Cape Town - I love the way things that go out of fashion come back in again. From clothing to food, once they’re out, the Trend Police leap upon our transgressions. At the time of the item going out of favour, those who like to be seen to be in touch with everything that’s hot and with it (remember when that was a fashionable saying and you’ll instantly date yourself) become scathing about it, even though only last month they were wearing it, visiting it or turning it out for a dinner party.
When I hear kids use the phrase “rad”, I wonder if they know that those of us who were teenagers in the ’70s used the abbreviation for radical as often as they say “cool” now. Oh, and that we also said cool, like, all the time. And, like, “like”, like. We also said “brilliant” a whole lot, and “kiff” and “skate”.
When the mini skirt came in, in the mid-’60s, the world was agog. It was the first time hemlines had got anywhere near as high – only months earlier, they had hovered only just above the knee. But by the early ’70s the fashion gurus had decided it was enough of a good thing, and when they brought them down again they didn’t mess about with anything just above the knee. Down they came to mid-calf and even below, right down to the ankle.
The midi and the maxi (the mid-calf and ankle lengths) set the tone for the new decade, but by the early ’80s, guess what – the mini was back, as if it was a new thing the fashion fundis had thought up, and this trend of reviving earlier fads has since become the norm. There were slim fishnet ties for men in the late ’60s, and there they were, back again in the ’80s.
Cape Town was once so unfashionable that much of the world had never heard of it. The place felt different in the ’60s and ’70s, and for that matter in the 1980s. It was a much quieter town, with the feel of a provincial capital rather than a world city. But by the late ’80s everything was changing, with the city’s restaurant scene being the first element to push the boundaries. Maybe the enlightened among us were seeing the change coming that we now take for granted. Or maybe (which I think is more likely to be the truth) the better-heeled Capetonians who could afford to travel to other world capitals had seen the potential – and “the gap in the market” – for posh, trendy eateries. So where once there had been hardly anything more than steakhouses, Chinese palaces, family-run Italian restaurants, greasy spoons and the occasional fine dining spot, usually in a hotel, suddenly there was a burgeoning world of eating out options.
Which brings me to food trends and this week’s dish, one that is becoming increasingly popular in posh restaurants and frequently crops up on food shows like MasterChef Australia. We’ve seen everyone from Gordon Ramsay and Jamie Oliver to Marco Pierre White and scores of food show contestants make forcemeats, rolling out filleted chicken, filling them up, then wrapping them tightly in clingfilm before poaching them and later, to finish them off and give them colour, sauteeing before plating up.
But, kids, this is nothing new. This (sans the clingfilm) is a classic French method you’ll find all the way back to Escoffier, and there will be those who (used to) dismiss such kitchen wonders as very ’70s/’80s or for that matter ’60s. I’m delighted it’s back, not having made a chicken roulade of any kind for years. So I bought some filleted chicken breasts and decided to give it a go.
Rolled stuffed chicken breasts
(2 servings)
3 chicken breast fillets
1 clove garlic
3 or 4 sprigs thyme, picked
1 egg white
2 Tbs cream
Salt and pepper to taste
Butter or olive oil
You’ll need one chicken breast per serving and an extra breast for every two servings. (That’s three for two servings, Daisy, or six for four.) The extra breast is blended in a food processor and becomes the stuffing, or what is traditionally called a farce, or forcemeat.
In the processor, put one chicken breast, a clove of garlic, the picked leaves of thyme sprigs, 1 egg white and 2 Tbs cream. Blend until mixed, add salt and pepper to taste (don’t actually taste it, Daisy, it’s raw chicken, just guesstimate).
Lay out a sheet of clingfilm on a work surface. Carefully cut through a chicken breast with a sharp, small knife to near the centre, open it out like a butterfly and lay it on the clingfilm. Cover with clingfilm and carefully flatten it with your palm. Remove the top clingfilm and spoon some chicken farce in. Roll it up in the clingfilm to form a fat sausage. Tie the ends tightly. If it seems flimsy, wrap it in a second sheet.
Immerse in a pot of gently bubbling water and cook for 10 to 12 minutes. Remove and leave to cool. Once cool enough to handle, melt some butter (or use olive oil) in a frying pan, remove the clingfilm and sauté on all sides to brown nicely.
Slice on the diagonal and serve with accompaniments of your choice.
Weekend Argus