I have returned. Perhaps I was missed. Probably not. Best
not to inquire, I suspect. Sorry for the pun in the title. It's not really relevant, but it was quite literally the only semi-clever thing I could think of in connection with the word "kofta."
For some reason, I’ve not been culinarily inspired of late, so
there hasn’t been much in the way of novel, unusual, or even particularly
interesting cooking in my household lately. So while I’ve been absent, it’s not
as if I’ve been cooking faisan truffée au
sous vide without telling you.
However, I read some of Ottolenghi’s food columns in The Guardian,
and while his recipes seemed a tad on the exotic side for my lazy American
ass—“Where the hell am I supposed to find pomegranate molasses?”**—the
columns sounded sensible enough. Plus Ottolenghi comes across as a likeable sort
in interviews, so I decided to check out his books again. This time I tackled Jerusalem, his most recent work.
Ottolenghi is famous for his innovative work with
vegetables. But since I am cantakerous, I decided to do a test run on a
meatball recipe: Kofta b’siniyah. They looked quite appetizing in the photo,
and the ingredient list wasn’t terribly intimidating. Plus I already had a fair
number of the ingredients in house, including some pine nuts in the freezer
that I’ve been meaning to use. Basically, it’s meatballs made with beef and
lamb, served with a tahini-and-lemon sauce.
I began by toasting the pine nuts in a dry pan over medium
heat, so that they were browned (spottily, I confess) and fragrant. I did this
first so that they would have time to cool off a bit while I mixed the rest of
the ingredients. Turns out I
The main ingredients are ground beef and lamb, about a pound
of each. Should you be the sort of person who is averse to lamb, I suspect that
you could use beef only (or just lamb, for that matter). Given the amount of
spices used here, I don’t know that you would notice that much difference.
You need to chop an onion, two cloves of garlic, and a
deseeded red chili. I was feeling lazy, so I pressed the food processor into
service.
I enjoy knife work as much as the next cook, but this was a weeknight, so I just blitzed the hell out of it.
You also need some spices. Specifically, Ottolenghi calls
for a teaspoon and a half each of salt, pepper, cinnamon, and allspice and ¾ teaspoon
of freshly grated nutmeg. That seemed like a hell of a lot of nutmeg to me, but
I sallied forth and grated about half of a whole nutmeg in there.
Then you mix the whole lot together with a fistful of chopped parsley, preferably using your
impeccably clean hands (to quote JC).
You then form them into torpedo shapes.
You can call them lozenge shapes if you want to be less militaristic about it. Wet hands make the shaping somewhat easier. Ottolenghi recommends that you chill them until you’re ready to cook them, up
to a day ahead.
While the kofta chilled, I made the sauce, which is just
a matter of whisking the tahini, lemon juice, garlic, water and salt together
until smooth. Easy-peasy.
When you’re ready to eat, preheat your oven to 425F/220C. Heat
some oil (O says sunflower oil; I said olive oil) in a frying pan and brown the kofta
on all sides. Then I put them in the oven for 5 or 6 minutes, until they were
cooked through.
This is where Yotam (if I may) and I parted company, at
least briefly, because his instructions become a little confusing to me. I
suspect an editing problem, because the recipe seems to go back and forth
between having the kofta in the frying pan and having them on a baking sheet,
but he also wants the sauce warmed in the oven with the kofta (on a baking
sheet?), which struck me as problematic. So I served my sauce at room temp, as
shown here. My garnishes were also lacking, in that (1) I didn’t have any
more pine nuts to use and (2) I forgot to sprinkle with paprika. But I did remember to garnish with parsley, and I think the results look reasonably appetizing.
I had planned to serve these with pita bread and a green
salad. But I had left my salad greens a bit too long in the ironically named “crisper.”
So I had to use this rather pathetic handful of carrots instead. They go well
with the tahini sauce, though.
Overall, then, I was quite pleased with the outcome—aside from
the slightly confusing directions in the last bit, the recipe worked as
promised, and the kofta were quite tasty. My fears of them being over spiced were completely unfounded. I think they would go nicely with couscous or rice, and doubtless Yotam's suggestion of a cucumber and tomato salad would be quite nice.
Btw, lest you think me even more
gluttonous than usual, I only cooked a few of them. The rest are in the
freezer, to be thawed and cooked later on.
Bon appetìt,
y’all.
Kofta b’siniyah
Serves 6 Makes 18 Kofta
For these kofta, buy your meat freshly ground by your
butcher, if you can. The lamb should be shoulder and the beef a good nonstewing
cut. If you get the meat from a supermarket or another grocer, cook it through,
just to be on the safe side. Finish the dish with butter only if you are
serving it straightaway and consuming it all at once. Otherwise, leave it out,
as it sets quickly, which isn’t very nice. Serve with pita and cucumber and
tomato salad.
⅔ cup /
150 g light tahini paste
3 tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
½ cup / 120 ml water
1 medium clove garlic, crushed
2 tbsp sunflower oil
2 tbsp / 30 g unsalted butter or ghee (optional)
toasted pine nuts, to garnish
finely chopped flat-leaf parsley, to garnish
sweet paprika, to garnish
salt
Kofta:
14 oz / 400 g ground lamb
14 oz / 400 g ground veal or beef
1 small onion (about 5 oz / 150 g), finely chopped
2 large cloves garlic, crushed
7 tbsp / 50 g toasted pine nuts, coarsely chopped
½ cup / 30 g finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 large medium-hot red chile, seeded and finely chopped
1½ tsp ground cinnamon
1½ tsp ground allspice
¾ tsp grated nutmeg
1½ tsp freshly ground black pepper
1½ tsp salt
Put all the kofta ingredients in a bowl and use your hands
to mix everything together well.
Now shape into long, torpedo-like fingers, roughly 3 ¼
inches / 8 cm long (about 2 oz / 60 g each). Press the mix to compress it and
ensure each kofta is tight and keeps its shape.
Arrange on a plate and chill until you are ready to cook
them, for up to 1 day.
Preheat the oven to 425 ° F / 220 ° C. In a medium bowl,
whisk together the tahini paste, lemon juice, water, garlic, and ¼ teaspoon
salt. The sauce should be a bit runnier than honey; add 1 to 2 tablespoons
water if needed.
Heat the sunflower oil in a large frying pan over high heat
and sear the kofta. Do this in batches so they are not cramped together. Sear
them on all sides until golden brown, about 6 minutes per batch. At this point,
they should be medium-rare. Lift out of the pan and arrange on a baking sheet.
If you want to cook them medium or well done, put the baking sheet in the oven
now for 2 to 4 minutes.
Spoon the tahini sauce around the kofta so it covers the
base of the pan. If you like, also drizzle some over the kofta, but leave some
of the meat exposed. Place in the oven for a minute or two, just to warm up the
sauce a little.
Meanwhile, if you are using the butter, melt it in a small
saucepan and allow it to brown a little, taking care that it doesn’t burn.
Spoon the butter over the kofta as soon as they come out of the oven. Scatter
with the pine nuts and parsley and then sprinkle with the paprika.
Serve at once.
* Specifically, a rather tiresome,
anal-retentive, bowtie-clad television host claimed it was revolutionary. Color
me skeptical.
** Turns out my local Italian deli sells it. Thanks, Amy.
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