Cape Town - Let’s hear it for the dusting of flour, the coating of finely ground cereal grains, the glue that keeps juices apart from heat. It is the staple of all staples, the medium without which there would be no bread, no cake, no pizza or pasta; no blueberry muffin, no silly cupcake, no oozy chocolate fondant, not even a flippin’ pancake. It is to the pantry as water is to the body; the manna that holds our nourishing.
Flour is the verb in the sentence, the logic in the equation. Flour is the rhyme in the poem, the cadence in the song; without it there is no harmony. Okay, I’m nipping this in the bud before Placido Domingo comes in and starts singing, “Perhaps flour is like a window, perhaps an open door, it invites you to come closer, it wants to show you more…”
But you get the point: flour is as integral to cooking as mortar is to a house. Without it, any number of dishes are going to fail.
I mention glue because, mix flour with water, and that’s what you get. Ironically, perhaps, when flour encases a wet ingredient – such as a piece of meat with its “juices” – and is then applied to heat, instead of emulsifying into glue the flour forms a shield between the meat and the heat.
And “juices” are just a euphemism for blood, a coy term employed to deflect the mind from the fact that it’s a vital business, this killing of meat for sustenance.
So we flour-coat it and where there was blood, voila, there is a sweet brown crust.
So we use the flour to hold the fillet of fish together, but also to flavour it. We use the flour to cocoon the slab of steak, but we add seasoning; salt and pepper to spike it, spices to scent it, herbs to perk it up. The meat or the fish must be clean first, though, and dried on kitchen paper or on a clean kitchen towel.
Once, the only way was to put flour in a bowl or bakkie of sorts and then season it, stir it around, pat it down, and dip the meat or fish into it before frying. But there’s a better way that’s catching on today. Instead of a bowl, use a clean packet – a supermarket packet will do as long as it’s clean – and once you’ve seasoned it, shake it up, then plonk in the meat or fish, shake it about like a mad thing, and then shake off excess flour before frying.
The bonus is that the seasoned flour does more than protect the meat. It creates a golden crust, and gives the item a crunch, while keeping in the succulence and moisture that otherwise would seep out into the pan and cook away.
There’s yet more advantage from the flour, for its presence in the pan means there is residue which helps to thicken any sauce once you add wine and/or stock to the pan and scrape up all those flavourful bits and pieces at the bottom to make a sizzlingly good sauce.
If you want that sauce to be a thing of beauty or perfection, you can strain it to get rid of any of those bits and pieces, but the other side of the same coin is that you will be losing some of those nutrients and some of the crunchiness. Perfection is not everything.
I cook pork loin chops once in a while and the results have been varied. For reasons to do with a family member’s diet, I have generally eschewed using flour, just pan-frying them au naturel, so to say. But this time I spooned five tablespoons of flour into a bag and added salt, pepper and two teaspoons of ground ginger. You can add any other spices you prefer, perhaps a soupcon of ground turmeric (which will add a lovely ochre tinge while cooking), a herb such as thyme, or a teaspoon of Spanish smoked paprika. Whatever you use, add the (cleaned and dried) pork loin chops, and give it a good shake. I’d advise doing this over, say, the sink, or over a large chopping board, just in case the bag isn’t as airtight as you thought, and you need to hold the bag tightly closed at the top for reasons that shouldn’t need explaining.
Pork loin chops with baby fennel
4 pork loin chops
5 Tbs chickpea (or plain) flour (chickpea flour is also known as gram flour)
2 tsp ground ginger
Butter for frying
4 or 6 baby fennel, sliced in half or quartered lengthwise, depending on thickness
200ml ginger ale
2 Tbs ponzu (or 1 Tbs soy sauce, 1 Tbs honey and a squeeze of lemon juice)
100ml vegetable stock
1 garlic clove, crushed
Salt and pepper to taste
Preheat the oven to 180ºC. Dust the chops in flour as described above and then pan-fry in butter on a medium heat until thoroughly browned on all sides. Season lightly with salt on both sides. Take some time to hold them edge-side down too, so that the fat cooks and crisps.
Transfer to the oven for 10 to 15 minutes, then remove and keep warm to tenderise.
I served this with baby fennel braised slowly in 100ml vegetable stock, 200ml ginger ale (yes, Daisy), a splash of ponzu (citrus-flavoured soy dressing), the juice of one ripe lime and a crushed garlic clove.
Once the fennel was tender, I simmered the juices to make a sauce. Just remember, if all else fails, the memory of flour will see you through. Oh shaddup, Placido. - Weekend Argus