When the weather is bakingly hot, it's hard to go past a simple salad with barbecued meat.
It’s the beginning of the week and lunchtime in Auckland; I’m in stifling heat in an airless kitchen, cooking four courses of food matched to seven pinot noirs, and I am sweating in places I didn’t know I could sweat from. I’m not sure the 12-hour slow-cooked lamb shoulder was such a great idea, and I’m wishing I’d decided to barbecue something, instead.
Lamb marinated in yoghurt and fresh herbs would have been fine. Maybe a cooling salad of summer greens should have made its way onto the menu – although with even the guests from Sydney wilting, I’m not sure how fresh, tender watercress would have fared. I could have dressed up the leaves with a slice or two of barbecued porterhouse steak, cooked rare and spiced up with a touch of sweet chilli sauce. It would have worked with the pinot and still provided a point of interest.
Part-way through the morning my cellphone rings; it’s a radio station wanting my opinion on the gas flushing of packaged meat. I feel I may have waded into a debate I know little about.
End of the week, and I’m in Christchurch. It’s cold and drizzling and the slightly shambolic city seems sombre, a mood that suits the occasion, for I’m cooking the first course of a fund-raising dinner for the Pike River Miners’ Relief Fund Trust. I have been asked to design an entrée around dead miner Ben Rockhouse’s favourite dish of prawns, mango and chilli.
Like many New Zealanders, I watched news of the disaster feeling incapacitated by terrible sadness, and it was difficult not to feel humbled by the request. On my return home, I looked for comfort in food, as I often do. It always restores me and lifts my spirits. Especially dishes that are sound, safe and understated – much like my favourite pair of socks.
The gas flushing of meat seems incongruous in the scheme of things. I even shy away from those puffed packets of lettuce leaves in the supermarket – but the watercress this week looked so good, so lusciously green, I just had to try it. As soon as I opened the bag I was met with disappointment, for the leaves just fell out and the stems became limp. I was hoping the leaves would make a crunchy, peppery base for a salad, tossed with a Vietnamese-style dressing. I have vowed to buy only the fat bunches of bottle-green cress from my farmer’s market from now on.
It’s all going on here – sweet, sour, salty and hot. Such bold flavours. With each one fighting for attention, it’s best to leave the dressing to one side for a while and let all that assertiveness relax.
Gently Spiced Beef Salad
2 tbsp cooking oil
4 porterhouse steaks
2 small red chillies
2 garlic cloves
juice of 1 lime
a pinch of sugar
3 tbsp fish sauce
3 tbsp sweet chilli sauce
Salad
a large handful of coriander leaves
a large handful of mint leaves
½ telegraph cucumber
2 carrots
1 bunch of watercress
16 cherry tomatoes
100g peanuts, roasted
Heat the barbecue grill or ridged pan. Oil the steaks, then set aside. Cut the chillies in half and seed. Finely slice the flesh and place in a bowl with the crushed garlic, lime juice, sugar, fish sauce and chilli sauce. Set aside for 30 minutes to let the ingredients get to know each other and settle down.
Roughly chop the coriander and mint, bruising it more than cutting it, and place in a bowl. Slice the cucumber and carrot into long, matchstick-sized lengths and add to the chopped herbs. Wash the watercress, pinch the leaves and branches from the stems. Halve the tomatoes and add with the watercress to the salad.
Place the steaks on the grill and cook until pleasantly singed on the outside and medium rare on the inside – about 6 minutes each side. Remove to a warm place to rest for 10 minutes. Slice into 2cm-thick strips and add to the salad bowl. Pour the dressing over, add the peanuts and toss gently. Serve while the steak is still warm. It’s okay if the leaves wilt a little.
Serves 4.
Some years ago, my Cypriot neighbours showed me this dish, and it has become a firm favourite. They tightly pack marinated lamb chops onto metre-long skewers, place them over the hot coals of a barbecue and, using a car battery for power, slowly rotate the skewers with an old Toyota Corolla windscreen-wiper motor and bicycle chains … The system is certainly unique, and the flavour is out of this world.
Barbecued Lamb Chops with Yoghurt and Mint
200ml plain greek yoghurt
4 garlic cloves
1 cup of mint leaves
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground cumin
salt and pepper to taste
800g thick forequarter lamb chops
Heat the barbecue or grill until very hot. Combine everything except the chops in a blender until smooth. Place the chops in a deep dish and pour over the marinade. Refrigerate for 30 minutes. Grill for about 4 minutes on each side or until the edges are slightly charred but the meat is still pink in the middle. Serve from a large platter.
Serves 4.
These ribs are redolent of a good Chinese restaurant, something that is oddly comforting in itself. It’s the honey that makes them luxuriously sticky. Easy to make, they should be served with a bowl of steamed rice, plenty of paper napkins and a packet of toothpicks.
Ridiculously Sticky Pork Ribs with Chinese Flavours
2kg pork ribs
120g honey
3 tbsp oyster sauce
1 orange
4 garlic cloves
1 red chilli
4 whole star anise
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Wash the ribs and place in a deep roasting dish. Put the honey, oyster sauce, orange juice and zest into a deep bowl. Chop the garlic and mix in. Seed the chilli, then chop the flesh and add to the marinade with the star anise, a pinch of salt and a good couple of grinds of pepper. Toss the ribs in the marinade and refrigerate for at least an hour, but preferably overnight.
Preheat the oven to 180°C. Roast the ribs in the marinade for 90 minutes, turning occasionally, making sure the honey doesn’t caramelise and burn. When the meat is tender and the ribs are glossy, remove them from the oven. Transfer to a large plate and spoon any remaining sauce over the top.
Enough for 4.