Cookie (Not Cheffy)

Here it is: a write-up of weeks three and four of the Sense of Taste course, in one yummy serving. Apologies for the late post, but the festive season has kept me eating and drinking and socialising and drinking… for one thing, I was actually very impressed with my tuna steak at our staff Xmas lunch at Wakame (I love my new job!), but that’s a musing for another post.

It’s been a month since the Sense of Taste course wrapped up, but I think I was nostalgic for it from the minute I walked out of that kitchen. What a fun, memorable experience!

Nicola couldn’t make Week Three, so I took along hubby Arthur. And it turned out to be the perfect week to have my pasta-loving partner there: we were cooking Italian. We started the session with a presentation from Kimilili, who make Swiss cheeses with milk from their free ranging cows out in the mountains of Wolseley. Arthur, who dear readers will know is a cheese maniac, was in his element. (And he’s actually a good cook, when I let him at the stove. See how dashing he looks sweating off these onions!) We tasted some fantastic cheeses, including an unusual and delicious smoked feta.

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Sjoe, it’s been a hectic week, and I think I can trace it right back to the moment it started spinning out of control. It was the moment I found myself hunkered over a 50 litre pot of mussels in the Sense of Taste kitchen at 11.30pm on a Tuesday night. It was scary. People were taking photos, their faces contorted with an emotion somewhere between wonder and horror. Never before had they seen a size 8 (okay, I’m a size 10 now) blonde polish off SO MUCH SEAFOOD.

I must say, Chef Peter outdid himself on the course last week. It really was an immersion in ‘Neptune’s treasure trove’ (and the amount of seafood we got to cook and consume would just about cover the course costs if you were served it up in a restaurant). We started with a smoked salmon trout salad (with fish from Three Streams in Franschhoek), then calamari in lemon butter sauce, which we prepared from scratch (it’s easier to peel a mini squid than you’d think), then a whole head-and-tail Thai style baked fish, then (yes, there’s more) the art of prepping and frying prawns, and, finally, the bathtub full of fragrant, steaming fresh mussels, by which time I was so drunk on the pleasures of frutti del mare that I lost all inhibition and simply stuck my head in the pot and drowned myself in their salty juices.

Needless to say, Week Two of my Sense of Taste course was just, well more: more cooking, more beer, more fun, more flaring like a pro (yeah!) Again, we had loads of time to be hands-on and really get a feel for what we were doing. This partly explains why we were there until nearly midnight, though kicking off the session with a wine tasting from Napier that none of us wanted to stop probably contributed (the Napier brandy distilled from chenin blanc is absolutely amazing, by the way: drink it neat, it’s like local-lekker cognac for about R220 a bottle). It really was a jam-packed evening that convinced me that at R1800 for four weeks, you’re not going to get better value from a cooking course anywhere else in Cape Town.

Tonight, we’ll be cooking Italian, and I will finally make gnocchi (yes, I know, can you believe I’ve never done that before?) Based on last week’s experience, I’d better wear my eating pants…

I’ve always enjoyed doing cooking classes. Despite reading tons of books, there’s nothing to replace getting hands-on advice from a working chef (and usually a delightfully opinionated one too). There’s also the social aspect of cooking in a big group, which is why when I read this review on the Relax with Dax blog about the Sense of Taste course I was intrigued; not least of all by the fact that there’s draught beer on tap in the kitchen!

So I was super-excited when Debbie and Peter Ayub invited me and a friend to do the Sense of Taste course. My partner in culinary crime is my friend Nicola, a new mom and book editor who has the endearing quality of launching herself into any new experience with an open mind and cheerful determination. Not bad things to have when you’re starting a four-week course of (minimum) four-hour cooking lessons.

The first thing I noticed when we walked in (rather late – one really should pay attention to the directions Debbie sends) was that the crowd was quite young – mainly professionals in their 30s – and about half of them were men. People in our group are at different levels – some of us cook every day and some need to learn from scratch (Shaun, across the table from us, cooked his first ever meal that night, and took a photo of it as his new cellphone wallpaper). The next thing I noticed was that the condensation was thick on the brass spout of the Windhoek dispenser, so I got me one of those.

Chef Peter started with the most important cooking foundation: knife selection, care and skills. Soon we were chopping onions with our lovely Global knives, under the watchful, watering eyes of Peter and his assistants, Matthew and Mark. After we got the hang of that, we were thrown into julienning and dicing carrots. And with all the bits? We were shown how to make a stock, of course! (Or was it a jus? A bit of both, but there was much hilarity working our way through descriptions and methods of all the sauces and bases.)

For me, the most useful part was learning to cut a chicken into portions. I’d seen plenty of pictures in books and tried to follow them, but always ended up hacking through bones and generally making a mess of it. Chef Peter gave us all the tips about jointing, selecting where to cut and shaving meat off the bone. Pretty soon I had a relatively neatly dissected bird. Guess carving duty will be mine this Christmas!

The course is packed with tips and information, including some things I knew to do, but hadn’t quite worked out why, like why you boil potatoes starting with cold water (so that they cook evenly all the way through) and why you put salt in blanching water (to make the colours in veggies ‘pop’).

I also learned a neat little tip that will save acquiring another piece of equipment in the already over-subscribed little red kitchen: how to make a smoker in a normal pot with some foil and a foil tart tin (and to put rice in with the shavings to help them burn longer).

We ended off with a chicken dish (which we wrapped in spinach to steam in the oven – almost impossible to overcook!), smoked mash and fabulous asparagus (from the Epping market – another nice tip from Chef Peter). We needed it by then: the course is about four hours long, which actually goes by quite quickly with all the info coming at you. It also gives everyone lots of time to get the experience they need: I hate it when the assistants start coming around and finishing stuff for you because there’s a time limit on the class. This class is a lot more relaxed and fun.

What I really like about the Sense of Taste course so far is that it’s not about cooking one or two fancy dishes, but about getting hands-on experience of a range of kitchen skills that will simply help you cook better, whether you’re following a recipe or not. One of the most useful books on my cookery shelf is The Cook’s Book, a compendium of techniques and tips that I can refer to whenever a recipe book is too vague. This is the kind of knowledge that gives you confidence in the kitchen, making you the cook you hoped to be.

(Next week, we do fish: watch for an update!)

On Saturday morning I took part in the International Day of Climate Action, and ja, I must admit, it felt pretty good to be part of a global group demanding ambitious, binding and fair targets at Copenhagen. Though the Cape Town city group was small, it was diverse, and our little red-clad troupe was lead by an Anglican bishop, an imam and some chanting hare krishnas through the streets around Parliament and up into the Company Gardens. “Oh, it’s nice to have the police escorting us for a change,” I overheard a woman say. No, it wasn’t quite the anti-apartheid rallies of her younger days, but it was a start… . (The nude flashmob streaking along Sea Point promenade seemed to be the Capetonian highlight though!)

Then I went Bigfoot on my carbon load and motored out to the winelands to the launch of the new Food & Trees for Africa office on Backsberg estate. (I planted the vine they gave me on my balcony yesterday – not that I’m actually the biggest ‘carbon credit/offset’ fan. Where’s my damn solar-powered car?!) I missed the speeches (which I heard were great), but the snacks were pretty good, especially the cheese from Backsberg’s neighbours Dalewood. Also, as well as their very nice 2008 chenin going for R26 a bottle, Backsberg is selling 250g blueberries for R15 (believe it!) The Trialogue office got fresh blueberry muffins this morning (and maybe they’ll get a bottle of the chenin on Friday afternoon).

Saturday was an awesome day (climate thingies were followed by TWO braais), and I was feeling all warm’n'fuzzy about the world. Then, just to drive the point home, it stormed in Cape Town last night, the kind of thunder storm you get up north in summer, except with gale-force winds. The kind of storm that makes you feel pretty small, and more than a little scared.

Right, no time to be shy, because it will just come across as false modesty: the truth is, people go crazy for my carrot cake. Strictly, it’s not mine, but the flour-dusted work of Hilary Biller, Jenny Kay and Elinor Storkey who wrote the unglamorous but indispensable 101 Fuss-free Bakes (Struik, 2005). But I have tweaked it slightly, making it moister and spicier (and, thereby, even more irresistible). The cream cheese icing is the cherry on top: fluffy, buttery and slightly tart.

The recipe makes two cakes, one which I’ll take to family or the office and the other that Arthur eats half of (no, I’m not joking, it’s that good), before taking it to his company, where it is met with joyous cries of “Cake or death? Cake, please!” (here’s the joke, in case you don’t know it). So, finally, after much (relentlessly persistent) cajoling from friends and colleagues, here is the (moister! spicier!) famous carrot cake recipe. Like all good baking recipes, it’s super simple (the only fiddly bit is the carrot-grating) and never fails. (more…)

Today, New York Times blogger Pete Wells set a challenge to rewrite this recipe as a short series of tweets. Here was my try at it:

TWEET 1: Prep 4 ‘chokes in water + lemon juice. Mix 1.5 lemonsZest, 750ml brdCrumbs, 80ml ParmChs, 80ml chpd parsly, 1tblsp chpd rosemry, #nytrc

TWEET 2: 6clv mncd garlc, 1 chpd carrt, 1.5tblsp capers, s&p. Baking pan: 1slcd onion, ‘choke stems, 4sprgs parsly, 2clv garlc, 1slcd carrt. #nytrc

TWEET 3: Stuff ‘chokes w mix > pan > drzl olive oil. Add bit water, 125ml wine. Cover w foil. Bake @ 400d 4 1.5hrs. #nytrc

Not easy! The queen of this format is cookbook. Follow me on Twitter at michelle_matt.

People often ask me how I got the awesome gig as author of The Whole Food Almanac. Well, when I was getting into freelancing I wanted to get my name out there again with some fresh portfolio work, so I wrote this article on the Neighbourgoods Market for The Argus for free. Jeremy Borraine from Jonathan Ball, who was looking for someone to write a good food guide, saw it and gave me a call. So the free article paid off!

I’ve been getting a lot of requests lately from people wanting ideas for meat-free meals to make at home. They have health concerns, but also financial constraints. Arthur and I only eat meat once or twice a week and we cook every night: our weekly shop (excl. household and cosmetic products and including breakfast and lunch foods, which we make at home) is about R500. And we eat very, very well for that.

I first thought I’d just put together some of my favourite tried-and-tested recipes, but I’ve decided to make it a bit more complicated for myself :-). One of my friends asked me how I manage to cook supper when I know there’s “nothing in the house” and that made me realise the importance of the well-stocked pantry. Now, mine’s not nearly as extravagant as some, but it gets the job done and it could be a good blueprint for yours. So, here we go… (more…)

I took some of my favourite baked bolognaise around to a friend whose ill husband has lost his appetite – and he ate two helpings! She asked me to share the recipe, so I’ll reveal all below the break… . What’s nice about this sauce is that you can just scale up this recipe until it fills your biggest ovenproof container, and freeze the leftovers for quick suppers or gifts for busy friends – it survives the freezer very well. It’s also good on sandwiches for lunch the next day.

Admittedly, I saw this on a Jamie Oliver show about eight years ago and remembered it, but I think I’ve probably tweaked it quite a bit over the years. It’s garlic-free, because Arthur hates garlic, but so packed with tomatoey goodness and rosemary undertones, that you really don’t miss it. If you do, just add a clove or two to the onions.

Baking the sauce allows the tomato flavour to really develop and makes the mince nice and juicy. It’s vastly superior to a stove-top bolognaise, I think.

Baked bolognaise
Serves four

one tbls olive oil
one big onion, finely chopped
half tsp dried chili flakes
one tsp brown sugar
one tsp balsamic vinegar
65g tin of tomato paste
300g beef mince
200g pork mince
small glass red wine
two heaped tbls Ina Paarman sundried tomatoes in oil, chopped
425g tin of whole tomatoes
two smallish sprigs of fresh rosemary
salt and pepper
500g spaghetti
grated Parmesan cheese, to serve

In a pot with ovenproof handles heat up the olive oil and then add the onions and slowly sweat till translucent. (You can also cook this in a normal pot, and transfer it to an ovenproof dish later). Add the chili flakes, brown sugar and balsamic and allow to caramalise.

Add the tomato paste and cook briefly. Then add the mince in a couple of batches, to brown. Once browned, toss in the red wine and allow the alcohol to burn off, then add the chopped sundried tomatoes and tin of whole tomatoes. Stir to combine, breaking up the whole tomatoes, and season with salt and pepper.

Cut a piece of baking paper to cover the top of your ovenproof pot. Tuck a couple of springs of rosemary into the sauce and then cover with the paper, pushing down around the edges of the sauce to seal.

Put the pot into an 180°C oven and bake for an hour. Get your spaghetti boiling 10 minutes before the timer goes. Take your sauce out of the oven and carefully take off its paper lid. It’ll look quite dry on top, with orangey red bubbles of tomato sauce hinting at the juicyness underneath. Lift out the rosemary stalks, give the sauce a good sir and serve on the spaghetti, with grated cheese.

Variations:
Use mixed beef and ostrich mince, available at Pick’n'Pay, and add a few chopped rashers of bacon when frying the onions.
Add a couple of chopped anchovies near the beginning of cooking for extra savouryness.
Add a couple of grated carrots and/or courgettes to bulk up the sauce and add veggie-vites (great for picky kids).
Add chopped mushrooms for extra low fat meatiness.
Add a little bit (100g) of very nutritious chopped liver or liver paste – this doesn’t make the sauce “livery”, but gives it a silky texture after baking.

*Thanks to Catmiz for the Flckr pic.

I loved this timeous article in the New York Times, combining that recession tummy-filler pasta with green sensibilities. Yes, you can cook acceptably edible pasta using at least a third less water than is commonly believed. And you save energy too – NYT’s Harold McGee estimates half a million barrels of oil in the US alone (whoa!) For a fresh (or not so much) twist on recycling, he even suggests reusing pasta water. The starch-muddy water helps thicken sauces and intensifies the pasta’s flavour. Seriously! It’s done in the best restaurants for culinary reasons, why not at home for following 2009’s hottest trend – frugality?

*Thanks to eviltuna7 for the Flickr photo.