Especially For Loadshedding: West African Peanut Stew #wisegreenwitch

Cheap and cheerful. Haute cuisine it is not, but who cares?

Last night I made this dish, a favourite because it suits (almost) EVERYONE, is cheap and delicious, AND suitable for loadshedding. So of course I woke up this morning to no power.

Years ago, I had the great good fortune to hold a fellowship at the African Gender Institute with five clever, powerful, bright and funny women from all over Africa. They all taught me many things, but Samia Ali (from Somalia) and Gifty Ohene-Konadu (from Ghana) taught me how to make this stoup (i.e., you can eat it as a stew over rice or pap or cassava or polenta — you get the picture — or as a soup). I’ve given it the boring and way too vague title of Western African Peanut Stew, but my very basic formula is a launching pad to the many versions of this dish all over the continent. I hope it leads to some happy recipe-googling.

The great thing about this is that yet again, once you master the basic sauce, you can do multiple versions of this (it is excellent for using up sad and lonely veggies). Most of these are vegan. They’re super-healthy, gluten- and dairy-free, full of fibre (and protein, depending on which variation you go for), but more NB, they’re all delicious, easy to make and inexpensive. This is a great dish for newbie cooks and cash-strapped students in digs to try: your entire dinner in one pot or bowl. The ONLY people who can’t eat this are those with peanut/nut allergies. So sorry, I haven’t found a substitute.** See update below!** If you don’t like chilli, leave it out. The stew will be a pale reflection of its full glory, but it will still be tasty and nourishing.

So, for about four hungry people, round up one big onion, a thumb of fresh ginger, and at least four fat garlic cloves, half a cup of crunchy peanut butter (if you have a powerful blender, you can make your own, which brings down the price — simply pulverise raw/roasted/salted peanuts in the blender) and a small tin or sachet (50 grams) of tomato paste (or any tin of tomatoes), and at least one red chopped/snipped chilli (fresh or dried) — or two teaspoons of flaked chilli/seeds.

Use whatever oil you like (it does have to be oil, though — not butter or marge): as always, I use half coconut oil, half olive oil, although this dish works beautifully with peanut oil. Put four tablespoons into a big pot with a heavy bottom, preferably, and turn up the heat to medium. Tip in the onion, chopped/diced. Once the onion bits start going brown at the edges, in goes the minced/crushed/finely chopped garlic and ginger. Turn the heat down slightly and stir around, watching closely. The garlic can go golden, but no darker — burned garlic will spoil this dish. Now add the chillies, peanut butter (it will form clumps) and the tomato paste or tin of tomatoes. Add about a cup of water, and stir continuously for several minutes, until the peanut butter melts and the whole thing starts to form a glossy, sticky sauce. It will try to stick to the bottom of the pot — keep stirring and add a bit more water if necessary.

This is when to add, diced, all the leftover veggies you’ve found. You can add almost anything, although if you want to put in chopped cabbage, spinach, morogo (amaranth), collard/spring greens, chard or kale, add once all the hard veggies have softened. I’ve made this with carrot, butternut, sweet potato, potato, red, green and yellow peppers, corn/mealies, beans, green beans, peas, madumbis, broccoli, cauliflower, baby marrows, lentils, and chicken.* Add water to cover all the ingredients and bubble away on low heat. Test for taste once the veggies are tender; you may need to add stock, or a tablespoon of soy sauce. Or just salt. This is also when you can decide if you’re going to serve it as a stew or a soup. For the latter, add more water and stock until you get the desired runnyness.

If using pre-cooked beans, make sure they’re soft and tender. Partially cooked beans lead to anti-social scenarios. Tinned beans need to be drained, but no need to rinse.

The standard high-protein variation (illustrated): Once you have the sauce and veggies on the go, add two drained tins of any beans you like (just not baked beans) — I like those four-bean mixes. OR chuck in about two to three cups — it depends on how many veggies are already in the pot — of any PRE-COOKED dried beans. (I needed to use up butter beans, black-eyed beans, borlotti beans and chickpeas, so that’s what’s in the photo.)

The this-is-so-good-for-you variation: to the sauce, add one peeled, diced sweet potato for every hungry diner. Cover with water. Once the potatoes are soft, add about two cups of roughly chopped spinach or chard. I call this my anti-cancer soup: there’s nothing in here that isn’t good for you. You can also try this with a cup of red or brown lentils or mung beans for protein instead of, or alongside, the sweet potato. (In which case you will need quite a punchy stock, or the juice/zest of a lemon.)

The cure-all variation (aka as Soup For Flu): double up the garlic and ginger, and put in as much chilli as you can stand. Once all that’s nicely fried, add a tablespoon of turmeric powder and two teaspoons of ground cinnamon. Hell, add another tablespoon of ground ginger, and the juice and grated zest (skin) of a lemon, if you have one. Serve this very runny; the idea is that it should make sweat bead on your brow. I’m not sure whether this genuinely has healing properties, or whether the bonfire it creates in your mouth distracts you from your sore throat. It is GRAND for clearing the sinuses, though. Have tissues on standby.

The cluck-cluck variation: If you eat chicken, lightly fry free-range chicken pieces either before you put in the onion, or in a separate pan, and then add once the skin is browned; or simply dice chicken breasts and put them in after the onion, but before the garlic. I should add that my tutors advised against doing variations of this dish with fish, lamb or pork — beef and goat are apparently fine. It’s so good with veggies, though, that I almost never go the chicken route.

But wait! What has this to do with loadshedding? This is the perfect dish for assembling, bringing to a simmer, and then tucking into a hot box for several hours or even a whole day, so that when the family assembles on a cold winter’s night, tired and hungry and in the dark courtesy of Eishkom, you can liberate this fragrant, hearty dish from its nest and serve by candlelight. Being a hippie leftover from the eighties, I own a hot box (also known as a hay box or wonderbox). You can find one online, but I am bit shocked at the prices, and frankly, you can create your own from a cardboard box and an old sleeping bag or duvet. Or make one from polystyrene granules (ha! neat way to recycle the stuff) and tough cotton fabric. YouTube will show you how. The principle is to put the very hot pot (the lid needs to be tight-fitting) into a container that will insulate it and keep it both cooking gently and warm for hours. (This is how I pre-cooked the dried beans, by the way.)

You will not be surprised to hear that I serve this dish garnished with the fresh wild rocket that has advanced menacingly to my back door. It’s also lovely with fresh coriander scattered on top. But it really doesn’t need fancy trimmings. Enjoy!

**allergy update: if you are allergic only to peanuts, not other nuts, you could try replacing the peanut butter with tahini (sesame paste) or cashew nut butter. This would however, turn it into a rather pricey dish, although if you have a powerful blender, you could grind the sesame seeds or cashew nuts yourself — a bit cheaper that way. I also want to see what happens if this is made with roasted sunflower seeds. I will experiment and let you know.**

All tucked up. This is a foolproof way to cook almost anything. I haven’t burned rice once since I got this bag.