Happy Roast Poussin Salad

I've been trying to make yummy chicken salad all season. Thighs and breasts have been grilled and fried, some marinaded and some sauced up at the last. Different leaves tossed in different dressings with different herbs, spices and salad things. I've never got it smack- perfect. 

Until today, I think. Because simplicity is key. And I think that maybe a chicken is happier when its whole than when its been hacked apart. What is it that they always say on free- range and organic advertising? A happy chicken is a tasty chicken. 

Roast Poussin salad

A very lovely lunch for two- Double up and use a grown- up poussin if you like

• 1 poussin ( baby chicky) Free range now for sale at Fruit and Veg City at reasonable prices
• 15ml olive oil, or erm.. truffle oil. (I'll explain later) 

Razorlight Lamb

I have always loved singing. This despite the fact that my reports from pre-school read something like: ‘Carina is a robust and enthusiastic singer. However she is seldom in tune.’

Later, in boarding school, I was mortified when the singing teacher pointed me out in front of the whole class, and in her terrible accent said: “Carreeena Truyts. See me ofter class- you con’t sing.’

Just like that. She smashed a ten-year old girl’s ego to bits.

Pistachio and Dark Chocolate Ice- cream

I'm obsessed with the new Krupps Ice- cream maker. Ooh. There is no end to the options. Today I adapted a Sharon Glass recipe for pistachio ice- cream. The result was something truly yum, if you like ice-cream with loads of crunch and pow-wow. Cool thing is, I made half in the ice- cream machine and the remainder by the hand- whisking method. Both worked! Ha! Yes. Anyone can make ice- cream.

As you can see, my hand slipped a little with the forest green food colouring. Which left things with a little lumo- blueish tint. Ah well. All's well that tastes delicious.

Pistachio and Dark Chocolate Ice- cream.

Kiss- me Kabeljou

Prologue: After posting this here post, I randomly decided to email Koos Kombuis himself. He has just replied : "Hahaha! What a luvly blog!! Ja, ek het onlangs weer daai song begin sing, het n rukkie daarvan vergeet. En "vry" is 'n quite innocent euphemism for "kissing" or "making out" (probably going not all the way)."

So there we have it, straight form the horse's mouth. You can read more Koos Kombuis, (In English, don't fear) on his Thoughtleader Blog

So, you know how, before Mp3's and I pods, we all had mixed tapes. Well anyway, I did. I used to wait by the radio for my favourite song to come on and press record just in time, cursing Barney Simon if he talked over the intro. After a few years we progressed to mixed Cd-s.  I still have a few lurking around, with labels like 'Party jams- love you Careen' and 'Summer 2004 Xxx'.

Well, Somewhere along the line I had a CD with a certain Afrikaans song, which I think was sung by rock legend Koos Kombuis, although I can't find it on the net anywhere.

It goes...

"Kabeljou, kabel-my, kabel wil jy met my vry? Se vir my...."

Which is so catchy it's annoying. It plays on the fish name, kabel-jou, which means: "Kabel-you. Kabel- me? Kabel- do you want to kiss me? Tell me..."

 Except I'm never quite sure what the Afrikaans word 'vry' means. Is it just an innocent kiss? Or a bit more of a sexual adventure? I've always imagined a 'vry' as a kind of groping, body-to-body sort of  venture that could turn into anything. Please enlighten me, those with know-how. Someone post the answer on Urban Dictionary. We won't judge you, promise.

Point is, I naturally get that song in my head when I cook kabeljou. I'd love to hear it again. I reckon it must be sung by Koos Kombuis. He's the only artist I know who would likely write a love-song with a hint of fish.

Pan- fried Kabeljou with braised Cucumber, green Grapes, Basil cream, and Olive, Caper and Lemon mashed Potato.
Adapted from The Collection by Liz McGrath

Butter-nut me better

I'm not very gracious when I'm ill. In fact, I'm a grouch. So, before I fill this post with self- pity, let me share with you this delicious recipe that helped me feel a whole lot better. It's comfort just looking at it.

Lime-y Butternut Soup with Ginger and Coconut

Grappies en Grapes

A note to English readers: This post is about two days I spent at a grape- farm in the Hexriver with my brother and friends. I intended to translate pieces so that you could understand. And then. Google Chrome offered to translate the page into English for the reader. I strongly recommend that you allow this option and then read and roll with laughter. Suffice to say that Google Chrome is not strictly bilingual. Anyway, the pictures say it all. 

Dis vyf uur namiddag en ek skarrel om op die pad te kom. Ek het ʼn kans gekry om van Hermanus af te ontsnap vir twee dae en ek vat koers na De Doorns in die Hex Rivier. Dit is die plek waar dit lyk asof reuse lank terug die prag- berge skeef geklap het.

Chichifregi, chiboust and a Queenly Quiche

Ah. I’m so in love with my Larousse Gastrominique. It’s full of stuff no one cooks anymore but oh! I can never look one thing up without flipping through a few pages in interest. My version is from 1988, the year I was born in (what a great gift, thanks Dad). It is filled with terrible photographs of drab food that often involve a lot of aspic, and other garish things like cock’s combs used for garnish, and canned pineapple.

Well hey, I reckon. It’s not their fault that cucumber garnish was in and photoshop hadn’t been invented yet.

I was just wondering what to do with the whole half- smoked turkey that I never used for Christmas- hmmm. Maybe I should just stuff it with truffles and wrap it in puff pastry? Titan, old- school chef August Escoffier (who prefaced the origianl Larousse) would probably dig it. In fact, he would suggest another block of butter and litre of cream.

Today I was looking up the word chiboust. As it turns out, the person Chiboust was a 19^th century pastry chef who invented the Saint-Honoré cake, in honour of the patron saint of pastry cooks and bakers.

The chiboust page in my Larousse also contains entries for Chicken where the explanation reads: “A domestic fowl reared (raised) for both its meat and eggs”. I searched the same term on Wikipedia and found a similar explanation. Thus, the Larousse takes itself very seriously as a dictionary, even kindly giving us a synonym for the word rearing. Sweet.

It makes sense- what did all those people who had never seen a chicken before do in 1988? When google was still a twinkle in the eyes of Larry Page and Sergey Brin? The Larousse was a history book, source book, and encyclopedia all in one.

The Chiboust page also contains an entry for chichifregi, “a type of fritter from the region of Marseille and Aix-en-Provence.”

I wiki’d it: and found zilch. Ka-Pow. Furthermore, Google had nothing to offer but a few dodgy french sites. (Sounds of a mechanized rifle going off… bang.)

That’s one for the Larousse.  

Granadilla Chiboust