Steins and Steakrolls

If there's a more noble cause for which to die than being used for German fastfood I don't know what it is...
If there's a more noble cause for which to die than being used for German fastfood I don't know what it is...

There is food that you can never make at home. It’s that kind of take-away, eat-while-you’re-standing-up-trying-not-to-get-bits-of-bratwurst-on-your-new-jacket type stuff you’ll mostly find at Farmer’s Markets, Music Festivals or imitation German Beerfests (which is where I was). The reason you’ll never be able to make it at home, is because to make a steakroll, some red-faced Austrian dude has been turning a spit rammed up the backside of a cow over a sawn-off 50-gallon drum filled with coals, basting it for the last 5 hours with a secret sauce made from the blood of infidels whispered with a dying breath to his great-great-great-great-grandfather at the height of the Franco-Prussian War while French Cavaliers were attempting to storm the Kastel-Wurmschtammer, then jealously protected and passed on for generations, just so that today he could sell you meat on a bun for R19.95. And you know…as much as wish I had a roasting-spit and a red-faced Austrian handy at all times – it’s just not practical (Austrians take forever in the bathroom). And let me tell you, after a couple of pints of lager (or before or during), the slab of meat that’s going to be yanked off that beast, slapped in a roll, spattered with tomato-sauce and handed to you wrapped in a serviette, is without doubt going to be the best thing you’ve eaten in your life. Well, at least that day. There is no Grand Point to this all, other than maybe eat as much dodgy street-food as you can, because most of it will be amongst the best meals you’ve eaten in your life, and as for the few times where you’ll be struck down with dysentery, consider it a (relatively) small price to pay.

Onions roasted in the drip tray from the spit
Onions roasted in the drip tray from the spit
Trying not to drip it all over myself.
Trying not to drip it all over myself.

The 50/50 Lottery that is Smelling Other People’s Cooking

So, on the quasi-mythical and much sought-after list of Top 20 Ways To Guarantee Girls Will Always Be Attracted To You, having a food blog comes in at number 18, having been closely been beaten out by #17 (Owning a Hot Air Balloon) and #15 (Being Colin Farrell).  This would possibly explain why I was at home last Thursday night watching re-runs of a sitcom that was doing its best to show that being neurotic is okay as long as you wear low-cut tops, instead of out making a sex-tape.

Now I don’t know if it was the whole plot of this particular episode, but somewhere along the line the Surprisingly Intelligent Blonde was making cookies for the Tortured But Suspiciously Clean-Shaven Artist so that he’d be attracted to the smell of baking in her flat, which is when I got distracted by my own feet and stopped watching.

But the idea is a good one. I know this, because the block of flats where I live might well be the previously undiscovered 29th Province of India. Yes, it’s me, a small family of strange Eastern-bloc refugees, and the last 30 families of the Gujarat dynasty living in a four-story Art-deco flat-block in Central Johannesburg. But let me tell you, when those little Indian grannies roll up their sleeves and get their mojo working over the spice-pot, one literally floats along the rolling wave of the aromas that leak out of their kitchens. It’s a staggering experience; you can’t help wanting to just slump up against their front doors and lick them until something starts to taste of Tandoor. This is when living jammed up against a whole lot of other people is an awesome experience, something to be treasure and savoured.

Of course it cuts both ways, because it’s all well and lovely when what’s being made around you is something you don’t mind smelling whether you want to or not. However, a couple of days later when I was coming home from work, I got out of the lift on the fourth floor of my building and was assaulted by possibly one of the worst smells I’ve ever experienced since the time I found out the hard way why you really shouldn’t fix your own toilet. It was almost as though someone had decided to boil pure evil for an hour and then finish it off with at least seven of the ten biblical plagues, except that next door someone was about to call this ‘dinner’. Escaping to into my house didn’t help either, because, like creeping death, cockroaches and dirty underpants, it found every nook and cranny and just slowly soaked its way into my house until I had a headache.

Now there are three ways to combat Wafting Death: a) Leave immediately. b) Leave immediately and c) Leave. Immediately. But call me reckless, because one particular evening when the same next-door neighbours (I’d narrowed it down to the Eastern Block refugees) had fired up the home cooker and were looking forward to a big plate of boiled fellow-asylum-seeker, and perhaps inspired by my Surprisingly Intelligent Sitcom Blonde, I decided to fight fire with fire. And of course – there is no better weapon against other people’s horrible cooking than the best smell on the planet: fresh-baked bread. And of course it’s quick, fairly easy, and you can store excess dough for later.

The Utterly Awesome Secret Pot Technique
The Utterly Awesome Secret Pot Technique

Whatever-you-want-on-it Focaccia


Basic Dough

500g flour
300ml of warmish water
1 sachet dried yeast
2 tablespoons of honey
1 tbsp salt
1 capful of olive oil
extra flour for dusting


Whatever you want – in this instance I used cherry tomatoes cut into quarters, some sliced onion, chopped olives and a healthy sprinkle of dried origanum. But you can really use whatever you like – the secret is not to slather on too much stuff! This isn’t a pizza, it’s more about the crusty fresh-baked bread with some added bonus-bits on top.

What To Do:

Add the honey into the warmish water and mix it up until dissolved. Then add the packet of dried yeast to the water/honey and gently mix that in as well. Set it aside until its started to foam gently and smell all caramelly and delicious.

Sift together the flour and the salt, and then dump it out onto a clean work-counter.

Now this is the bit where you’re going to freak out, because it’s going to get messy, you’re going to think its ruined and that you’ve fucked it all up. But don’t worry, bread is the most forgiving of substances, as long you somehow get it all together, it doesn’t much mind how you get there. So, don’t give up when you’re in the midst of a sloppy mess – it’s going to be okay.

Make a well in the centre of your flour and salt, then pour in the capful of olive oil. Then, slowly – bit by bit, start pouring the water/honey/yeast mix into the well, swirling in the flour as you go. Add some water, mix in the flour until it becomes a paste, then add more water. Keep doing this until all the liquid has been added and then you can start to soak up all the remaining flour. At this point, if it’s too dry, feel free to add more water. Similarly if it’s too wet, add more flour – it’s really okay.

Once you have a nice dough, kneed it until smooth and then set aside on a bread-board in a warm part of your house. Over the course of about half-an-hour or so it should double in size.

Now this is the secret bit of this recipe that’s going to make it truly awesome. Get a heavy, flat-based pot and put it on a stove plate that’s turned up as high as it can go. At the same time, get the grill in your oven on, also as high as it can go: this is what’s going to give you an insanely crispy exterior with a lovely inside.

Cut off a piece of dough about the size of a child’s fist and, on a floured surface, start to roughly kneed it into a disc with your fingers. It doesn’t have to be too neat because you want it to have shape and character.

Focaccia like to huddle together for warmth.
Focaccia like to huddle together for warmth.

Brush the top of your disc with some olive oil, add your topping (again I’m going to say, not too much) and then, carefully take the pot off the heat, turn it over and put the focaccia onto the base. You’ll hear a hiss, and that’s the signal to get it in the oven as quick as possible. You see, the heat from the base of the pot will cook the bottom, while the grill in your oven is going to sizzle the top in no time (usually about two minutes or so), making it crusty and chewy all at the same time. From experience, I recommend you use oven-gloves, I’ve been burnt a lot trying to be a hero.

Make as many as you think you can eat and then wrap the rest of the dough in clingfilm and store it in the fridge. It can keep for about 4 days.

One Pot (Or Pan in this case) Cooking

Coriander Chicken with Spicy Potatoes.

I am possibly the worst washer-up in the world. At the end of a seven-day cycle my kitchen honestly looks like they’re filming Saw XIXI: The Final Slaughter between the sink and what could be my oven if you could see it under the pile of dirty plates. I regularly and willfully ignore vast tottering piles of dishes, pots, cutlery and cups of every shape and description, and pretend that as long as I’ve got new episodes of Gossip Girl to watch – everything should somehow work itself out. Which is how I came to come up with this little gem of a dish the other night, because all I had left to cook with was a pan. Seriously, that was it, mostly because everything else was cordoned off behind hazard tape. Luckily it’s also quick to do, because at the time, I was fairly certain that something unhygienic was going to fall on me, so I wanted to get out of there as quick as possible.

No, I did not individually position each coriander leaf.
No, I did not individually position each coriander leaf.

Ingredients (for 2)

3 or 4 medium-sized potatoes
Half a glass of coconut milk
3 chicken breasts (cut into strips/chucks – whatever you prefer)
1 green Pepper (sliced and seeds removed)
1 good handful of fresh coriander (leaves chopped, stalks removed)
1 4cm piece of ginger (finely chopped)
half a dried chilli (finely chopped)
1 tspn smoked paprika
1 tspn turmeric
1 tspn ground coriander seeds
1 tspn ground black pepper

What to do:

Combine the turmeric, paprika, ground coriander, pepper and chilli and set aside.

Cut the Potatoes into thickish chips, heat some olive oil in a pan and fry them until golden brown and crisp. This is the crucial bit of this whole recipe, don’t use too much oil, you seriously need less than you think, literally just enough so that the chips are sitting in about 2mm of oil.

As the chips are almost at the point where you’d call them “ready”, add the green pepper, chicken strips, ginger and spice mix and stir vigorously. Keep everything moving in the pan so that the potatoes, vegetables and spices all combine. Then add most of the fresh coriander (keep just a bit in reserve), and then start to add the coconut milk, while still stirring.

You don’t want this to sit in the pan for too long otherwise the potatoes will get soggy and you want them to retain their crispiness, so as soon as all the milk has been added to the pan and combined to form a lovely glaze on the meat and vegetables, you should whip it out, get it on a plate, slap the rest of the coriander on it as a finishing touch, and eat.