Durban beef curry - KZN curry stories 3
- Hobbychef
- 12 minutes ago
- 16 min read
Durban beef curry has a reputation for fieriness that's made it famous around the world. But, as this slow-cooked authentic recipe proves, it's not entirely about the hot spices and hearty beef that makes this curry a thing of beauty. A plethora of vegetables, herbs and spices are what come together to make it memorable, not to mention its unique history.
KZN curry stories 3 - the brown rivers
Durban beef curries are one of the cornerstones of South African Indian Diasporan cooking. Usually noted for their fieriness as being what makes "Durban" curries unique (many of the best versions are cooked in more rural areas), their story is actually a lot more complex.
I’m not going to repeat the whole “background story” to the cultural history of Indian Diasporan cooking on South Africa’s Eastern Seaboard. For those who like a little history with their supper, you’ll find the background to that in KZN curry stories 1 - the red seas on this site. But, I am going to expand a little on the history of these beef curries in particular.
If you’re not interested in the history of KZN's unique Indian Diasporan food culture, simply scroll straight down to the recipe below.
Beefing up on history
The elephant in the room (or should that be cattle?) is that South African beef curry is something of a curiosity in and of itself. The Indian indentured labourers who arrived in (then) Natal in the 1860s came almost entirely from Southern India, were culturally Hindu and thus vegetarians. Apart from a handful of servants who followed their British bosses—civil servants and military officers previously stationed in India—and even fewer pioneering speculative Indian merchants from other non-Hindu regions of the subcontinent who cooked meat-based dishes, vegetarian cooking was the norm. Or, more accurately, these cuisines existed in isolated spheres that had little connection with each other at the time.
The labourers living and working on sugar plantations in rural areas outside of the strategic port of Durban lived in villages or compounds where they cooked traditional Hindu vegetarian recipes they had brought with them. The servants attached to British households cooked the Indian dishes adopted by their British colonial overlords during their time in India regardless of their own religious adherences i.e. meat and poultry dishes. And, the Muslim and Parsi merchants cooked and ate in accordance with their own dietary observances within their own households. In other words, each of these existed within a contained domestic realm that did not engage with that of others.
Most significantly, at the time of the arrival of the Indian indentured labourers, the Zulu Nation kept to itself within its kingdom to the north of and inland from Durban. This all changed suddenly and dramatically with the Anglo-Zulu War of 1879.
"And so Cetshwayo kaMpande (and the Zulu Nation) said, “F**k you!” to the British and it was war."
In a swaggering miscalculation typical of 19th-century imperialism, Sir Henry Bartle Frere, the British High Commissioner, issued an insulting ultimatum to King Cetshwayo (Cetshwayo kaMpande). The British were keen to consolidate South Africa as a confederation under their rule and, in clumsy realpolitik, supported Boer claims to parts of the (then) kingdom of Zululand. An irony lies in the fact that both (European white) parties were prepared to forget that the Boers were only on this side of Southern Africa because British rule had driven them to leave the Cape. If land and cheap labour were the outcome, it seems both sides were prepared to overlook their past differences.
Shaka kaSenzangakhona
Bartle Frere’s assumption was that he was dealing with a "primitive" people who would be easily subjugated to the British will. He should have done his research better. His demand that Cetshwayo kaMpande, the king of the Zulu Nation, should disband the Zulu army was the ultimate insult. He overlooked that Cetshwayo was descended from Shaka kaSenzangakhona (aka Shaka Zulu). Shaka had transformed an already complex Abantu culture into one of extremely sophisticated military prowess. At the height of his power, Shaka controlled a domain larger than that of Napoleon. His role in transforming the Zulu Nation into a dominant indigenous culture through military precision was something any Zulu king would not be likely to forget.
And so Cetshwayo kaMpande (and the Zulu Nation) said, “F**k you!” to the British and it was war. Unfortunately for Sir Henry, this was a far bigger deal than he expected and soon the British were having to send resources and people from all over the empire to prevent the real threat of annihilation by the angered Zulu Nation that had previously preferred isolation to messing about with arrivistes. Yes, all a bit steampunk Star Wars...
In the unfolding war, the non-fictional reality was that thousands of British soldiers died, including Louis Napoléon, the French Prince Imperial and heir to the Bonaparte throne who had taken up a British military commission while his parents, ousted by the French, lived in exile in the UK under Queen Victoria's personal protection.
Whist trying to spin the optics as an ultimate British victory, the reality is that the imperious, imperial British might might have spun the narrative on the back of Rorke's Drift, but the true cost was much more evident at the Battle of Isandhlwana (1879) where the British lost 1,3000 men, of roughly 1,800. To win this war against a reputedly "primitive people" was a Pyrrhic victory that was never even considered in Bartle Frere's calculations...
What does this have to do with curry?
There were a number of significant impacts of the Anglo-Zulu War on South African Indian Diasporan cooking. One was through the influx of Indian civil servants in the pay of the British to support the war effort itself and the so-called “passenger Indians”, those of independent means looking to establish themselves as merchants or professionals (doctors, lawyers, engineers etc.) These new arrivals increased the population of non-Hindu Indians in the region. The second was the fallout after the eventual British defeat of the Zulu Nation.
Both of these factors saw an increase in mobility and interchanges between groups that had not previously mingled: Muslim and Parsi merchants selling their wares and services to Hindu communities; displaced Zulu warriors engaging as they tried to find new types of work; and a disparate melange of white Europeans and colonials not from “the ruling classes” who decided to stay on.
All of this would set the scene for a notable aspect of South African (and other) Indian Diasporan cuisines in which the protein is not added at the start of the dish. Rather, base sauces would be created first, then the preferred protein added in accordance with dietary observances of a diverse group of hungry people.
Send in the cows... they're already here...
Beef is pivotal here. Clearly, it’s not something in the repertoire of Hindu vegetarian cooking. Yet, despite the Anglo-Zulu War (and I would argue it was one of the causes of it), cattle was a significant priority shared by both the Boers and the Zulu Nation. In these competing cultures, cattle––beef––was both wealth and currency; a core reason that the war broke out over the demand for domain over rich grazing grounds, whether in the green Highlands with its clear streams suitable for dairy farming or the hotter Lowlands where wide, slow-running rivers are muddy and brown but still sustain cattle.
One of the main outcomes of the Anglo-Zulu War was that it meant that cultures of different faiths and observances were increasingly in contact with each other. So, when the early generations of entrepreneurs selling “Indian” food-as-a-service emerged, they had to have a plan to cater to everyone.
The tradition of the Durban beef curry emerged against this backdrop. And, it’s clear it wasn’t only a 20th-century phenomenon.
Ladies who lunch
I’ve had the privilege of being shown the diary of one of the 60 Australian nurses who served in South Africa during the Second Anglo-Boer War (1899-1902) by a descendant of hers. This nurse stayed on in South Africa, marrying a Scottish clerk working for a shipping line and became friends with an English woman who had grown up in India but whose husband was posted to South Africa as a civil servant in 1904. Both settled in Durban.
In one account in her diary, she describes how their “shared secret” is that they would meet in a “ramshackle Indian tea room” (she doesn’t say exactly where, though I suspect it may be in the quarter around today's Yusuf Dadoo Street, mainly because she also writes of a market that reminded her friend of India and I don’t know where else that might have been) for lunch. They would order…
“...the excellent beef in a frightfully spicy gravy, a treat and exotic delight. I do wish the proprietress would stop approaching us with cups of tepid milk. I should expect she would recognise us by now since we are the only Englishwomen (sic) taking luncheon every Thursday and are by now familiar with its punishing heat.”
In other places, later or less connected with first-person accounts, we know that Indian Diasporan cooking had to evolve, to embrace a bigger, more diverse evolving nation to remain economically viable. Beef was certainly going to have to be an option to appeal to the British, Boers and Zulus.
My personal footnote is that I often wonder what might have happened if, back in the 1870s, the Boers had remembered their own history with the British and instead looked to the Zulu Nation as sharing their experience of pernicious colonialism rather than as an opportunity for quick gain. No, it’s not sound history, but I can’t help thinking that the Second Anglo Boer War could be read as a kind of karma…
Meanwhile, in an actual kitchen...
My recipe is an aggregation of what I have learned from various sources: the wonderful Mrs Panday; chatting with people running small roadside eateries along the coast; and my father’s recipes, gleaned during his own inquisitive pottering about in the region.
Above all else, I value lessons taught to me in the home of a South African Indian family in eMkhomazi (then Umkomaas). I had fond memories of swimming in the sea there as a child. So, I naturally couldn't wait to visit when invited by a cool young woman I’d met in an underground nightclub in Durban. Maybe it was also because we shared musical tastes. But it was mostly because she was witty and a lot of fun.
Culturally Muslim, the family had a long history in academia in both South Africa and India and were very liberal compared with some of today’s polarised positions on things like gender roles, adherence to rigid dietary observances or being naughty in general . Her mother had built a successful catering business, the hidden force behind the reputations of hotels and resorts along the (then) Natal coast catering to affluent tourists in search of the famed “Durban curry”. Hers was probably the best Durban beef curry I've ever tasted and I aspire to achieve her standard one day. For example, she was the person who first taught me that black cardamom—not the green so often used elsewhere in the region—is better suited to beef.
If South Africa could ever live up to the Mandela-era optimism of being “the rainbow nation”, Durban beef curry might be a signature dish. It is the zenith of a culinary multiculturalism that uniquely evolved in this special strip of the globe for so many reasons. And, oh yes, it’s also delicious.
As with other South African Indian Diasporan dishes, this recipe deploys fresh green chillies and dry spices. I would describe it as "pretty hot" (maybe three chillies out of four on that packaging pictogram) using the quantities in this recipe. But ,it's all relative and dependent on a number of factors.
The mother of all mother-in-laws
The lynchpin is the mother-in-law masala. The problem with the term is that it's a broad church. After all, "masala" simply means "spice mix" in Hindi (and various other Indian subcontinental languages), and mother-in-law masala, with its plethora of spices varies notably from one recipe to another.
You can certainly buy readymade versions in South Africa and online or in speciality stores around the world. But, I can only speak with clarity about my own mix that I grind myself. If buying a readymade version, you may need to experiment with quantities. For one thing, my quantities are based on my rough, non-sieved mix that I prefer. By it's very nature, it's less intensely fiery. Conversely, many readymade versions use American or Mexican chilli powder (because it's cheaper than top-notch, milder Kashmiri chilli powder) or crank up the cayenne pepper content, passing off fiery heat as flavour.
Similarly, while real Dandicut chillies are fairly predictable in their fieriness, fresh hot green chillies can vary a lot from place to place. In short, you'll need to test it out. If you prefer milder curries, you can reduce the number of chillies or even leave out the additional cayenne pepper. I know it's really tasty (having made it for wimps in many locations on many occasions) but I'm not sure it's a true "Durban curry".
Conversely, if you really like it hot, you can add additional cayenne, green chillies or mother-in-law masala during cooking. Or, you can do the "Durbs"thing and just pile on the hot sambals or achars at table. If you do and hold a seashell to your ear, you'll hear the sound of your own board waxing itself at Vetch's Pier (pronounced "Vechie's", with a drawl). Yep, surf rat, you've achieved true Durban curry kid status...
How thick is thick?
A key aspect of this slow-cooked curry is that you decide when the consistency of the sauce suits you. If there is any general rule, leaving it to remain a little more fluid works really well if you're serving it with the classic Durban yellow rice.
One of the things that I noticed on my personal curry quest was that numerous places serving it to people on the go as a takeaway dish—labourers, shift workers or paramedics on a break—would reduce it to a very thick sauce that could easily be transported and eaten with roti without ending up with hot curry sauce in one's lap.
I love both formats and usually cook it in quite large quantities, first enjoying the "wetter" sauce with Durban yellow rice, then further reducing the remainder to enjoy with roti on another occasion. Needless to say, it also freezes well.
The heat is on
There is a bit of a truism that curries become spicier if stored in the fridge (or indeed freezer). It's a truism because it's, well, true. While I have a solid baseline foodtech understanding of why this happens in general terms, I'm still beavering away at an algorithm that could help to predict how any curry becomes specifically "hotter" during the period it's stored. I'm not there yet. But, what I will say, is that this is a curry that becomes notably hotter when stored in the fridge or freezer. So, if you crank up the heat and aren't going to wolf it down in one sitting, just be aware that it will be notably hotter at a later point.
The quantities in this recipe easily serve 4 diners or more, but can be scaled up or down.
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Shopping list
for the mother-in-law masala
I prefer to grind my own and you will find the full recipe for that on this recipe page if you wish to do likewise. A reason I would urge you to make your own is that many of the readymade versions scale down the more interesting spices that bring depth to this dish.
Nonetheless, you can find readymade versions in specialist stores and online in many parts of the world. See above for more details and tips.
for the Durban beef curry
Approx. 800g lean braising steak, cut into large bite-sized pieces
3 medium onions, (red or brown), halved, peeled and sliced
Approx. 500g small very ripe fresh tomatoes; skin on, roughly puréed; not strained
2 red bell peppers; sliced
6 to 8 small young potatoes; scrubbed, skin on, cut in half if needed
3 or 4 hot green chillies; sliced vertically and deseeded
3tspns garlic & ginger paste
5 to 6tbspns sunflower oil (or peanut oil)
4 whole black cardamom pods; bruised
1tspn yellow mustard seeds
1 dried Dandicut red chilli (hot); soaked, sliced vertically and deseeded
3tbspns mother-in-law masala (see above)
5 whole cloves
5 or 6 fresh curry leaves (or 4 dried if you can't get fresh)
2tspns mild Kashmiri chilli powder
1tspn cayenne pepper
½ a cinnamon stick
½ a tspn amchoor (green mango powder)
1tspn turmeric powder
2tspns garam masala
1tbspn Demerara sugar (or other coarse, soft brown sugar)
2tbspns malt or wine vinegar
The juice of 1 fresh lime
Approx. 60g creamed coconut, diluted in 500ml boiling water
A generous clutch of fresh coriander; chopped
A handful of fresh mint, chopped
3 or 4 sprigs of fresh thyme, leaves stripped from stalks
Additional water, as needed
Salt, to taste
sides and condiments
Methi roti— This dish is served interchangeably with roti or Durban yellow rice, sometimes both. But I have a bit of a pash for Riya's Methi Roti and urge you to get your hands on some if you can
Sambals— chopped fresh mango with coriander; and traditioniel, i.e. chopped tomatoes, fresh red chillies, cucumber and raw onions in a little vinegar
Chilli bites—a nice local alternative to poppadoms as side nibbles
Chuntneys and achars— Pretty much up to you. Many in South Africa default to a Mrs Ball's chutney, and there is nothing wrong with that. But, I have strong memories of chutneys made in situ by KZN cooks—such as green mango and lime—and tend to favour these
Cooking Method
the Durban beef curry
In a deep pan or a kadai with a lid, heat approx. 3tbspns of oil on a medium heat. Throw in the beef pieces and sprinkle over 1tspn of garam masala. Stir, cooking until the beef is browned on all sides. Remove with a sieve spoon and place to one side, leaving any juices in the pot
To the same pot, add the remaining oil. Then add the whole cardamom pods, yellow mustard seeds, Dandicut chilli and cloves. Cook for 1min (longer; until the aromas release and the mustard seeds start popping), then add the onions and stir in
When the onions soften, add the green chillies and garlic & ginger paste. Stir in and sweat on a medium heat. If anything begins to stick, add small amounts of water (e.g. 30ml at a time) and stir to deglaze
Once the onions are notably softened (you don't need to wait until they brown, but the browner they are, the deeper the flavour will be, though ensure the garlic does not burn), add the red bell peppers and stir in. As the peppers soften, add 2tbspns of mother-in-law masala and the cayenne pepper and stir in. When these ingredients are all notably soft, add another tablespoon of mother-in-law masala and stir in. Then immediately add the tomatoes, and increase the heat slightly
Add the fresh thyme leaves and fold in. Bring the ingredients to a healthy simmer. Add half of the diluted creamed coconut. Cover and simmer for about 15 to 20mins
When the sauce has slightly reduced, add the browned beef, the lime juice and half of the chopped coriander and stir in. Add the remaining diluted creamed coconut and stir in until the beef is about three quarters submerged. If the sauce is already too thick, add more boiling water e.g. a half a cup. Reduce to a low heat so that it barely simmers. Re-cover and simmer for approx. 20mins, stirring occasionally. Taste it frequently. You're looking for the moment when it is not merely "cooked", but when all the flavours fuse. If it is not as spicy as you would like it, add additional cayenne pepper, a little at a time
Add the potatoes and stir in. Re-cover and cook for another 30 to 40mins on a low heat; barely simmering. The potatoes should become very soft, but they are unlikely to flake (because they have the skins on). When the gravy notably thickens and nears optimal consistency, add the sugar and the vinegar and stir in, slightly increasing the heat
After a few minutes, add the remaining coriander. Sprinkle in the remaining garam masala and stir in, and simmer uncovered
When the beef is optimally cooked (i.e. tender but not completely flaking), add the fresh mint and amchoor and stir in. Simmer uncovered for about 3 or 4mins
Add the fresh curry leaves, releasing their aroma (you will notice!) before stirring in
As soon as optimally cooked, remove from the heat and cover to keep warm. Rest for a couple of minutes before serving
Plate or take to table in a serving dish, garnishing with a little fresh coriander (or flaked almonds). Serve with your side dishes and condiments of choice.
Alternatives
For carnivores who don't like beef, you can make this dish with lamb—which you treat much in the same way as beef—or chicken. In the case of the latter, this needs to be browned first, but added much later in the cooking process. i.e. after the potatoes.
For a vegan or veggie version, simply bypass the beef browning stage—this is always done in a separate pan in eateries serving multiple versions—and proceed in very much the same way. Back in the day in South Africa, the Hindu vegan version was essentially this curry without any meat. But, that feels a little unfair to me. So, when I do a vegan version, I either do it with Quorn pieces, sweet potato chunks, okra or fairly large pieces of aubergine and/or butternut squash.. Obviously, each requires a slightly different timing, though generally much later in the process, after the potatoes are already half-cooked.
Bluntly, there's no point doing a pescatarian version of this curry, because essentially this Durban king prawn curry is that pescatarian version and is cooked in a slightly different way for very good reasons.
Pairings
Okay, so obviously beer is the default pairing with this meal—or the classic of coke on ice with a slice of lime if you don't do alcohol. Any chilled lager works well, regardless of whether you go for the SAFA Castle Lager or Carling Black Label, or something a bit more in the hipster camp; one of those IPAs the kids love.
On the wine front, you could take this as "nostalgia", but those South African pinotages (pinot noir to those unfamiliar with it being the same grape) are what really works; not too heavy, but enough gravitas to arm wrestle with the beef and spices.
Overall, I always look to a Simonsig Pinotage as the first option. But of late, I think Van Loveren African Java Pinotage has had the edge for me, nice at roughly half the price.
Argentinian malbecs are naturally a place I have looked, and many have been good. But a recent wild card is this little number: Bodega Terra Camiare Socavones Ovum Reserva Cabernet Franc. Certainly more machismo than your average pinotage, but definitely the ideal pairing when eating this dish during a cold Northern Hemisphere winter versus loving it as a takeaway on the beach at eMkhomazi.
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