Charred Swordfish Steak with, Salsa Verde, Garlic Butter Parsley Potatoes and a Chopped Salad

Yummy charred swordfish steak with salsa verde, potatoes and chopped salad.

What does a Man in the Kitchen do when he cannot get hold of a nice piece of tuna loin, or even a tuna steak for that matter? That’s the question which troubled me as I drove down to Seafood on Sail in Gants Centre on Friday afternoon. I was planning to meet up with Claudio Paioni, the owner, with the intention of schmoozing him for either the tuna I needed, or at the very least, a viable alternative.

Claudio was not available, so I met up with Mike, the manager and we conferred on my dilemma.

“Hmmm,” mused Mike “no tuna I’m afraid. With this weather, not much is coming out of the water right now.”

Which, to put it mildly, was not what I wanted to hear. You see, I had this unquenchable desire to grill a lovely piece of tuna and drench it in a tangy salsa verde along with a nice bit of chopped salad and some garlic butter and parsley potatoes.

Game fish is rich in omega three and omega six oils, the ones that are supposed to be good rather than bad for your cholesterol level. This makes it largely guilt-free, which is quite unusual, since nowadays delicious is usually bad for you and tasteless and boring is good for you.

Besides, it has richer firmer flesh, and due to the normally large size, can be cut into lovely thick steaks which grill quickly and magnificently. It is surprisingly dense, and a quite small piece is surprisingly heavy. The steaks Mike gave me, each about 10 centimetres in diameter were around 200 grams each in weight. The same weight and thickness in kabeljou orCapesalmon would have been almost twice the size.

Somewhat at sixes and sevens, I appealed to Mike’s expertise for a substitute for tuna.

“Swordfish” he replied immediately.

“Swordfish” I responded doubtfully, recalling vividly a picture I saw in a book when I was a child. It showed an enormous sand shark like creature with a long serrated sword protruding from its snout “Is that the one which looks like a sand shark with the big ragged saw thing on its snout?”

“No” said Mike with an indulgent smile, “that’s a saw fish. Very different, believe me. The swordfish is a cousin of the marlin.” The very thought of eating such a magnificent fish horrified me even more, until Mike assured me that the swordfish is a distant cousin of the marlin, and commonly exploited commercially. It was then I recalled that almost surreal movie The Perfect Storm in which George Clooney et al get a one way ticket to Davy Jones Locker when a storm hits while they are long line fishing for swordfish in the North Atlantic.

Of course, in today’s sensitive society, the issue of provenance emerges, and justifiably so. The South Atlantic Swordfish population, according to SASSI, is “fully exploited” (Orange List species) , and this is where our local catch would come from. If, like me, you believe there should only be a Green and a Red List, then you’ll eschew South Atlantic Swordfish.

Information about North Atlantic Swordfish populations is contradictory, however. According to the US commerce department’s National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, stocks had largely recovered, as recently as May 2010. SASSI however notes that imported (i.e. North Atlantic) is fully exploited and therefore on the Red List. A December 2011 article in The Times of Malta, notes that the Mediterranean stocks of juvenile swordfish are over exploited. Purchase with care, and demand proof of provenance from the retailer.

Ingredients, Selection and Preparation

4 x 150 – 200 gm swordfish steaks:  fresh is best, but if frozen, make sure it is completely thawed before you start. Pat it dry with kitchen paper towel and brush with some olive oil.

Salt and freshly ground pepper

4 – 6 medium Rozetta potatoes: these are the pink ones you’ll find at your green grocer. If you can’t find any, then ordinary white potatoes will do, although they aren’t as tasty. Scrub well, remove any eyes or dodgy bits, then quarter them and place in water.

2 tsp fresh parsley: chopped.

3 cloves garlic: crushed.

50g butter

(Salsa Verde)

3 anchovy fillets: not that easy to get, and if the imported variety, they are hideously expensive. I tend to buy anchovied pilchard fillets, which although not quite the same thing, are a worthy substitute at about a quarter of the price.

1tbsp salted capers: rinse them thoroughly and set aside.

2 green chillis: I used Jalapenos, seeded and de-veined which imparted crunch and flavour but no burn. If you want your salsa verde to have a bite, include the septum or vein in the chilli, but not the seeds. Chop finely.

1 clove of garlic: crushed.

2tbsp of fresh parsley: chopped including stalks.

2tbsp of fresh coriander: chopped including stalks.

2 tbsp Dijon mustard

4 tbsp olive oil

1 tbsp of white wine vinegar OR white balsamic vinegar

(Chopped salad)

1 medium red pepper: deseeded and chopped.

1 medium yellow pepper: deseeded and chopped.

1 bunch fresh spinach leaves: wash thoroughly to remove any sand and cut out the centre spine, then chop roughly.

1 medium red onion: chopped.

½ a small cucumber: cut from the exposed end down towards the butt of the cucumber, then cut again at 90 degrees. Now cut across about 3 to 4 mm thick so that you get four quarters per slice.

2 medium salad tomatoes: Rip vine tomatoes are best if you can get them. Chop roughly.

Method

Get the salsa verde done first. Chop the anchovy fillets and capers finely using a large knife. You’re basically mincing them, using that classic action you’ll have seen on TV (if you ever watch BBC Lifestyle or the Food Network Channel that is!). Grasp the tip of the knife with one hand, and using the other hand chop downwards with guillotine motion while moving the blade through an arc. Repeat until the ingredient is finely chopped.

Place the chilli and crushed garlic on top and repeat until finely chopped.

Scrape into a bowl, add stir in the parsley and coriander leaves, three tbsp of olive oil and the vinegar.  Season to taste with black pepper and set aside.

Combine all of the salad ingredients in a salad bowl and toss to mix. Set aside.

Rinse the potatoes well and bring to the boil in a saucepan of water with a teaspoon of salt added. Check them regularly and as soon as they are cooked through, remove from the heat and drain. Return to the heat for a couple of minutes to dry the potatoes a little then add the butter, three cloves of crushed garlic, the two tsp of chopped parsley and stir in gently. Turn off the heat, but leave the saucepan on the plate with the lid in place to keep warm.

Brush a heavy non-stick frying pan, preferably of the ridged type with oil, season the swordfish steaks with salt and pepper and fry for about four to five minutes on each side, turning once only. Watch carefully to avoid overcooking the fish. Remember that it will continue to cook once you remove it from the heart.

Serve immediately with a generous dollop of salsa verde, the potatoes, and the accompanying salad, dressed with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

Enjoy!

The 10 hour flight path from Cape Town to Dubai on Emirates

I’ve finally figured out that I hate long distance travel. Don’t get me wrong, I love visiting new and interesting places, but I hate getting there and back. Take this current odyssey to  Los Angeles which is depressingly far away; 26 hours of flying time, and three hours of layover.

The journey commenced a few hours ago when Emirates flight EK771 from Cape Town lifted off the runway (almost on time I might add, only 12 minutes late!) at 18.22 and headed north-north-east for Dubai in the UAE. The pre-flight cabin routine went of with the usual degree of enthusiasm from the cabin staff, and the usual degree of attention from passengers, which is to say pretty much nothing from either. We’d all done or heard it before, depending upon which side of the blow-up life jacket your were sitting or standing on.

The plane was chock-a-block, full to the ceiling, and much as I had a seat at the emergency exit, I had leg room but little elbow room, at least on the one side. I’d cleverly (I thought) asked for an aisle seat, because that way I wouldn’t have to wake up a grumpy fellow traveller to get to the toilet during the flight.  Of course, sitting at the emergency exit means you can simply get up and walk around your neighbour’s feet, so I could have taken the window seat which gives you something to lean your weary head on once exhaustion overtakes the discomfort inherent in long distance flying in cattle truck class!

To be sure, the air ticket for the journey was remarkably inexpensive – R10 346.00 including all taxes for a flight from Cape Town to Salt Lake City return, including a stopover for a week in California. (My travel agent is Elize Pelser, and her contact details are as follows, if you’re interested in excellent service, competitive fares and not unduly lengthy routings: Elco Travel, (012)345 4007.)

Back to my dislike of long haul flying: part of the problem in cattle truck class is the uniformly abysmal food. Okay you might say, don’t eat it then, but I find that difficult. It’s almost as if when I board an airplane, I lose my sense of self-discipline, and simply eat whatever is set before me, no matter how awful it is. I think it’s got something to do with boredom. Or zombie-itis, or maybe stupidity…

We’ve just had dinner, which was preceded by the handing out of a beautifully printed menu, and one of those hot little facecloths on which you wipe your hands.  The menu pompously declaims thus: ” Emirates invites you to enjoy its award-winning cuisine, complemented by the finest beverages from a selection of Wines, Spirits, Beers, Liqueurs and Soft Drinks.” The italics are theirs, not mine, perhaps to lend some or other allure to what they have on offer which, without putting too fine a point on it, doesn’t amount to very much.

The Emirates Cape Town - Dubai flight menu.

Granted, the menu, featured right, does seem impressive, sonorously announcing an appetiser of tuna with pasta salad, a choice of herb marinated chicken breast, beef Stroganoff or potato gnocchi for the main course,  praline and mango mousse desert, cheese and biscuits, tea or coffee and chocolates.

Not too bad you might surmise, but beware, its a trap. No matter how tempting the food sounds when you read the menu, they’re doing a sandbag job on you. Think about it: how is it possible for a meal prepared hours before the flight leaves, then either kept hot for hours, or reheated before being served, taste like anything other than damp cardboard? Sure it looks different: you can actually discern the various components of the dish, like beef strips, fettuccini, green beans and roasted pumpkin, but ALL of it tastes exactyl the same: like warmed over damp cardboard.

I’d love to know, in which cook-off the Emirates cuisine won an award, because the competition couldn’t have been terribly tough. Or perhaps it won an award for Worst Airline Meal Ever. Anyway, my sympathies lie with all the poor unsuspecting sods who will fly this route after me, until the menu changes. Ominously, the routing “Cape Town – Dubai” at the foot of the menu has no expiry date. I wonder if I’ll get the same meals on the return journey? Now there’s a depressing thought.

The one shining light on the horizon, was the red wine I chose from the drinks cart: 2010 Litorre Family Wines Sirah from the Barossa Valley in Aus. Inky purple, ripe plums and mulberry on the nose. Translates into a palate frenzy: voluptuous, opulent and really lovely fruit, soft tannins. Now the bottle is peculiar; 187ml in size. Never seen such a bottle before. Why not 200ml I wonder? Dinner having come and gone I guess a movie is in order, before I try to get some sleep.

Flight Emirates EK771m, Cape Town to Dubai: 04h30 GST somewhere over Saudi Arabia

They woke us up for another meal (breakfast) about an hour ago, and I guess to get ready for the landing in Dubai, UAE. We’re about an hour out. The meal was depressingly pedestrian, but considering that it has been in a hot box for about 10 hours before being warmed over and served, what ought one to expect?

Sleeping on an aircraft has always worried me. I have this overriding belief that I snore ferociously, with my mouth open, and drool intermittently. I say this because when I do manage to drift into a slumber deeper than my default semi-conciousness, fellow passengers tend to look at me with a mixture of amazement, disdain and amusement, when I re-surface. This last sleep, melatonin-induced (aided by two of those 187ml bottles of Aussie Sirah), was no exception, save for me having to untangle myself from my next door neighbour.

He’s one of those travellers who has no sense of travel-sleeping decorum. You know what I mean, the ability and intention of containing oneself as far as possible within the confines of ones own seat. As I clawed my way out of the black pit of slumber, I became blearily aware that there was a head resting on my right shoulder, an arm across my waist, with a hand perilously close to my crotch, and a leg over both of mine. In an attempt to avoid any mutual embarrassment, I endeavoured to untangle myself as carefully and gently as possible. I did not succeed.

The pilot has just announced our imminent landing at Dubai International, and the cabin staff are cleaning the cabin. I can’t figure out who looks worse: them or us. Shit, it’s been a long flight, and depressingly, I have another flight of 16 odd hours before I reach Los Angeles.

Republished with the kind permission of Cape Community Newspapers

by Carolyn Frost, Editor

Hough and Miss Daisy in the car

I spent a leisurely Sunday afternoon in the genteel company of members of the Helderberg Society for the Aged, as part of the guest audience for the final dress rehearsal of Driving Miss Daisy – which started last night (Tuesday July 19) at The Playhouse Theatre on Lourensford Road, Somerset West.

Directed by Norman McFarlane, and starring newcomers and veterans to the stage, it was with a constricted throat as I watched the tender story unfold of the crotchety, elderly Miss Daisy undergo the transformation from recalcitrant and peevish behaviour at the notion of losing her independence and having to endure a driver invading her sense of space and rocking her composure; and the genial, accommodating Hough September, whose long-suffering yet compassionate sighs of “ja, Miss Daisy” punctuate the canny dialogue and allude to the unfolding respect and fondness that grows between these unlikely characters.

Benjamin, Miss Daisy and the tin of sardines that Hough is supposed to have "stolen".

The script has been perfectly adapted to its Western Cape audience, capturing the nuances that are so familiar to us, and also taking us along an historical narrative that is a chilling reminder of the brutality and suppression and intolerance that characterised this country in a devastating stranglehold for so many years, as it did in its counterpart in the Deep South in America in original version.

The complexities are presented in gentle nuances – the racial boundaries and dictates of 25 years ago; the mildly chiding dialogue between mistress of the home and domestic worker (and yet the undeniable bond of affection that builds over the years, and the devastation that accompanies the inevitable passing on), the mother/son dynamic with its loving loyalty and fierce protection, accompanied by the vexations of infuriating habits or uninspiring spouses; and of course the layers of friendship and insight that are eventually articulated between Miss Daisy and the stolid Hough.

Fury welled up in my chest when the interaction between the boorish, racist policeman occurs along a lonely road – the instant default to disrespect and intimidation when he encounters a man of colour and an old Jewish woman, and his sneering, belligerent manner. And again, when Miss Daisy expresses her bewilderment at the news of the defacing of the temple, and Hough’s stoic response, I was profoundly moved.

Fidelia the housekeeper explains to Hough what he's gotten himself into...

This is a story of good people, of bad times, of courage and tenacity and pragmatism in the face of forces that needed to be endured, because they could not be circumnavigated. And ultimately, what prevails is that spark that is life, love and emotional connection, despite the arbitrary odds.

Herman Hearn, who takes on the role of Macassar’s Hough September, does a sterling job – perfectly capturing the integrity and also acquired submission of a man caught up in that time and place. It is an astonishing accomplishment for someone who is new to the stage. Veteran actress Elizabeth James is a joy to watch, with her pursed lips and prudish attitudes, and her gradual softening and yielding to her gentler, loving nature. Clifford Ekron plays her son Benjamin, dutiful yet  filled with humorous asides, and domestic worker Fidelia Solomons is admirably captured by Lameez Khan, and poignancy of the memorial she receives is an eloquent reminder of the travails that women in her position suffered (and continue to suffer), toiling for long hours for relatively low wages, and having to care for family in the few hours on either side of her working day.

Highly recommended. Tickets available at Computicket, and for performance dates times email hhdsinfo@gmail.com, or visit www.theplayhouse.org.za

White sand mussel chowder paired with Danie De Wet's fabulous 2009 "The Site" Single Vineyard Chardonnay

A recent holiday in Knysna found me on the beach at Brenton-on-Sea in search of white sand mussels. Commonly used for bait by fishermen all the way along our coastline, I’ve often wondered what sort of chowder they would make.

I’d taken a bottle of Danie De Wets’ 2009 “The Site” Chardonnay on holiday with me (along with a whole bunch of other wines, naturally!) and I had this plan to pair a white sand mussel chowder, made with crème fraiche, with this single vineyard Chardonnay. More about the wine and how it paired with the chowder later on.

Whereas clams are relatively difficult to come by and quite expensive, white sand mussels can be caught fresh, provided of course you have a license. A visit to your local post office with your ID book and the requisite fee of R60 will scare loose a mollusc license which will allow you to collect a wide variety of sea critters, including but not limited to oysters, mussels, octopus, squid, prawns, periwinkles and the like.

Be aware that there are bag limits, minimum sizes, and in some cases limited seasons, as well as bans on collecting in a number of coastal areas. You may sell or barter nothing that you catch.

You may only use your bare hands and feet, or an implement “with a blade or flat edge, not exceeding 12mm in width”. I was mystified as to what such an implement might look like, the only option that came to mind being something like a dinner knife, so I resorted to hands and feet.

The bag limit for white sand mussels is 50 per day, and they must be over 35mm in length, measured in the length, rather than the width of the shell. Rather than carry a ruler with you, measure 35mm on your forearm, and mark clearly with a pen. That way, you can check that the mussels you catch are legit.

You can catch them at any stage in the tide, since they occupy the littoral zone, the part of the beach between high water and low water.

Look for a reasonably steep sloping part of the beach, and pick a spot between the high point and low point of the waves.

Wait for the water to run back after a wave, and literally do the twist: rotate your feet backwards and forwards and dig them down into the sand. If there are mussels about, you’ll feel something hard under your foot. Reach down smartly and grab the mussel before it escapes. They do move quite quickly under the sand, so don’t hang around. Of course, it is inevitable, that you’ll feel a monster under your foot, just as the next wave comes rushing up the beach, and you will be drenched as you reach down under the sand to grab it. (Now, was that Murphy’s Law, or Sod’s Law?)

If you don’t find anything in a particular spot of beach, move on. If you do, concentrate on that spot. They tend to live in colonies. I tend to collect the larger mussels, and once I have my bag limit, I’ll return to the sea smaller mussels which I will replace with larger ones I catch. Give them a good rinse in the sea water before putting them into your batch bag, to eliminate as much sand as possible.

Don’t be tempted to keep more than your bag limit, and in any case, only take out as many as you need. A two person chowder requires only about 20 mussels.

This recipe is based on my original clam chowder recipe of September 2007.

Ingredients, Selection and Preparation

2 medium white onions: finely chopped

350ml fish stock: chicken stock will also do

3 medium potatoes: peeled and diced

30-50 fresh white sand mussels: soak in fresh water for an hour, draining every 15 minutes

250ml crème fraiche

sprig of thyme: leaves picked

2tbsp parsley: chopped

salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Ingredient Selection and Preparation

Method

Set a large saucepan on the stove with about 1.5cm of water to boil.

Heat a 2tbsp of canola oil in a soup pot and add the onions. Sweat the onions until soft and translucent. Do not let them brown.

Add the stock, diced potato, thyme and parsley. Bring to the boil, then turn down and simmer covered for fifteen minutes or until the potato has cooked soft.

Your water should be boiling by now. Drain the mussels, and put in the pot with the lid on. Bring to the boil, and boil for about three minutes, shaking the pot briskly every minute or so, until all of the mussels have opened, then remove from the heat.

Remove the mussels from the saucepan, and set them aside to cool.

Return the saucepan to the heat, and turn it up high. Shuck the mussels, and return the shells to the boiling liquid in the saucepan.

Boil the cooking liquid down to about 1/3^rd of its original volume, but no more than 250ml. Strain through a fine sieve or muslin to remove any sand, and set aside.

Cleaning white sand mussels - squeeze out the digestive tract, together with the gritty contents, then rinse under cold running water

The mussels need to be cleaned, by removing the digestive tract. Grasp each mussel end on end, and gently squeeze the middle portion out and discard it (see picture). Rinse thoroughly under running water.

By now the potato should have cooked soft, so add the mussels, the 250ml clam cooking liquid and the crème fraiche. Heat through for a couple of minutes only. Any longer and the mussels will toughen.

Season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve in soup bowls, sprinkled with some chopped parsley. Lovely hot breads make a tasty accompaniment.

So, how does the wine go with the food?

Danie de Wet’s 2009 The Site Chardonnay comes from a vineyard planted in 1987, with the Burgundian clone 119, developed at the University of Dijon. The only vineyard in South Africa producing wine from this clone, it originates from one of the greatest white wine regions in the world – Burgundy.

Pale straw in colour, the wine offers citrus aromas with nutty and honey notes.

In the mouth, the acidity is crisp and fresh, supported by Royal Gala apple and lemon flavours, which work well with the slight tang of the crème fraiche.

The mid-palate is consistent, underpinned by a lean mineral edge, and the finish lingers.

A balanced and crisply elegant wine, with a sumptuous mouth feel, afforded by 11 months in first and second fill French oak barrels.

The recipe deliberately excludes bacon, which would otherwise add a smokiness that would conflict with the crisp clean elegance of The Site Chardonnay.

Wine Cellars SA chairperson Henk Bruwer speaking at the WCSA annual congress.

Sitting listening to Wine Cellars SA (WCSA) chairperson Henk Bruwer deliver his annual report last Thursday at the WCSA Annual Congress at the Spier Conference Centre, it was easy to conclude that the wine industry is facing desperate times. Deviating from a prepared speech, he chose to speak from the heart, saying that the industry was facing some of its greatest challenges yet. Things are so bad, says Bruwer, that if something dramatic does not change in the next year, the impact on the industry will be catastrophic.  He’s not alone in this view, if the extent of head nodding that accompanied his (at times) emotional delivery is anything to go by.

The current state of the market locally and overseas notwithstanding, there is a growing, government-led assault, on the liquor industry in general, clearly aimed at addressing the enormous alcohol abuse problem that bedevils our society.

The scale of the problem of alcohol abuse in South Africa in general, and in the Western Cape in particular, is frightening, but the question must be asked whether steps taken by government thus far, and planned for the near future, will have the desired effect, or will they fatally damage an already struggling industry.

Way back in 2009, the department of health reacted to a WHO 2008 World Health Assembly resolution calling on member states to address the rising level of premature alcohol related deaths worldwide. The proposal at the time was to drastically limit alcohol advertising, in the belief that it would help to reduce the extent of alcohol abuse, but this was refuted by the likes of the Industry Association for Responsible Alcohol Use (ARA), which contended that there is little if any peer reviewed evidence that it would have the desired effect. Rather said ARA, we need to address the problem through education programmes, particularly for the youth. The greater problem of poverty and joblessness driven depression, acknowledged as significant drivers of alcohol abuse, must also be addressed.

While there is an argument for tighter regulation of alcohol advertising – advertising billboards outside schools and TV ads that blatantly suggest that alcohol consumption is de rigeur if one is to enjoy oneself socially seem to be ubiquitous – will banning alcohol advertising outright (the latest plan revealed by health minister Aaron Motsoaledi in January of this year), really make much of a difference? ARA thinks not, suggesting instead that the current system of self-regulation coupled with health warnings, and industry funded education programmes are far more beneficial.

If anything, an outright ban will simply entrench existing market shares in the alcohol industry, and raise enormous barriers to entry for new entrants, and more importantly foreign investors. And those who abuse alcohol regularly are unlikely to cease doing so if alcohol advertising is banned.

The dismal performance of the anti-tobacco campaign lends credence to this view, with illegal cigarette smuggling an increasing problem, which has significant negative consequences. Illegal cigarettes typically have higher tar and nicotine content, and slip under the excise radar. Sold illegally on the streets, they are freely available to underage smokers and dirt cheap by comparison.

There is every reason to believe that an alcohol advertising ban will have similar consequences, with illegally brewed – and dangerous – alcohol finding its way into the market.

The City of Cape Town has curtailed liquor trading days and hours, despite the results of a public participation process that indicated that the citizenry in general wanted things at least to remain the same, at best to be more liberalised. Clearly, the views of the majority of the population have little credence with the powers that be that must be seen to be doing something. If one cannot buy alcohol on Sundays, one will simply buy sufficient on Saturday.

Drink driving is perpetually in the news, and the permissible level of blood alcohol has declined relentlessly, with little apparent effect. However, the recent naming and shaming campaign, whereby convicted drink drivers’ names are published in the press, seems to be the first initiative to have had a positive effect. Nonetheless, it seems that the legal blood alcohol limit is to be reduced to zero. Quite how the authorities will deal with a driver who tests positive after consuming a dose of perfectly legal, prescribed cough mixture (much of which contains alcohol), is as yet unclear.

It is perceived it seems that the best way to deal with drink driving is to curtail alcohol consumption in general. Talk about killing a mouse with a shotgun.

The latest proposal is to raise the legal alcohol consumption age to 21, in the forlorn hope that this will prevent young people from drinking. It may well curtail legal access to alcohol, but just like the increase in the legal age for buying tobacco products did, it will likely drive the trade underground.

Yes, we do have a significant alcohol abuse problem, but will continually bashing an industry that is a significant employer and contributor to the economy of the Western Cape really address the problem?

It is high time that government dispenses with politically expedient “be seen to be doing something” initiatives and sets about addressing the root causes of the problem: unemployment, lack of education and abject poverty.

Portuguese mountain rye

 Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid’s fabulous book “Home Baking” started me on a bread-baking odyssey some months ago. One of the recipes I tried, is for a Portuguese mountain rye loaf, well two actually. It’s kind of a bulk recipe.

Anyway, the dough seems to be very moist, and therefore difficult to work with. I’ve made it about a half dozen times, with mixed results, until I decided to exclude one of the cups of water. What a difference! I finally figured out that what appears in the book is actually wrong, and tweaking it the way I did makes all the difference.

It relies on a poolish (only the first time) and a starter, and takes a couple of days, but that allows you to fit it into your busy life. It’s become part of my weekly bake, along with my standard rye loaf.

Proportionately, it’s about 60% rye and 40% wheat flour, but it is beguilingly delicious, particularly toasted. Daughter Alex said to me the other day: “Please stop baking this loaf, Dad. It’s just too delicious to resist!” Like me, she has a wheat intolerance. My poolish uses rye instead of bread flour, a departure from the original recipe.

The loaves it produces, are floury and gnarled, riven with fissures and barely round. Nonetheless, it is lovely, with a moist light crumb, and large bubbles, due no doubt to the long yeasting time.

Ingredients, Selection and Preparation

(Poolish)

½cup lukewarm water

½cup light rye flour

Thumb size piece fresh yeast OR 1/2tsp dried yeast

(Rye starter)

1 cup lukewarm water

2 cups light rye flour

(Bread)

3 cups light rye flour

1 cup whole wheat flour

3 cups lukewarm water

4tsp salt

5 cups bread four

Method

Prepare the poolish three to four days before you wish to bake for the first time. In a small mixing bowl, dissolve the yeast in the water, then stir in the flour. Cover tightly with cling-film, set aside to ferment for 12 to 36 hours.

For the starter, in a large bowl, dissolve the poolish in the lukewarm water and stir in the two cups of rye flour until smooth. Cover with cling film, and let ferment for 24 hours. Refrigerate for up to 24 hour if you wish.

The evening before you want to bake, sift the whole wheat flour and rye flour evenly over the starter. Cover with a kitchen towel and plastic, and stand in a warm place overnight.

Three to four hours before you want to bake, stir in 3 cups lukewarm water and 1tsp salt until smooth.

Lift out two cups to form your starter for the next batch, stored in a zip seal bag in the fridge. You’ll never use yeast again for this bread!

Add 3tsp (1tbsp) of salt and sift and stir in one cup at a time, five cups of bread flour. Knead until smooth with a wooden spoon initially, then with well-floured hands (the dough will be moist and quite sticky), and place the dough in a well-oiled large bowl, covered with a kitchen towel, in a warm place to prove for three to four hours. It should almost double in size.

Place a baking tray or unglazed quarry tile in mid-oven, and heat to 250 deg C. Once the oven is at temperature, turn out the dough on a well-floured surface, and divide in half.

Pour a ½cup of bread flour into a medium bowl. Drop half the dough in the bowl, and toss the dough for up to a minute until it so a rough round. Cover the other half of the dough with a kitchen towel.

Turn the dough out onto the tile (baking tray), and bake for 15 minutes at 250 deg C then turn down to  220 deg C for 30 minutes.

The loaf is done when it sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom.

Heat the oven back to 250 deg C, and repeat with the other half of the dough.

Place on a rack to cool uncovered for 24 hours. Keeps well for up to a week in the fridge in a zip seal bag.

Refresh the starter a day or two before you plan to use it, or weekly if unused for more than seven days: discard half, and stir in 1 cup lukewarm water, and two cups light rye flour.

The Bilton, the offending wine that has caused such a storm in a wineglass.

Flamboyant wine producer Mark Bilton seems to have created a minor storm in a wineglass with the release of the eponymous The Bilton last month.

Watching the toing and froing between the wine hacks who were invited, and those who were not, has been hilarious, quite frankly.

The Bilton is a 2006 vintage Cabernet Sauvignon, which was subjected to a 500% oaking regime over four years. As if that isn’t enough to set the tongues of the wine writing cognoscenti wagging, the price tag of R3 000 a bottle most certainly is.

Accused of “aspirational pricing” in the most tawdry sense, grandstanding, and little short of being too big for his boots, Mark Bilton has it seems, refrained from weighing in on the increasingly acrimonious debate, and for this he is to be commended.

The most hilarious contribution around makes the pertinent point, that if one has not tasted the wine, one is hardly qualified to comment on it, despite the stature of ones palate or self-perceived place in the wine writing diaspora.

Since I was one of those fortunate enough to have been invited to the launch (it was actually Bilton Wine’s end of harvest festival, which included an al fresco dinner on the Thursday night, breakfast on Friday morning, a harvest experience in the vineyards, tasting of the full Bilton range, revealing of Bilton’s use of the ProofTag™ system,  and a sumptuous lunch, but that has all been overshadowed by the fuss over The Bilton), it may be useful to try to put The Bilton into some sort of perspective.

If you happen to be a fan of Top Gear, you may be familiar with one of the really amazing vehicles that jaded car hack Jeremy Clarkson and his sycophantic hangers-on drove in 2006. The Bugatti Veyron was produced as a concept car by Volkswagen AG in 1999, shortly after deciding to acquire and revive the Bugatti marque.

Sporting a host of technical superlatives, not least of which was a 16 cylinder engine, and a top speed of over 400km per hour, the Veyron generated so much interest, Volkswagen AG decided to put the car into limited production in 2001. The first Bugatti Veyron 16.4 rolled of the assembly line in the autumn (our spring) of 2004.

Production is limited to 80 cars per year, not surprising considering the price tag of US$2.6 million (about R18.2 million). By my reckoning, about 500 have rolled off the assembly line thus far.

The Bilton was made from grapes harvested from a 40 year old vineyard in 2006. The vines, although virus-free, yielded under a ton per hectare, hardly commercially viable, so they were subsequently uprooted. Simply put, The Bilton in its present form can never be made again, which in and of itself, makes it as much a concept wine, as the Bugatti Veyron was a concept car, when Volkswagen AG’s design team created it under guidance of Harmut Harkuss in 1998. There may well be other Bugatti Veyrons, but there will never be another The Bilton.

Four hundred bottles emerged from the four year long process, that saw it undergo malolactic fermentation in a 300 litre new French oak hogshead, after which it was racked into a new barrel for the rest of the first year, thereafter a new barrel annually for the remaining three years; each barrel from a different French cooperage.

The barrel was stored off-site in a climate controlled room, because, according to winemaker Rudi de Wet, the Bilton barrel cellar was a tad too cold, which might have resulted in precipitation of tartrate crystals.

But what is the wine like, and is it worth the money asked for? Well, it rated four stars in the 2011 Platter Wine Guide, which although it is panned periodically for being a “sighted” guide by those in the wine diaspora who misunderstand (and should know better) the logistical magnitude of tasting some 6000 wines blind every year, is nonetheless the most widely consulted wine guide in the country, so that says something. The wine was tasted and rated by Greg de Bruyn, a Cape Wine Master and a respected palate, who judges regularly on local panels including Veritas, Diners Club and the Nederburg Auction, so it is probably safe to assume he knows what he is talking about.

The Bilton is deep almost inky purple in colour. The nose is redolent of cassis, leather, tobacco and cigar box notes, with a distinct earthy undertone.

On the palate, you taste full-bodied cassis, allied with black cherries and the most delicate hint of black plums.

Despite the massive wood treatment (500% oak) the oak is surprisingly well integrated. The tannins are angular though less than I would have expected, but they are still prominent, powerful, probably requiring a good few years to soften ( or to be whipped) into a point of balance with the pleasing acidity, and opulent fruit. The mouth-feel is luxurious, and the angular tannins aside, the finish is long and sustained.

The wine isn’t big, it’s massive, but it has promise, and I’d love to taste it again in 10 years’ time to see how it has developed.

Is it worth R3 000 a bottle? Perhaps as much as the Bugatti Veyron 16.4 is worth R18.2 million. Would I buy it if I could afford it? Probably not, as much as I wouldn’t buy a Bugatti Veyron 16.4, even if I could afford it, with the single disclaimer that I reserve the right to change my mind if I ever get to drive one! But I doubt it, nonetheless.

The point that seems to evade those hell-bent on vilifying Mark Bilton for having the temerity to make The Bilton the way he (or Rudi) did and ask R3 000 for a bottle, is that he is actually pushing the edge of the winemaking envelope, and this is but one of the results.

Rudi will tell you, if you take some time out to chat to him about what is happening at Bilton that Mark encourages him to do something really different and edgy every year, in effect, to innovate.

The Bilton is one result, and according to Rudi, there are a good few more surprises waiting in the wings. I hope I’m fortunate enough to taste some of them in the future.

• The next most expensive wine in South Africa (at less than half the price of The Bilton), is Coenie Snyman’s Rust en Vrede 1694 Classification, a Shiraz/Cab blend at  R1200 a bottle, followed closely by Abrie Beeslaar’s Kanonkop Black Label Pinotage (the ’08 was launched on April 18) at R1150 a bottle.

The ultimate light rye - great loft, slightly moist fine crumb

After about a year’s experimenting with rye bread, the ultimate loaf has finally emerged.

One of the biggest problems with a pure rye loaf is the lack of loft. Even using light pure rye flour, the loaf tends to be quite dense, the slices small. If sliced too thick, it is inclined to be stodgy, and it does not toast well.

Having started working with a poolish of late – a fermentation starter or pre-ferment – in my bread baking odyssey, the thought struck me that perhaps weaving a poolish into the conventional rye recipe may well make a difference.

The origins of the name poolish are not credibly determinable, but the word is used in French to describe a sponge pre-ferment, consisting of equal proportions of flour and lukewarm water, and a pinch of dry, or a thumb-sized piece of fresh yeast.

This pre-ferment with leaven, according to my trusty Larousse Gastronomique, makes the bread lighter, and gives it a characteristic fine-crumb texture, flavour and aroma.

Whereas the traditional rye loaf recipe makes a loaf that rises to about 6cm in height, the poolish version makes a loaf that rises twice as high. The baked loaf has a texture and loft which is akin to a good quality white loaf.

How does this work you might well ask? Well, rye flour has very little gluten, and gluten is the substance that gives bread its structure – the elasticity which allows small bubbles of carbon dioxide released during proving. The poolish seems to compensate for the lack of gluten, by giving the rye dough better structure, hence the greater loft and the lighter texture.

Ingredients, Selection and Preparation

(Poolish)

½ cup (125ml) pure light rye flour

½ cup (125ml) lukewarm water

A thumb size piece of fresh yeast OR 1tsp dry yeast: be warned that I only use fresh yeast, so my conversions are approximate. Apparently, as a rule of thumb, the conversion of dry yeast to fresh yeast, is 1:2 i.e. 1g dry yeast = 2g fresh yeast. I buy fresh yeast from the local Pick ‘n Pay or Spar, both of which are more than willing to sell it to the public.

(Bread dough)

1kg pure light rye flour: Eureka Mills in the Overberg mill a range of stone ground flours, which are completely natural, with no additives at all. Available from the bigger Pick ‘n Pay’s from Checkers, and from the bigger Spar stores. I find Checkers the cheapest at R26.95, and the Lion Square Spar the most expensive at R36.95 for a 2.5kg bag of light rye flour.

20g table salt

600ml lukewarm water

60g fresh yeast OR 30g dry yeast

Method

The day before you plan to bake, make the poolish.

Pour the lukewarm water into a small bowl, and dissolve the yeast in it. Sprinkle in the rye flour and stir until thoroughly mixed and smooth.

Cover tightly with a piece of cling film and place in a warm area to ferment. Over the next 24 hours, it will swell alarmingly, touch the top of the cling film, and then recede. This is normal and there is no need to release the cling film.

To make the dough pour 600ml of lukewarm water into a large mixing bowl. Empty the entire contents of the poolish bowl (use a spatula to clean out the bowl and scrape of the underside of the cling film) into the water.

Stir the poolish into the water with a fork.

Weigh out and sift the 1kg of rye flour into the mixing bowl, followed by the salt.

Using a large fork, mix the ingredients until a dough forms.

Flour a work surface and your hands lightly then turn the dough out.

Knead the dough for six minutes, flouring your hands as needed, until the dough is elastic and slightly sticky.

What better way to enjoy rye toast, than with two perfectly soft-boiled free range eggs?

Butter or oil a large bread tin (mine is L300mm x W100mm x H90mm), shape the dough into an even, thick sausage that will just fit into the tin, and drop it carefully in.

Cut a slit lengthwise down the entire dough sausage about 1cm deep with a sharp knife. This helps to prevent the loaf from cracking during baking.

Cover the tin with plastic and a kitchen towel, put in a warm place to prove. Note that you’re not going to knock the dough down; you’re going to bake it after the first rise. This also helps to get the greater loft.

While the dough is proving, heat the oven to 240 deg C.

I find a proving time of 20 to 30 minutes allows the dough to more than double in size, and the loaf will have risen above the top of the bread tin.

Place the bread tin in mid-oven once it is up to temperature, and bake for 35 minutes, or until the crust is light brown, and the loaf has a hollow ring when you thump it on the bottom.

Remove from the oven, and cool on a grid for 24 hours, wrapped in a kitchen towel if you want a softer crust, or loosely covered with a kitchen towel if you want a crisper crust.

The loaf keeps well in the fridge in a zip-lock plastic bag, for up to two weeks.

If condensation forms inside the bag, wipe it out with a kitchen towel to prevent the loaf from going mouldy. Enjoy!

Spicy green Thai curry fish with Basmati rice

This is one of my earliest forays into stir-frying. I’d recently purchased a mild steel wok, from a Chinese food store at N1 City. After seasoning it well, I decided to test drive it. This is the result.

With the onset of winter, and the imminence of cooler weather (and a not inconsiderable prod from the Editor!), I felt that my Green Thai Curry Fish recipe would be appropriate for this week.

It introduces the concept of stir frying, which is ubiquitous with Asian style cooking, and if that scares you, don’t let it. It’s a lot easier than you might think.

With fish increasingly under threat – the WWF’s SASSI List System wouldn’t be around if there was no problem – finding decent fish is becoming difficult. Other than those listed below in the recipe, you may also want to try Gurnard or if you can get it, Mackerel, since Yellowtail is not that easy to get.

There was a time when Gurnard was considered a “trash fish” not worth eating, but with the popular species like kabeljou and geelbek now both on the SASSI Red List, one must start to cast around for a suitable alternative. Off-shore trawled Gurnard is on the SASSI Green List, whereas inshore trawled Gurnard is on the SASSI Orange List. Personally, I believe there should be a Green List and Red List only, so eating something that may be on the Orange List is a matter of conscience.

Ingredients, Selection & Preparation (to serve 4)

450gm of skinned, de-boned fish (Yellow tail, Geelbek, Kabeljou, Hake). The fish options I have given above indicate my preference in descending order of “suitability”. Since we’re using green Thai curry paste, we need a fish that will either maintain its flavour in the face of the curry, or carry the essence of the curry well. At the top end is Yellow tail, a firm, robust, dark and flavourful fish, and at the other end of the spectrum we have Hake, a snowy white, delicate almost flavourless fish. Which ever you choose, it must be skinned and de-boned. Get your fish supplier to do it if you use one of the first three, or if you buy frozen hake, then buy appropriately.

2 heaped tbsp flour

½tsp freshly ground black pepper

½tsp freshly ground coarse salt

1 heaped tsp mixed herbs

1 cup (200 ml) oil (Grape seed, Canola or Sunflower oil) Again, it is a trade off of flavour preference and practicality. Grape seed oil has a very high smoke point (i.e. you can get it really hot before it starts to smoke and break down) and Sunflower has the lowest. I prefer Grape seed oil for this reason, as well as the fact that it is high in Omega-6 or Linoleic acid, which is good for lowering cholesterol.

2 cloves of garlic crushed

1 level tbsp green Thai curry paste (any more and it may well be too hot!)

1tbsp fish sauce

1 can (400 ml) coconut milk

175g cherry tomatoes

1 handful fresh Basil leaves: well washed and chiffonaded (that means rolled up tightly and sliced very thin!).

2 cups Basmati rice: (or any other fragrant rice, such as Jasmine) Basmati is best (in my humble opinion) followed by Jasmine, and then the rest. I have recently started using brown Basmati, and this gives one the best of both worlds: flavour and texture combined with the health effects of the brown husk.

Method

A well-seasoned wok and wooden stir fry tools

Combine the crushed garlic, green Thai curry paste, fish sauce and the can of coconut milk in a small mixing bowl, and stir well. Set aside for the moment.

Cut the fish into bit sized or thumb sized pieces (maybe that’s where rule of thumb comes from!). If the fish was frozen, you may want to place it between two sheets of kitchen paper towel and press gently to get rid of some of the moisture in the fish. The less moisture the fish contains, the better it fries.

Combine the flour, ground coarse salt, ground black pepper and mixed herbs in a medium sized mixing bowl. Toss the fish in the seasoned flour, coating it lightly.

Meantime, put your rice on. I use a rice cooker, so that makes it easy. If you do not have one, follow the cooking instructions on the rice packet. You want the rice ready as soon as the fish is done.

Pour the cup of oil into a wok, and heat it until the oil just starts to smoke. Using a set of tongs, either wooden or metal, place the pieces of fish in the oil, and allow it to fry for about a minute, then turn each piece and allow it to fry for a further minute, then take it out of the oil with a slotted spoon and place it on kitchen paper towel to drain. Fry the fish in relays, so that you do not overcrowd the wok, which causes the oil temperature to drop. The fish then literally sucks in the oil, making it most unpleasant and also most unhealthy.

Once the fish is fried, dispose of the remaining oil in the wok, and give it a wipe with a wad of kitchen paper towel.

Return the wok to the heat, and add the drained fried fish. Give the coconut milk mixture a good stir, and add it to the wok. Add the cherry tomatoes as well then stir them in gently. Turn the heat up high until the mixture boils, then turn it down low, place a lid on the wok, and simmer it for about 5 to 7 minutes, stirring occasionally.

In the meantime, wash the Basil leaves carefully, and slice them into long thin strips.

Once the simmering is complete (the tomatoes will be soft to the touch, but will not have broken open), add the Basil, and stir it gently into the mixture, then remove the wok from the heat.

By now your rice should be perfectly cooked. Serve in a bowl, with a generous portion of rice.

Enjoy!

The drive up to Hidden Valley is not for the faint hearted. After turning of the Annandale Road hard by Peter Falke Wines, the road narrows alarmingly, and each approaching blind corner and rise pushes up the pulse rate from the adrenaline spurt which anticipates taking sudden avoiding action if an oncoming motorist, perhaps inattentive from imbibing at one or more of the many wine estates along the road, challenges you.

Fortunately, I was a passenger last Thursday, kindly being chauffeured by wine writing colleague Samarie Smith who was that day our DD (designated driver), to the awards luncheon at Bertus Basson’s iconic Overture at Hidden Valley for the annual WINE Magazine Chenin Blanc Challenge.

One hundred and eleven wines were entered this year, and because of a change in format, 12 – two 4½ stars and ten 4 stars – were recognised for their excellence.

The overall winner was Perdeberg’s 4½ star Rex Equus 2008, made by Riaan Moller, and at R180 a bottle ex cellar, might be deemed expensive for a Chenin Blanc. What you smell and taste though, would very quickly dispel that notion. Guests had the opportunity to taste all of the winning wines before the formalities got under way, and Riaan’s Chenin Blanc was the second one I tried.

A deep yellow in colour (like when you’ve taken your vitamin pill in the morning!), the citrus and honey aromas leap out of the glass, underpinned by buttery, oaky notes and the faintest hint of Seville orange marmalade.

The flavour profile is intense, featuring lemon, lime, and yellow stone fruit. The palate is full bodied, with a gentle nuttiness, and the oak is gentle, the acid balanced, the finish languorous.

Interestingly, the winning wine was also entered in 2009 the Chenin Blanc Challenge, and achieved 3½ stars, pointing to just how well the wine has developed in the bottle in intervening two years.

The Best Value Wine to emerge was the 4 star Douglas Green 2010, At R31.50 per bottle. I found this puzzling quite frankly, on two fronts. Ten of the 12 top wines were rated 4 star and the Douglas Green was not amongst them so how many others rated 4 stars didn’t make it into the top 12, and why?

Of the ten 4 star wines that made it into the top 12, three retail ex cellar at R35 or under, to whit Kanu 2009 (R35), Leopards’ Leap (R34.99) amd Kleine Zalze Cellar Selection Bush Vines 2010 (R33). In my view it would have made more sense to select the Best Value Wine, which is arrived at by assessing both price point and rating, from the top 12, because what we effectively now have, is the top 13.

The range of styles was intriguing, from the dry and elegant to the full bodied to the almost off-dry. The 2009 Kanu Chenin Blanc for example, had 7.55g/l residual sugar. In his comments, judging panel chairman Michael Fridjhon (our very own Albert Einstein of South African wine!) noted the continuing evolution of styles over time, pointing out the great advantage of substantial plantings of old Chenin vineyards which offer the discerning winemaker a wide array of flavour profiles, more than any other category in the local industry.

Tasting was blind, using the 20 point/ five star rating system. Day one was devoted to screening of the 111 entrants and selection of wines to go through to the second round in day two. A nuance in the judging is the introduction of what amounts to a “Minority Report” (which would have warmed the cockles of Tom Cruise’s character in the 2002 sci-fi blockbuster!), whereby if any one judge was insistent that a wine knocked out in the first round should go through to round two, it was permitted. This afforded the opportunity to re-taste, discuss and persuade.

Michael Fridjhon, chairman of the judging panel for the Chenin Blanc Challenge

“Judging is a tough business,” said Mr Michael. “There are often hard comments, but there is never acrimony. At the end of the day, the collegial view prevails.”

Thirty three wines went through into day two, and of those, after much tasting, re-tasting, debate and discussion, the winning wines emerged.

Chenin Blanc Association deputy chair Jeff Grier commented that the variety of styles in in some senses an Achilles Heel for the varietal. He went on to say that the research is underway to come up with an easy visual key for the back label which will make it easier for the consumer to select the right wine for their palate.  The four under consideration are: fresh and fruity, unwooded; rich and ripe, unwooded; rich and ripe, wooded; and sweet.

Assiete of Citrus, a dessert made in heaven by Bertus Basson

The proceedings were punctuated by a fabulous lunch prepared by Bertus Basson and his team. The freshly baked breads preceded luxurious gnocchi with bacon and peas, followed by succulent Spier pasture-reared chicken (a tender roasted breast and a crumbed drumstick) with pommes cocottes and organic vegetables. The dessert was titled Assiette of Citrus and an assortment it indeed was: a creamy tangerine ice cream, moist crumbed sponge cake with orange cream topping and a silky citrus panacotta with a citrus curd topping. Heavenly!

The top wines were of course all available to drink, but responsible drinking prevailed, with a number of people either restricting their intake to a glass or two over the duration of the event, or drinking non-alcoholic beverages after sipping and spitting the various wines.

The journey home in the safe hands of “Designated Dave”(or should that Davina?), Samarie Smith was infused with a sense of well-being and deep appreciation, for the excellence of the food, and the great wines that were showcased for wine drinkers to enjoy responsibly in the coming year.