The Tribal Tomato

Slow no go

For many years, I have been privvy to hushed discussions from women friends about their love affair with their slow cooker. It has seduced everyone from 'thrifters' (turning cheap cupts of meat into deliciously soft morsels), the busy mother/worker who can just throw everything in and switch it on before she heads off to the work, and the gourmand, who appreciates a slow cooked meal for it's gorgeous flavours and textures. Maybe men also fall in love with their slow cookers, but I've never heard them talk about it.

I love cooking things very slowly, especially when it's wet and cold outside - slow cooked Greek-style lamb and lemon potatoes, hearty soups, subtle stocks. I often only get the time to indulge during weekends, so the thought of actually turning the slow cooker on and leaving it to do its thing during the week was most appealing.

But did I need another appliance I hear you ask? A blender, mixer, toaster, sandwich maker, pie maker and electric grill are all packed into our kitchen cupboards willy nilly. Thankfully, a friend offered to lend me one so I could see what all the fuss was about. Here it is, in all its buxom glory...

 

Well, I tried to love this cooker, I really did. I gave it three chances - I experimented with two recipes by Sally Wise, the guru of slow cooking - Irish Stew, and Lemon Chicken, as well as a recipe I found on the internet using chicken breasts and vegetables. What went wrong? I couldn't open the lid and stir. Have a bit of a taste. Add a wee bit of this, a tad of that.

I wanted to interact with my slow food. Peeking, stirring, adding - it all let out steam. And that was that. I couldn't do it any more.

Maybe I could have given you another chance, slow cooker. Maybe I was too impatient. But take heart - you are going back home, where I know you are loved and adored.

Let them eat cake

In the absence of bread, 'let them eat cake' was reputedly uttered to the starving masses by Marie-Antoinette. Whilst there is no evidence that she actually spoke these words, or whether the tone was ironic, as with most myths, the story is more compelling than the truth.

Whilst I prefer to eat crusty bread over cake any day, there is one exception - an exquisitely moist orange 'halva' cake that has been a staple in my somewhat limited sweets repertoire for over a decade now.

I remember first eating it at a friend's place after dinner - it was love at first bite. Duly, my friend hand-wrote the recipe for me. Since I have shared it with many - at dinner parties, at school cake stalls, at afternoon teas. The handwritten recipe has since disintegrated, and so I typed it up, and pass it around whenever I'm asked.  Following another request recently, I decided that a blog waxing lyrical about this cake, whilst somewhat indulgent, was definately called for.

Only just the other night it took it to a group, where we devoured it over a bit of wistful armchair travel - most appropriate given its exotic Eastern-inspired roots. The next day I polished it off with a neighbour as our kids disappeared up a large tree in our back yard. We quickly scoffed the last juicy morsels before we could be coerced outisde to respond to their calls for help: 'How do we get down?!'

It has all the elements of the perfect cake by my reckoning - moist, not too sweet, and scented with the gorgeous smell of oranges, with slightly bitter overtones from the peel. Recently I made it with my father-in-law's homegrown oranges, and was astounded at the difference in flavour, a powerful citrus punch cutting across the sweet syrup.

 

The beauty of it is that by substituting polenta for semolina, it becomes gluten free. Adding to the convenience factor, it's made with ingredients I usually have in my pantry, especially since I use olive oil instead of butter. And it doesn't take too long to make - what more could you ask of a cake?

One more thing - if you want to go the next level, you can add Grand Marnier and smother it in clotted cream. Only then will you fully realise why Marie-Antoinette implored the masses to eat cake.

Download Orange Halva Cake