Courgette boats and baby gems

Courgette boats and baby gems

VAMPIRES slunk into dark corners on sight of the caramelly whole roasted garlic as I took them from the cinders and unfurled their shiny foil blankets. Hard to imagine that I had lived for 20 years before even tasting the pungent, plump cloves. Now I eat them whole, though not quite raw, and movies like Twilight and Nosferatu the Vampire no longer frighten me.

 

I always think of garlic when I see our friend John-John Caviggia, he of the great, unwieldy capes and frocks and caftans, draped with his mother’s and grandmother’s jewellery and garnished with a swirl of scarf. He is our own private local legend with ever-present cane and tilted glass.

The garlic thing has more to do with Leo Caviggia, John’s late dad. He was a wiry little Italian who adored garlic and ate it raw. We, like John-John, put garlic in almost everything except chocolate puds, so if you don’t eat garlic, you’ve come to the wrong column.

The garlic parcels were part of an odd little snack braai we had in an imaginative (I hope) attempt to braai while appeasing our vegetarian friends yet also taking advantage of a lovely spring day.

Well, OK, it wasn’t really a lovely spring day, but we had been hoping it would be, so I had planned accordingly. And the 80-knot wind had died down a bit by the time the food was ready, and we’ll be going round to our neighbours to fetch the umbrella back from their garden in a day or two.

I had doused the garlic in olive oil, lemon syrup and black pepper, wrapped them in foil and flung them in the coals. John-John and I agreed they were lovely. The others, who had retreated to the other side of the room in a huddle like wittering lost souls who’d seen a cross, didn’t try them,. Next time I’ll put out slices of toasted ciabatta to spread the garlic on. That should entice even a shrinking vampire from its rank coffin.

But it was probably because they had stuffed themselves on the smoked snoek pate made with shredded smoked snoek, finely chopped spring onions, smooth cream cheese, mascarpone, finely chopped garlic and fresh ginger, and black pepper. The success of this pate was in the addition of mascarpone, which made it luxuriously creamy and yummy.

But the piece de resistance, everybody agreed, was my two little inventions of the night, courgette boats and stuffed baby gems.

The courgettes are halved lengthwise, then you take a teaspoon and carefully scrape out the flesh from the top end towards you. Blanch the halves in boiling water for one minute or less (don’t overdo it) and refresh under cold water. Drain and pat dry. Steam the flesh, and set it aside to go with the stuffing for the baby gems. In the courgette boats, make a layer of slivers of sweet preserved fig, and on top of that slivers of Camembert or Brie. Sprinkle with black pepper. Shortly before you’re ready to serve them, place them on a wire rack under the grill for a few minutes until the cheese turns lightly golden.

The gems were better still: Halve the baby squash and scoop out the flesh, not too close to the skin or they’ll lose their shape and consistency. Blanch them for two minutes or less in boiling water (they’re harder than courgettes), refresh under cold running water, drain and pat dry.

Steam the squash flesh with the courgette flesh, drain, then mix with crumbled feta, chopped spring onion, crushed garlic and parmesan. (You could add a finely chopped red chilli). Scoop into the gem halves, piling them high, sprinkle with grated parmesan and place under the grill for a few minutes. Serve them, and the courgette boats, immediately. Lovely nibble to hand around while everyone’s waiting for the chops and wors. If you were having that sort of braai. Which we weren’t.

Out in the wind, Bob and I braaied a whole pork fillet marinated in white wine and Dijon mustard over hot coals in a bid to get it cooked right through (it’s pork) yet perfectly tender. This was reasonably successful though not quite as tender as I’d hoped for. I think the wind had a cooling effect. Buy a couple of those vaccuum-packed sixpacks of garlic braai griddles at your local supermarket. They’re lovely – plonk them on the braai grid and they quickly turn golden and superbly crunchy outside with soft garlicky centres. Turn and crisp the other side until golden, cut in half, and place a sliver of pork fillet on each, topped with a little dollop of basil pesto.

Vampires and other bloody-thirsty creatures had been vanquished, vegetarians sated, and Bob and I went off into the dark night in search of light and succour. Bloody, meaty succour.

First published in The Good Weekend, Weekend Argus, Cape Town, October 2009