This chicken peri peri curry hails from Mozambique, a tasty example of the historic fusion between Portuguese cooking and Indian Diasporan cuisine on the east coast of Africa. Yes, it takes a little more effort than slapping some store-bought peri peri sauce or seasoning on a piece of chicken on the barbecue, but it's well worth the effort.
On the bone
Another of those dishes from my beloved Indian Diasporan table from Africa's East Coast, this recipe was taught to me by a woman called Jacinta. Her father was Portuguese, her mother from an Indian Diasporan family that had settled in Mozambique. She was visiting a mutual friend in London, who had organised a little gathering, and she insisted on cooking. We clicked immediately when she realised that my praise of what she was preparing wasn't just "polite conversation". So I joined her in the kitchen, ostensibly to assist, but actually to snoop and learn.
The first thing she was keen to point out is that this dish must be cooked with chicken on the bone and with the skin on. This, she explained, was because it adds to the flavour of the dish, effectively acting as an on-board stock.
The second thing she was keen to point out was the Indian-Portuguese nature of the dish. If you look closely, the marinade/spice paste contains all of the ingredients of the now globally know peri peri seasoning (often spelled piri piri in Africa) with ingredients like dried parsley and dried oregano, seldom encountered in Indian cooking elsewhere.
But, like the "very Portuguese" inclusion of potatoes and chickpeas, this is no modern fusion dish. Indian traders arrived in Mozambique over 500 years ago and the history of cultural interaction between the Portuguese and Indians—in India and Africa—predates that of the first 19th-century Indian communities in South Africa by centuries. The cuisine quite naturally reflects the complex nature of Indo-Portuguese relations in Africa from originally being trading partners and competitors on an equal footing, through Portuguese colonisation, up until the postcolonial period.
I've heard the mermaids singing; the widows wailing
Somewhere in the deepest recesses of my mind, I recall a story about the invention of peri peri told to me by the mother of my childhood friend Graça. Her mother was rather intimidating, pissed off that they had to leave Salazar's Portugal under the dictatorship and equally pissed off that they had had to leave Moçambique after her husband's libertarian writing fell foul of the new regime. But, she could be very sweet when you least expected it.
I'd overcome my fear of her unexpected rages in a language I didn't understand for the perennial assurance that her home-baked pastel de Belém would always be offered to any visitor to the house, regardless of her mood. To this day, I think those little custard tarts—and any version thereof—remain one of the few "cakes" that blow my skirt up.
One sweltering day when Graça and I were hogging out on these custard delights under the shade of a yellowwood tree, her mother joined us, unusually perky. She asked me if I would like to stay for dinner. She was doing peri peri. Then she told me this story of the legend behind it's creation. It had supposedly been created by the wives of Portuguese sailors centuries ago, the heat of its chillies to bring tears as a reminder of men so far from home who might never return, some of them lured onto the rocks by sirens.
To this day, I have made a point of never researching this apocryphal story behind peri peri. It seems appropriately respectful of the passion with which she told it to me as a kid to feel it as the only truth. Only decades later when meeting up with Graça in Lisbon did I learn that her mother had grown up in literary circles in Portugal, her parents part of a group of writers and thinkers involved with the novelist José Saramago. So, yes, I'm staying with her mother's version of peri peri.
The moral of the story is that, bluntly, I've never encountered an off-the-shelf spice paste like this this one. You'll either have to make your own or know that whatever readymade approximation you use—I'm sure it will be very tasty—will never quite capture the unique flavours and aromas of this dish. Yep, try your facsimiles, but you'll never hear the mermaids singing or the widows weeping.
Despite Graça's mom's tale, Jacinta's recipe is not fiercely spicy. I would say that it is "moderately spicy". If you're not great with capsaicin heat, merely leave the red bird's eye chillies out of the spice paste.
This recipe serves 2 to 3 diners. Scale up as needed and you can also refrigerate the cooked for a few days. But, because it involves chicken cooked on the bone, it's not suitable for freezing unless you shred the meat off the bones and discard them before freezing.
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Shopping list
for the Mozambican chicken peri peri curry
Chicken on the bone — e.g. drumsticks, thighs, whole legs etc.
Approx 200g small potatoes; skin-on, scrubbed, cut into pieces
2 medium brown onions, thickly sliced
1 small red bell pepper, cut into fairly large slices or "cubes"
1 small green bell pepper, cut into fairly large slices or "cubes"
½ a cup chickpeas, cooked and drained
2 large red chillies, chopped
3 tspns garlic and ginger paste
3 or 4 tbspns sunflower oil
Approx. 60g creamed coconut, the "block" kind, roughly crushed
the juice and pulp of 1 fresh lime
4 tbspns vinegar; cider, white wine or malt, not balsamico
1 tbspn demerara sugar (or other coarse brown sugar)
3 to 4 tabspns of plain yoghurt
4 or 5 green cardamom pods, gently cracked
1 cinnamon stick
A small clutch of fresh coriander
A smidgen of smooth mango chutney
Salt and pepper to taste
for the spice paste/marinade
3 cloves of garlic
2 shallots (or ½ a small brown onion)
1 tspn black peppercorns
2 tspns mild Madras curry powder
1 tspn ground cumin
A thumb's length of ginger, peeled
A thumb's length fresh turmeric, peeled (or 1 tspn powdered turmeric)
1 large green chilli, the mild, bitter kind, not deseeded
3 small bird's eye hot chillies, deseeded (unless you want it really hot)
A generous clutch of fresh mint
1 tspn smoked chilli flakes (use smoked chipotle if you don't have the Indian type)
1 tspn chilli powder
1 tspn fennel seeds
½ tspn fenugreek seeds
1 tspn dried orgegano
1 tspn dried parsley
½ tspn cayenne pepper
½ tspn brown sugar
The juice of 1 lime
3 tbspns concentrated tomato purée
2 tbspns sunflower oil
a little water
the sides and condiments
Naan breads—apparently the really traditional option is a Mozambican Portuguese flatbread similar to the famous Madeiran bolo do caco, if you can get it
Salad — a simple salad of sliced lettuce and cucumber with a dressing of minced chillies, vinegar and lime juice used to dissolve a little smooth mango chutney
Raitha — I've opted to make one with-low fat yoghurt, coriander and mint
Chutney — a chunky mango artisanal version in this case, but down to you
Cooking Method
the spice paste/marinade and chicken preparation
You need to make this first. You can do this days in advance and store in the fridge. You're likely to use most of it in this dish, but any excess will keep in the fridge for up to 2 weeks—lime juice and sunflower oil are natural preservatives. You can also freeze any excess. Using a mini-chopper or pestle and mortar, first chop the larger dry spice and vegetable elements roughly
Add the spices in powder form, the tomato purée, brown sugar, lime juice and the oil. Chop into a thick, rough paste/marinade. Add water, a little at a time, if it remains too thick
Place your selected chicken pieces in a container with a lid suitable for the fridge. First season with salt, rubbing into the flesh. Then, baste generously with the paste/marinade. Cover and marinade in the fridge for a minimum of three hours. NB, Jacinta said 12 hours is ideal
the Mozambican chicken peri peri curry
In a spacious, deep pot with a lid, heat 2 tbspns of sunflower oil on a high heat, adding a dab of garlic and ginger paste while it is heating. When this begins to sizzle, you know it's hot enough. Add your chicken, skin side down and seal—actually sear—it. Turn and ensure all sides are sealed. If it feels like it's sticking too much, add minimal drops of additional oil
When the chicken is fully sealed, but only partially cooked, gently remove using a tongs or sieve spoon and place to one side
Reduce to a medium heat. To the same pot, add additional oil, stirring into the detritus and juices from cooking the chicken so that nothing sticks. The add the bulk of the garlic and ginger paste, the cinnamon stick, the cardamom pods and a few black peppercorns. When the garlic and ginger paste begins to sizzle and the aromas release, add the onions and chopped red chillies, sautéing while stirring constantly. As soon as the onions show signs of sticking, add approx. half of the remaining spice paste and stir in. If this cooks off too quickly, add a little water, approx. 30ml at at time
When the onions soften—but are not browned—add the chopped bell peppers and a dab more of the spice paste, stirring almost constantly
When the onions and peppers are actually browned, add your slices of potato and more spice paste, stirring to ensure they're fully coated. Sizzle all of these together almost until the point of sticking, then pour in the chopped tomatoes and their juices. Fill the empty can with boiling water and pour into the pot, stirring constantly until the ingredients are simmering
Add the lime juice and pulp and the smashed creamed coconut and stir in. Cover and simmer for 10mins on a medium-low heat
Gently lower the chicken pieces back into the pot, skin side up so that the chicken pieces are not fully immersed in the liquid. Reduce to a low heat. Cover and simmer for at least 20mins, stirring occasionally.
Lift the chicken pieces out of the sauce using tongs or a sieve spoon, draining any residual sauce back into the pot. Place the chicken pieces in a roasting tray or ceramic oven dish, skin side up. Baste with a little smooth mango chutney and roast in the middle of the oven at 200°C until perfectly done
Add the chickpeas, brown sugar, vinegar and a little more of your paste/marinade to the pot and stir in. Re-cover and simmer in a low heat for an additional 15 to 20mins, stirring fairly regularly. If the sauce reduces too quickly, add a little water, but only sparingly: it's meant to be a fairly thick "stew" rather than a very liquid "curry"
When your sauce is suitably thickened, add a sprinkle of garam masala and stir in. Simmer for no more than a few minutes, then remove from the heat and rest for a minute or so. Ensuring it is not still bubbling, add 3 to 4 liberal spoons of yoghurt and stir in. Re-cover while you heat your naan breads
Remove the finished chicken—it should be a little caramelised on top but it won't be too crispy—and rest. NB: leave it in the oven a little longer, until the internal meat hasn't reached at least 80°C (check using a meat thermometer). NB if you need to wait until the chicken is fully cooked, you can keep the sauce warm on a very low heat. Just ensure it doesn't come back to the simmer to avoid the yoghurt clotting
Plate your sauce and chicken pieces and garnish with a little fresh coriander. Take to table and serve with your warm naan breads, salad and condiments
Alternatives
I have cooked great pescatarian versions of this dish—which I later learned was a "thing". Apparently it was often cooked with crayfish and all forms of seafood in Mozambique. The version I thought worked best was very large shrimp—what sometimes gets called "Moz prawns", but is actually a form of shrimp. I marinaded these, raw in their shells. Then I cooked them exactly the way the chicken is in the recipe above, then set aside and later. Just remember that prawns cook really quickly, so they need to only go back into the sauce for barely a minute and do not need to be finished in the oven.
Another pescatarian version I really liked involved cooking a whole red snapper on the barbecue. I had marinaded it for four hours and placed additional marinade and fresh lime slices inside the cleaned fish. I added a cup fish stock to the curry at the point of adding the tomatoes when I pre-cooked it, meaning it could easily be re-heated on the barbecue for a great al fresco meal. But some whiny diners—you know the kind, the ones who go, "Urgh! It's got it's head on!"— found it too fussy to have to pull the delicate flesh from the bone of the perfectly grilled fish. Pft!
By far my favourite vegetarian—actually vegan if you don't add the yoghurt— version is to scrub the skin of a flat white boer pumpkin (also known as Zulu pumpkin). Cut it into thick wedged-shaped slices to which its form lends itself so well, de-seed and marinade. Don't add to the curry; add a cup of vegetable stock instead. Bake in a hot oven, skin on, until the pumpkin is cooked, then finally baste with a little smooth mango chutney and place under the grill until the glaze begins to caramelise.
This sort of pumpkin is available in many parts of the world, but in the UK you generally have to look in ethnic (African) grocers or markets. Butternut squash also makes an excellent alternative though, because it is so naturally sweet, I prefer to baste it with a little more of the marinade with additional lime juice added in the final grilling stage. What doesn't work so well is the more "watery" forms of pumpkin that are more prevalent in European and UK supermarkets. They tend towards sogginess when you bake them.
Pairings
Curries such as this work perfectly with ice cold beers. Why not try it with one of the popular Mozambican ones is you can find them such as 2M or Impala, a beer made from cassava. You occasionally see them pop up in hipster beer retailers in the UK. If not, anything in the lager area works well.
I'm generally fairly agnostic about whether you should opt for a white or red with a curry, but this is one of those that I strongly feel that its intensity of flavours demands a red or, at the very least one of those beefier rosés, rosados, in fact. It needn't be too heavy, but nor does it have to be too light. Wines with which has have liked it include various vintages of Simonsig Redhill Pinotage from the Cape, Californian Au Bon Climat Pinot Noir and the decidedly memorable Duouro Quinta Da Gaivosa by Alves de Sousa. And, on the rosado front—something I opted for with the shrimp version— was this Terroir Al Límit Soc. Lda
Roc d'Aubaga Rosado 2017. It was the perfect match.
On this occasion I'm having it with the other great beverage that works so well with curry and evokes peri peri and Mozambique for me: Coca-Cola on ice with a slice of lemon.
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