THE SIMPLEST VEGETABLE PASTA
When you read the recipe you’ll see how easy it is, and when you taste it you’ll know that it’s one you’ll turn to often: a couple of ingredients, a couple of minutes, and there you have a salubrious tangle of spinach fettucine with in-and-out-of-the-pan vegetables. Lots of flavour, little effort, and profoundly useful.
30 ml (2 Tbsp) olive oil
2 cloves garlic, crushed
6 spring onions, chopped
250 g large white mushrooms, wiped and sliced
1 red pepper, seeded and julienned
120 g baby spinach, roughly torn
2 ml (½ tsp) grated nutmeg
30 ml (2 Tbsp) white vermouth
200 g spinach fettucine, cooked and drained
a few fresh basil leaves, torn
a little sea salt
45 ml (3 Tbsp) butter
45 ml (3 Tbsp) grated parmesan or pecorino cheese
Mix the oil, all the vegetables, the nutmeg and vermouth in a large saucepan. Heat, and toss for a few minutes, until just beginning to wilt. Add the fettucine, and toss together lightly, adding the basil, salt, butter and cheese. Simply super served with extra grated cheese, a flat bread topped with tomatoes and olives, and a green salad – undressed, but pass some good olive oil for those who want it. Serves 4.
FAST FUSILLI WITH ROCKET AND ROASTED GARLIC
… and broccoli and cherry tomatoes – all cooked in one pot. This is a really good answer to the quest for fast food that manages to be both tasty and trendy. If you roast the garlic in the oven at the same time that you’re heating the ciabatta and at the same time that you’re cooking the pasta, supper will be ready in under 30 minutes.
250–275 g fusilli or farfalle
300 g broccoli florets, halved
400 g cherry tomatoes, slit on one side, but not cut through
a large handful each rocket and baby spinach leaves, rinsed and dried
about 15 ml (1 Tbsp) basil pesto
60 ml (4 Tbsp) olive oil
60 ml (4 Tbsp) grated parmesan or pecorino
sea salt if necessary
12–16 plump cloves garlic, unpeeled
shaved parmesan to serve
Cook the pasta as usual, in a large, deep saucepan with lots of water, a little salt and a dash of oil. Shortly before it’s done al dente, drop in the broccoli and tomatoes, return to the boil and, after a few minutes, when the broccoli looks tender, drain in a colander and tip everything into a large, warmed serving dish. Quickly mix in the rocket, spinach, pesto, olive oil and cheese. Check seasoning and serve with the garlic (see below) and hot, crusty Italian bread and shaved parmesan. Serves 4 modestly.
Roasted garlic
Place the separated cloves (unpeeled, but loose, papery skin removed) in a small ovenproof dish. Add a little olive oil, toss to coat and then roast at 200 °C for about 25 minutes until browning and smelling good. Pass them around (along with the shaved parmesan) and allow diners to squeeze the smooth, mellow pulp into their pasta.
ROASTED VEGETABLES IN A CREAMY TOMATO SAUCE
This one is for hungry diners: chunky vegetables in a rosy sauce laced with herbs, bolstered with a can of borlottis, and served on tangles of fettucine. Put out grated parmesan, a crusty loaf and olive oil, and they’ll be happy for hours.
400 g aubergines (brinjals), diced, dégorged, rinsed and dried
350 g courgettes (baby marrows), pared and chunked (prepared weight)
2 red peppers, seeded and sliced into strips
1 large onion, cut into 10 wedges
4 plump cloves garlic, crushed
5 ml (1 tsp) dried oregano
a little sea salt
60 ml (¼ cup) olive oil
about 400 g fettucine
SAUCE
2 x 410 g cans tomatoes (try for whole Italian), chopped, plus juice
2 medium carrots, diced
1 medium onion, chopped
1 large stick table celery, plus leaves, chopped
15 ml (1 Tbsp) tomato paste
125 ml (½ cup) red wine
30 ml (2 Tbsp) olive oil
10 ml (2 tsp) sugar and a little sea salt
125 ml (½ cup) fresh basil leaves, or basil and parsley mixed
1 x 410 g can borlotti beans, drained and rinsed*
Place all the vegetables in a large baking dish, sprinkle with oregano and salt, toss with the oil and roast, uncovered, at 220 °C for about 40 minutes until soft, sizzling and starting to brown (toss once during the baking period). Meanwhile, make the sauce. Place all the ingredients except for the basil and beans in a very large saucepan, bring to the boil, then cover and simmer over very low heat for about 45 minutes until everything is cooked, and the sauce is intensely red and juicy. Allow to cool down before puréeing in a blender, in batches, until smooth. Return to the saucepan, add the roasted vegetables, and the basil and beans. When piping hot, serve with the just-cooked pasta. If the sauce is really too thick, add just a little stock, but keep it voluptuous. Serves 6–8.
* If you can’t find borlottis, substitute cannellini beans or chickpeas.
MUSHROOM RISOTTO WITH TASSIES, SPINACH AND PINE NUTS
It’s moist and creamy with a pinkish tinge (the Tassies), a few threads of green (the spinach) and – the starring ingredient – chunks of portabellini mushrooms. These are just lovely in a risotto; they hold their shape and texture and have a matchless, intense flavour. If unavailable, substitute brown mushrooms; the wine you will find.
900 ml (33/5 cups) well-seasoned chicken stock
3 cloves garlic, crushed
30 ml (2 Tbsp) olive oil
15 ml (1 Tbsp) butter
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 rashers lean, unsmoked back bacon (optional)
250 g plump portabellini mushrooms, wiped and quartered
300 ml (11/5 cups) arborio rice
2 ml (½ tsp) freshly grated nutmeg
150 ml (3/5 cup) Tassenberg (or a dry red of choice)
2 large handfuls (about 60 g) baby spinach
sea salt and milled black pepper
45 ml (3 Tbsp) freshly grated parmesan or pecorino cheese (not packaged)
30–45 ml (2–3 Tbsp) toasted pine nuts
Heat the stock with the garlic (use a saucepan with a lip for easy pouring) and keep the liquid warm on a stove plate set to low. Heat the oil and butter in a wide-based, heavy saucepan, and add the onion and bacon. (In Italy they would use pancetta; substitute bacon, or leave it out altogether.) When the onion turns golden and the bacon (if using) starts frying, add the mushrooms and toss for a few minutes. You’ll find that they won’t shrink like most mushrooms do, so just cook them briefly before tipping in the rice and the nutmeg. Use a wooden spoon to stir gently until coated, then slowly add the red wine. When absorbed, start adding the hot stock – do this in small cupfuls, waiting until each is absorbed before continuing. The whole process takes about 30 minutes. Tear the spinach roughly, add it, together with the seasoning, then remove from the stove – the spinach will wilt almost immediately. Mix in the parmesan and the pine nuts, and stand, covered, for 2 minutes before serving in deep pasta bowls. Pass extra parmesan for sprinkling, a bottle of superior olive oil for those who want it, and serve a plain green salad on the side. Serves 4.
WINE-POACHED PEARS WITH GINGER AND WALNUT MASCARPONE
Despite the title this is not a grand dessert, nevertheless, it’s delicious, does not take long to make, and can be done a day ahead and kept in the refrigerator.
375 ml (1½ cups) water
125 ml (½ cup) semi-sweet white wine
125 ml (½ cup) granulated sugar
4 large, firm, unblemished pears (about 800 g), Packham’s or Beurre Bosc are good choices
fresh lemon juice (optional)
ground cinnamon
Mix the water, wine and sugar in a large frying pan and heat up slowly, stirring now and then to dissolve the sugar, and when you’re not stirring, pre
pare the pears. Peel, halve and core them, then place them in the bubbling syrup, rounded sides up. They should fit the pan snugly. Reduce the heat to very low and simmer gently for about 30 minutes or until soft but still perfectly shaped; test with a sharp skewer. If done, use a slotted spoon to arrange the pears, rounded sides still up, in a shallow serving dish – a 23 cm pie dish is just right. Taste the syrup in the pan, and if it is too sweet, add a dash of lemon juice. Increase the heat and boil, uncovered, until very bubbly and syrupy – a matter of minutes. Pour over the pears, dust lightly with cinnamon, cool, then cover and refrigerate. Makes at least 4 plump servings.
Ginger and walnut mascarpone
125 g mascarpone
a few drops of vanilla essence
15 ml (1 Tbsp) sifted icing sugar
15 ml (1 Tbsp) milk
45 ml (3 Tbsp) chopped walnuts
30–45 ml (2–3 Tbsp) finely chopped preserved ginger
Using an electric hand-held whisk, whisk the mascarpone, vanilla, icing sugar and milk. This takes longer to get results than whipping cream, but it does whip up a lighter mascarpone with increased volume. Fold in the walnuts and ginger and refrigerate. Serve 1–2 pear halves per diner with a dollop of mascarpone at the side, or enlarge the hollows and pile with mascarpone.
CHOCOLATE FRANGELICO SEMIFREDDO
Semifreddos are very rich, soft, frozen desserts often made with double cream, eggs and sugar, with a flavouring of choice. This version is not strictly traditional, but it’s hard to beat for sheer, delicious decadence. The mixture is set in a loaf-shaped container, frozen overnight, turned out and sliced for serving. It will start to melt almost immediately, which is what it should do, therefore have serving plates ready and waiting. If you want to set the slices on a pool of sorts, choose something bland like a fresh pear coulis – even custard would detract from the intense chocolate flavour. If not using a coulis, go for one or two sweet, scarlet strawberries – plain, or choc-dipped. They look fabulous placed alongside each slice.
40–50 g hazelnuts
200 ml (4/5 cup) light brown sugar
125 ml (½ cup) water
175 ml (scant ¾ cup) cocoa powder
3 large free-range eggs, separated
2 ml (½ tsp) vanilla essence
45 ml (3 Tbsp) Frangelico liqueur
250 ml (1 cup) cream, softly whipped
a small pinch of salt
Roast or grill the nuts until browned. Wrap them in a kitchen towel and rub vigorously to remove the loose skins, then chop the nuts coarsely. Place the sugar, water and cocoa powder in a small saucepan and melt over low heat, stirring (do not boil). Set aside to cool for about 10 minutes. Whisk the egg yolks, vanilla essence and liqueur very well until foamy. Gradually add the chocolate mixture, whisking well between additions. Fold in the cream and the nuts. Stiffly whisk two of the egg whites (you don’t need the third) with the salt. Stir a dollop through the chocolate mixture, then gently fold in the remainder. Line a 1-litre freezerproof, loaf-shaped container with clingfilm (use enough for an overlap), pour in the ‘freddo’ and freeze at once. After a few hours it should be firm enough to cover the top with the overlapping clingwrap. Freeze for 24 hours. Unmould onto a large, flat plate, slice and serve. Makes 10–12 slices.
AMARULA PANNA COTTA
Panna cottas are delicate ‘cooked cream’ desserts, usually made with sweetened double cream, flavoured with vanilla, and softly set with just a flurry of gelatine. Once chilled and unmoulded, they look just like wobbly little blancmanges, but they’re much richer and because of this, a trend – outside of Italy – is to scale down the fat with the addition of milk, which of course requires extra gelatine, which could result in a rubbery wobble, which is all wrong. An attractive solution is to set the panna cottas in small coffee cups. Then, instead of unmoulding them, you simply place the cups on their saucers, with small spoons alongside. In this way it is still possible to use a proportion of milk without extra gelatine. This is an unusual presentation, but these little Amarula creams provide a seriously delicious ending to a fine dinner when something sweet – but small – would be just right.
10 ml (2 tsp) gelatine
90 ml (6 Tbsp) Amarula liqueur
500 ml (2 cups) thick whipping cream (or double cream)
250 ml (1 cup) full-cream milk
45 ml (3 Tbsp) castor sugar
a few drops of vanilla essence*
5 ml (1 tsp) each cocoa powder and icing sugar for topping
Sprinkle the gelatine over the liqueur and leave to sponge. Mix the cream, milk and sugar in a heavy saucepan and slowly bring to just below boiling point. Remove from the stove; briskly stir in the sponged gelatine and give it a quick whisk to make sure it’s dissolved. Add the vanilla, pour into a jug and cool, stirring occasionally. Pour into six small coffee cups and refrigerate for a few hours until softly set. Just before serving, mix the cocoa and icing sugar in a small sieve and sift just a whisper over the top of each – this is just to add a little colour to the pale cream. Serves 6.
* A split vanilla pod may be the choice of chefs, but it’s pricey, and not essential.
ALMOND BISCOTTI WITH CHERRIES AND AMARETTO
Not quite a rusk, not quite a biscuit, but crisp little things to dunk into coffee or sweet wine after a meal. The flavours have become more and more varied as their popularity has increased, and I have experimented with walnut and cinnamon, and pistachio and spice biscotti, but in the end this one seems to remain the favourite. I toast the almonds for added flavour, and use Amaretto instead of the artificial almond essence sometimes used.
3 large free-range eggs
200 ml (4/5 cup) castor sugar
2 ml (½ tsp) vanilla essence
30 ml (2 Tbsp) Amaretto liqueur
750 ml (3 cups) cake flour
a pinch of sea salt
5 ml (1 tsp) baking powder
2 ml (½ tsp) grated nutmeg
100 g blanched almonds, whole, slivered or flaked, toasted
12 glacé cherries, rinsed, dried and chopped
Whisk the eggs, castor sugar, vanilla essence and liqueur very well, until light and creamy. Sift in the flour, salt, baking powder and nutmeg. Using an electric whisk, mix to a soft dough, then gather up and work into a smooth ball with your hands. Place on a lightly floured board. Roll the dough (flouring your hands occasionally, as it can be sticky) into a log, incorporating the nuts and cherries as you go. (If you don’t like cherries, leave them out – I add them for their cheerful colour.) The almonds I use are usually the flaked ones, as it is easier to spread them throughout the dough so that in the end each slice contains a few pieces. When all the nuts and cherries are incorporated, divide into 2 logs, each about 24 cm long and 5 cm wide. Lighly oil a large baking sheet and cover the base with baking paper. Place the logs side by side, but apart, as they will puff up in the oven, and flatten gently with your palm. Bake at 160 °C for 30 minutes, until deep cream in colour. Remove from the oven and leave to stand for 5 minutes. Reduce temperature to 140 °C, slice off the pointy ends of logs, then slice the rest into diagonal 1 cm thick slices. Place flat on the sheet and bake for 20 minutes. Turn and bake for a further 20–30 minutes until dry and just beginning to look toasted. Cool on the baking sheet before storing airtight. Makes 40.
OLYMPIA
Olympia arrived in Corriebush on Wednesday, the fourth of March, at six o’clock in the evening. Daleen remembered the date exactly because she had just signed the documents concluding a most satisfactory sale. The women of Corriebush had asked her to bid on a vacant plot next to the church.
‘We really need a piece of ground where we can put up permanent stalls and a few umbrellas for our bazaars and produce sales,’ Anna had explained. ‘Then we need not apply to the council every time we want to use the town hall, and we could even have pony rides and hoop-la and that sort of thing.’
The board of church elders had eventually agreed to sell for a most reasonable price, and Daleen knew the ladies woul
d be delighted. But first the haggling, and then the filling in of forms had taxed her nerves, and it was with a huge sense of relief that she closed her office door, stepped onto the pavement and started off briskly in the direction of home.
Right in her path stood a tiny figure. She had her back to Daleen, for her face was turned to the west where the sun was just setting, staining the evening sky in a blush of colours such as one sees only in the Karoo – an explosion of nature’s exuberant best in a rumble of purple clouds riffled with gold and whorls of scarlet. And like leaves skittering in a wind, flocks of kestrels spiralled dizzily round the church steeple, swooping and diving in the fiery glow until it was time to nest. It was then that the palette slowly faded, the sun shuddered and fell, and twilight wrapped the town in a soft, grey shawl.
It was a sight that always mesmerized people; few could move away from it, and in the time it took to change from light to dark, the little figure had not stirred. It was only when Daleen approached that it turned, and she saw that it was a frail old lady, dressed in black from head to toe, and crying.
Olympia had arrived in Corriebush by taxi from Port Elizabeth. The driver needed to start on the long journey back before nightfall and so he had simply dropped her, along with her two battered suitcases, on the pavement outside Daleen’s office. He told her that this was where she would find the local estate agent, and if she went inside she would get fixed up.
Olympia had nodded and paid him, and then just stood where she was, too nervous and confused to move. When Daleen saw the weary, wrinkled face, the fear in the faded eyes and the tears that slowly trickled down the creased old cheeks, she put her arms round the woman and held her tightly for a moment. Then she smoothed the stray grey hairs that had escaped from beneath her headscarf. ‘Come,’ she said gently, and picked up the two suitcases. Olympia followed without a word, shuffling along the pavement in tiny boots that flapped and clicked with every step. Her skirt was long and dusty and around her waist she had knotted a thin, faded jersey.
Now, Daleen was a pretty hard businesswoman, but that night she was simply Daleen Bothma, a kind and motherly farmer’s daughter. She took Olympia to her little flat, made up a bed in the lounge, cooked a supper of scrambled eggs and sausage, and did not ask a single question. She simply smiled often at her unexpected guest, ran a hot bath for her, and then waited. Olympia’s story took until midnight in the telling. She was quite articulate, but sometimes hesitated while she searched for just the right English word. And the deeper she got into her story, the faster Daleen’s mind worked, making plans. Firstly, it was obvious that Olympia needed somewhere to stay. A place of her own, where she could live quietly while her extraordinary problems were being sorted out. Mentally, Daleen scrolled through her files – and there it was. Number Six. The cottage had been standing empty for a long time because it was so small that nobody wanted to buy it. The owner, Dries van Jaarsveldt, had lived there for a while, writing poetry. But he had soon lost interest and left for Johannesburg where, he said, he could make more money selling stocks and shares than writing for people who had no appreciation of the deeper meaning of life.
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