Food Interrupted Chapter 3: Persuasion Pie

14 May 2010, Posted by Cape Town Girl in BFFs, CTG, cape town, food interrupted, lifestyle, 1 Comments

Hello kittens, today I’d like to talk about excuse goodwill food. It’s a very important part of any manipulative experienced cook’s repertoire and is very good for getting exactly what you want giving back to the over-privileged community. I always find my icy frozen heart aching for those who live in households where drinking cooking hearty meals is not a priority. I think of them, standing in the rain for no real reason, shivering in their last season Paul Smith coats, pale, rather chic faces upturned to Lion’s Head as if pleading to the kind and generous souls of Upper Tamboerskloof to open their double volume imported doors and let these poor emaciated hipsters into the warm glow of butchery meat and Café Culture. Sigh. That’s the kind of woman I am, puppies. Truly evil deeply good.

So darlings, a weekend ago I was floating along Kloof street dressed in a very NOW maxi and ankles, swinging a rather sweet little basket full of herbs and newly laid eggs, whistling the theme to the Lion King when I kicked tripped over a bedraggled designer, swaddled only in late nineties Rosenworth and vintage Escada to keep out the cold.

‘Darling! What the fuck are you doing lying in the road in cream spats?’ I politely asked.

It turned out his no-carb-no-sugar-no-veg-no-fruit-no-protein diet had eventually led to his untimely death. Being very well dressed however, he was allowed a second life and so found himself where all stylish people do after dying violently – Vida. I thought I could use some of his contacts wisdom. I also needed some good red wine, some well matured cheese, a new coat, a couple of chairs for outside and my back clicked into alignment, so I thought I’d have a dinner party for some of my suppliers friends.

And thus my darlings, I threw together the ultimate Tikka Chicken I Have My Eye on Your New Trench Coat Pie. There must be something you want from someone darlings? Apart from viewing their happiness of course. That cute little clutch? Your car serviced? YOU serviced? Do it darlings. Make it, bake it, and all the while, fake it. People will do anything for it, it’s that good. I remember once making it in Bolivia and being held aloft the villagers’ heads on a litter made from the hair of one thousand cherubim for weeks thereafter. This time round I only got a bloody massage, a red umbrella and my washing machine door fixed. But that’s bloody South Africa for you isn’t it darlings? No bloody celestial treatment here darlings, NO! Just some pitter potter flimsy flimsy wish washy domestic fuckwittage darlings. It’s depressing but then so was what happened to Britney.

Persuasion Tikka Chicken Pie

What must I scrounge for?

Lots of things go into this pie darlings, just not ALL the wine.

A small bag of carrots
A big onion
Punnet of mushrooms (not the naughty ones darlings)
A couple of baby marrows (if you get the big dildo ones you can use one not two…in the pie darlings! Use it in the pie! Really, your minds.)
Several large potatoes
A biggish pack of drumsticks and thighs (just chop the latter off a couple of passing joggers…jokes!)
A bottle of red wine (you’ll use about half of this for the stew)
Another bottle of red wine (you’ll use all of this for drinking)
Nomu’s Chicken Fond (about 2 cups or so)
*A note here darlings, if you were going to meet the Pope, or Mandela, or that man that does the carpentry stuff on Top Billing without a shirt on, would you just fling on a scratchy bag made from the underbelly of sharks? Or a bloody all-in-one you made from straw glued together with rabbit droppings? No? No? Then please darlings don’t use that disgusting chicken stock that comes in a little bitty blocky block block for your Persuasion Pie. Alright? Only Nomu will do. And that’s a rhyme you can keep.
Whole cloves of garlic
Two rolls of puff pastry
Two cans of potato and leek soup
Tabasco sauce
Paprika
Black pepper
An egg
Now what?

Piranha?

First, pour yourself a glass of something so strong it could pick itself out of the tumbler and walk across the kitchen, thrusting its hips and giving shout-outs to your friends in London. Now. Wash your chicken pieces, cover them in flour and dump them in a VERY BIG pot with chopped onion and mushrooms and olive oil. Fry till chicken a little browned and veg soft. Toss in washed and chopped potatoes, carrots and courgettes. Turn heat down now (from about 7 to about 5) toss in your diluted Nomu fond and the red wine. Chuck in a clove or two of garlic and bugger off to smoke something and talk about your needs. Keep checking on your stew, but it should take about an hour and a half. You’ll know it’s ready when the chicken actually falls off the bone without encouragement.

This is my friend Beyerskloof. And something to do with the tikka sauce in the front.

In the meantime, in a separate pot mix a healthy dose of Tabasco sauce with the potato and leek soup and generously add the paprika and black pepper. This is the tikka sauce. The colour of the soup should change subtly to a light sort of inflamed ruddy colour. Sort of like that of the nose of that man who sells you import gin on every second Thursday of the month in the parking lot. Put your oven to 180 and lay out the puff pastry on the bottom of a big roasting pan. Save the other half for the top.

Remember to leave some pastry over for profanity!

Now it’s time to do Bone Retrieval. It’s a fairly grisly task, but darlings mark my words when I say, you cannot make Persuasion Pie with those no-flavour chicken breast things. Just like you wouldn’t drink Papillon, ever, you wouldn’t use breasts in this pie, ever. With me? Take a pasta spoon and start trawling through the stew, collecting bones and dumping them on a plate. I quite like to pretend that I’m Dr Reid from Criminal Minds’ sexy assistant and we’re doing a very important forensic procedure with a lot of innuendo and tension peppering our very serious conversation. You’ll also be amazed at how clean the bones come out, like they’ve been seen to by a piranha swimming round under the carrots. Once you’re sure you’ve got all bones out, pour into the roasting pan, cover with tikka sauce and cover sauce with pastry. Brush this final layer with a beaten egg and just before you gooi it into the oven to brown, you get to do the best part.

You’ll find you have a few pieces of pastry left over, and with these, you shall ceremoniously create a word for your pie. You can do anything darlings. It’s just too much fun. And by this stage of events, you’ve had at least 6 glasses of Café Culture and your imagination is working over time.

I’d suggest something inspired like:
Pie
Or, if you want to be a little more obvious about what it is you desire then what about:
Your Trench
Or if, like me, at this stage it looks like you wont be having any joy in getting what it is you want after all, you might like to try:
Poes.
Frances xx