Boston’s Tragedy

When I started this blog, I was very clear in my mind that its purpose was as a food blog – a blog for recipes, for sharing tips and ideas. I try to include snippets of my life here, and memories behind various recipes, but I felt very strongly when I started out that the posts had to be first and foremost about food – and I still do.

Sometimes, though, something comes along in life, which at one and the same time renders you speechless, and makes you want to shout out loud. For me, yesterday’s tragic events in Boston is one of those things – and so I hope you will forgive me while I digress.

First, and most importantly – Noel and I, and our friends and loved ones here, are safe and well, and for this I am so very thankful. In fact, I was on a plane, having left Johannesburg moments before the blasts, and so knew nothing until I landed at JFK this morning and my phone went beserk. I am pathetically grateful not only that I was far away, but also that I didn’t find out until I had landed and therefore didn’t have to spend the 15 hours of the flight wondering if friends were safe, with no way of finding out.

My initial reaction was, and still is, shock that someone could do this to my beloved adopted city. That someone can target an event such as this – an event swarming with families, for one thing – beggars belief. Loss of life is always a tragedy, in some capacity or another, and we can find ourselves on shaky ground when we start to categorise one death as more or less tragic than another. But the cowardice of something like this – the sheer, willful, indiscriminate desire to do harm – makes me rage inside.

It is hard not to feel full of despair at moments like these, especially when they occur so close to home. However, as I mourn Boston’s loss, as I am saddened for the families who have lost loved ones, the people whose lives will never be the same again, I remember a speech I once heard, and which I would like to share with you.

When I am not swanning around on a year off, my day job is as part of the team which organises the BBC Proms concerts in London each summer. The culmination of this two-month music festival is the Last Night of the Proms – a gaudy, celebratory affair, hailed as a national treasure by some and a jingoistic anachronism by others. The 2009 Last Night of the Proms will always have a special place in my heart, because it was the first time I attended the event.

Each year, the BBC Symphony Orchestra performs, along with the BBC Symphony Chorus, and whichever conductor is chosen to direct proceedings is expected to give a speech. This is no mean feat – the concert is broadcast live on BBC Radio and TV, and across the world in more countries than I can begin to remember. In 2009, David Robertson, that year’s conductor, gave a speech which has stuck with me ever since, and which came back to me as I faced yesterday’s horrific events. You can view the whole speech here – it is a wonderfully funny, witty, self-deprecating speech, but I would especially like to share the final few minutes with you:

‘I’d like to keep it short. One of the things which happens in this extraordinary society where today people are watching this around the globe in real time right while it’s happening here… music is this thing which is always fleeting from us and always escaping and that we always wish we could hold on to, and that’s what makes the Last Night of the Proms so wonderful.

But in this same society, we have the possibility of daily updates of extraordinary instances of man’s tremendous inhumanity to man. And so, when you’re a musician you often think, ‘well is anything that I’m doing having any worth at all trying to combat this, trying to work for unity’. So let me leave you with this. You see behind me a Symphony Orchestra. Every single one of the instruments has an entirely different background and history: they come from different places on the globe; they’ve had different developments; they sound different; they look different; they don’t actually interact at all. And yet – if we were to lose one single one of the instrumentalists on the stage, we would feel an incredible lack. And so when the next time your soul sinks, assailed with some sort of horrid indication that people can’t get along together, please remember the orchestra, which is a very powerful symbol – that the things which unite us are far, far stronger than the things which would seem to keep us apart.’

I take great comfort from these words. They remind me that for every ‘instance of man’s tremendous inhumanity to man’, there are instances of hope – of people who, with no thought for themselves, come to the aid of their fellow men. There are countless stories emerging from yesterday – one which sticks with me is the men who finished the marathon and kept running till they reached the hospital, so that they could donate blood.

I believe that in order for us to find a way past this atrocity and others like it, we have to look to find the same humanity in our enemies that we see in our friends. I believe that we have to try, even when it seems hopeless, to find those things which unite us, and try to find a way to make them more important than the things which seem to keep us apart. And so I look to the orchestra, that wonderful example of unity, and I hope that, one day, we will get there.

In the meantime, I say this to you: gather your loved ones around you. Hold those dear to you close, and celebrate everything that is wonderful about each other. Invite all of your friends around for dinner – see! this is about food! – and take joy, even as you mourn, in friendship and love. There are people out there telling us that we must go on with our lives, that this is the strongest message we can send that attacks such as these will not work. I agree – but I think we must take it further, that we must celebrate our lives, even in all their glorious ordinariness. And that this begins with celebrating the most important thing of all – friends, family, and the people you love. It shouldn’t take a tragedy to make us remember this – but sometimes that is the way of the world. And, as you know, I will take any excuse for dinner…


Cooking with my mum – Lamb and Aubergine ragu


I know, I know, I promised you some South African dishes, and pasta, well, ain’t. I had planned to try my hand at a few things this week, and I don’t really know why I haven’t – so for now, here’s a yummy lamb dish instead.

For one thing, I have been starved of pasta over the past few weeks. It’s one of my absolute favourite things to eat, probably the one thing I really could eat every day – a legacy, perhaps, from time spent in Rome ten years ago, although I think I’ve always loved it. I read these diets in magazines promising miraculous results – I flip eagerly to the page, and realise, no, you have to give up pasta. In a choice between a super-svelte bikini body and pasta, pasta would win, every time.

My brother, on the other hand, has given up eating carbs in the evening – with above-mentioned miraculous results – and so while he’s been here in South Africa as well, pasta has been off the menu. It’s a small price to pay for the wonderful holiday we’ve had together – he’s a singer, and was here with some of his singer friends for performances of Handel’s Messiah and Faure’s Requiem, among other things. Once the work in Johannesburg was done, we headed down to the Cape for a wonderful week which was largely based around eating and drinking. The days followed a fairly consistent pattern: rise, at leisure, and breakfast. Set off for the winelands, take in a tasting. Find somewhere delicious for lunch. Decide we should probably do one more tasting before heading home. Roll, slightly sozzled, back into the car for a snooze on the way home. Cook dinner all together.

It’s pretty high on my list of all-time favourite things to do on holiday. There is something truly magical about tasting wine at the wine farm itself – looking out over the vines, with the most knowledgeable and passionate people possible sharing their wine with you. Add in beautiful sunshine, family and friends, and the fact that I can’t drive and therefore always get to drink – and you have a winner.

Everyone else has gone home now, and it’s just me and my parents. There’s something strange and wonderful about going home to to your parents – it involves a relinquishing of independence and all its attendant responsibility which is in equal measure liberating and frustrating. Back in my parents’ home, I change from someone who cooks and cleans and washes, who gets themselves to work and social events, to someone almost entirely dependent on my parents for these things. In my defense, this is in part because I can’t drive and getting anywhere in Johannesburg without a car is nigh-on impossible (although I am willing to accept this is not really a defense…)

As I’ve already mentioned, I’ve been very happy both to sit back and enjoy my mother’s wonderful cooking, and to cook with the rest of the group – although there have been a few occasions where I have cooked for my parents. However, even when I’ve done so, I still find myself turning to my mum for help with everything! I ask her ridiculous questions (‘Mum, is this stick of celery ok to use?’ Honestly, how have I survived thus far if I have to ask that?!) – so even when she is sitting on the sofa and I am in the kitchen, I am ‘cooking with my mum’. Not that I mind – it’s a rare treat these days, and she is so full of knowledge, I’d be a fool not to take advantage.

This dish was the result of me being let loose in the kitchen – and I was really pleased with the results. I’d been meaning to make a lamb and aubergine pasta dish for a while, and the happy coincidence of lamb in the fridge and an afternoon to spare meant I got the chance. This version uses lamb knuckles, which I have to confess I’ve never seen outside of South Africa. It’s a great cut for slow cooking, if you can get it – but if not, any stewing lamb will do. I gave this three hours as the meat was on the bone and had a lot of sinew – if it’s a slightly leaner cut or not on the bone I’d suggest checking from about two hours, though I doubt it will come to grief from a slightly longer cooking if you have it on a slow heat. I had also planned to use minced lamb when I first thought of doing this – and I do think this would work well as an alternative if you prefer, and would also need a shorter cooking time, probably more like one hour.

I have a love-hate relationship with aubergine – cooked well, it is hard to beat. It has a luxurious, pillowy softness that melts in the mouth – truly wonderful. However, it is so often disappointing, usually because it has been undercooked, and is therefore hard and with none of the silkiness which makes it so delicious. It also soaks up oil, so if it has been sauteed, can be overly greasy. These days, I almost invariably roast the aubergine in the oven, at least briefly, to start the process. It needs less oil than if you were to saute it, and as with all roasting it brings out the sweetness of the aubergines. It also has the advantage of meaning you can put it in the oven for 30 minutes and forget about it, which, as Delia Smith says, is ‘much less tiresome than standing over a frying pan watching them soak up masses of oil’.


The inspiration for this recipe is the Italian aubergine dish, caponata – an aubergine stew, in which the aubergines are cooked in both vinegar and salt to give a slightly sweet-and-sour taste. The meatiness of the lamb works really well with this – and you can add more or less sugar and vinegar to either make it a feature or a background note. I like the combination of balsamic and either red or white wine vinegar, although I don’t think this is at all authentic!


Lamb and Aubergine ragu
Prep time: 30mins; Cooking time: 3hrs
Serves 6

  • 750g/1lb 10oz lamb knuckles
  • 1/2 tbsp olive oil
  • Salt & pepper
  • 1 onion, finely chopped
  • 1 stick celery, finely chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
  • 1tbsp tomato puree
  • 1 x 400ml tin tomatoes
  • 1 tbsp balsamic vinegar (or to taste)
  • 2 tsp sugar (or to taste)
  • 1/2 tbsp red or white wine vinegar (or to taste)
  • 2 large / 3 small aubergines
  • Sprig of thyme
  • 1tbsp pine nuts
  • Freshly grated parmesan, to serve

Heat the oil in a large skillet/frying pan over a high heat. Season the lamb with salt and pepper, and sear in the pan until well-browned all over – do this in batches, if necessary. Remove the lamb from the pan and set aside.

Reduce the heat to low, and a little more oil if needed, and add the onion, garlic and celery to the pan. Cook over a low heat until the vegetables are very soft. Stir in the tomato puree and season with salt and pepper – allow the mixture to cook for a couple of minutes.

Increase the heat slightly, and return the meat to the pan, arranging it in one layer as far as possible. Add the tinned tomatoes, the balsamic vinegar, and 1 tsp of sugar. Bring the pan to a simmer, then reduce the heat to low, cover and allow to cook, stirring occasionally, for 2-3 hours (NB: you can also do this in the oven, at 150c/300F)

In the meantime, prepare the aubergines. Heat the oven to 180C. Cut the aubergine into 1 inch chunks, and arrange on a baking tray. Season with salt, pepper and a little olive oil, and roast in the oven for around 30 minutes, until the pieces are softened and golden.

When the lamb has around 1 hour cooking time to go, stir the aubergine pieces into the dish. Taste at this point and adjust the vinegar/sugar balance if necessary – bearing in mind that the wine vinegar will add more tang than the balsamic. Add a sprig of thyme and allow to cook for another hour.

Just before serving, heat a small pan over a medium heat, and toast the pine nuts until golden brown. Serve with pasta, sprinkled with the pine nuts and parmesan.