Of course, not one of them ever found out exactly what happened between Rosa and Samuel in those pre-dawn hours in the Springfontein dining room. But what they saw when they eventually trooped in just after sunrise was enough to tell them that their plan had been successful.
Rosa’s eyes were dancing and Samuel’s neckerchief was skew. They were sitting side by side with cups of cold coffee in front of them. Samuel’s head was bent towards Rosa and he was talking earnestly, while she was taking small bites out of a pear. The juice was running down her chin and down her neck, and she did not move to wipe it away.
‘I saw that once in a movie,’ whispered Anna. ‘It means there’s electricity there.’
‘He’s got her hand under the table,’ whispered Lily.
‘Shhhh, woman.’ Herman nudged her in the ribs.
But just then Rosa saw them and jumped up. ‘The jack!’ she exclaimed.
And in no time, six cars were churning up the dust road back to Corriebush. Samuel was not with them. The women were elated. ‘The signs could not be better.’
When they married a few months later, Rosa sold the farm and they bought Corriebush Number Five. Samuel left his caravan at the river so that people could go there and use it for picnics, and he and Rosa opened a restaurant right next door to Castello’s. They called the restaurant Casa Castello, specialising in pasta dinners. Spaghetti Carbonara, Taglierini with Mushrooms, Ravioli with Spinach, Risottos and Lasagnes, Flat Breads and Sorbets.
‘All the exotics, just like her father,’ said Maria.
‘A chip off the old Italian block,’ put in Sophia.
Casa Castello was a success from the start. Rosa cooked and Samuel carried on painting and hung his works on the walls, and word spread as far as Port Elizabeth, Graaff-Reinet, and beyond. People came to eat, and to buy. It was all just the most wonderful happiness – for Rosa, for Samuel, for Pappa and Mamma and the boys. And for the women of Corriebush, whose carefully laid plans had, quite magically, worked out, it was a triumph.
Rosa never forgot the generosity of her first husband, and always spoke of him with gentle affection. The boys’ education was assured, and Luigi and Mrs could slow down a bit.
‘Rosa is a shining star,’ Sophia declared, emotionally wiping away a tear or two. ‘Nothing less than a shining star in our little community. In Italy they would make a statue of her.’
‘With a fountain.’
‘In the middle of Rome.’
And they lifted their teacups and toasted the day the Italians had come to town.
ROSA’S RECIPES
When Rosa cooked, the sensual aromas that escaped from her kitchen at Casa Castello wafted right through the streets of Corriebush. These were not ordinary cooking smells, they were perfumes: garlic melting into hot butter, herbs frittering in olive oil, fish baking with fennel, tomatoes grilling, mozzarella spreading … In true Italian tradition, Rosa cooked with love and enthusiasm. She had the utmost respect for good, fresh ingredients, and this meant that her menu had to be kept quite short, but her creations were so richly flavoured, colourful and inviting, that diners were always happy with her choices of the day. In fact, the Corriebush community filled the little restaurant night after night, and very soon learnt to eat as the Italians do: with enormous passion. This was coupled with a great deal of noise, as they discovered the joys of bean soups and pastas, of creamy risottos and meaty casseroles, brilliant salads and dreamy desserts, while Rosa flitted from kitchen to candle-lit tables, and Samuel took the orders. Everything was perfect, but for one thing – they just wouldn’t go home. Because everyone knew everyone else, they constantly called to their friends from one end of the room to the other, passing bottles of wine from table to table, and even plates of food that someone wanted someone else to try. And even though Rosa and Samuel were often exhausted by midnight, they did not mind, knowing that animation is the heart of the Italian meal. They would simply sit in a corner, sipping cappuccinos and waiting for Sophia – it was always Sophia – to raise her hand and trill ‘Ag, Rosatjie, before I leave, just one more little helping of that lovely Sam and Freddie.’
‘Semifreddo, Sophia.’
‘That’s what I said, Dawid.’
Chunky Vegetable-Pasta Soup with Pesto Toasts
Simple Seafood Soup with Arborio Rice and Pistou
Layered Tuna, Bean and Egg Salad
Calamari on Shells
Citrus Chicken Bake with Minted Pesto Pasta
Karoo Bolognese
Lemony Veal Escalopes
The Simplest Vegetable Pasta
Fast Fusilli with Rocket and Roasted Garlic
Roasted Vegetables in a Creamy Tomato Sauce
Mushroom Risotto with Tassies, Spinach and Pine Nuts
Wine-poached Pears with Ginger and Walnut Mascarpone
Chocolate Frangelico Semifreddo
Amarula Panna Cotta
Almond Biscotti with Cherries and Amaretto
CHUNKY VEGETABLE-PASTA SOUP WITH PESTO TOASTS
A really robust soup, this one, and spot-on for supper on a cold night. The addition of borlotti beans is optional, but they’re just so good in affirming the Italian theme – if unobtainable, use cannellinis. The pesto toasts are not served separately, but plopped into the bowls before adding the soup, and the whole affair adds up to a buxom, full-flavoured meal-in-a-bowl. Finish off with a leafy salad, or fresh fruit, or lovely, munchy biscotti with coffee.
30 ml (2 Tbsp) olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, crushed
2 sticks table celery (remove any stringy sides), plus leaves, chopped
2 medium carrots, diced
200 g courgettes (baby marrows), pared and diced
5 ml (1 tsp) dried oregano
1.5 litres (6 cups) chicken or vegetable stock (or even water)
125 ml (½ cup) tomato purée
sea salt and a good sprinkling of sugar
2–3 bay leaves
60 g (a heaped ½ cup) small pasta shells
250 ml (1 cup) finely shredded spinach, or torn baby spinach leaves
1 x 410 g can borlotti beans, drained and rinsed
a small handful of fresh coriander leaves
baguettes or ciabatta, diagonally sliced
basil pesto
Heat the oil in a large, deep saucepan and soften the onion. Add the garlic, celery, carrots, courgettes and oregano, and toss until just starting to soften and smell enticing. Add the stock, tomato purée, seasoning and sugar, and bay leaves. Bring to the boil, then cover and simmer until the vegetables are soft – about 30 minutes. Add the pasta and spinach, and simmer for 10 minutes. Add the beans and coriander and heat through. Remove the bay leaves and check seasoning. Some time before the soup is ready, toast the bread on both sides, and spread lightly with basil pesto. To serve, place a slice on the bottom of each (deep) soup bowl, ladle the soup over, and serve with parmesan for sprinkling. Serves 6.
SIMPLE SEAFOOD SOUP WITH ARBORIO RICE AND PISTOU
The list of ingredients is quite long, but this is a really easy soup to make – the one essential being a good fish stock. As it’s a chunky, filling soup, it can be served as a main course, followed by a salad and/or fresh fruit.
30 ml (2 Tbsp) olive oil and a pat of butter
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 large leek, finely sliced
2 medium carrots, finely diced
1 large stick table celery, plus leaves, chopped
3 cloves garlic, crushed
1 x 5 cm strip lemon peel
2 bay leaves
75 ml (5 Tbsp) arborio rice (uncooked)
60 ml (¼ cup) white wine
1 x 410 g can peeled, diced tomatoes, plus juice
1 litre (4 cups) hot fish stock
sea salt and a little sugar to taste
400–450 g skinless white fish fillets, cubed
about 300 g mussels on the half-shell, thawed if frozen
a h
andful of chopped flat-leaf parsley
basil pesto for topping
Heat the oil and butter in a large, deep saucepan. Soften the onion and leek, then add the carrots, celery, garlic, lemon peel, bay leaves, rice and wine. Toss for about 5 minutes to sweat and coat the rice, then add the tomatoes, stock and seasoning and sugar. Bring to the boil, then cover and simmer for about 30 minutes. Add the fish, mussels and parsley, and simmer, half-covered, just until the fish is cooked. Remove the bay leaves and lemon peel and check seasoning. Serve in deep bowls (not soup plates) with a small dollop of pesto (or pistou, seeing that it’s in soup), a plate for the mussel shells, and plenty of bread for dipping. Serves 4 generously.
LAYERED TUNA, BEAN AND EGG SALAD
An unsophisticated salad, effortless, quickly put together, and a complete meal. Served with a tumble of hot Italian rolls, a decanter of Instant Herbed Oil (see below) for dipping, and a bowl of salad leaves with rocket, it slots happily into informal alfresco dining.
600 g ripe but firm tomatoes, sliced into rings
a sprinkling of sugar
milled sea salt and black pepper
1 bunch spring onions, chopped
a small handful of fresh basil leaves, roughly torn
2 x 410 g cans cannellini beans, rinsed, drained and patted dry
2 x 150 or 170 g cans shredded tuna in oil*
15–30 ml (1–2 Tbsp) balsamic vinegar
45 ml (3 Tbsp) olive oil (the best – cold-pressed, extra virgin)
4 hard-boiled eggs, sliced into rings
chopped flat-leaf parsley
Layer the ingredients in the given order (that is, starting with the tomatoes and carrying straight on) on a large platter with slightly raised sides. Make just one layer of each ingredient, spreading evenly, or drizzling, when using the vinegar and oil. Cover loosely and stand for about 30 minutes before serving. Serves 4 generously.
* Tuna in water can be used, if preferred, but drain it well; or use one can in oil, and one can in water, and adjust the quantity of olive oil accordingly.
Instant herbed oil
No need to bottle and store this one – once cooled, pour into a spouted decanter and pass for individual drizzling. Use a heavy-based saucepan, small but deep (for safety’s sake) and into it put 150 ml (3/5 cup) olive oil, and the same of canola or sunflower oil; 2 sprigs fresh rosemary and 4 sprigs fresh thyme (about 10 cm each); 2 crumbled bay leaves; 2 fresh sage leaves, bruised, and 2 cloves garlic, peeled and lightly smashed. Stir to moisten the herbs, then heat slowly until just popping, not boiling. Leave to pop very gently for 6–8 minutes, giving the occasional stir to bruise the herbs, until the aroma is blissfully aromatic. Remove from the stove, leave it to stop hissing and cool down, then strain.
CALAMARI ON SHELLS
Serve this silky calamari on pasta shells in pasta bowls. It isn’t quite a soup, nor a sauce, but a sort of rich calamari broth with a waft of tangy gremolata. Add a basket of crusty rolls, and follow with a salad for a lovely, lusty meal.
1 kg cleaned calamari tubes
1 x 410 g can chopped tomatoes
60 ml (¼ cup) dry white wine
10 ml (2 tsp) tomato paste
10 ml (2 tsp) soft brown sugar
2 ml (½ tsp) each paprika, dried oregano and sea salt
30 ml (2 Tbsp) olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
125 ml (½ cup) fish or chicken stock
3 bay leaves
15 ml (1 Tbsp) soft butter
15 ml (1 Tbsp) flour
250 g small pasta shells
For the GREMOLATA: mix a handful of chopped, flat-leaf parsley with a crushed clove of garlic and the finely grated rind of ½ lemon
Slit the calamari tubes down one side, open out flat, remove any spiny bits that might have been left behind, then cut across into thin strips. Dry as thoroughly as possible. Whizz the tomatoes, wine, tomato paste, sugar, paprika, oregano and salt in a blender. Heat the oil in a deep, wide-based saucepan. Add the onion and, when golden, add the calamari. Keep tossing just until it stiffens and turns white, then reduce the heat immediately, pour over the blended tomato sauce and the fish stock, and slip in the bay leaves. Simmer over very low heat, stirring occasionally and keeping the lid of the saucepan tilted, for about 1 hour, by which time the calamari should be very tender and the sauce mellow and plentiful. To thicken it for coating the pasta, mash the butter and flour to a paste and stir small pats into the sauce, then sprinkle with the gremolata. Heat for a few minutes, uncovered, to mingle all the flavours, then ladle into the bowls over the cooked pasta. Serves 4.
CITRUS CHICKEN BAKE WITH MINTED PESTO PASTA
This unusual combination – savoury, orangy chicken and pasta shells whiffed with fresh mint – comes as a wonderful culinary surprise. Deliciously different, yet perfectly straightforward, it’s simply an exciting new way of treating good, basic ingredients.
900 g–1 kg free-range chicken pieces, trimmed of excess fat
30 ml (2 Tbsp) olive oil
3–4 cloves garlic, chopped
2 pickling onions, chopped
1 sprig of fresh rosemary, leaves chopped (about 15 ml (1 Tbsp))
150 ml (3/5 cup) fresh orange juice
coarsely grated rind of ½ orange
30 ml (2 Tbsp) honey
45 ml (3 Tbsp) white vermouth
15 ml (1 Tbsp) whole grain mustard
coarsely grated rind of 1 medium lemon
5 ml (1 tsp) sea salt
200 g pasta shells
Remove and discard the wing tips, they just get in the way. Arrange the chicken pieces, fleshy side down, fitting closely in a dish suitable for marinating and baking. Whizz all the remaining ingredients, except the pasta, in a blender, and pour over the chicken. Leave for 30 minutes. Cover with a lid, or greaseproof paper and then a sheet of foil, and bake at 180 °C for 45 minutes. Turn and bake, uncovered, for a further 35–40 minutes until the chicken is tender and brown. Skim off the fat. Cook the pasta, then drain it in a colander set over a bowl. Return the pasta to the saucepan with a spoon of the cooking water, and stir in just enough pesto to gloss and flavour. Serve immediately. Drizzle the sauce over each serving of chicken and spoon the pasta alongside. Serves 4.
Pesto
250 ml (1 cup) fresh mint leaves (about 10 g), rinsed and dried
250 ml (1 cup) parsley tufts, firmly packed (about 20 g)
20 g walnuts, roughly chopped
30 ml (2 Tbsp) freshly grated parmesan or pecorino cheese
1 clove garlic, chopped
90 ml (6 Tbsp) olive oil
Place all the ingredients, except the oil, in the bowl of a processor fitted with the metal blade. Pulse until finely chopped, then slowly drizzle in the oil, scraping down the sides – the pesto should be thick and chunky, not smooth.
KAROO BOLOGNESE
… in which our local big bird is given some foreign treatment and a very long simmer. The result will be a jolly good pasta sauce, not as succulent as when made with beef or lamb or pork (as in Italy), but lean and healthy and a good ethnic alternative.
30 ml (2 Tbsp) oil
15 ml (1 Tbsp) butter
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 stick table celery, plus leaves, finely chopped
1 medium carrot, finely diced
500 g ostrich mince
2–3 cloves garlic, crushed
80 ml (1/3 cup) red wine
250 ml (1 cup) tomato purée
500 ml (2 cups) hot beef stock
sea salt, milled black pepper and a little sugar to taste
about 60 ml (4 Tbsp) flat-leaf or curly parsley, chopped
2 ml (½ tsp) dried oregano
2 bay leaves grated parmesan
Heat the oil and butter in a large saucepan. Add the vegetables and stir over low heat until beginning to soften. Add the mince and the garlic, and brown well over medium heat – toss continually to ‘loosen’ the mince, breaking up any clumps and lumps. Add the wine
and simmer until evaporated, and only the fragrance lingers, then stir in the remaining ingredients. Reduce the heat to very low and simmer, half-covered, for about 1½ hours, stirring now and then, and adding, if necessary, a little extra stock in order to end up with a thick, rich-looking brown sauce. Remove the bay leaves, ladle the sauce onto servings of spaghetti and top with grated parmesan. Serves 4 generously.
LEMONY VEAL ESCALOPES
If you buy escalopes, they will need to be flattened with a mallet or rolling pin, so it makes sense to buy schnitzels in the first place. These are easy to find, and schnitzel is simply the Austrian word for a very thin escalope (or scallopine), so it boils down to the same thing really – a thin slice of veal, ready to be used in this luscious, lemony, quick dish. If doubling up, you’ll need a jumbo frying pan – otherwise use two pans to avoid crowding.
30 ml (2 Tbsp) flour
4 fresh young sage leaves, finely chopped
4 veal schnitzels (about 270 g total weight)
30 ml (2 Tbsp) olive oil
a pat of butter
sea salt to taste
60 ml (¼ cup) white vermouth
175 ml (2/3 cup) chicken stock
7 ml (1½ tsp) rinsed, chopped capers
30 ml (2 Tbsp) finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
2 ml (½ tsp) very finely grated lemon rind
10 ml (2 tsp) butter
Mix the flour and sage and use to coat both sides of the veal. Heat the oil and butter in a frying pan wide enough to take the schnitzels in a single layer. Fry quickly on both sides until just cooked and golden brown, then transfer to a plate and season. Reduce the heat and pour the vermouth into the pan. Reduce by half, then add the stock, capers, parsley and lemon rind, all mixed together. Simmer for 2–3 minutes while enjoying the lovely lemony whiff, then swirl in the butter and return the veal just to heat through – don’t overcook, as the schnitzels will toughen. Serve at once with the juices poured over, and lemon wedges for squeezing. Serves 4 modestly.
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