Cape Town - I’m not about to go all veggie on you, promise. Anybody who knows me knows that the sky is more likely to fall on Obelix’s head, the Easter Bunny is going to turn out to be not only real but gay, and Justin Bieber has been a nightmare from which I woke this morning, yelling, “Oh thank God, it was just a dream!”
But (sit down, Daisy, I don’t want to be responsible for your injury when you collapse on reading what’s coming next) I do have a confession to make. I have been cooking with a product from the Dark Side of the supermarket, the dank regions where banshees wail and green-eyed creatures with barnacled beaks snap and slobber.
I fear these unknowable depths the way a vampire fears the light or a grown-up fears Bieber. It is the fear of a terrible thing that will never go away. The thing that haunts your dreams and over which you have no sway. The fear that There Will Always Be Vegetarians. (I know, Daisy, pop another pink pill, dear).
Okay, so I have gone all veggie on you. But for one column only. It ends here.
The thing is somebody I thought I knew well arrived home last week with a 300g packet of something called Quorn.
I was told I had cooked this occasionally when we lived in England and that I had enjoyed it. I have absolutely no memory of that. But still, there it was, in the freezer, languishing in a sly, vegetative way while I eyed it suspiciously.
Quorn. It appeared to be little kernels of dried beef. Mince, in another word.
The package explains that it is 94 percent mycoprotein, which as you know grows on vines and is picked in the dark of night by vegetarian elves.
It also contains “reconstructed dried free range egg white”. I wondered why anyone would dry egg whites to turn them into something resembling beef but not actually being beef, when you can just go to the next aisle and buy some actual eggs and grab a packet of actual beef from the butchery.
There is also calcium chloride and calcium acetate in Quorn, which does not strike me as a good idea, as well as “roasted barley malt extract” and “caramelised sugar”.
I saw it as a challenge, having once made a sort-of cottage pie using dried soy mince as a meat substitute. I did my best with that soy mince, I really did. I used tomatoes and tomato paste and onion and garlic and fresh oregano and thyme and white wine and did everything I could to make it taste like the real thing. But that soy mince had the texture of cat pellets that have been soaked in cold water.
So let’s just say I was suspicious and sceptical of this here Quorn thing lurking in my freezer.
Let’s jump to the verdict then: I did cook it, using all of the above ingredients as well as pan-fried rounds of brinjal, a bechamel sauce and creamy mashed potato, to turn it into an odd hybrid of a cottage pie and moussaka.
And I’m relieved to say it worked.
Although the texture of the freezer beast is not wholly identifiable as beef – in fact it doesn’t seem to take on any flavour at all – it sufficed as a substitute that went some way to tricking the mind into believing it was beef mince.
But what is that about, really? If you want to be vegetarian, why not just not eat meat? I don’t buy the argument that there’s not much you can do to make vegetables interesting,
Very often I enjoy the vegetables on my plate more than I do the meat, because I always cook them with attention and give them flavour, texture and interest.
And just look at the cuisines of India, where there are far more vegetarians than carnivores. That is one country where I could eat vegetarian food a good deal of the time because it is just so damned delicious.
With all that can be done with vegetables, why go to all this trouble to turn “mycoprotein”, “reconstituted egg whites” and God knows what else into something that looks like beef, but isn’t?
Having said that, I was game to give it a go, and I did enjoy the result, up to a point: that point being that though the “meat” was vastly better than the soy mince I once made, the Quorn’s texture still wasn’t quite there, and it did not take on the flavours all around it.
But if you do want a break from red meat and fancy a cottage pie, give it a go. Here’s what I did.
Quorn moussaka pie
1 x 300g pack Quorn mince
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, smashed and chopped
1 tbs rosemary needles, finely chopped (or use oregano and thyme)
Olive oil
1 large brinjal, sliced into thin rounds
1 regular tin chopped tomatoes
1 glass dry white wine
2 tbs balsamic vinegar
400g full-cream milk plus a splash more
4 tbs flour or cornflour
5 tbs butter
1 bay leaf
4 to 6 medium potatoes, steamed until very soft
Grated Parmesan
Salt and pepper to taste
Steam the peeled potatoes until soft. Mash thoroughly. Add a little milk and butter, and season with salt and pepper. Mix well and set aside, covered.
Slice the brinjals into thin rounds and layer them in a colander, salting each layer well. Leave for 30 minutes, then rinse in cold water, drain and pat dry. Once thoroughly dry, put 3 tbs flour in a clean plastic bag (yes, there is a use for them, Daisy), season with salt and pepper, shake well, then add the brinjal slices and, closing the top firmly, shake it to coat well. Fry the slices in hot olive oil until golden on both sides, seasoning with salt. Set aside.
Simmer onions and garlic in olive oil until softened, then add rosemary or other herbs and simmer for a few minutes. Add chopped tomatoes, wine, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper and simmer for a minute. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary.
For the bechamel, heat 400ml milk with the bay leaf until just less than boiling, and remove from the heat. Remove the bay leaf. In another saucepan, melt 2 tbs butter and, off the heat, quickly stir in 1 tbs flour or cornflour. Return to a moderate heat and add a little of the heated milk at a time, stirring vigorously over the heat until each addition is well combined. You’ll end up with a thick white sauce. Season with salt and pepper.
According to the packet instructions, Quorn is cooked from frozen. I did this and it combined instantly once added to the tomato sauce (not the bechamel, Daisy). Combine well and then simmer for 12 minutes.
Layer the mince in an oven dish, then the brinjals, spooning the bechamel over and spreading it around with the back of a ladle. Add the mashed potato, spreading to all sides. Grate Parmesan over the top and bake in a 180ºC oven for 15 minutes, turning the grill on for the last few minutes. It’s done when it’s golden, Daisy, not when it’s burnt. - Sunday Argus