Last summer I visited Sicily for the first time – and what a feast for the senses that was! The markets were packed with vendors noisily calling out their wares; the freshly squeezed Sicilian lemon juice was mouth puckeringly tart; the red peppers were intensely re that they looked Photoshopped; and for the first time in my life, fresh cannoli with their contrast of crispy pastry exterior and yielding sweet mascarpone interior made sense to me. Freshly made and filled before your eyes, they are as far as you can get from the prefilled and almost always disappointing examples I have had in London. The best place in Palermo to have them is at the Santa Caterina convent, where the ancient tradition of making and selling biscuits, cakes and jams lives on, often using the old recipes handed down through cohorts of nuns. It was in this place of worship, piety and quiet contemplation that I came across tette de vergine – or literally breasts of the virgin. No, I am not making this up!
Tette de vergine are round cakes consisting of small domes of sponge cake soaked in rosolio (bergamot liqueur) and stuffed with ricotta, chocolate drops and candied fruit. The outside is covered in smooth white icing and finished with a candied cherry on top to resemble…. well, a breast! They were originally created in the Sicilian convents to celebrate Saint Agatha, the martyr nun and patron saint of Catania who was tortured and her breasts torn off with pincers (!). I am guessing though that their incongruous appearance in a convent bakery has surprised many a visitor. These sweet treats got me thinking about other rude food names and it seems the Italians seem to have quite a few…
- Cazzilli di Patate – another Palermo dish consisting of small potato croquettes shaped rather like a male member, and literally translated as “small p3nises of potato”.
- Spaghetti alla Puttanesca – a dish we order without thinking but which literally means “whore’s pasta”. Popular in Naples, the dish includes cheap ingredients, such as olives, capers and tomato sauce. Because it was cheap and filling it was regularly served in brothels, which is how it acquired its name.
- Coglioni di Mulo – a popular type of salami in Abruzzo, which has a rather… droopy teardrop shape, allegedly resembling a huge donkey’s testicles, hence the name “donkey’s nuts”.
- Pets-de-nonne – a fried, cream-filled French doughnut whose name means “nun’s farts”
Of course, the Italians don’t have the monopoly on rude names. In Germany, monks reputedly not keen on giving up meat for Lent invented Maultaschen – ravioli-like dumplings filled with meat, the thinking being that the meat was hidden out of God’s sight. In Swabia where they were invented, these dumplings are known as Herrgottbescheißerle or literally, “Bullshitters of the Lord”. And the name for Generation Z’s favourite fruit smashed on toast, the avocado, comes from the Nahautl ahuacatl, a word which is also slang for “testicle” because of the pendulous fruit’s resemblance to what Blackadder delicately called men’s soft dangly bits.
The avocado is indigenous to Central America but was brought to South Africa in the late 17th and early 18th century by Dutch colonists. It thrives in the warmer subtropical areas of the country and many people I knew growing up had an avocado tree in their garden, so eating avocado on toast was not considered a particularly fancy or luxury food. However, sometime in the 1970s at about the time when I was old enough to accompany my parents to restaurants, some enterprising chef in South Africa decided to sex up the humble prawn cocktail by adding an avocado half and invented one of my all time favourite starters: Avocado Ritz. Together with melba toast, avocado Ritz comprised my ten year old self’s epitome of sophisticated haute cuisine and although I may not think so any more, there is no denying its deliciousness.
The dish traditionally consists of prawns or shrimps (or a mix) in a Marie Rose sauce which are served in half an avocado, in the hollow left behind when the stone is removed, garnished with a slice of lemon. Although I do love serving the dish like this, it can sometimes be difficult to eat as you are chasing the slippery avocado half around the plate, so for a recent dinner party I deconstructed the elements of the dish to make something both prettier and easier to eat. I have also long had an obsession with ruby grapefruit instead of lemon to accompany seafood – both for the colour and the flavour – and so out went the lemon and in came the grapefruit. The balance of flavours is wonderful in this dish and with a little fancy plating, you can turn a ’70s retro classic into an updated showstopper. While trying to research the origins of the dish, I repeatedly found South African sources and precious little else, so I am going to claim it as a South African invention and what better day to post it that today, the 30 year anniversary of South Africa’s first democratic election. Happy Freedom Day, everyone!
WINE PAIRING: I paired it with a Pirineos Seleccion Blanco 2020, an unusual blend of Chardonnay, Gewurztraminer and Macabeo from the tiny Spanish region of Somontano at the foot of the Pyrenees north of Zaragoza. Aged on the lees, this wine is a perfect balance of crisp citrus, white peach and tropical fruit flavours but with an underlying complexity and a hint of spice. Wonderful with seafood!
Why not try some of my other avocado recipes:
- Smoked salmon and avocado stacks
- Cajun blackened cod with creamy avocado dressing
- Warm avocado soup with biltong
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This stylish take on a 1970s classic dish of avocado combined with shrimp in a Marie Rose sauce is easy to assemble, full of flavour and looks fabulous on the plate!
- 1 ruby grapefruit
- 450 g peeled cooked shrimp or prawns I used half small shrimp and half larger prawns
- 2 ripe avocados
- 200 ml mayonnaise
- 2 Tbsp tomato sauce
- 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
- splash of Tabasco sauce
- splash of Worcestershire sauce
- lemon juice to taste
- 2 tsp brandy
- salt & pepper to taste
- 2 Tbsp finely chopped chives
- 12 baby gem lettuce leaves
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Carefully peel the grapefruit, removing as much of the white pith from the segments as possible. Separate the segments, then either peel or carefully cut away the membrane from each segment until you have at least 8 peeled segments. Set aside.
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Next, make the sauce. Place the mayonnaise, tomato sauce, cayenne pepper, Tabasco sauce and Worcestershire sauce in a large bowl and mix or whisk until well combined and you have a smooth pink sauce. Add the brandy and lemon juice and mix again. Check for seasoning and add salt, pepper and more lemon juice as desired.
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Drain the shrimps and add them to the sauce. Mix well until the shrimps are all coated.
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Slice the avocados in half and remove the stones. Sprinkle the flesh with a little lemon juice. Place each half cut side down on a chopping board and carefully peel the skin off the flesh. Once all the skin is off, use a sharp knife to slice into thin slices lengthways, leaving a small section of each slice attached at the pointed end so that you can fan the slices out later.
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Place 3 baby gem leaves on each of the four plates. Divide the shrimp mix into four and scoop a quarter onto the lettuce leaves on each plate, garnishing with the chopped chives and a little cayenne pepper. Place one half avocado on each plate, cut side down, and fan the slices out slightly. Garnish with a little cayenne pepper. Finally, add two grapefruit segments to each plate and serve immediately.
It is vital to use optimally ripe avocados in this recipe - neither too hard, nor with black spots. I usually buy them underripe a few days in advance and ripen them at home. I also buy a couple extra in case one or two are disappointing when I cut them open.
If cayenne pepper is too strong for you, you can substitute smoke paprika.
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