, and optional: chopped, toasted cashew nuts; Mrs Ball's Chutney; mango atchar, 'hotters' made with chopped fresh tomato and onion; desiccated coconut; and so on.
Preheat the oven to 160ºC. Heat the oil in a large, oven-proof dish or pan. Add the cinnamon quill, curry leaves, fenugreek seeds and mustard seeds and fry, over a moderate heat, until the mustard seeds begin to pop and sputter. Tip in the chopped onions, carrots, potatoes and celery and fry, stirring gently, for 3-4 minutes, or until the vegetables are slightly softened, and taking on some golden colour. While the vegetables are cooking, put the tinned tomato, garlic and ginger into a liquidiser, or a food processor fitted with a metal blade. Whizz to a coarse purée. Tip the purée into the pan containing the vegetables and stir well. Turn down the heat and cook over a moderate heat, for 7-10 minutes, or until slightly reduced. Stir in the coconut milk, cumin, coriander, curry powder and chilli powder. Simmer for a further five minutes, or until you have a slightly thick, rich gravy. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Tip the prepared vegetables into the gravy and stir well. The liquid should come three-quarters of the way up the sides of the vegetable chunks: if it doesn't, add a little water. Cover the dish with its lid, or with a tight layer of tin foil, and place in the oven. Bake at 160ºC for an hour (stirring once or twice, and adding more water if necessary), or until the vegetable chunks are just cooked through.
Serve piping hot with Basmati rice, yoghurt, chopped fresh coriander, and/or toppings of your choice
Serves 6-8.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
July 13, 2010
20:09
Lightly Spiced South African Guava Ice Cream
The perfume of fresh guavas drifting through a warm kitchen is one of the quintessential scents of a South African childhood. It's impossible to describe the scent of a perfectly ripe guava to someone who hasn't experienced the coral-pink deliciousness of this most luscious fruit, which you'll find piled high in supermarkets, and on roadside stalls, during South Africa's winter months.
I've always taken guavas for granted - as children, we ate them fresh in bucketloads, and tinned guavas with tinned Ideal Milk (another classic South African treat; recipes here) - were a staple dessert in our household. I was interested, then, to read the comments about the rarity of guavas by an American intern working in South Africa during the World Cup. In her article Ten South African Things I Wish They Had in the USA, Samantha Hermann writes: 'In the US, guava is a rare, tropical, and expensive fruit. Here you can get fresh guava, guava juice, guava yogurt, dried guava, and the list goes on. As a guava lover, I am quite envious of South Africa in this regard.'
You may be wondering what has possessed me to want to make ice cream in the middle of winter. Well, this is when guavas are in season in South Africa and, besides, there are many winter days here in Cape Town that are sunny and mild enough to warrant whipping out the ice cream machine. (If you don't have such a gadget, use the freeze-and-beat method, which will result in a slightly crystalline but still most delicious ice).
This is a light, sugar-syrup-based ice cream with just a touch of cream (you can use yoghurt if you're watching calories). I have added a a stick of cinnamon and a star anise to the sugar syrup to give the ice cream a slight spiciness, but you can leave these out altogether if you would prefer a cold blast of pure guava flavour.
Lightly Spiced South African Guava Ice Cream
1½ cups (375 ml) water
1 cup (250 ml) white granulated sugar
one whole star anise
one 4-cm quill of cinnamon
one thumb-sized strip of fresh lemon zest, white pith removed
8 ripe guavas
2 t (10 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
75 ml cream or plain white yoghurt
Put the water, sugar, star anise, cinnamon and lemon zest into a saucepan and bring slowly to the boil, stirring occasionally. Simmer for 10 minutes, or until the sugar syrup is quite clear. Set aside to cool completely, then place in the fridge for an hour or two, or until cold. Top and tail the guavas, but do not peel. Cut into chunks and place in a liquidizer, or a food processor fitted with a metal blade. Whizz to a rough purée. Tip the purée into a sieve set over a large bowl and, using the back of a soup ladle to press vigorously down on the pulp, strain off the liquid. Discard the pulp and seeds. Strain the chilled sugar syrup into the bowl containing the strained guava (discard the spices and lemon peel). Add the lemon juice and cream (or yoghurt), and stir well to combine. Place the mixture in the bowl of an ice cream machine and churn until done (or use the freeze-and-beat method).
Serve the ice cream in chilled glasses (place them in the freezer an hour before you serve the dessert).
Serves 6 - 8
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
July 6, 2010
13:20
Hazelnut and Chocolate Cheesecake
A chocolatey, nutty biscuit base, a dash of Frangelico and a topping of scribbled dark chocolate give this unbaked cheesecake a luxurious touch. Even though I'm not a lover of cakes and sweet things, I must say I can be persuaded to eat cheesecake, although I prefer a baked one - try my Sour Cream Cheesecake with Fresh Redcurrants - over the gelatine-set variety.
I have to laugh at my family. They are rather pudding-deprived, having a mother with a salt tooth, so when I do occasionally make something sweet, they are so overjoyed that skirmishes break out in the kitchen. 'His slice was bigger than mine!' one will cry. 'But you nicked a sliver out of the fridge earlier!' says the other. 'I saw you!'
This cheesecake is best with full-fat cream cheese, but you can use low-fat cheese, or creamed cottage cheese, for a perfectly acceptable lower-calorie version. Measure the amount of powdered gelatine exactly, so that the texture is just firm enough to hold together, without a hint of rubberiness.
Hazelnut and Chocolate Cheesecake
For the biscuit base:
70 ml whole hazelnuts
200 g chocolate digestive biscuits
100 g soft butter
For the cheesecake:
½ cup (125 ml) water
4 tsp (20 ml) powdered gelatine
2 x 250 g tubs of cream cheese
1 cup (250 ml) caster sugar
2 T (30 ml) Franjelico hazelnut liqueur
1 vanilla pod (or 1 tsp/5ml vanilla extract)
250 ml (1 cup) cream
For the topping:
8 squares of dark chocolate
Put the hazelnuts in a dry frying pan and toss for a minute or two over a medium flame, or until lightly toasted. Wrap the nuts in a clean tea towel and rub them between your palms to remove some of the skins (don't worry if bits of skin remain here and there).
Break up the chocolate digestives and place them, with the hazelnuts, in a food processor fitted with a metal blade, or a liquidiser. Process to coarse crumbs, but don't over-process, which will make the chocolate sticky. Place in a bowl, add the soft butter and stir well to combine. Press the mixture evenly onto the base of a non-stick 24-cm springform cake tin. Place in the fridge while you make the topping.
Put the water in a little heat-proof bowl or ramekin and sprinkle the gelatine on top. Set aside for a few minutes, or until the gelatine has sponged. Put the bowl in a pot of simmering water (the water should come half-way up the sides) and stir occasionally as the gelatine melts. When the liquid is clear, remove the bowl from the hot water and set aside to cool for a few minutes.
Combine the cream cheese, caster sugar and Franjelico in a large bowl, using a whisk or rotary beater. Cut the vanilla pod in half, scrape out the black seeds with the blade of a knife, and add to the mixture. Add the warm gelatine mixture and stir well to combine. Whip the cream in a separate bowl until it forms soft peaks. Fold half the cream into the cream cheese mixture, and then fold in the other half. Pour the mixture into the cake tin and tap the tin gently on the countertop to release any bubbles. Place in the fridge for four hours to set.
Melt the chocolate in a bowl set over a pan of simmering water. Place in a piping bag fitted with a fine nozzle (or make a piping bag from greaseproof paper; a syringe will also do). Scribble the chocolate all over the cake. If there's any chocolate left over, scribble a few more patterns on a piece of greaseproof paper, allow to set, peel off and arrange on top of the cheesecake. Refrigerate for another 30 minutes, or until the chocolate is cold and set. Release the cake from its tin (see Cook's Notes, below).
Slice into portions (see Cook's Notes, below) and serve with a few extra toasted hazelnuts.
Makes 1 24-cm cake.
Cook's Notes
- 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 gelatine mould, for 30 seconds at a time, moving it around the edges as necessary. At the same time, release the spring-form lever in small increments.
- When you cut the cheesecake, use a hot knife (heated over a flame, or in a bowl of boiling water) to slice through the chocolate scribbles, then switch to a cool knife to cut through the rest.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
June 28, 2010
07:52
Snoek Kedgeree: A Taste of the Cape, with no fake hake
This famous English breakfast dish, a classic of Anglo-Indian cookery, is so easy to make, although it requires good ingredients and some attention to detail. A good kedgeree should, I think, be luxuriously buttery and creamy, and contain plenty of very fresh parsley, a touch of curry powder and a sparkle of lemon. Dry rice, over-boiled eggs or - shudder - gluey pre-frozen fish chunks will put your family off it forever.
I love kedgeree, but rarely make it, because the 'smoked haddock' that we get here in South Africa is awful. In fact, it's not haddock at all, but hake-with-a-fake-tan. Incredibly, it's perfectly legal for South African manufacturers to pass off dyed hake off as smoked haddock.
'A retail scam' is what consumer journalist Wendy Knowler calls this: 'Both the Department of Health and the SA Bureau of Standards permits the industry to refer to the dolled-up hake as haddock in large print on the front of their packs, as long as the word hake appears in the small print list of ingredients,' writes Knowler in her exposé of this villainous practice.
An excellent alternative to haddock in a kedgeree is smoked snoek. Snoek, a time-honoured staple of Cape cuisine, is delicious when properly smoked; it's inexpensive, sustainable and has an agreeable flaky texture. Curiously, despite its abundance, snoek isn't something you often see featured on Cape restaurant menus: in this interesting article about snoek, Hilary Prendini-Toffoli explains why (and at the end of the article, you'll find four excellent snoek recipes from two of South Africa's best-loved cookery writers, Carmen Niehaus and the late Lannice Snyman).
Living next to Hout Bay harbour as I do, all I need do is nip down to Mariner's Wharf for a pack of their famous oak-smoked snoek, but you might struggle to find it if you live upcountry. It's available in some of the bigger supermarkets, and you can also ask your local fishmonger to order it for you.
My kedgeree contains just a hint of curry powder (Rajah Medium Curry powder has the right, generic taste) . Don't be tempted to add more spice, or you'll overwhelm the delicious parsley-egg-rice flavours. I use plain old Tastic rice, for its bland, milky flavour. Don't skimp on the cream.
Snoek Kedgeree
2 cups (500 ml) uncooked rice
6 cups (1.5 l) water
1 t (5 ml) salt
6 eggs
3 T (45 ml) butter
a large onion, finely chopped
2 tsp (10 ml) medium curry powder
60 ml water
400 ml pouring cream
300 g smoked snoek, bones removed, and flaked
1 t (5 ml) finely grated lemon zest
½ cup (125 ml) finely chopped fresh parsley
4 t (20 ml) lemon juice
salt and milled black pepper
a pinch of cayenne pepper
Put the rice, water and salt in a pan and switch on the heat. Cook for 20-25 minutes, over a high flame, or until the rice is cooked. Drain and set aside. Boil the eggs for 8-9 minutes, or until the yolks are just cooked. Run cold water over the eggs, peel, and chop into little cubes. Set aside.
Heat the butter in a large saucepan, add the onions and a pinch of salt and cook gently for four to five minutes, or until soft and translucent. Stir in the curry powder and cook for another minute. Now add 60 ml water, turn up the heat, and allow to bubble for another two minutes. Turn down the heat. Tip the cooked rice into the pan and add the cream, flaked snoek and lemon zest, stirring well to combine. When the mixture has gently heated through, add the parsley, chopped egg and lemon juice and season well with salt and pepper. Serve immediately, with a dusting of cayenne pepper.
Serves 6
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
June 26, 2010
17:26
Peppered Halloumi with Red-Pepper Tahina Dip
A small amount of tahina adds a velvety texture to this vibrant dip of roast red pepper, olive oil and lemon. Served with a pile of crusty fried halloumi, this makes a great snack to serve with drinks. It's very filling, and just as well, because halloumi is an expensive cheese.
It's also packed with calories, so I don't buy it often (in spite of the implorings of my teen sons, who adore halloumi with bacon and eggs, and can demolish kilos of the stuff if given half a chance).
I was first introduced to halloumi-for-breakfast by my brother-in-law, who is of Cypriot descent, and it was he who showed me how to fry it in olive oil to rustling golden perfection.
He showed me, all right, but it took me a long time to figure out how to get a good result every time. Halloumi's tricky to cook: it burns in an instant, or goes floppy, or melts all over the pan, or toughens to boot leather in a matter of minutes. So how do you get it right?
First, the quality of the cheese is important. Some brands collapse in the pan; others are so saturated in brine that they never get really crisp, so it's worth experimenting with different brands. Woolworths have an excellent halloumi that is just right for pan-frying.
Second, make sure you pat the cheese quite dry on kitchen paper before you fry it. Third, the oil should be very hot, but not smoking, and you need to watch the cheese like a hawk as it browns very quickly. Don't add too much oil - two tablespoons (30 ml) is enough - and don't overcrowd the pan.
Last, drain the halloumi well on kitchen paper to soak up excess grease, and serve immediately. The quicker you get it onto the plate, the less chance it has to soften up.
Pepper Halloumi with Red-Pepper Tahina Dip
one 300g block halloumi cheese
milled black pepper
olive oil for frying
lemon wedges
For the dip:
2 large red peppers [bell peppers]
2 large cloves garlic, peeled
2 T (30 ml) olive oil
4 t (20 ml) lemon juice
1 t (5 ml) cumin
1 t (5 ml) Tabasco sauce
1 t (5 ml) tahina
salt and milled black pepper
First make the dip. Preheat the oven to 180ºC. Cut a 2-cm slit in the side of each pepper and push the whole garlic cloves through the slits into the peppers. Place on a baking sheet and bake for 35-45 minutes, or until the peppers are soft and beginning to brown. Remove from the oven, place on a plate, cover, and allow to cool. Tear open the peppers and retrieve the garlic cloves. Pull off the skins and cores and discard the seeds. Place the pepper flesh and garlic cloves in a blender and add the remaining dip ingredients. Process to a smooth paste (add a little more olive oil or lemon juice if the blades are reluctant to turn). Decant into a bowl, swirl with a little extra olive oil and sprinkle with a pinch of cumin.
Slice the cheese into 7-mm thick slices. Pat quite dry. Rub a film of olive oil over the slices and coat generously, on both sides, with milled black pepper. Heat the oil - about 2 T - in a frying pan. When the oil is hot - a breadcrumb should fizzle vigorously in it - add the cheese and fry, in two or three batches, until golden-brown and crisp. This will take about a minute per side, depending on the heat of the pan.
Drain on kitchen paper and serve immediately, with the dip and some lemon wedges.
Serves 4 as a snack
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
June 23, 2010
20:26
Whole Chicken Legs with Parma Ham & Lemon Herb Butter, and Sauté Potatoes
A pungent butter containing garlic, herbs, lemon zest and anchovies gives these chicken pieces a lovely flavour, and keeps their flesh succulent as they cook. The Parma ham is there to help prevent the butter from flooding out, and to add a nice, crisp, salty finish.
Although they're a bit of a fiddle to prepare, these legs are easy to cook: they're browned for a few minutes in a hot pan, and then quickly finished off in the oven. This is a great lunch or dinner-party dish - double up the quantities as you please - because you can prepare the chicken and potatoes in advance and keep them in the fridge until half an hour or so before you serve them.
You can, at a pinch, use whole chicken breasts on the bone for this dish, but their anatomy is such that the butter tends to leak out. Whole chicken legs (or 'Marylands') are ideal because you can make a small opening under the skin and stuff the butter deep into and around the drumstick and thigh. Also, dark meat is juicier and so much more flavourful than breast meat. Please see my Cook's Notes (below) for information about how to get your hands on whole chicken legs.
I don't think this dish needs a sauce, but if you are the saucy type, instructions for a simple (and sinfully rich) reduction of wine, stock and cream are at the very end of the recipe. (I'm feeling dead-guilty about this: when I made this dish to photograph, I also made a sauce, and slurped up all but a tablespoon. That's why there's no sauce in the picture. Look, I was hungry.)
Whole Chicken Legs with Parma Ham & Lemon Herb Butter, and Sauté Potatoes
6 whole chicken legs
2 cloves fresh garlic, peeled
2 whole anchovy fillets, from a tin or bottle
1 T (15 ml) finely chopped rosemary needles
1 T (15 ml) fresh thyme leaves
2 T (30 ml) finely chopped fresh parsley
the finely grated zest of a lemon
5 T (75 ml) softened butter
milled black pepper
a pinch of flaky sea salt
6 slices of Parma ham
a little vegetable oil for frying
For the potatoes:
6 medium potatoes, peeled
3 T (45 ml) olive oil
2 T (30 ml) butter
salt and milled black pepper
Trim the chicken legs - especially the thigh sections - of any excess fat. Crush the garlic using a mortar and pestle (or chop very finely). Add the anchovies and pound to a paste. Now stir in the rosemary, thyme, parsley, lemon zest and butter. Season with a few grinds of black pepper, but don't add extra salt - the anchovies are salty enough. Push two fingers under the skin of each chicken portion, at the junction of the thigh and drumstick, and carefully loosen the flesh from the skin and its membrane, to make two pockets: one deep into the drumstick, and the other into the thigh. Divide the butter into six portions and spread it inside the pockets, smoothing the skin so that the butter is evenly distributed. Season the chicken pieces with a little salt and black pepper.
Place a piece of clingfilm on a chopping board and rub a light film of olive oil over its surface (this prevents the ham from sticking). Put a piece of Parma ham on the clingfilm. Place a chicken piece, skin-side down and crossways, on the ham, then lift both ends of the ham up and over the middle of leg, pressing it down to secure. Now pick up the clingfilm and wrap it tightly around the chicken. Repeat with the other five pieces. Place the chicken in the fridge for 20 minutes - or longer, if you're making this in advance - for the butter to firm up.
To prepare the potatoes: peel and cut into disks 7mm thick. Drop into a big pot of rapidly boiling salted water, cover, and cook for 4-6 minutes, or until you can poke the tip of a sharp knife through one of the slices, with the potato offering just a little resistance. Drain in a colander, spread the slices on a tray covered with kitchen paper and allow to dry out for 20 minutes, or longer if you're preparing this in advance.
Preheat the oven to 180ºC. Heat a little vegetable oil in a large frying pan. Brown the chicken, in batches of two: When the oil is very hot, place the chicken, skin side down, in the pan. Cook for 2½-3½ minutes, or until the ham and skin are golden brown and crispy. Turn the chicken over and cook for another 2 minutes. Place skin-side up on a baking sheet while you brown the rest. (If you're making a sauce - see below - set the frying pan to one side.)
Bake at 180ºC for 16-20 minutes or until the chicken is cooked through (see Cook's Notes, below). While the chicken is baking, fry the potatoes: heat some of the olive oil, over a brisk flame, in a large frying pan. Season the slices with salt and pepper. Arrange the slices (you'll need to do this in three batches) in the frying pan, and sizzle for a few minutes, or until golden brown and beginning to crisp. Flip the slices over and fry the other sides. Add a nut of butter to the pan, and toss well to coat. Set aside and keep warm while you finish frying the the remaining potato slices.
Serve the chicken pieces and potato piping hot, with a leafy green salad (rocket, watercress and similar dark leaves are perfect) dressed with olive oil, lemon juice and salt.
Serves 6
To make a sauce: When you make the flavoured butter for the chicken, add an extra 2 T (30 ml) butter to the mixture. Stir the mixture well, remove the two extra tablespoons, and place in the fridge, on a plate. Reheat the frying pan in which you fried the chicken pieces. When the fat begins to sizzle, pour in half a cup (125 ml) of white wine. Cook over a fierce heat for three minutes, stirring and scraping to dislodge any golden residue. Add 3/4 cup (180 ml) good chicken stock. Allow to bubble briskly for ten minutes, or until the sauce has reduced by half. Stir in 3 T (45 ml) cream, and cook gently for another three minutes. Finally, stir in the cold butter, a few knobs at a time. The sauce will thicken slightly. Season with a little black pepper and serve with the chicken.
Cook's notes:
- You won't often see whole legs on a supermarket shelf, so order them in advance from your butcher, or buy whole chickens and cut off the Marylands yourself. (This is really, really easy to do, and whole chickens are so much cheaper than pieces. You can keep the breasts and wings for another dish, and make an excellent stock from the rest of the bones. Here are easy instructions for cutting up a chicken.)
- How long your chicken legs will take to cook through will depend on their size, and the efficiency of your oven. After sixteen minutes, remove one of the legs from the oven and poke a sharp knife-tip into the deepest, underside part of the chicken thigh. If the juices run clear and the flesh next to the bone is very hot to the touch, the chicken is ready. If there is a trace of pinkness, and the flesh is merely warm, put the chicken legs back in the oven for another five to ten minutes.
- Please don't leave out the anchovies. Even if you loathe them, they're an essential savoury ingredient, and I promise that you won't taste a hint of fishiness in this dish.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
June 19, 2010
23:34
Creamy New-Potato Soup with Frizzled Parma Ham
I hardly ever peel a potato these days: first, I can't be bothered. Second, all the finest flavour of a potato lives in its skin, and just underneath it. There are, admittedly, a few dishes that need potatoes to be peeled - good, fluffy, buttery mash and rustling, crunchy roast
potatoes are great examples - but I reckon that standing over a sink flaying the skins of potatoes for a stew or slow-cooked casserole is just madness, and a waste of time.
But a potato soup is a different matter. I wanted a good, earthy taste to this soup, but I didn't want leathery flecks of potato skin to ruin the texture. The solution was to use some beautiful new potatoes - bought from my local supermarket - which had thin, delicate skins that would disintegrate easily into the blitzed-up soup.
This soup tastes like liquid Pommes Dauphinoise: creamy and soft, with hints of nutmeg and butter. It's easy and quick to make, but take care not to over-process the soup when you liquidize it, or it may become gluey. A rich home-made chicken-stock is essential: a supermarket stock cube or stock powder will not do. You can make a good stock quite easily from an inexpensive pack of chicken wings and a few vegetables and herbs (here are my tips for making a quick stock; scroll to the end of the post for the recipe).
If you can afford it, do buy a few slices of genuine Parma ham for the top of this soup, from your local deli. It's wildly expensive, I know, but you'll only need six slices, which won't amount to much in cash. If you can't find Parma ham, fry a couple of slices of streaky bacon until they are very crisp, and crumble them over the soup.
Creamy New-Potato Soup with Frizzled Parma Ham
2 T (30 ml) olive oil
2 T (30 ml) butter
2 bay leaves
2 large onions, peeled and chopped
flaky sea salt
30 new [baby] potatoes, wiped
about 4 cups (1 litre) good chicken stock
2 cups (500 ml) whole milk
a big pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
½ cup (125 ml) pouring cream
finely ground white pepper, to taste
flaky sea salt
To serve:
2 tsp (10 ml) vegetable oil
6 slices of Parma ham (or streaky bacon)
a little fruity olive oil
Heat the olive oil and butter in a big pot over a moderate flame. Add the chopped onions, bay leaves and salt, and fry gently for six or seven minutes, or until the onions are softened and transluscent, but not browned. In the meantime, finely slice the new potatoes, skins and all. Add them to the pot, turn up the heat a little, and cook for three minutes, turning frequently. Now pour in just enough chicken stock to cover the potatoes. Simmer, uncovered, for 30 minutes - top up with a little more stock, if necessary - or until the potatoes are completely tender. Add the milk and nutmeg, and simmer for five more minutes. Transfer the mixture to the jug of a liquidizer (or use a stick blender) and blitz until smooth. If the soup is too thick for the blades to turn freely - this will depend on the potatoes you used - add more hot stock, milk or water to thin it down. Do not over-process, or the texture will be ruined. Return the to the pot, stir in the cream, season with white pepper and salt, to taste, and gently reheat.
Heat the oil in a frying pan, over a high flame. When the oil is very hot, carefully drape the Parma ham slices over the base of the frying pan. Allow to sizzle for 45 seconds, and the turn over. When the ham begins to shrivel and crisp, remove it from the pan and drain on kitchen paper for a few minutes.
Swirl the olive oil over the top of the soup, top with the frizzled ham, and serve piping hot.
Serves 6
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
June 17, 2010
21:18
Essential food-blog housekeeping, plus top six recipes ever on this blog
Thyme-roasted garlic chicken, with a red-wine and cranberry gravy... no, I kid. That's the way I usually start off a post on this blog, as I introduce my latest recipe (as any food blogger knows, the first paragraph of any post is hugely important: it needs to sum up the recipe and its ingredients in just a few words and, more important, entice the reader to scroll down for more).
But I have no recipe for you today, just a notice that I am going to be doing some housekeeping on this blog. I've tinkered with the CSS settings on the template for this blog so many times over the years - and I'm no expert - that the site has become a bit clunky, rather outdated and, most annoying of all, slow to load, with all its widgets, badges and gizmos**.
Over the next few days, I'll be cleaning up the look of Scrumptious South Africa to bring you a new, streamlined site. Please bear with me while I bash my forehead on the keyboard and gnaw off my own knuckles.
I've considered, many times, moving this blog to another, sexier platform (I long to be on Wordpress) or schlepping it, lock, stock and photograph, on a Wordpress platform, to my own registered domain (www.scrumptious.co.za). But the truth is that I don't have time to faff around with this, and I can't afford to pay someone to do it for me. On a technical note: exporting the text of this blog to Wordpress isn't a big deal, but the photographs are a nightmare, because they're stored all over the place. Over the years, I've tried several different hosts for my photographs, in a quest to find a service that doesn't crunch and blur them. I have some of the originals on my internal hard drive, but many of them disappeared into the land of lost photographs when my external hard drive crashed last year.
So, for now, I'm going to stick with blogger.com, and devote two days to some arduous housekeeping, during which this site will resemble a bomb crater.
Are you wondering why there's a picture of potato wedges at the top of this post?
Over the last few days, I've been reviewing the traffic on this website since its inception (a very interesting exercise, and something I urge you to do if you're a food blogger), and here are the six recipes and/or posts that have attracted the most attention. I find these results intriguing, not least because two out of the six top recipes (ginger beer and braaied fillet) don't feature photographs of the finished product. It's common wisdom among food bloggers that a photograph is essential if your post is to have any authority or popularity (and I wholeheartedly agree), but these results seem to say otherwise. Is it possible that detailed, clear instructions for well-loved, oft-searched-for recipes are perhaps just as important as a mouth-watering photograph? I'd appreciate your thoughts on this, and I'd also like to know which recipes on your food blog are perennial favourites.
Here are the top six, in no particular order:
** Gizmos: I've put several food-bloggie badges and 'partnerships' on this site, such as FoodBuzz, and none of them bring any significant traffic. Most of the traffic I get is from random Google searches and from Foodgawker.com, Facebook's Networked Blogs, Twitter, and referrals from fellow food bloggers.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
June 12, 2010
14:13
I-Love-You Chicken Pie from South Africa
A silky creamy filling, with an intense chickeny flavour and delicate hints of mustard, nutmeg and wine, makes this luxurious pie the perfect dish for impressing friends, or for showing your family just how much you love them.
That's why I've called it I-Love-You Chicken Pie. (And also, I was at a loss for good ideas for naming this recipe. Do you know that 'chicken pie' is among the most frequently searched-for recipe titles on the Internet?Google it yourself, and you'll be rewarded with three-and-a-half million results).
The 'South Africa' in the title is there because this really is our moment, isn't it? A frenzied excitement and an outpouring of national pride is the best way to describe the atmosphere in our country over the past few days, and I am loving every minute of it!
I've made dozens of chicken pies, of various sorts, over the years, but I've often found that they don't have the full-bodied chicken taste I expect from a good pie. The reason? Simmering whole chickens in water doesn't produce - in a short time at least- a stock of sufficient intensity and flavour. So, after some experimenting, I've come up with this method: the chickens are roasted, at a moderate temperature, in a shallow bath of water and wine, with the usual flavourings. Once the cooked chicken has been stripped off, the bones and skin are returned to the bath, and cooked briskly on the stove-top to concentrate the flavour and produce a small amount of really chickeny stock. This is a long recipe, which takes time, but I reckon the effort is worth it.
It may seem like an extravagance to use two whole chickens for a single pie, but you can boil up the bones for a second time, with fresh vegetables, to make a few litres of good stock for a soup or stew.
I use bought puff pastry for this pie because I honestly can't be fagged to make my own, but it would be superb with a really good home-made pastry. The ready-made sort we get here in South Africa (Heinz's Today Ready-Rolled Puff Pastry) is not great - it tends to crack as you unroll it, and it doesn't have much puff in it. But it's convenient.
This pie, like all stews, tastes better the day after it's made. Use a large pie dish, or make individual pies, as you please. The ham is entirely optional: if you use it, use a good-quality smoked ham, and ask your deli to cut off a chunk, so you can cube it it yourself. Other good additions to this pie are little nuggets of fried pork- sausage meat (squeeze the filling from pork sausages, roll into balls and brown in oil), frozen peas, and hard-boiled eggs.
I-Love-You Chicken Pie from South Africa
For the chicken and stock:
2 whole free-range chickens
2 carrots, thickly sliced
a stick of celery, sliced
6 parsley stalks (reserve the leaves)
10 peppercorns
2 bay leaves
3 whole cloves
a large, unskinned onion, quartered
a large sprig of thyme
a lemon
2 cloves garlic, peeled
4 cups (1 litre) water
1½ cups (375 ml) white wine
1 tsp (5 ml) salt
For the sauce and pie:
90 ml butter
100 ml flour
1½ cups (375 ml) milk
¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg
2 tsp (10 ml) Dijon mustard
1 T (15 ml) brandy
5 T (75 ml) cream
4 T (60 ml) chopped fresh parsley
salt and milled black pepper
250 g cooked, smoked ham, cubed
a sheet of prepared puff pastry
an egg, lightly beaten
Preheat the oven to 160°C. Place the chickens in a large, deep metal roasting pan. Add the carrots, celery, parsley, peppercorns, bay leaves, cloves, onion, thyme and salt. Squeeze the lemon over the chickens, then push the squeezed-out halves, together with the garlic cloves, into their cavities. Pour the water and wine into the pan. Place in the oven and roast, uncovered, for an hour and twenty minutes, or until the chickens are cooked through.
Remove the chickens from the pan, first tipping them neck-side down to drain any juices back into the pan. Discard the lemon halves. Allow the chickens to cool for 20 minutes. Remove the flesh from the bones, and tear it into strips the size of your little finger. Put all the skin and bones back in the roasting tin. Place the tin over a moderate flame and simmer for 20-30 minutes. Strain the liquid into a jug and place in the fridge to cool. Remove any fat from the top of the stock and measure out two cups (500 ml). (You can skip this step, but the stock will be fatty. If you're in a hurry, skim the fat off the hot stock with a spoon. Alternatively, you can use one of these brilliant fat-separating jugs). Set aside.
In the meantime, make a white sauce. Melt the butter in a saucepan over a high heat. When the butter stops foaming, tip in the flour and stir vigorously to make a paste. Allow to bubble for a minute or two, but do not allow to brown. Now tip in all the milk and, using a balloon whisk, stir wildly to disperse any lumps. Continue stirring constantly until the mixture becomes smooth and very thick. Now beat in the reserved two cups of stock. When the sauce comes to the boil, turn down the heat and allow to bubble gently for three minutes. Remove the saucepan from the heat and stir in the nutmeg, mustard, brandy, cream and parsley. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Cover the surface of the sauce with clingfilm and allow to cool to lukewarm.
Mix the sauce with the chicken strips and cubed ham, and place the mixture in a pie dish about the same size as your sheet of pastry. Very lightly roll out the pastry on a floured surface (don't stretch it or enlarge it by more than about a centimetre on all sides). Place the pastry on top of the filling, and cut away any excess. Seal the edges by pressing lightly with your fingers. Decorate the pie by crimping the edges and using any trimmings to make leafy decorations. Cut a 1-cm slit in the middle of the pastry. Brush the pie all over with the beaten egg. At this point, you can place the pie in the fridge to bake later, or the next day.
Preheat the oven to 180°C. Bake the pie, in the middle of the oven, for 30 minutes, or until the pastry is crisp and golden,and the filling is bubbling (reduce the cooking time if you are making individual pies).
Serves 8.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
June 10, 2010
11:55
Scrumptious Soccer Snacks: Caramel-Dipped Naartjies, on Kebab Sticks
Arguably the most famous of South African stadium foods, naartjies - tangerines - have been inextricably linked to watching rugby matches for many decades. A bag of naartjies [pronounced 'nar-chees'] is what die-hard fans traditionally take along with
them to watch their provincial side - or the famous Springboks - in action. To thwart no-alcohol rules, naartjies are traditionally injected in advance, using a hypodermic syringe, with brandy, vodka or mampoer (peach brandy).
Naartjies have no association, so far as I know, with the watching of soccer matches, but my series of scrumptious soccer snacks would not be complete without a mention of this most delicious, easy-to-eat fruit.
Caramel is always tricky, and it doesn't like moisture, so there are three important points to bear in mind when making these. First, the fruit segments must be dried out overnight, which will allow excess surface moisture to evaporate, and make the skin slightly papery. Second, the segments must be dipped only to five-sixths of their length, so that the caramel comes nowhere close to the hole where the kebab stick has been pushed in. Finally, please note that the caramel remains hard for a maximum of 35 minutes (and I tested these at sea level, with relatively high humidity), after which it begins to soften.
This caramel mixture does not set glass-hard, but cools to a nice crack with a tiny bit of chew. This recipe is adapted from a recipe for toffee apples from Inspired by Sugar by Lesley Faull (1965), which is one of the most treasured items in my collection of vintage cookbooks.
Caramel-Dipped Naartjies, on Kebab Sticks
1 cup (250 ml) light brown sugar
2 T (30 ml) golden syrup [corn syrup]
1 T (15 ml) lemon juice
1 T (15 ml) water
6 large, easy-peel naartjies
Peel the naartjies and divide them into segments very carefully, making sure not to puncture their skins. Spread the segments on a plate and place, uncovered, in the fridge overnight. Push a slim wooden kebab stick into the end of each segment. Gently heat the caramel ingredients in heavy saucepan, stirring now and then until the sugar is fully dissolved. Bring to the boil and cook briskly, without stirring, until the caramel reaches 155°C . If you don't have a sugar thermometer, place a droplet of the caramel into cold water: it should snap cleanly in half. Remove the caramel from the heat. Dip five-sixths of each segment into the caramel, avoiding the hole where the stick has punctured the flesh. Lean the sticks up against a plate or upturned box, and allow to dry. If the caramel becomes too thick during the dipping process, gently warm it over a low flame.
Serve within half an hour.
Makes about 40.
Like this soccer snack? Try some of the other recipes from this series:
- Mini Pita Breads with Spicy Meatballs and Hoummous
- Mini Bunny Chow with Butter Chicken
- Cape-Malay-Style Curried Lamb Kebabs with Apricots
- Potato, Cheese and Chilli Phyllo Triangles
- Steak Kebabs with a Monkey-Gland Dipping Sauce
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
June 2, 2010
21:46
South African Food Blogger Explosion, and the thorny Freebie Question
When I started this blog three years ago, food blogs were reasonably plentiful. Reasonably, I say, because, on a global scale, food blogging was a lesser-known, rather niched activity. Less than a handful of South African - or indeed African - food blogs existed at the time.
Much has changed. Food blogging is the flavour du jour, if not du decade. The Internet is bulging with hundreds of thousands of food blogs, ranging from professional, beautiful and instructive sites, through charming, chatty food diaries, to some of the most dreadful and dire food nightmares you can imagine.
In the last eighteen months or so, the rise of South African food blogs - pioneered six years ago by my mate, London-dwelling South African Jeanne Horak-Druiff of Cooksister - has been meteoric. There are, to my knowledge, well over 120 South African food and wine bloggers posting recipes and restaurant reviews on the Net, on Facebook and on Twitter. And, as they have attracted more fans, these blogs have become very popular, and somewhat influential. In fact, I would go so far as to say that there has been a minor storming of the food-blog world from South African food bloggers. Not a tempest, but maybe a little whirlwind.
This is so heartening, especially given the fact that South Africa is about to be catapulted into the limelight during the 2010 Fifa World Cup. It's also encouraging because South African food deserves to be highlighted: it's about time that the spotlight falls on our beautiful fresh produce, our superlative wines, our creative cooks, our excellent restaurants and our extraordinarily rich culinary heritage That razor-tongued restaurant reviewer and gourmand A.A.Gill, in several columns on the subject of South Africa, has often indignantly wondered why South African cuisine - and in particular, Cape Malay cuisine - has not become famous, and the next big trend.
Well, A.A., one tries. Certainly, I've tried hard enough on this blog to promote South African foods, and after three years of hard slog, my blog is attracting traffic and interest I didn't dare to dream of three years ago.
Which brings me to my next point. As any successful food blogger knows, more popular and visited your blog becomes, the more often you're begged for mentions.
So here's the freebie question. The marketeers, publicity agents and pee-ars of South Africa - and further afield - have just twigged on to the fact that local food bloggers attract an audience. In the last month alone I've had 42 press releases from various publicists, begging me to take note of their product. These releases range from a heads-up about a new product, to lavish invitations to free lunches, to 'urgent' queries for my physical address so I can take delivery of the latest liqueur, cookie or boxed cereal. Or apron, oven gloves, bottle of wine, and so on. All manner of exciting products are dangled before my eyes.
I refuse these - with reluctance - because I want my blog to be independent, and because I see myself first as an impartial journalist and second as a cook and food writer. I'm not saying that accepting free products, or going to launches and openings, is any way dodgy: on the contrary, I'm always keen to read consumer opinions of products, and reviews of new restaurants. However, what I would like to say is that I think it's incumbent on a food blogger to declare, upfront, that whatever product, service or meal you're reviewing was offered to you for free.
And I add this piece of advice: if you're a successful food blogger, you are only so because of your talent and originality. Don't under-sell yourself. If a manufacturer, or his publicist, wants you to do a write-up on their product, don't do it for free. Charge them. Sure, it's nice that they sent you a free sample, but the fact is that they didn't do this out of a sense of love and altruism, and genuine admiration for your blog. They sent you that sample because they wanted free advertising.
In short: decide what you want your blog to be. And stick to that formula.
And finally, having said all that, I declare that I won't, henceforth, be featuring any Verlaque products on this blog because they've appointed me, in my capacity as a professional journalist, as a consultant for their brand.
Categories: Food Blogs in English, Wine Blogs from South Africa, Wine Blogs in English
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