Smoky red wine risotto
This dish I invented for a friend who doesn’t see the world we do. Sigrun Pashke sees the world by smelling it, hearing it and feeling it. It was more than a year ago that she came for dinner on a rainy night and I wanted to make her something that will stimulate her senses.
Something sensuous. A bit exotic to keep her quick wit guessing. And hugely comforting like a hug, because this friend and I don’t see each other often.
Plus, have I ever told you, I love making risotto.
The recipe revolved around the vividly coloured berbere spice a foodie friend slipped me. She just returned from Turkey’s spice markets and gave me a few precious tablespoons from her little brown paper bag.
It gave me a thrill, but it’s by no means essential to include it. The smoked paprika gives the dish enough of a satisfying depth of smokiness. And in lieu of berbere, a dash of dried chilli flakes will impart a pleasant tickle, if that’s how you roll. Sumac can easily be replaced with a squeeze of lemon juice.
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Photography: Lee Malan.Styling & recipe: Aletta Lintvelt
Red wine risotto
For 4
Prep 10 minutes
Cooking time 30 minutes
GATHER
8 tablespoons butter
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 red onion, finely chopped
1 cup risotto rice
1 teaspoon sumac (or a squeeze of lemon juice)
1 teaspoon berbere (or dried chilli flakes)
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 cups red wine (I used a good merlot)
2 – 3 cups stock, boiling
a few handfuls baby spinach, roughly chopped
6 large brown mushrooms
100ml single cream
2 handfuls Parmesan cheese
Step 1 Place half the butter in a pan over moderate heat. Add the garlic and onion. Stir until soft and translucent. Add the spices.
Step 2 Add the rice. After 5 minutes add the wine. You can turn the heat up slightly to a gentle simmer.
Step 3 When the wine is absorbed by the rice – about 7 minutes – add a cup of stock. Don’t stir too much.
Step 4 Keep adding stock ½ cup at a time until absorbed and simmer the risotto until the rice is still firm but not chalky any more. Stir through the chopped spinach and take of the heat. This should take about 25 minutes.
Step 5 In a clean pan on a very high heat, brown the mushroom in the rest of the butter. They must squeak! About 8 minutes.
Step 6 Pour the mushrooms, browned butter and all over the risotto, drizzle with cream and serve at once. Serve with parmesan cheese and lots of red wine.
Bean there salad
Greenbean and macademia nut salad
Sometimes I’m not very sure if there is a big difference between falling in love. And falling asleep. I think they are. Very much. The same. But waking up from the first is far more painful. Perhaps I’m just not a morning person. But I’m learning.
Verliefhê
onthou jy sterbesaaide
nagte asemophou
voor ons kon weet
drome kom op
en verskiet
voete en harte
raak raak,
ongemerk aan die slaap
om die vuur
voor ons kon weet
dat verliefhê ook so voel
en van die vreemdste seer
as die lewe terugkeer
dit wat jy besit
soet in die gras
met skoenlappers
en liewensheersbesies
op ‘n middag in die gras
terwyl ‘n vliegtuig bo-oor vlieg
en ons lywe lieflê beloftes af
en die ek en die jy klein raak.
is ‘n flitsende lig
hemelliggame
wat die skaduwee bring
die kole maak as
asb en as ons nog en wat as as
die nag bring die dag
ons wriemel in slaapsakke
papies enkel een
raak broos wakker
en vry
(Woodstock, 28 Julie 2011)
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Photography: Lee Malan.Styling & recipe: Aletta Lintvelt
Bean there salad
Lee and I took this picture a long time ago. And I made the salad for the first time even longer ago. I came up with it as part of a Lebanese evening I hosted at my house. It’s a favourite. When the vegans come over I serve the cheese on the side.
Prep 5 mins
Cooking 5 mins
Serves 4 – 6
GATHER
1 packet of thin French beans, washed
1 generous handful macademia nuts, raw
1 tablespoons oliveoil
1 tablespoons sumac (or a squeeze of lemon juice)
2 tablespoons Argave syrup (or honey)
1 roll soft goats cheese or Danish-style feta
1 small handful dried cherries or cranberries
Step 1 In a medium hot pan, dry roast the macademia nuts until they are golden brown. Shake the pan and watch carefully as they burn quickly.
Step 2 Add the oliveoil, sumac and argave syrup to the nuts, stir and remove pan from the heat.
Step 3 Steam the green beans for 3 – 5 minutes. Remove from the heat when they are bright green and snap easily. If you want to serve you salad cold, then immediately plunge in iced water and drain.
Step 4. Place the beans in a salad bowl and dress with cheese, dried cherries and the nuts.
PS A simple dressing of olive oil, lemon juice and zest and grated ginger is lovely to add.
Feelgood grains
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I feel this morning like you do when you have a new lover in your bed. Her name is inspiration. When the alarm went off I rolled over with a smile on my face and whispered to the one next to me, “I’m going to pack lunch for R”. I warmed a rooti out of the freezer and filled it with last night’s vegetable curry. It is her favourite school lunch. What an extraordinary child? I took the recycling bags out and saw orange glimmer like certain bright hope. It echoed from the buildings, mountains and still naked trees. New ideas do that to me. They are essential to my survival.
I put on Takk by Sigur Ros and ideas, dreams and plans collided and sloshed around in my heart and head while I bathed at a time usually reserved for sleeping. Today everything seems: Possible.
There is something about newness that ignites all sorts of desires, possibilities and general good vibes. I wonder if everyone feels like this? For the longest time I used to stave off the pangs for real renewal with things like new clothes, new food, new places, new jobs… I remember myself in new food deli’s – you would swear the pink peppercorns and imported overpriced pasta would actually contribute to my life here on earth and eternal happiness.
All this year it has taken me to come to a place where I could get real about what I want and what it would take for me to get it. A place that is very quiet and very scary at first. I’ve let it go. All of my dreams. They used to fill me with anxiety. I had to sit in the frighting stillness of Not Doing for a really long time. A place that is beyond trust, because in trust there is still assumption and hope … of something changing, getting better, attainment. Beyond that there is just – being. Being connected.
And now a new idea, a new possibility has come down. I used to keep my visions so high, at such great heights, that I was assured of always having them! In their immaculate unrealised state. Hovering up there with angels, and all things unmarred by reality. But this dream is coming down and meeting me halfway. And I’m willing to let it.
“It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting,” says Poelho Coelho. Someone else added to that, that with each small creative act, you set in motion all of the possibilities of your desires coming to you.
PS: You should really recycle by the way – visit this site for recycling in Cape Town, they pick it up.
PS If you would like to get an email notification every time I post (which is about once a week), please subscribe in the top right corner. Your email address will NEVER be shared or published, this is a safe space.
Photography: Lee Malan.Styling & recipe: Aletta Lintvelt
Quinoa & smashed herb salad
Eat something really healthy and really good for you today. Did I mention tasty? This salad has been inspired by the wonderful book Plenty by Yotam Ottolenghi. It is full of texture, popping flavours and comforting tastes. One day I will be happy in a little cafe of my own, inspired by him.
Prep:5 min
Cooking: 20 min
Serves: 6
GATHER
100g Quinoa (about a cup each)
100g Couscous or Bulgar wheat
Tin of lentils, chickpeas or butterbeans, drained and washed (optional)
50g Baby spinach, washed and shredded
50g Raw nuts (pistachio or almonds), dry roasted in a clean pan
1 small onion, thinly sliced
3 spring onions, thinly sliced
dash of ground cumin
salt & black pepper to taste
lime or lemon juice to taste
freshly chopped chili, to taste (about 1 small green one)
Herb dressing
PS: I use a mix of grains such as quinoa & legumes because it is full of protein. But you can also stick to one grain (brown rice for example) and just add your protein of choice such as feta or labneh balls, hard boiled eggs, seared chunks of fish or fried tofu strips to make more of a meal out of it.
Step 1: Prepare the grains individually as per packet instruction but instead of water use good quality vegetable stock. When done but still hot, stir in the spinach so that it can wilt just a bit. Cover.
Step 2: On a medium heat fry the sliced onion in a small teaspoon of olive oil & cumin for about 10 minutes or more until golden and soft.
Step 3. For the dressing: In a food processor or in a pestal & mortar pulse the herbs together.
Step 4: Mix the grains with the tinned beans. Season to taste with lemon juice, salt and black pepper. Top with the spring onions, fried onions, nuts and smashed herb dressing. To serve as a warm dish – cover with tinfoil and leave in a medium hot oven for about 15 min or until serving. Or serve immediately as a salad at room temperature with some roasted baby vegetables.
Beetrooted bliss
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This morning joy found me on the first jasmine breath of the season as I threw open the window before dawn. And then later she visited me again in the eyes of my dog as I serenaded her with Ruby Tuesday. “Don’t ask her why she needs to be so free. She’s gonna tell you it is the only way to be.”
There is an old adage “It’s not what you do, but how you do it” that applies to both life and cooking. It is not about the most exotic or trendy or expensive produce or ingredients. These days I seldom indulge in them. I pay attention to small things. I take time with the how of things. Like this very simple dish that I made last night again.
I find I often crave it.
What always surprises me when I serve it is that someone will always say with wonder: “This beetroot!” And they will mean – this beetroot – not this beetroot dish. They will marvel at the sweetness and earthiness innate in this glorious earth jewel. Don’t you feel sorry for the ones that end up drenched in sour bottles, robbed of their flavour? Here the fragrant creaminess of herb butter and the savoury moreish-ness of melting charred onion acts as a delicious smokescreen for discovering the real star of the show. I often wish restaurants were self-assured enough to serve this kind of dish without apologising for the fact that it is cheap and uncomplicated. Just a vegetable the way nature intended.
It is interesting for me to notice how my cooking has changed as my outlook and expectations of life shifted over the last 9 months. I’m much more content to just let a dish be without too much interference. Without trying to hard with it. To let the person eating it think “wow beetroot is amazing” instead of “wow I had this very interesting/expensive/creative dish”.
It has not always been this way. Despite “it’s not what you do Aletta, but how you do it” being the ultimate often-said-with-exasperation advice given to me by my spiritual teacher of five years… And after that being reiterated by no less than two very expensive life coaches, at least three dozen books read on the subject of finding meaning in life and enlightenment, and in the contented eyes of ordinary people everywhere who exude a joy for living…
I never got it.
Well I surely thought I got it. I, in fact, completely agreed and as an advice-giver-supremo have myself dispensed the sage knowledge to all who looked like they needed to know. Looking at other people I could clearly see how this applied to their life. How they would become happy and fulfilled if they could bring their full attention and joy into each moment of whatever they are doing and how if they could just accept and see themselves as as part of the fabric of life, their search would be over.
The thing is this. I never thought that the advice could apply to me. Not yet anyway. It would apply to me, I reasoned, once I’ve gotten THAT job, once earn that much, once I’m that successful, once I have the recognition from those important people. Then, yes, it will be about “how”. I would be happy then and I would be one with the ebb and flow of the universe. Content to just be. One day, when I arrive where I really should be.
The reason I found it so incomprehensible is that I’ve always attached a great importance to what I did. It never crossed my mind that my contribution to the world in terms of what I accomplish might not be significant.That the “what” would be anything less than spectacular. Ever since I can remember I’ve always believed that I was special. That I have some kind of gift and some kind of destiny to fullfill. My parents can not be blamed for this. They’ve always been “how you do it” people. I judged them instead for their small expectation of themselves and the world.
I’ve been blessed with a great many gifts. And becoming an adult I reveled in discovering them all. Searching first for myself and later for happiness and then meaning in them all. Am I destined to be a famous writer? Or a a magazine editor? Perhaps being in charge of a successful business would suit me more? Or my own restaurant where I would have praise heaped on my head from all corners of the world. And off course the many other “whats” in between: what countries I have visited, what partners I’ve had, what spiritual workshops I’ve attended. I was eager to find out what it will be that will end my search, what it will be that will affirm to me that yes, I have made it. THIS is what I am meant to do. Enduring bliss eluded me, despite the temporary alleviation of my search by the affirmation of many bosses, partners, friends and innocent bystanders.
For a long time in my twenties, traveling was the only sanity I knew. I was single and I was fearless and I would just buy a plane ticket and go. Anywhere. And figure it out as I got there. There was an unbelievable freedom in that. There was no expectation, just the moment to moment of unforeseen situations that needed to be dealt with. The joy of no one asking you for your name or job description. No one cared about the “what” in your life. All they were interested in was the “how” of your experience. How did you get here, how was that place you came from, how are you engaging with me in this moment.
The other day I randomly reread parts of a book that I bought many years ago, impressed me for a while, and was then discarded in search of the next new thing. It is called the Invitation. While reading a passage something crystalised for me about my journey in the ten years that followed. The passage was about the values, views and opinions you hold most dear about yourself. The things that define you on the deepest level, that you are proud of, the way in which you see yourself and how others see you. And then you say: I’m willing to give that up. I’m willing to give up that I see myself as hardworking, talented, creative, spiritual, a good mother, a loyal friend, someone who is happy, someone who is productive, someone who will still accomplish great things, someone special.
You take it out with the trash and you never look at it again. And as I let go of all of those things, I was left with something I have never thought of as enough before. Myself.
Suddenly the “what” in my life has become of a great less importance. Off course there is the practicality of making a living, feeding your child, washing the dishes and paying the bills that one is sometimes only able to endure with an attitude of acceptance if not bliss. But as I have taken the power of the “what” away, it can no longer make me happy. Or unhappy. Certainly I still plan things, dream of things and get passionately involved in things. But they are no longer a life-support for “ME”. What I do is no longer as important. I’m now learning about the “how I do it” part. And I find that more and more there are moments, completely unrelated to what I’m doing, when joy finds me. In an unexpected blood orange in a packed of ordinary navels. Traffic on my way to a shoot that gives me time to listen to a song I love. A friend coming for tea. A bag of crisp small beetroots from the Northern Cape in the fridge.
PS If you would like to get an email notification every time I post (which is about once a week), please subscribe in the top right corner. Your email address will NEVER be shared or published, this is a safe space.
Photography: Lee Malan.Styling & recipe: Aletta Lintvelt
Beetroot with shallots and herb butter
For vegan friends I swop the anchovies for black olives which gives it just the salty kick it needs. I really love the olive version too. On occasion when there is already too much onion in other dishes on the table, I leave out the shallots and just scatter the beetroot with some goldenfried breadcrumbs minutes before serving instead.
Serves 6 as a side
Prep 10 min
Cook 15 min
GATHER
8 or so small beetroots
4 shallots or red onions, peeled or breadcrumbs
6 tbspn butter or vegan alternative
Handful of soft fresh herbs such as basil, coriander, tarragon, parsley, roughly chopped
5 anchovies or 10 black olives, smashed
Step 1. Boil the beetroot skin on till tender but firm. Important. Peel and quarter.
Step 2. Leave the end of the shallots intact and quarter. Add a little olive oil to a pan and saute until the shallot is soft and starts to caramelise. Take your time here.
Step 3. Combine a small quantity of butter with the herbs and olives or anchovies to make a rough and chunky pate.
Step. 4. Top the piping hot beetroot with the shallots and a spoon or two of the butter and serve at once. Alternatively stick in the oven to warm through as you are about to sit down, it will only intensify the flavours. Serve the rest of the herb butter on the side.
PS the leftover herb butter keeps well, you can even freeze it and is absolutely delicious on toast topped with scrambled egg the next day.
A sorta mushroom recipe
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In the introduction to one of his books, Appetite, Nigel Slater writes about the unbridled joy of cooking without a recipe. The word recipe after all comes from the word “receipt”. It recalls a time when the only “recipes” housekeepers had was the shopping list they had to produce to account for their spending. One of the reasons I love his writing so much is the way he leaves parts of the recipe fairly open. A glug of oil, a fistful of herbs, lemon juice to taste. Recipe books like his have helped me tremendously because they have taught me preparation principals and flavour combinations that have set my own cooking free.
Cooking, eating, memories, discoveries. It is all so instinctive and personal. I know that when I cook I’m in my happy zone and ideas just flow.
I love that feeling so much that I wish it was possible to bring it to everything I do. And to be sure, there have been a great many moments in my life when I have been aware of and part of the creative pulse of life. Blissfully aware. Just letting it flow and go.
Then there are the other times, of which I’m painfully aware, when I’ve not felt myself plugged into the great reservoir of never-ending possibilities. When my ideas, actions, plans became very small. When I hesitated on the shore of life, too scared of some imagined outcome to dive in. Held back by the paralysing poison of procrastination. Daunted by my own expectation so that I just kept wriggling my toes in the sand; always waiting for that right moment.
I’ve stopped punishing myself about this.
Isn’t is wonderful that a receipt is what you get after spending? That a recipe is what you write after a pleasurable spending experience? I love that idea.
Funny that our life-coach-shrink-guru society has been looking for a recipe for successful living for some time now. We try to find it, formulate it, read books about it and meditate on it. Seeking a method of some guaranteed outcome.
I reckon life, like cooking, is better attempted free-wheeling, on instinct, a combination of adventure and memory. Tempting as it is sometimes is to forgo your own power to create and destroy to tread a well worn path, there is, as Nigel says, unbridled joy in celebrating your own wons.
PS If you would like to get an email notification every time I post (which is about once a week), please subscribe in the top right corner. Your email address will NEVER be shared or published, this is a safe space.
Photography: Lee Malan.Styling & recipe: Aletta Lintvelt
Mushrooms & cream
This dish has become something of a legend in our house since I first made it for L’s all vegetarian birthday dinner. I have the fabulous Abigail Donnelly, food editor of TASTE magazine to thank for the inspiration of this recipe. “Brown some mushrooms and pour cream over them,” she said. It then developed further when I used soya instead of salt. So now you need to experiment and make it your own. Let me know where it lead you.
I like using a combination of large brown mushroom “steaks” with portabella, porcini and shitake for this dish, but you can use any other combination you like. You do need cream for the sauce, but you can leave out the marscapone if you want it to be less rich. If you make this as a main course then you need two large mushroom “steaks” per person. Magnificent with good warm bread. Works well with cheesy mash or on top of fresh pasta, polenta or a plain risotto with parmesan. Or with grilled steak if you are that way inclined.
Serves 4 as a main, or 6 combined with other dishes
Prep about 30 to 40 min
GATHER 750g to 1 kg mushrooms 125 ml to 250 ml Single / Pouring Cream 60 to 125 ml Marscapone or Creme Freche (optional) 2 – 4 smashed & chopped garlic cloves Lots of freshly ground Black pepper 60 to 125 ml Soy Sauce 30 to 80 ml Balsamic vinegar Butter or olive oil A few sprigs of thyme Oven on 180C
Step 1 Heat a glug of olive oil in a pan, grind at least a teaspoon of fresh black pepper into the warm oil and add the garlic. As soon as it starts to sizzle pour it into the baking dish and add the sprigs of thyme, cream and marscapone.
Step 2 Turn up the heat and add a little butter and a little oil to the pan. When it is very hot, brown the mushroom steaks one by one and transfer to the baking dish. You need to make sure that you are just quickly browning the mushrooms on a high heat and not steaming or cooking their juices out. A griddle pan works best. Add the smaller mushrooms to the pan in batches and when browned also transfer to the baking dish. Work quickly so that they dont overcook. You may need to add some more butter and/or oil to the pan as you do this. Let your conscious be your guide.
Step 3 This is the point where you need to trust your own taste buds. Using the quantity guidelines above, add the soy sauce and balsamic vinegar. I would suggest that you first add half and then after a while taste and add more if you like where it is going. I find that the soy sauce and balsamic vinegar does beautiful things to the sauce after a while in the oven.
Step 4. Bake for about 20 – 30 minutes. When the sauce starts reducing and turns a lovely brown colour it is ready. Simply divine to mop the juices up with bread. Eat the leftovers with this tortilla.
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