Cape Town - Funny how one ingredient can be so different from one dish to another, or for that matter one medium to another.
Take mint. Put it in a cigarette and you get those ghastly menthol fags which I tried just once in the 15 years that I smoked 60 a day. I quit the habit at 5.56pm on March 21, 1988 (it was a sunny Monday), which means I didn’t smoke throughout my 40s and 50s.
But here’s the odd thing: I still have a dream, at least once or twice a month, in which I am in a pub or nightclub and someone next to me is smoking, The packet is held out to me and I take one, light it, then light another, and another, and another, and I chide myself for having weakened yet again, for not being able to shuck the habit once and for all, finally.
Then I wake up, and it was just a dream,and I have to think for three or four minutes down the years, trying to identify times when I might have faltered. And I slowly remember that a cigarette has not touched my lips since I was 33, going 34. And that I have not smoked in 27 years. And the dream is the same every time.
The first reaction of people I tell this to is to presume that for all those years I have been craving a cigarette, but it is not that.
I have had no taste for it since three weeks after kicking the habit. As for that menthol fag, I was just 20, so it is 40 years since I first tasted a menthol cigarette. Yet I can still remember how it tasted now, as if I’d just lit up and curled my mouth in distaste. Does that mean I dislike mint? Nope. I adore it. Mint ice cream, liqueur, Peppermint Crisp, mint sauce for lamb, minted pea soup, mint in tabbouleh, with fish (especially salmon), in many salads and as a garnish. I make mayonnaise and stir in some very finely chopped mint to make minted mayo. Lovely with a beef burger.
Mint is one of the chief ingredients of Vietnamese cuisine, along with coriander stem, lime, basil, ginger and lemongrass. It’s a key ingredient of many chicken and pork dishes in Vietnam, of keftedes (the Greek meatballs), and of many Indian vegetable recipes, including chutneys and raitas.
Here’s an irony: a quick Google reveals that smoking mint leaves is “a home remedy used to cure an addiction to tobacco”. (Please do not take my word for this.) This comes from the ehow website which also has a post on “the narcotic effects of bay leaves”. Hooboy, just when you thought it was safe to go back into the kitchen. Bay leaves? Seriously? I am going to have interesting dreams tonight…
Meanwhile over at answers.yahoo, apparently you can also smoke oregano, catnip (great news for dopehead kitties), and thyme. But again, don’t take my word for it.
The classic mint recipe, though, is the traditional mint sauce for lamb, a combination so right that you have to wonder how the match was first discovered and by whom. Associated mostly with British cuisine and the ubiquitous Sunday roast, it is made with finely chopped fresh mint, vinegar and a little sugar. The proportions can vary entirely to your own taste so it is best just to chop the leaves and then start adding the vinegar and sugar and tasting as you go. When you like it, it’s ready.
But there are other ways to dress roast lamb with mint. I like to make minted yoghurt, which needs something a little sweet to balance the tartness of the mint and the flat flavour of yoghurt. That flavour is appealing because of the undeniable way that plain yoghurt has of making you feel, when you’re eating it, that it is something your body desperately needs. Like the feeling when you’re thirsty and drink iced water. (Or, for that matter, that ice cold beer downed after strenuous, sweaty exercise).
You can even roast your leg of lamb with fresh mint and garlic, which gives the meat a fresh, minty tang. I find that fresh herbs are superb with lamb. I often slow-cook lamb shanks with lots of mint, thyme and oregano, plus chopped garlic and olive oil, all of which combine to give the end result a surprisingly lively flavour.
Minted roast lamb
12 mint leaves
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
Olive oil
1 leg of lamb, excess fat trimmed (not all the fat, just the thick bits)
Salt and black pepper to taste
To roast a leg of lamb with mint, pick fresh mint leaves and finely chop garlic. Drizzle some olive oil on the bottom of a roasting pan, make a pile of the leaves, and scatter over the garlic. Season the joint on the underside with salt and pepper, and place it on the leaves. Season the fatty side with salt and pepper, scatter over some more chopped garlic, and drizzle with olive oil. Roast in a 180°C oven until medium rare. The cooking time will depend on the size of the joint, so when you think it’s nearly done, test with a skewer that draws pale pink juices. If darker, it’s too under-done. Let it rest for 20 minutes or so before serving.
To serve, arrange slices on a plate and top with a dollop of yoghurt mixed with finely chopped mint, a little lemon juice, and salt and white pepper to taste. If you prefer it sweet, use a little mint sauce or add a hint of aged balsamic vinegar.
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