This vegetarian green lentil and tomato and curry with coconut is a very versatile dish. Its default setting is vegetarian—actually vegan—but its easily combined with chicken or lamb in the final stages of cooking, making it ideal for mixed groups of diners.
Cane workers canteen
An Indian Diasporan dish from Africa's Indian Ocean coast, it's another of those dishes I discovered in one of those roadside canteens catering to workers on the sugar cane plantations and in the sugar refineries around oThongathi and Verulam.
It's essentially a worker's lunch dish that the husband -and-wife who ran the place—Mrs and Mr Naidoo— told me was their bestseller. When I asked why they thought that was, they chuckled and said it was because it was cheap. It's easy to understand the evolution of this dish catering to agricultural and factory workers on low wages: cheap ingredients but, importantly, ones that give energy for long days of backbreaking work. Potatoes, for example, are a common ingredient in many Indian Disaporan and Cape Malay curries in South Africa whether vegetarian or not; energy boosting carbs that are also an easy way to stretch a dish when there are lots of mouths to feed on little money.
It's also a quick way to understand the local culture from which it springs. This region of KwaZulu-Natal is where swathes of Indian immigrants arrived to work in the cane fields in the mid-19th century. Unlike the Chinese, the vast majority of whom decided to return to China at the end of their contracts, most of those from India chose to settle. Hence these are the oldest Indian Diasporan communities in South Africa.
From early on, these agricultural communities included Muslims and Hindus—the small Parsee and Sikh minorities gravitated to more urban centres. In terms of food culture, this meant dishes were developed that could serve the needs of both religions dietary observances, something evident in the recipes of Mr and Mrs Naidoo more than a century later. In many ways it's the precursor to the cooking methods developed by many British Indian restaurants from the 1950s onwards whereby the protein of choice is added to the sauce in the final stages allowing for those extensive menus where you can opt for your korma or vindaloo with chicken, beef, lamb or prawn.
I encountered variations of this dish in numerous places in and around Durban and its North Coast but the recipe taught to me by the Naidoos is undoubtedly the most flavoursome. They served it with rice just like every other place I ordered it, locally grown African rice which was a lot cheaper than imported basmati back then, no doubt to keep the cost of a worker's lunch low.
But, I don't find it necessary and often don't bother to cook any rice to accompany it, preferring it with a few pappadums and interesting condiments. It's a relatively "dry" dish, not nearly as liquid as the dals cooked in many regions of India. It's almost like a green lentil "risotto". And, with the potatoes, if you don't need the energy for cutting sugar cane, the rice can feel like a carb overload.
Curries from this region are famously hot. This one, however, not so much, partly because green lentils have a way of somehow balancing out the spiciness, as does the coconut. Don't panic if it seems very spicy in the first stages of cooking: you'll notice how it becomes milder once you've added the coconut and the lentils have started to cook. In these quantities, I would say that this is a medium spicy curry. If you really don't like a bit of spice, do not use less of your homemade spice paste because it will lose overall flavour intensity. Rather simply reduce the amount of chilli powder, fresh bird's eye chillies and cayenne you put into the paste.
Similarly, it is essential that you use green lentils, not any other type—unless you actively want a version that is more like dal tadka. Green lentils do not break up as easily as many other types of lentils, nor do they require soaking before cooking.
Also, although you don't use a lot of celery in this recipe, it's important that you use those very pale, slender stems at the centre of the bunch and their soft leaves, the leaves that a lot of recipes tell you to discard. Their reputation for bitterness is exactly what you want for this particular dish. Basically you use the very centre of the celery; about three or four of those small, slender stems hidden inside the bunch.
This dish is easy and cooks relatively quickly, but I've yet to come across an off-the-shelf curry paste close enough to this one so you'll have to make your own. If you really don't want to do that I suggest you use a rogan josh paste—and add additional tomato purée—which as near as you'll get. It's nice enough, but really doesn't capture the brilliance of this dish.
The fresh mint used in this dish during the cooking process—as opposed to any you use in the sambal—is finely minced and then covered in a little vinegar. And, you also add a little demerara sugar during the cooking. So, my hack it to simply use 3 tspns of English mint sauce instead if you have it in the fridge but no fresh mint.
While I've been on my post-operative low-fat regime, I'm pleased to report that it remains very tasty with half the quantities of creamed coconut used here. However, even with the quantities in the recipe below it remains fairly low in fat content per portion. However, I really would advise using creamed coconut diluted in boiling water rather than coconut milk unless you have other plans for the greater part of a tin in the following few days.
This recipe serves 3 to 4 diners. Scale up as needed and you can also refrigerate or freeze and enjoy it another day.
Shopping list
for the vegetarian green lentil and tomato curry
1 and ⅓ cups whole dried green lentils; washed and drained
Approx 250g small potatoes; skin-on, scrubbed, cut into large, irregular pieces
3 or 4 pale stems and leaves from the centre of the celery, finely sliced
1 large red onion, sliced
1 medium red bell pepper, cut into fairly large "cubes"
1 large mild red chilli, chopped
2 tspns garlic and ginger paste
2 tbspns sunflower oil or peanut oil
Approx. 60g creamed coconut, diluted in a cup of boiling water
A generous clutch of fresh mint, minced and covered in a little vinegar
4 tbspns vinegar; cider, white wine or malt, not balsamico
1 tbspn demerara sugar (or other coarse brown sugar)
4 or 5 green cardamom pods, gently cracked
2 dried bay leaves
2 tspns garam masala
Salt and pepper to taste
for the spice paste
5 cloves of garlic
1 tspn black peppercorns
2 tspns mild Madras curry powder
1 tspn ground coriander
A thumb's length of ginger, peeled
A thumb's length fresh turmeric, peeled (or 1 tspn powdered turmeric)
2 hot fresh bird's eye red chillies, not deseeded, chopped
A generous clutch of fresh coriander
1 tspn sweet paprika (or mild sweet pimentón)
1 tspn smoked chilli (use smoked chipotle if you don't have the Indian type)
1 tspn hot chilli powder
1 tspn fennel seeds
½ tspn ground dried fennel
1 tspn ground black pepper
½ tspn cayenne pepper
The juice of 1 lemon
2 tbspns concentrated tomato purée
a little water
the sides and condiments
Rice —usually it's served with simple, boiled white long grain rice (if any)
Sambal — fresh mint, raw onion and tomato in a little vinegar
Raitha — I've opted to make one with-low fat yoghurt and grated cucumber
Chutney — achar and mango pickle are often found on the tables in the kind of worker's cantinas that serve this dish as is simple chopped raw onion to garnish
Pappadums
Cooking Method
the spice paste
Make your spice paste first. You can do this days in advance and store in the fridge. You're unlikely to use all of it for this dish. Any excess will keep in the fridge for up to 2 weeks (lemon juice is a natural preservative) and you can freeze it. Using a mini-chopper or pestle and mortar, first chop the larger dry spice elements—peppercorns, fennel seeds. They should not be finely ground, simply roughed up a bit
Add the garlic, ginger, bird's eye chillies and turmeric, followed by the fresh coriander. It will prove helpful to add the tomato purée—1 tbspn at a time—and dilute with the lemon juice and a little water too, as needed
Add all of the powdered spice ingredients and mix until a paste that has the consistency similar to a tapenade or chunkier harissa paste—you still want some "bits" in there
the vegetarian green lentil and tomato curry
In a fairly deep pot with a lid, heat 2 tbspns peanut oil on a medium heat, adding the garlic and ginger paste and cardamom pods while it is heating. When the paste begins to sizzle, add 1 tspn garam masala. As soon as the aromas are released, add the onion and sauté, stirring almost constantly
After about 2mins, add the chopped red chilli. A minute later, add two tbspns of your curry paste and stir in, releasing the aromas. If the ingredients begin to stick add a little water—approx. 30ml at a time
When the onions begin to soften, add the chopped celery and dried bay leaves and stir in, adding more water in the same manner, if needed
When the celery turns glassy, changes colour, but isn't necessarily soft, add the red bell pepper and stir in. First add the juice and pulp of a fresh lemon. Then, while it is cooking off, add 2 more tbspns of your spice paste and stir in
Only when the liquid has largely cooked off—when there's a risk of sticking—add approx. half a cup of boiling water. Increase the heat until it reaches a healthy simmer. Cover and simmer for about 5mins
Dilute the tomato purée in approx. a cup of boiling water. Add to the pot, stir, re-cover and simmer for a further 8 to 10 mins, starting an initial reduction
Add the washed, drained lentils—you may need to add some additional hot water to ensure sufficient cover. Season with salt and black pepper. Stir in thoroughly, recover and simmer at a healthy bubble for at 5mins
Add the potatoes and mint (or mint sauce as per the hack). Stir in thoroughly. Pour in the diluted coconut cream. You will almost certainly need to add a little additional boiling water at this point—you want the ingredients almost but not entirely covered. Re-cover and simmer vigorously for a further 15mins, stirring thoroughly, ensuring that ensuring that the lentils and potatoes all get some time at the bottom of the pot so they cook evenly. Don't be afraid to add additional boiling water as you go, a little at a time. You don't want it too watery, but the lentils and potatoes have a fearsome ability to soak up liquid. Make sure that it never becomes dry enough to stick
Mix the demerara sugar into the vinegar and add to the pot. This step can be a bit confusing. If it has already greatly reduced, you'll need to add additional boiling water at the same time, even though the sugar is to help reduction. But, it's not only about that. It's also about cooking down to the right flavours. So, have a little faith in little in your "inner curry chef"
Re-cover and gently simmer until the potatoes—which should be cooked but not crumbling—and your lentils—which should be a little al dente but also fully cooked—are optimal. Of course, the sauce should have thickened delightfully, but not in that paste-like way that you experience by adding "fast fixes" such as flour or cornflour
Add the remaining 1 tspn of garam masala and mix in about 5mins before plating or decanting to a serving dish. Take to table and serve with the condiments and rice (if serving it)
Alternatives
This Indian Diasporan dish is veggie—nay, vegan if you leave out the raitha as a condiment—so all other versions come after that.
The spirit of the place where I learned it was that it should be available to vegetarians and those who ate meat—they did a chicken and halal lamb option—in a way that seemed almost like a "reverse order" of things in back then; now, not so much.
The principles for preparing these are the same. I most recently revisited it with chicken. Essentially, you gently fry bite-sized pieces of chicken, roughly equivalent to one chicken breast per diner, in a teaspoon of sunflower oil and a little garam masala, then decant to a covered dish once cooked. And, with the lamb, you first seal cubed lamb with a little oil and garam masala then slowly cook it in a large pot of stock on a low heat.
In both cases, you remove the relevant amount of the baseline dish to another appropriate pot and add the animal protein, adding additional water (or stock from the lamb pot for the lamb version), simmering it until fully cooked/reheated and the sauce sufficiently reduced. At that point you add a final sprinkle of garam masala, stir in and simmer for a few minutes before serving.
Pescatarians: bluntly, I've never tried it. Yes, I do think it could be tricky, but learning from the Spanish table, I imagine cuttlefish, octopus or monkfish would work out best. Watch this space...
Pairings
Beers work really well with curry. It's not something up for debate; something well established. For me this dish is really heavily associated with bog-standard South African beers—no, I'm not going to name them for fear they now think themselves all "heritage" and "artisan" and get all pissy with the idea of being quotidian....
The reality is that "young, dumb and full of..." political jeopardy, I—like most of the people eating lunch in the place I first discovered this dish—was not eating it with boozy drinks. That's not really a good plan for operating heavy machinery, wielding a panga or driving back...
I'm not sure whether this is exactly a recommendation, but I remember enjoying it with Sparletta Crème Soda and Groovy Fruit Punch.
I also remember, once, wading out of the surf as the sun fell quickly—"danger hour; sharks attack at dusk!"—and shivering the minute the sun fell beyond the horizon quickly, as it does at that latitude.
Friends warmed this dish—we'd stocked up inland earlier in the day before hitting the beach—in tin foil trays over a small charcoal fire dug into the sand pretty much beside where bottles of Western Cape sauvignon blanc were being keep cool in rock pools.
Yes, this is all very "narrative", a long, roundabout way of saying that, while I still maintain that Cape chenin blancs are the best white wines to stand up to a good curry, I distinctly remember the wines that worked best with this one were sauvignon blanc; in this case from the Western Cape. And, sure, now tinted by the sauvignon-tinted spectacles of intense memory— I won't call it nostalgia; I'm hardly planning a reunion—I also question whether that stands up.
It does. I tried it out with a bottle of Diemersdal The Journal Sauvignon Blanc 2022 Yes, I know they only have the 2023; guess 2022 all gone. I had been given the 2022 as a gift the day before I revived this dish—arguably why I subconsciously chose to cook it again after so many years. Naturally, they think about it in terms of pairing with fish. Just read up on it and its fruit notes and you'll see why it works so well with this paesan Indian Diasporan dish.
Today, however I'm going healthy with a simple mix of orange and mango juice with mineral water and a slice of cucumber.
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