Cape Town - Coriander is the tall poppy of spices. The lanky kid who gets teased for not being of average height.
The young guy with the faraway look in his eye who never goes to nightclubs and seems to live in a world of his own, while everyone else his age gets motherless on shots of many colours and favours. The teenager who doesn’t wear the requisite uniform of her generation, and is thought of as strange by those who don’t seem to realise that they’re just lemmings following the pack, whereas she has found an individuality despite her youth.
Coriander somehow seems to be in a category of its own, not sitting comfortably in a room shared by rosemary, marjoram, thyme, oregano, fennel, dill and parsley. I don’t mean the seeds. Coriander seeds seem to be just fine hanging out with mustard seeds, fennel seeds and even sticks of cinnamon.
When Coriander Leaf walks into the room, Parsley smirks and gets into a huddle with Rosemary (but not Basil), Marjoram and Thyme, whispering their contempt for Coriander’s choice of fabric, colour and style. Basil, being the class nerd, has sympathy for Coriander but chooses to disappear into the playground hoping not to be noticed by the Big Boys.
Oregano, the foreign kid in class, doesn’t take in any of the nuances of the social interplay, being more interested in Coriander’s curves than Basil’s disappearing acts, while Italian Parsley just flicks his sleek hair back and lights another Gauloise.
Coriander - the leaf, not the seed or the imaginary class misfit - has a way of dividing people. I know people who refer to it as “the dreaded coriander” and say that they cannot stand the taste. For me and millions of others it’s one of the most delicious things in the kitchen armoury.
How do you describe its flavour? Slightly nutty, a little reminiscent of mustard, even a touch floral. Finish off a curry with it and the entire dish is enhanced. In a salad, even in the company of other leaves such as basil, baby spinach and mint, you’ll still spot this leaf’s distinctive taste immediately. It has a way of standing out from the pack no matter whose company it finds itself in.
Being such a strong flavour despite the paradoxical delicateness of its feathery leaves, it is rarely the hero of a dish or used in any great quantity. Yet you can use it as the chief ingredient of a pesto, instead of basil or rocket leaves, although - like rocket - you need to taste-test it while you’re making it to be sure that the coriander does not annihilate any other ingredients.
With a pesto, its unwise to give exact ingredient measures, as it needs to be done to taste. But you could, say, make a pesto in which you use coconut oil instead of olive oil, and cashew nuts instead of pine nuts, so that into the mix will go coriander leaves, garlic, coconut oil and cashews. You’d also be sensible not to try to throw Parmesan into this mix. I’d advise first heating the coconut oil on a low heat (as it’s congealed when it’s cold) before mixing in a food processor with the garlic and nuts and perhaps a little lime juice. What you’ll end up with is a lively pesto which you can season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Once it’s added to hot, freshly cooked pasta any coconut oil that has solidified will instantly dissolve to coat the pasta strands.
The stems of coriander leaves can be used and do not always have to be thrown away, contrary to popular belief. In many Asian dishes the stems are prized as they have more of a flavour punch than the leaves. Chop the stems very finely to be used in sauces while keeping some of the leaves in reserve for use as a garnish.
The more cheffy sort of chef in the more poncy sort of restaurant will instruct one of his kitchen handlangers to carefully pick off all the leaves for each and every sprig of coriander, but really, there are some things for which life is too short. It’s a very fussy palate that takes offence at a slim piece of coriander stem.
Talking of which, there’s little that makes a prettier garnish than coriander leaf, whether a lovely curl or two intertwined on top of a piece of grilled fish or a small handful of leaves chopped finely and scattered from a creative height over a plate of curry. Gather the chopped coriander in one hand, hold it high above the plate and let them fall gracefully to arrange themselves on the dish below. Somehow this always looks better than if you try to arrange them at closer quarters, aiming them here and there. It’s like watching an abstract artist at work - the one dipping the brush in paint and splashing it on a canvas. In a less artistic hand, it’s just some splotches, most of them hitting the wall.
Coriander Pesto
1 handful coriander leaves including stems
2 or 3 cloves garlic, chopped
Handful cashew nuts
Juice of 1 lime
Coconut oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Heat coconut oil slightly to dissolve it. Combine leaves, garlic, nuts and lime juice in a food processor and blend, slowly pouring in coconut oil while it’s being blitzed, until you like the consistency and texture. Carefully season but do not over-salt. Stir into hot, cooked pasta.
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