Chicken, butterbean and cauliflower curry - KZN curry stories 2

This chicken, butterbean and cauliflower curry comes from oThongathi, a place north of Durban up the coast best known for sugar cane. It's typical of the delicious, mild curries you can find in roadside places all along the coastal highway. It's sweet 'n sour qualities reflect the bounty of South African produce.

KZN curry stories 2 - the yellow dust

Almost a riposte to Durban curry's fiery reputation, this is a mild curry that reflects South Africa's bounty of both deciduous and semitropical fruit: sultanas and apple cooked into the curry itself; mango or banana used as a condiment.

Not dissimilar to something like korma in its mildness, the main difference is that it does not involve any dairy products in the cooking process, only optionally at table. At its heart is fresh turmeric. And, frankly, short of wearing latex gloves throughout, this is a dish that will stain your fingers yellow if you prepare it correctly.

Yellow mellow

Turmeric originated in Asia and has been used in India as medicine and a cooking ingredient for thousands of years, something the hipsters have now cottoned onto with their anti-inflammatory smoothies or anti-fungal cappuccinos (made with plant-based milk, obviously)...

But, it's also an ingredient that has been part of African food and herbal medicine culture for so long that its reasonable to say that it is a de facto African ingredient. During the 7th and 8th centuries, it was embraced by Madagascan and Ethiopian cultures by traders from Indonesia and India respectively. So, it's not hard to see how, down the centuries, Arab coastal trading routes saw its use and demand for it spread pretty much the entire length of Africa's Eastern Seaboard.

"early 20th-century food writers writing about South African Indian cooking confused rice side dishes (which were not yellow) with certain main course biriyani dishes"

Perhaps, rather ironically, South Africa was the latecomer to the turmeric party. While turmeric was a sought after commodity in Portuguese colonial trading settlements as early as the 16th century, no doubt partly reflecting their connection with Portuguese settlements in Goa, there wasn't any non-native settlement on South Africa's east coast until the early 19th century. And, it wasn't until the even later arrival of indentured workers from India in the second half of the 19th century that there was any demand for it or, indeed, readily available supplies of it in South Africa.

Turmeric in South African Indian Diasporan cooking is a curious beast. It's used a lot, proportionally more often and in larger quantities than in many cuisines on the Indian subcontinent. It's even cooked into rice—the famed "Durban yellow rice"—in a manner not found in India or North Africa. Some food historians believe that this tradition is the result of "crossed wires"; that South Africans, whether of subcontinental Indian descent or not, now cook it into rice because British early 20th-century food writers writing about South African Indian cooking confused rice side dishes (which were not yellow) with certain main course biriyani dishes where turmeric and the other ingredients turn the rice yellow.

So, naturally, when visitors with money to spend disembarked from passenger ships docking in Durban in the 1930s looking for this "famous yellow rice", only a foolish (or very principled) restaurateur would not oblige, and a legend was born...

It may sound a stretch, but try finding anything like NYC "Italian" spaghetti with meatballs in Italy or British Chinese takeaway "curry" in India. In truth, some of the world's most popular dishes were born of rumours and misconceptions.

The second curious thing about the eager use of turmeric in South Africa is that, apart from within specific communities, up until relatively recently, it almost always involved the use of ground turmeric powder and never the actual root. Again, it's easy to understand why. To this day, India remains the world's biggest producer and exporter of turmeric—though Africa, particularly West Africa, is now the fastest growing contender for turmeric exports. But, before this more recent fad for fresh turmeric root, it was primarily exported as an already ground spice. Like many other spices, ground turmeric remains viable and can be stored without refrigeration for long periods.

Unless you were fortunate enough to live near someone growing turmeric or able to grow it for your own use, in South Africa, only ground turmeric remained an accessible way of acquiring the spice for most.

I was someone who was fortunate enough to have access: my dad grew turmeric so that he could cook with it. And, part of his teaching me about food meant that I could discern the difference between the powder and the root when used in cooking when still pretty young. So, I was somewhat surprised when I later found it and various other plant ingredients on sale in Tongaat's historic Tongaat Daily Market. I had assumed that turmeric root was just another one of the obscure vegetables associated with what he had learned in Asia in the 1960s that he insisted upon growing himself, using his maritime connections to bring them in through the port of Durban. The things I could tell you about obscure Chinese squash varietals....

Don't get me wrong, I'm not snobby about ground turmeric powder—hey, who likes scrubbing hands for three days after cooking a dish?—and I use the ground powder in many recipes. But, this one in particular is one that warrants the effort of going for the real deal.

oThongathi on my mind...

I'm not getting into why I first started hanging out in oThongathi (Tongaat back then) because it's a sad tale of four boys losing their mother young.... I digress from why I am here.

Years later, long after I first started visiting school chums there, and having got to know the place through them, I would head back a lot because no one—and I mean no one—would ever be found on these exquisite, deserted beaches. Back then, the place was a beach kid's paradise and I have very fond memories of pushing a huge inflated tractor tyre inner tube out into the rough surf and clambering onto it. We'd perch on top of it and push our feet into the opposite side of the tube and lock hands hands to steady ourselves, enjoying the crazy bounce and spin as it was thrown back towards the shore by massive waves that would most often flip us over before we could win the prize: being delivered upright right up onto the sand.

It seems almost delusional to say this now as the encroaching decampment to Durban North from Durban itself has pushed ever further up the coast, and once beautifully lonely places overlooking that warm ocean are now dez-rez spots for influencers to con someone into allowing them to point a camera at themselves in a luxury villa for three days because it will make us all want to book it... Yeah, right.

Again, I digress. My memories of this place are of one where I enjoyed some of the best waves and some of the best South African Indian cooking, time and time again.

This dish is typical of the mild "yellow curries" from this region, the heart of where Indian indentured labourers first worked on the the sugarcane plantations in the 19th century. I'm not going to repeat the background to these evolutions of South African Indian Diasporan curries and their histories. You can find them in the first in this little series here.

Having grown familiar with the place, I ventured beyond my own circle of privilege. The family— the Naidoos—who taught me to cook this curry in one of the off-the-track eateries just off the (then) North Coast Highway, didn't seem to know much about it's history other than that they had grown up with it, playing or doing their homework in roadside diners owned by their grandparents that catered to Hindu, Christian and Muslim workers in the sugarcane industry. These places needed to be adaptable to be commercial. When times were tough, these places cooked it in one large (effectively vegan) pot to which the chicken could be added to portions in a last-minute way when plating. When times were good, it was cooked in two pots: the chicken one, and the vegetarian one.

Ironically, while originating in a region where a sizeable proportion of the Indian immigrant communities were culturally Hindu vegetarians, in the version I was taught, this is first and foremost a chicken curry and it uses chicken stock in addition to on-the-bone chicken.

However, I suspect the Naidoos were being modest. I knew them, even at that time, as movers and shakers in the struggle against Apartheid. And, let's not forget that (then) Tongaat was very active in anti-Apartheid struggles. It awarded the Freedom of Tongaat to Nelson Mandela before his release from prison and became an ANC stronghold that played a crucial role in the struggle.

This was all built on the foundation of immigrant Indian communities placing education first and foremost. Bringing with them an awareness of the viable possibilities of social advancement within a racist structure from British colonial India and with a local reference of the likes of Gandhi's "passive resistance" activism in South Africa , even manual labourers on low wages contributed to ensure their children could be educated. The Tongaat Indian High School opened in1945, and is still active today as Tongaat Secondary School. So, it's a bit of a no-brainer that with an unusually well educated community, it would become a voice for ending Apartheid. It has long remained a place that has educated future leaders.

This is (not) a love song

Dialling back the history, the Naidoos were an understated contemporaneous dynasty built on forbidden love. The family's forbearers had arrived as "passenger Indians" in the early 20th century. Not that long after, their shops and eateries were first established. But, in 1952, the grandparents of the brother-and-sister duo who taught me this recipe arrived in South Africa, a shockingly inappropriate Hindu-Muslim marriage; a couple who had first fled Partition to Kenya before making their way to (then) Natal. They were a young couple who epitomised what the British feared most: an educated generation prepared to defy the outdated mores of both their own cultures and the British colonial yoke.

I thought it a very romantic tale. Overall, however, the Naidoo siblings who taught me this dish shrugged and were sanguine as I coaxed the story out of them in the kitchen. They were far more concerned with teaching me to get the sweet-'n-sour balance just right than their family heritage. Given quite a lot of fruit goes into this particular curry, it's a reasonable concern.

This version is for 2 to 3 diners, but you can readily scale up quantities.

I'm serving it with a particular selection of side dishes and condiments but it is just as often served with others. Most notably, perhaps, I'm serving it with naan bread. This is not often served with South African Indian food. More often it would be served with "yellow rice", which simply seems like turmeric overkill here, or chapatis. I'm serving it with a raitha, again, not that common on the KZN table. I'm serving it with my version of chilli bites, a kind of pakora, mainly because I love them. And, I'm serving it with a mango sambal (while in KZN it might equally come with bananas in milk). The bottom line is that you can choose which sides and condiments best work for you.

3 top tips to get this recipe right:

• At the risk of repetition, this recipe really does require fresh turmeric, not the ground powder version. And, when preparing it, it is better to chop it finely (by hand or in a mini-chopper) than grating it. Almost as soon as you have chopped it, it will begin turning a deep amber colour, a bit like the way grated apple turns brown. Don't worry about it. It's all fine

• Like a lot of South African Indian curries, there is no curry paste involved. The spices are cooked in two trenches: the whole spices at the start; and the ground spices added to the pot a little later. There is a reason for this. Don't turn them into a spice paste to add all at the same time

• This is a dish that requires you use chicken on the bone with the skin on (unless doing the vegan version). I suggest you dig out one of my low-fat curries on this site rather than use skinless chicken breasts. Yeah, I'm sure it will taste "nice". It just won't taste like this

Shopping list

for the spices

• 2 tspns garam masala

• 3 tspns mild curry powder (e.g. Madras style)

• ½ tspn mild Kashmiri chilli powder

• ½ tspn ground coriander (dhania)

• 1 tspn ground cumin (jeera)

• 1 tspn yellow mustard seeds

• 3 black cardamom pods

• 5 whole cloves

• salt to taste

for the chicken, butterbean and cauliflower curry

• 1 chicken thigh (or leg) per diner; on the bone, skin on

• 2 thumb's lengths of fresh turmeric; peeled and finely chopped

• ½ tspn black peppercorns

• 2 medium onions (red or brown), halved and sliced vertically

• 1 fresh yellow bell pepper (or red); cut into vertical slices

• 3 hot green chillies; sliced vertically and de-seeded

• ½ a medium cauliflower; washed and broken into florets

• 1 Granny Smith green apple; (or other tart apple), peeled and coarsely grated

• 1 handful of seedless sultanas (or raisins)

• 1 tin (400g) of cooked butterbeans

• 3 or 4 dried bay leaves

• 5 to 6 tbspns sunflower oil

• 2 tspns garlic and ginger paste

• A generous clutch of fresh coriander; chopped

• 500ml chicken stock

• Water; as needed

• 2 tbspns white wine vinegar

• 2 tbspns of coarse brown cane sugar (only if needed)

• salt to taste

sides and condiments

• Garlic and coriander naan bread — "Durban yellow rice" would be more usual

• Sambal — chopped fresh mango, coriander, tomato and raw onion in a little vinegar

• Raitha—yoghurt mixed with grated cucumber, dried red chilli flakes and fresh coriander

Cooking Method

the chicken, butterbean and cauliflower curry

1. In an appropriate pot or kadai with a lid, brown the chicken in half the oil on a medium-high heat, sprinkle in the black peppercorns, a little of the garam masala and about a third of the chopped turmeric. Once the chicken is browned, remove it and all the cooked turmeric and place to one side, leaving all the juices in the pot

2. Add the remainder of the oil and reduce to a medium heat. Add all of the whole spices and cook until the yellow mustard seeds start to pop. Add the onions, stirring to coat with all the juices. When they soften, add the green chillies and stir in

3. When the onions are notably softened, add the yellow bell pepper and stir in, cooking for a couple of minutes. Then, add the garlic & ginger paste; stir in thoroughly. Once the garlic aromas release, add all of the chopped turmeric (except for that cooked with the browned chicken). Stir in and cook for a minute or so

4. Add all the ground (powdered) spices and stir in, and cook for a minute or so. When the aromas are released and the bell pepper has started to soften, pour all of the chicken stock into the pot. NB: if the bell pepper hasn't yet shown signs of softening, add dabs of the stock to prevent the spices burning, but don't add the full amount of stock until the peppers have at least begun to soften

5. Add the bay leaves to the top of the liquid and increase the heat to bring it to the boil. Boil for about 2mins, stirring the ingredients. Then cover and reduce the heat so that it simmers vigorously for 15mins

6. After 15mins, the liquid should show signs of reducing (if not re-cover and simmer for a further 5mins). Add all of the grated apple and stir in. Re-cover and simmer for a further 15mins, stirring occasionally, during which time the liquid should have reduced notably

7. Gently lower the chicken thighs into the liquid adding the additional turmeric cooked with it and seasoning with salt. Re-cover, reducing to a gentle simmer and cook for about 12mins

8. Uncover and gently stir, avoiding breaking up the chicken. Gently add the cauliflower florets to the pot. If your liquid has already reduced substantially, add additional water so that the cauliflower florets are at least half-submerged. Re-cover and gently simmer for about 10mins

9. Uncover and add the butterbeans, gently folding in. If the sauce is still rather liquid, increase the heat slightly. Re-cover and simmer for 5mins

10. Uncover, gently stir and add the sultanas, stirring in. Re-cover and simmer for a further 5 to 6mins. The combination of the butterbeans and sultanas should have a notable impact on the sauce; should thicken it. If not, add the brown cane sugar and stir in, allowing it to simmer with the lid off

11. As the sauce nears the desired consistency, add the vinegar and a little additional garam masala. After allowing it to simmer for a minute or so, add the chopped coriander, stir in, cover and remove from the heat

12. Serve with side dishes and the condiments of choice

Alternatives

Though a chicken dish here, it originates in a part of South Africa with over 150 years of feeding Hindu, Muslim and Christian Indian immigrant communities, each with their own dietary observations. Unusually, this dish uses stock. Most (South African) Indian dishes do not. So, for the fast-track vegan or veggie version, you can either simply add hot water in lieu of the stock (as would be the case in many Indian dishes) or use vegetable stock.

Obviously, if you bypass the whole chicken browning stage, this is a vegan dish at core. Simply start at step 2 above i.e. heating the whole spices. Introduce large chunks of sweet potatoes, potatoes, white Boer pumpkin or butternut squash (or any mix thereof) at the stage the chicken goes back into the pot above. And otherwise proceed in exactly the same way, though your overall cooking time should be shorter. I have tested all of these versions and confess that my personal favourite vegan version is a combination of sweet potatoes and bog standard spuds.

I'm sure there is a killer pescatarian version of this recipe waiting to happen. But sadly it's still waiting to happen where I am concerned: I've simply never got around to it. If I were to put my money on anything, it would be to go with really big prawns or langoustines still in their shells introduced towards the end. Let me know how that works out.

Carnivores: be happy with your chicken. If you're brave enough to chuck apple in the direction of beef or lamb, let me know how it works out. I've never been tempted with this particular dish.

Pairings

Yeah, I know that my usual soundbite on South African Indian curries is "when in doubt, go for a Chenin Blanc, because they can cut through the spice". I utterly stand by that. But the issue here is that the wine doesn't need to cut through the spice. This is a mild curry and while people bang on about the bitter and citrus aspects of turmeric, with proper root turmeric, there is also something smooth, a bit like honey.

So, without a doubt, Rupert & Rothschild Baroness Nadine is my top recommendation. I've had this dish with the 2008, the 2018 and, most recently, the 2023. This chardonnay from the Western Cape has all those citrus and gooseberry notes you would expect of a wine of this terroir. But, there is also a silkiness—vanilla, almonds or even buttermilk—that coaxes out those things that make turmeric so special, especially in this very gentle curry.

A serendipitous joy ("It's on special. Let's try it!") that I recently also discovered works very well with this dish is Kendermanns Urmeer Pinot Gris Trocken. I had the 2022, but haven't seen it pop up since then.

Obviously I'm hoping my brother-in-law Karel will descend on a deus ex machina with the definitive pairing at some point in the future...

What I will also say is contrary to the platitude: this is a curry I don't like with beer. I'm sure there are beers out there that true aficionados could recommend, but, this is a surprisingly delicate dish. When you scratch the surface, all those beer burp flavours just don't work with it. You're better off with soda water on ice with a slice of lemon in my opinion.