Finding some passion in curd

Passion fruit curd recipe

It’s no secret that the kitchen has long been my happy place.  Over the last while, I’ve not had the inclination – or reason – to spend much time  in the kitchen.  Other than what I must do for the market each week.  I am grateful for that – it is one of the things that helps to shape my week, and depending on what I (don’t) sell, ensures that I eat.

For a while, I admit, Fridays literally involved going through the motions.  Sometimes that was very hard.  That’s getting more manageable – thanks to time.

I also have friends to thank.  As the summer approaches autumn, harvests begin and friends who have produce they can’t use, arrive with armfuls.  In the last two weeks I have had deliveries of pears and granadillas.  GranadillasHere, passion fruit vines sometimes bear more than once a year and when the do, I have a ready market for granadilla curd.

As so often happens, it begins with a

Could you use….granadillas?

message.

As it turns out, one of my regular marmalade customers is passionate about granadilla curd, so I knew I’d make at least one person happy if I made a batch.  So, of course, I answered in the affirmative.

Then.  I couldn’t find the recipe.  Or so I thought.  Then after trawling the interweb, I did.  There was something at the back of my head that told me I’d found and saved the recipe somewhere.

An aside:

In June last year – the 4th to be precise – my house was burgled and my laptop stolen, and along with it, recipes that I’d created and saved.  But neither saved into the Cloud or on to the Blockchain.  I should have known better.  Anyhow:  another lesson learned.

Back to the curd recipe:

I knew I must have a recipe because less a month after that burglary, I’d made a batch ofgranadilla fruit and pulp granadilla curd.  I knew I had the recipe.  And because of aforementioned disaster, I also knew I had saved it in some or other cloud.  I love it that my new flying machine (story for another time, perhaps) laptop has fab-bloody-tastic search features.  I eventually found it: I’d filed it under something else.  Anyway, this time round, I’m saving it here, on my blog and from here on to the blockchain so that I won’t lose it and I (and others) can find it.

For those who don’t know, a sweet curd is, effectively, a custard to which you add fruit.

Granadilla curd ingredientsPeople are most familiar with lemon curd and other than the lemon, this includes the same three ingredients:  eggs, sugar and butter.  Yes, it’s very sweet.  And rich. Occasionally rich and decadent are a necessary combination. This is one of them.

Curd takes time and attention

Curds need gentle treatment.  That takes time:  if you rush things you could end up with a scramble(d egg) which neither looks nor tastes good.  You also have to keep your eye on it.  For two reasons:  the first I’ve already mentioned which means that you need to continuously stir the mixture, preferably using a whisk.

Secondly, if you don’t have a double boiler (even if you do), make sure your equipment can “contain” everything.  If it’s an “only just” situation like mine, you have to stir gently to avoid spillage or its boiling over and creating an almighty sticky, burnt sugar mess.

Happily, I did!

This batch of granadilla curdGranadilla curd

Even if I say so, myself, this is a spectacular batch.  The granadillas are fantastically sweet – thanks to all the rain – and hot temperature we’ve had/been having.  It’s delicious on toast or bread, on cup cakes, ice cream and yoghurt.  Or, as R who gave them to me, pronounced,

…with blue cheese!

Thanks to her dumping the granadillas with me, and with another friend acting as guineapigs for another product (more of that in another post), I’m beginning to recover my passion for curd cooking.  For the moment.

If you’d like the full recipe, you’ll find a printable version here.

Until next time
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma

Post script

If this post might seem familiar, it’s because I’m doing two things:

  • re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
  • and “re-capturing” nearly two years’ worth of posts.

I blog to the Hive blockchain using a number of decentralised applications.

  • From WordPress, I use the Exxp WordPress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.

Original artwork: @artywink
  • lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs and Canva.

 

Pita Breads with Natural Yeast – Sourdough

Fiona Cameron-Brown Sourdough Pita Bread Recipe

I have been planning to share another episode in my sourdough journey for a while. It was prompted by my newest market product which garnered orders for 160.  Yes, you read right.  One-hundred-and-sixty.  Pita breads using wild yeast.

Oh, and that excludes the batch I make each week for the market…

I started working on this on Friday – in between my usual other “other” office tasks – and discovered that my WordPress site needed some updates (it still does which is why some images may not have pulled through).  I’ve not been here much in the last few months.  I also realised that I had far too many pita-related pictures….and went down the Canva rabbit hole making banners and collages.  The plan then shifted to finishing writing this on Saturday.  Now, I’m not so sure because, instead of sitting down to work after my post market brunch – around 1.30 pm, I got to it after 4.  And I had an early evening appointment.  And I was…tired…

An incident digression

Because I had to go and make a statement at the police station.

Because:  when I got home at dusk on Friday evening, somebody – the police think (a) child(ren) – had got into the house.  Nothing of significant value was stolen – there’s nothing left to steal (a story for another time) but the kitchen door has been so badly tampered with that I cannot unlock it. It may be irreparable.  I will know on Monday.

The intruder was not to be thwarted, though.

So, how did they/he get in?

Thank you for asking.  With today – Sunday’s – visit from the detectives, we discovered how they climbed on to the stoep roof and came in the fanlight and into the upstairs bathroom.  Definitely children.

What did they/he get away with?

Again, thank you for asking, but I’m almost embarrassed to say, small change.   Literally.  It must have been (a) boy: he stole nothing that would have appealed to girls, and small enough to have pocketed, like costume jewellery and perfume.  No wine went, either.  Another clue that it was probably kids.

Even though they didn’t get away with much, and their mission couldn’t be considered really successful, I’m rattled, unnerved and sadly angry.

I don’t want to be that person who is suspicious of every brown/black child who passes the house, or who stops to catch their breath on the corner, as they make their way up the hill – home or to the dam.

I am already the crazy lady who lives with cats and bats in The Sandbag House.  I don’t want to have another – and negative – descriptor added.

That incident soured what the end of what had been relatively sweet good day.  After five or so months, I’m in a space where had thought I was beginning to “get it together”, but after Friday, I’m back in fall-apart-mode and tears are not far.  Writing this, and about my new favourite sourdough product, is an attempt at getting myself back on track (again), and soldiering on.

Enough of the pity party.

Back to the pita partyPita Brea

Ever since I ate my first pita – some time in the early-1980s – I have been a fan.  As I am of so much Mediterranean food.  Until the pandemic, I had been totally intimidated at the thought of baking bread.  Even though I secretly harboured a dream of making my own.  And with natural yeast – sourdough.  With nothing better to do during lockdown, and encouraged by my friend, I grew Ursula.   She’s now three-and-a-bit years old.  I bake three different types of sourdough bread.  Every. Week.

When The Husband was still around, I did a lot of experimenting in the kitchen.  Succeeding with sourdough was a delight and once I’d mastered the buns, I had a go with naan and pita breads.  I made the naan breads with discard;  it took some planning and they were delicious.  However, not often having discard, and the need to paint them with oil or butter, means I haven’t done them that often and not at all in the last few months.  Also, the first pitas I made were using instant yeast.  That taught me, among other things, that the dough is very forgiving.  I have been wondering whether the dough would be as forgiving if I made them with natural yeast.

Market mates

pita-breads-with-natural-yeast-sourdough
Pita breads with Trish’s falafel and tzatziki on a bed of Asian slaw

Anyway, I digress again.  Fast forward to the last couple of months.  My market pal, Trish, makes falafel and tzatiki.  One day it occurred to me that it might make sense to add sourdough pita breads to my repertoire.  To suit my own tastes, yes, and they’d “play” well with my neighbour’s wares. She loved the idea. Eventually, in mid-September “it” happened.

As with all things new, that day, I came home with most of the batch and happily shared my supper on Instagram.  As I do.  My friend, R, who caters big functions saw the post.  A couple of days later, I saw her at the local:

Can I order 120 pitas for xyz date?

Ahem….what?

The following day, I checked in, concerned that it had been the whisky speaking.

Nope.  Not the whisky.

So began a couple of weeks of perfecting pita breads, discovering the maximum quantity of dough my kitchen and equipment could cope with.  And when I’d delivered the 120, she ordered another 40!

Let’s just say, I now have pita-making down pat!

Pita practise taught me –

pita-breads-with-natural-yeast-sourdoughPerhaps the best thing I learned from the pita practise is, as I mentioned, how forgiving they are.

  • you make the dough in two stages, but if you get some things mixed up, it doesn’t really matter
  • when you’ve made the dough, and before the long ferment, you have to stretch and turn it.  Twice.  At least twice, I only did it once.  I prefer doing it twice, but there was no discernible difference between the batches.
  • the recipe says a long ferment – like overnight in the fridge.  I did. And I didn’t.  It depended on other things affecting my programme but it didn’t affect the final result:  the shortest ferment was about 4 hours.
  • you don’t have to use all the dough at once:  pull off and use what you need, and bake fresh pitas on demand.  The dough keeps in the fridge for a couple of days.  At least.

Six, err… five ingredient pita breads

Like all breads, water and flour are the key ingredients, then it’s a case of adding salt – of course – sugar and olive oil.

The sixth ingredient is mother – the sourdough starter – which is just flour and water.  If you don’t have your own mother, make one.  You won’t regret it.

In terms of quantities, you use equal quantities of mother and water, and just under double the quantity of flour.

Two-step dough

  1. In a large bowl, combine the starter, water (226g of each), and 210g of thepita-breads-with-natural-yeast-sourdough flour. Mix (I use a mixer) until it forms a thick batter. Cover and set aside for half an hour to an hour.  When you lift the cover you’ll see that the batter has a few bubbles.  That’s good.
  2. Add the olive oil, sugar and salt. Mix to combine. I add 30ml olive oil first, then some of the remaining 179g  flour and 1½ tsp salt and then the rest of the flour and 3tsp sugar, mixing it to a soft dough.
  3. With the mixer running on low, mix until the dough begins to clean the bottom of the bowl and form a ball around the hook.
  4. Knead for 5 minutes until the dough forms into a smooth ball.
  5. Put the dough into a lightly oiled bowl, turning once to coat the dough. Cover and set aside at room temperature for half an hour to an hour.
  6. After it’s rested, uncover and lift one side of the dough and fold it into the middle of the dough. Do this with the other three sides of the dough then turn it over to ensure even distribution of the yeast. Cover and leave for another half an hour to an hour.
  7. Repeat and then leave the covered bowl for another hour – the dough should be lively, elastic and airy. If the dough is still heavy, give it another hour or two at room temperature.
  8. Cover the bowl tightly and put it in the fridge overnight or for 2-3 days. When you’re ready to make your pitas, take the dough out of the fridge and let the dough to come to room temperature.
  9. Preheat the oven to 240 °C. If you have a baking steel put it into the oven to heat. If not, put a baking sheet in oven to preheat.  (Dark baking sheets work best because they absorb heat better and the bread will bake faster and puff better).
  10. Divide a single batch of dough into 8 equal pieces (around 110g) and roll each into a ball and leave to rest for 10 minutes.
  11. Use a rolling pin to roll two pitas to 1cm thick and roughly 15cm around. If the dough springs back too much, let your little rounds rest for 5 minutes and roll again.
  12. Put each round on your preheated baking stone or baking sheet and into the oven. Bake until they puff up and the bottom is nicely browned, about 3-5 minutes.  Don’t turn the breads. Wrapped the baked pitas in a clean kitchen towel while you roll and bake the other pitas.
  13. Eat the pitas the day they are made when they are best. They also freeze very well.

Notes:

  • At step 8, you can either make your pita breads or cover the dough tightly and refrigerate. You can keep the dough for 2 – 3 days, taking off what you need, as and when.  Remember to let the dough to reach room temperature before working it.
  • The perfect baking time in my gas oven is 6 to 7 minutes.

A real Fiona’s Favourite

Of the sourdough products I make, my personal favourite is the pita breads.

Scrambled egg pita

Customers also like them and I am developing a couple of regulars.  I also admit, that if I don’t have some to bring home because I’ve sold them all, I will make a batch for myself.

They freeze well and I love their versatility.  One Sunday, without bread, I made myself a scrambled egg and tomato pita.  Loaded with fresh parsley.  I won’t wait until I have no bread before I make it again!

Finally, pitas freeze well, and reheat easily in a dry pan with a lid.  So when it’s meals for one…as it is for me, now, they’re a no brainer.

If you want to make your own, you’ll find a printable recipe here.

Until next time
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma

Post script

If this post might seem familiar, it’s because I’m doing two things:

  • re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
  • and “re-capturing” nearly two years’ worth of posts.

I blog to the Hive blockchain using a number of decentralised applications.

  • From WordPress, I use the Exxp WordPress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.

Original artwork: @artywink
  • lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs and Canva.

 

Cooking class(es) with Kurt

cooking-kimchi-with-chef-kurt-mcgregor

cooking-kimchi-with-chef-kurt-mcgregorOn Saturday, 8 July, I had the privilege of joining a cooking class.  With Chef Kurt, owner of The Fat Lady’s Arms.

It was the most fun Saturday afternoon I’ve had in a long while.  Especially on a cold and miserable winter’s day as it was, yesterday.

 

First –

A disclaimer – and more

Although Kurt is one of our longest standing (ahem…not older…) McGregor friends, I am not sharing and waxing lyrical at his behest.  I do so because it was a glorious afternoon and it’s an initiative hope will flourish.

We have food in common – eating and cooking.  He’s the professional, I’m not.  Learning how to make “new” food is something I relish.  Also, I’ve long been thinking about fermenting things and just never got around to it.  Kimchi, too, I find fascinating.  A few years ago, a Canadian blog pal who lives in Korea with a Korean wife, wrote a fascinating (to me, anyway) blog about the family kimchi-making tradition.  Alas, the post, I cannot find, otherwise I’d send you there.

A confession

Cabbage and I have a love-hate relationship. I’ve eaten kimchi just once that I can recall.  I was underwhelmed but thought that when the opportunity came, I’d try it again.  I’ve been around a few blocks to know that like so many of these things, who makes them, how they’re made (at home or in bulk), etc., etc., makes a huge difference.

I jumped at the invitation to learn more – and from someone who has spent a significant amount of time in the east.  Kurt lived in China for six or so years and although his day job was planets away from food, he spent is spare time in friends’ kitchens, including a “pukka” Korean restaurant.   His interest in eastern flavours also pre-dates that trip:  The Husband and I frequented his and Andre’s first restaurant – in McGregor – even before we moved here.  Already, Asian influences – like the fa-bu-lous duck spring rolls – were menu staples.

The first (parts of the) lesson

There’s an old saying that it’s 90% preparation and 10% doing.  And if there isn’t, there should be.  The first – and a significant of the time in making kimchi is in the preparation.  First, the proper (not quite) dismembering of the Chinese cabbage that had been harvested just that morning,  This, we washed and salted (brined) and set aside.  What followed was a significant amount of chopping the other additions:  daikon, carrot, garlic, ginger and spring onions.

As Kurt pointed out, there are machines that do this work, but two things: cooking-kimchi-with-chef-kurt-mcgregor there is something about hand-made food and then there’s learning knife skills from some who really “does” them.  My knife skills have developed over the years – with practise – but I was making at least one mistake.  Now remedied – with the logic explained.

Once we’d finished playing with knives (mostly), with everyone’s digits still intact, we were handsomely rewarded with a glass of Prosecco.  Partly, I suspect, to soften us up for the middle – and very messy part of the lesson.

cooking-kimchi-with-chef-kurt-mcgregorBecause we used out hands for this part of the lesson, I have no photographs of our mixing the rice “porridge” and chilli into our “choppings”.  I had been a little anxious about this, I admit. I am allergic to chillies.  Although, over the years, I have developed a tolerance, I know that working with crushed, dried chillies is another matter.  Not a problem:  Kurt had latex gloves on hand and I was spared the chagrin of somebody else assembling  stuffing my cabbage with the flavourings that make kimchi, kimchi.

Once we had done that, we had the dubious pleasure of squishing the stuffed cabbage, bar a little, into jars.  And I mean squishing.

I’m not hearing any of those squishy noises…

…said Kurt.  And then he did.  As we stuffed our large (and smaller) bits of marinated cabbage into the jars he had supplied.

To end (the last part of) the lesson

It wasn’t enough for Kurt that we just make Kimchi.  We had to do something with it.  That “with it” was dumplings.

In addition, then, to learning about – and making – a natural, fermented, instantly edible product, we learned how to use it.  I was fascinated by the dough:  just flour and water.  So many cultures have flour and water as a base for a sort of bread staple.  From bread to tortilla and Chinese dumplings.  Unlike bread, and more like tortilla, this dough is made with warm water.  Like with all doughs that need kneading, it will take some practice. Another technique to hone – and learning about the balance between releasing the gluten and not breaking it.

cooking-kimchi-with-chef-kurt-mcgregor
Proof of the dumpling stuffed with fresh kimchi

My dumplings were a bit doughy, but stuffed with the chopped, fresh kimchi? Delicious.

Playing with fire

I’ve run ahead of myself:  we didn’t just get to play with knives, we played with fire,  The technique for cooking the assembled dumplings was a combination of frying and steaming – all in the same pan.

You know that oil and water don’t mix, right, and that if they do, there are big flames?  And so there were when Kurt played with my dumplings!

All’s well that ended well – handled with the calm that is both the man and his years of experience.

Rounding things out

We went home with our kimchi, recipes and instructions about how to look after it.

But that’s not all

This wasn’t just about chopping, messing with chillies and drinking bubbly.  This was a well-rounded experience, orchestrated with aplomb.

Firstly:  Not only does Kurt explain the whys and wherefores of kimchi and fermenting, but also the well-documented health benefits of this traditional – and trendy – Korean staple.  It’s always this type of cerebral value-add that gets me.

Then, and equally importantly was the quality of the knives – and other equipment – we got to work with.  Proper chef’s knives, and properly sharp.  (I am someone who goes on a self-catering holiday with my favourite knife.)  Properly sharp.  No, it’s not only about the knives:  each workstation had exactly the equipment we needed.  I loved the colanders, the peeler (different from my one at home), the bowls and the swabs for cleaning up after ourselves.

If I’d had one, my only gripe would have been no apron – I had the foresight to take my own.  An oversight Kurt acknowledged and plans to remedy.  That said, I don’t think it’s essential.  If you know you’re playing in the kitchen, you should go suitably prepared for mess.

Last but not least, Kurt’s experience is backed by his training in one a top-rated chef school..

A last (important) word

This was the first of what Kurt plans to be a regular, first weekend of the month event.  At R550 for three hours well spent, it’s excellent value for money.  If you’re not a local this is just another a great reason to visit the village.  The plan is that each month, Kurt runs the same course four times:  Friday and Saturday mornings and afternoons.  For less than a good meal and a bottle of wine, it’s an experience you won’t regret.

I’d do it again.  In a heartbeat.  Especially when it’s something I’ve been nervous of trying without help.  It’s also a great way to celebrate a milestone event with your (foodie) friends.

Until next time
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma

Post script

If this post might seem familiar, it’s because I’m doing two things:

  • re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
  • and “re-capturing” nearly two years’ worth of posts.

I blog to the Hive blockchain using a number of decentralised applications.

  • From WordPress, I use the Exxp WordPress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.

Original artwork: @artywink
  • lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs and Canva.

 

Keener than (wholegrain) mustard

Wholegrain mustard recipe

I have been making my own wholegrain mustard for a while, now. Well, until December 2022, I hadn’t made it for a while. The first time I made it was ahead of a Sunday supper. I cannot remember why I needed it, but none of the shops had any. For love nor money, we could find none anywhere. Whatever I was making (I don’t remember), needed it. I had to have a plan B. I made my own.
It was that good.
I’ve been meaning to do so, again. I also thought that those little jars might be a nice addition to my line of products and, potentially, a great Christmas gift. Last December, as I was planning my fare for the annual Christmas market in McGregor, I had the opportunity to get my hands on goodly quantity of spices and mustard seeds were on my list.
Recipe: lost
Of course, I had written the recipe down. Somewhere. Probably on a (s)crappy piece of paper. Given that it was probably some three – even – four years ago – I couldn’t find it. I did my research (again) – having remembered the basic ingredients, – to be sure of the quantities and ratios. The first time, of course, I needed it in a hurry, so I broke the rules – of making. It was a mistake.
It’s easy, but you need to plan and do the plan
I didn’t need to make that a heading. However, this is a note to self as much as it’s a strong recommendation to you. Because I learned the hard way. The first time I made mustard, I neither soaked the mustard seeds and nor did I stash it to “brew”. I should have. The soaking makes the mustard more creamy and the stashing – for a month if you can bear it – does significantly add to the flavour. Not only does the mustard get hotter, but the mustard mix gets more aromatic the flavour deepens.
Getting into the mustard

It’s a really simple recipe and when I made it, I had fun making pretty patterns with the yellow and brown seeds.
In addition to the seeds, the ingredient list is short: apple cider vinegar, honey (or sugar) some salt and turmeric. The latter does two things: it’s anti fungal and it helps to keep the mustard yellow. The colour tends to dull even though the flavour improves with time.
When I made it in December, I chose to make it in an extra large jar because I quadrupled the recipe and I knew that my immersion blender would fit into the jar.
Once I’d blended it to the consistency I wanted, I didn’t have to decant it. I could scrape down the sides and let it mature. After a couple of days I tasted it for flavour and also for consistency. I added a little more honey and some water so that it wasn’t quite so stiff and claggy.
The recipe – roughly
Equal quantities – 50 g – each yellow and brown mustard seeds, just under half a cup of apple cider vinegar and 1-2 tablespoons or water and half a teaspoon of salt. As I said, they say that the sugar (I use honey – and you could use a sugar substitute) and turmeric are optional. I don’t think so. That means, the same amount of turmeric as salt and then honey to taste. I recommend about double the amount of salt so you don’t have a sweet mustard. Unless, of course, that’s what you want.
What to (you must) do
Soak the mustard seeds – cover them with about two thirds of the vinegar. Stand for at least 1 hour or overnight – better. The following day, add and blend the remaining ingredients. Then pot in a sterilised jar and leave it alone for a month for the flavours to develop.
If you’d like a printable recipe, you’ll find it here. If you do download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
Gifts

A selection of best selling products prepared for the Christmas market
I mentioned that I made a batch for the Christmas market. I’m delighted to say that it sold like hot cakes and I’m going to see if the next batch sells as quickly. One of the pots was booked even before I made it. The buyer will collect it tomorrow and I have to persuade her not to open it for at least four weeks…I’m not sure I’ll succeed!
Until next time, be well
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma
Post script
If this post might seem familiar, it’s because I’m doing two things:
re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
and “re-capturing” nearly two years’ worth of posts.
I blog to the Hive blockchain using a number of decentralised applications.
From WordPress, I use the Exxp WordPress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.

Join Hive using this link and then join us in the Silver Bloggers’ community.

Original artwork: @artywink
lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs and Canva.

Six decades, only six songs? Impossible

musical memories

Whenever I hear Abba’s Waterloo, my eleven year old self remembers the first “pop” song that appealed to her – the very first time she heard it.

Source

It was a weekday afternoon and the radio was on – we had one of those radiograms that had the radio in the middle, a turntable on one side, and a cubby hole for the records on the other.  No, Waterloo was not the first seven single I bought.  That was this song from a local singer, and about not my father, who was also a Jimmy, but rather he who sang about his Long Haired Lover from Liverpool. My mother subsequently developed a long lasting love affair with Abba and bought each album as it appeared.  They were played to death on that record player.  In my teenage and adult years – and still in some circles – it just wasn’t done to admit that one was an Abba fan.  My mother was NOT a Waterloo fan, but she loved Chiquitita

As a fourteen year old, I remember a drilling – gymnaestrada – competition at school.  Every class participated in it each year.  I only remember 1977 and the song:  Knowing me, Knowing you.  We won.

Not quite the task

I’ve not really begun, and already I’m way off track.  The task set, here, was to select one song that best reflects for each decade of one’s life.

A confession

I recommended the theme, and the Silver Bloggers’ team agreed.  I should have known better.  Music – popular – I admit – has played an important part in my life – with a little jazz on the side.  Going on five years ago, someone challenged me to pick my favourite song.  I simply could not and, instead, wrote a kind of musical “back story” to my life.  Similarly when I tried and forced myself, eventually, to pick my top 3 lead singers. I couldn’t.

It’s that old story:  be careful what you wish for.  I had created a tall order.  For myself, anyway.

Focus

Reading those posts – you need to, for some of what follows to make sense – I confirmed a suspicion:  I’ve written a lot about my favourite songs.  That backstory to my life, though, is a combination of musical memories and poetic license:  I did have to search for some songs to weave into the story. Just for fun.   I do conclude with some real, and for me, iconic favourites.  In getting to my top 3 lead singers, on the other hand, I picked songs and people that take me back to people and places at specific times in my life.  Or, which reflect – with hindsight – what was happening for (or to) me, in that phase of my life.

So, in thinking about the six decades from the 1960s to the 2020s, I realise I have set myself a hard task.  In thinking about it, I had to create a framework for myself.  I tried to divide my life into phases and thought about what song takes me back there.  In some parts of my life, a lot happened in ten years and at others, there’s an almost ten year blank.

So, as usual, I’m taking liberties and I shall be doing phases rather than decades.

Pre-school:  the 1960s

One of my earliest musical memories is Sandy Shaw’s Puppet on a String. Somehow, it always takes me back to the first home I remember in South Africa:  an apartment in Port Elizabeth.  I don’t have vivid memories of the place other than of some of the things I did with my Dad.  He worked for the municipality and St George’s Park  was within walking distance – even for a wee girl of about four – and I’d occasionally go with him when he had a weekend duty.  I think, though, that this is the song that marks that phase:

Donovan’s Mellow Yellow, it seems, is a song I’ve always known, although I didn’t really get to enjoy or understand his music until I was in my 20s.  I have a funny feeling that my mother’s decision that yellow was my favourite colour, was based on my probably constant humming of this song.

I loved singing and would often ask my dad what I could sing for him.  His stock answer:

Over the hills and far away…

And he meant it.

Back to Donovan: I had a colleague in the mid-80’s who had a yellow tie, and whenever he wore it, I’d greet him with a

They call me mellow yellow….

He was a dyed-in-the wool Afrikaans South African.  His expression told me he’d never heard the song…

Primary school:  1970 – 1975

I have already mentioned my Waterloo moment.  There is though, another 1970s song that will forever take me back to this part of my life.  My parents had friends who would invite us to lunch at the military base and in the mess.  There was, of course, “piped” music and one Sunday, I distinctly remember singing along (much to my mother’s horror) to a song, in the middle of which she exclaimed:

I cannot stand this!

Charisma’s Mammy Blue, now rarely heard on the radio, never fails to take me back to that time, my little frock and bobby sock, as well as of course, my very irritated mother.

High School: 1976 – 1980

I was twelve when I went to boarding school in 1976.  Happily.  I escaped my mother and home where I felt trapped.  While boarding school was very rigid and I was considered a goody too shoes, I lived in my head, doing my own thing within those rules.  There were difficult times and one of my most horrible memories was the initiation.  The “newpots” had to dress up as bunny girls and dressed like that, we were subjected to all manner of humiliation and finally compelled to perform at a concert.  For an introvert it was traumatic.  To this day, dressing up and opening myself to that kind of humiliation fills me with horror.  Nor will I be part of anything like that.  If I were to pick a song that summarises that time, it would probably have to be this one:

I did relate to Sandra Dee, but never saw myself finding my Danny.

University: 1981 – 1985

Each of these five years is a lifetime.  I started growing up and started the journey to becoming myself.   Choosing just one song from that phase, was difficult.  The 80s was, seriously, my era, so in selecting, I’ve chosen, again, songs, the titles of which reflect what I was learning to do and be.  That said, I do love them both.  For different reasons.  Both have elements of brass and big bands, a love of which I shared with my dad.

First up, Joe Jackson.  Many of his hits punctuated the first couple of years at uni – as I was learning to step out, myself.

Not only do I enjoy the ska that was Madness, but I was also, in my own way, learning to go one step beyond…

 

Work and more: 1986 – 1990

I think I had more fun, and did more partying in my first year as a working girl than I’d had in my entire life.  Every Friday, the party began at around 3 or 4 in the afternoon.  A bunch of us would adjourn to an establishment about four or five blocks from our inner city Johannesburg offices, for our weekly “seminar”.  We’d put the grand sum of R2 into a pool and that would buy the bunch of us at least two rounds of beer.  Yes, I drank beer in those days.  Who didn’t?

We’d hang around there until we discovered who was playing that evening.  If we liked the band, we’d stay.  We always stayed for The African Jazz Pioneers.  This transports me back to those evenings – instantly.

In 1990, after Nelson Mandela’s release, but before democracy, they were one of the first mixed groups to play at the Nico Malan Theatre (now Artscape) in Cape Town.   I was on holiday in Cape Town and dating (sort of) a then member of parliament and we went to see the show.  It was weird.  There was that huge band, all formal, in dinner jackets, playing to a seated, un-dancing audience.

Returning to the 80s, and that same venue, another iconic local band we never missed, was Bright Blue.  Their iconic Weeping is embedded in the soundtrack to my life but the song that takes me back to those heady nights when we literally danced till dawn, either at Jameson’s or at some or other illegal shebeen in Soweto, is this one:

It was a happy, dancing time and I met genres of music that this little white girl had never experienced (too many and much for now).  I was enchanted and hooked.

Democracy and divorce – 1990s

The 1990s is the decade that, when I looked back, seemed like a complete blank.  Of course, it was not.  South Africa went to the polls for the first time – as a united nation. This always takes me back to that time.

I left Johannesburg and followed my heart to the Eastern Cape where I started an entirely new life as a self-employed gig-worker.  With him, I moved to Cape Town. Married.  Had to start a new work network.  Again.  Then.  Divorced.

This was an essential and defiant anthem.

2000 and beyond

Sanatna, of course, featured for me in the 2000s.  Although this song came out in 1999, the album won a load of Grammy awards in 2000.  It was also in the last decade that Santana performed in South Africa.  A highlight, which I enjoyed with The Husband (we married two years into the new millenium – another story…).

At that show, Santana played not only Smooth, but one of my favourite – ever – guitar instrumentals and which I shared in that other post.

If I did have to pick a that sums up South Africa (and perhaps the world at the time) for that decade, it would be this one:

Then, for the current decade – which is still a toddler – dominated by nothing but probably world’s worst pandemic since the Black Death, if not the Spanish Flu.  I began the decade filled with hope for (yet another) new beginning… It’s a song and dance that somehow seemed to lift not just South Africa but the world.

 

Now

I admit:  I’m not really “into” new music.  That said, we love local live music gigs – when we can.  We (The Husband and I) have a reputation of being both first. And last.  On the dance floor.

Long may we (all) dance.

Until next time, be well
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma

Post script

If this post might seem familiar, it’s because I’m doing two things:

  • re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
  • and “re-capturing” nearly two years’ worth of posts.

I blog to the Hive blockchain using a number of decentralised applications.

  • From WordPress, I use the Exxp WordPress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.

Original artwork: @artywink
  • lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs and Canva.

 

Sourdough – it’s a journey of constant learning

Sourdough bun recipe

I have a to-do list of promises that is as long as my arm (and the other and both legs) of recipes that I’ve said I’ll write up and share. This promise was made two years ago. It’s weird that it’s two years ago. It also seems that the phrase “two years” is running through so many conversations at the moment.

Two years since we were sort of let out

It dawned on me just yesterday, after the market, that it was this weekend, two years ago, that we resumed the McGregor Market. Restriction levels were 3A. Whatever that means. They seemed to change every week.

McGregor Market on a wintery 4 July 2020: Level 3A lockdown restrictions

I remember for three reasons.

  • It coincided – by a day – with The Husband’s birthday. Which we could not celebrate in any meaningful way.
  • The reunion of market pals was happy – almost like a family reunion. It was tentative, though, because we were all still caught up in the fear of this unknown thing that was the pandemic.
  • I added sourdough buns to my regular market fare, and I’ve been baking 24 of them – sometimes more – every week since. I have a customer who has a standing order for between 6 and 10 a week.

Learning

The first thing I learned about making sourdough, was that I had to keep mother alive. I have successfully managed to do that for more than two years. At the market the other day, someone actually asked me how old “the culture” was. There was no response when I said just over two years. I wonder why he asked. I had other customers, so I didn’t enquire.

Natural yeast is good for you

A few years ago – I’m not exactly sure how many – I stopped eating commercial bread. I felt hugely better for it and lost weight. A lot. Since I’ve been making bread with natural yeast (sourdough) – I’ve resumed bread eating – daily. In truth, I’ve eaten more bread in the last two that I ate in the previous two years. I’ve not regained the weight I lost. That tells me something a lot. I have certainly experienced the benefits.

Two years later: a confession

In January, I shared my first bake using sourdough with mother. It wasn’t a bread, and which is why I’m only now claiming chapter two with this post. And I am also going to confess: although I promised this recipe to Katie (my plantbased food fiend friend), especially after I re-created it in a vegan version, I didn’t. I just wasn’t sure that I’d perfected it. Truth be told, I hadn’t. Somehow, each week they were different and I was just not sure what I was doing wrong. Two years, and, I guess, about 104 weeks and more than two thousand rolls later, I feel more confident.

What I’ve learned

Sourdough bun recipe

The rolls are never exactly the same each week and you need to watch every step of the way. It’s trial and error and one has to be open to that. I will admit that just in the last six weeks to two months, something has just clicked and I’m getting them consistently “righter” than before. I am so much happier with them now.

What is it, I hear you asking?

I’m not exactly sure, but I’m leaning towards adjusting some of the quantities and instead of using a liquid measure for mother, I’m now weighing her instead. I am also not allowing myself to be tempted to add more water than the recipe says.

The results: much, much better.

McGregor Market
My sourdough offering at the market every Saturday

If you’d like the recipe for these rather delicious (even if I say so myself) buns, you can download it here. If you do download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?

As that photo confirms, those buns are not the only sourdough bread I’m doing. I’m doing those loaves, too. I’ve been doing them for about nine months. I’m still not getting things right there, so when I’ve learned what I’m doing wrong, I’ll share that recipe too. Oh, and I’ve also made naan breads – that recipe, too, I shall share. Possibly before the loaves because they are super delicious and given that it’s winter, I’m hankering for a good curry and naan.

Until next time, be well
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma

Post script

If this post might seem familiar, it’s because I’m doing two things:

  • re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
  • and “re-capturing” nearly two years’ worth of posts.

I blog to the Hive blockchain using a number of decentralised applications.

  • From WordPress, I use the Exxp WordPress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.

  • Join Hive using this link and then join us in the Silver Bloggers’ community by clicking on the logo.
Original artwork: @artywink
  • lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs and Canva.

Burger Blues

It was with a bit of a start that I discovered I’ve been making these hamburgers for just short of twenty years. The original recipe came in the Good Taste magazine published by the Wine of the Month Club which I’d joined in about 1998.  The publication is now defunct – gone the same way as many other printed publications.  However, I digress, but indulge me a little longer:  I realised that it had been more than fifteen years because I made them in Cape Town;  we’re in our eleventh year in McGregor.  Among other things, these burgers have featured as an offering for more than one Christmas market.

In March, I began my ninth year as a stallholder at the McGregor morning market.  I now realise that I’m a die hard, now.  A fixture.  In more ways than one!

Regular feature

Folk who follow my social media – especially Instagram and Hive will know that burgers – meat and plant-based – are a pretty regular feature on our menu.  Going through my photos, I discover that I had shared this recipe before:  around October and in 2014; to be precise.  That post, along with a body of preceding work disappeared into the ether when my erstwhile host disappeared, effectively killing my blog.  On reflection, it was one of my very early posts and will only benefit from what I’ve learned – both blogging and in the kitchen – in the intervening eight years.

The Blues

Restaurants in Camps Bay, Cape Town | My Guide Cape Town
Blues – late 80s into the 2000s Cape Town iconic spot

When the recipe was published in 2003, it was part of a series of articles on – and recipes from – iconic restaurants around the country.  This one was from Blues.  For about twenty years, it was the place to go: real live sea views – from glossy magazines – and food to die forI remember going there for the first time in 1990, and not long after Nelson Mandela was released and during my first “grown up” visit to Cape Town.  I had to try the recipe.  I did, and have both never looked back and have, of course, tweaked it to our taste and – to be honest – budget.

Making the best of the “blues”

Homemade hamburgerOne of the joys of being married to a former stock farmer (and being of a certain vintage) is that we both understand and value cheaper less popular cuts of meat.  That means I’m not averse to using venison or ostrich mince (ground meat) if I can get it.  I also don’t insist on sirloin or whatever was in the original recipe.  On The Husband’s advice, and that of our Country Butcher friend, for a batch of patties I made for one of those pre-Covid Christmas markets, was to include 10% sheep’s fat.

Fresh herbs, bouquet garniThose were the best burgers I’ve ever made: moist and flavourful.  Alas, that Country Butcher’s given up meat for mud.

Ahem…he now moves earth.  Really!

In addition to exercising my right to budget-friendly, flavourful meat, I have also ditched the dried herbs in favour of fresh.  I have not looked back.

The best hamburger patties

  • 1,2 kg beef mince ((ground meat))
  • 2 onions (chopped)
  • 4 cloves garlic (finely chopped)
  • sunflower oil for frying
  • 60 g mixed fresh herbs (or half if using dried) (chopped)
  • 10 ml soy sauce
  • 20 ml Worcestershire sauce
  • dash Tabasco
  • 1 egg
  • salt & pepper

To serve – all optional

  • 6/12 burger buns
  • Mayonnaise
  • rashers bacon – sufficient for the number of burgers
  • cheddar (grated)
  • sliced tomato
  • sliced onion
  • gherkin or pickle of choice
  • potato wedges
  1. Finely chop the onion and garlic and sauté these in a little sunflower oil untiltranslucent.

  2. Removefrom the heat; add the dried herbs and leave to cool.

  3. Put the mince into a large bowl and season with the soy, Tabasco and Worcestershiresauces. Add the cooled onions and fresh herbs if using, along with the egg; season with salt and pepper.

  4. Divide the burger mix into six (or 12) even balls and shape into patties. For bestresults, allow the burgers to sit in the fridge for at least 1 hour prior to cooking.

  5. Grill the burgers to the degree you prefer them over hot coals or in a pan.

To serve

  1. Grill or fry the bacon rashers until they are nice and crisp.

  2. Place on a warm burgerbun with some sliced onions and juicy tomatoes.

  3. Place the bacon on top of the burgers; then smother with grated cheese.

  • I use a range of different meats: venison, ostrich and have also introduced 10% mutton fat. 
  • I make 12 patties (measured using a half-cup measure).
  • Adapted from: Good Taste No 168, November/December 2003
American
burgers, fast food,

If you’re on a platform that doesn’t give you the print recipe option you are welcome to download it here.  If you do, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
Homemade hamburger

As there are only two of us, I freeze what we don’t eat – in pairs.  They store well and play equally well with potato wedges and lightly grilled sourdough buns (and, of course, commercial hamburger buns).

Until next time, be well
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma

Post script

I am participating in @traciyork‘s twice-yearly Hive Blog Posting Month.

If this post might seem familiar, it’s because I’m doing two things:

  • re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
  • and “re-capturing” nearly two years’ worth of posts.

I blog to the Hive blockchain using a number of decentralised applications.

  • From WordPress, I use the Exxp WordPress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.

  • Join Hive using this link and then join us in the Silver Bloggers’ community by clicking on the logo.
Original artwork: @artywink
  • lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs and Canva.

 

Pickled Fish: a South African Tradition

Pickled Fish - a South African traditional recipe

Pickled fish is an iconic traditional South African dish.  I first ate pickled fish at the ripe old age of about seven.  It was the starter for Christmas lunch:  the first I really remember.  I was instantly smitten.  Auntie Doris made it every year and for all the years we “had Christmas” at number 10, I looked forward to it – more than the Christmas cake or the Christmas pudding.  In the intervening years, I don’t remember eating it very often.

Regional traditions

I grew up in the Eastern Cape, and not in a coastal town.  I think I’ve mentioned that although both my mother and I enjoyed eating fish, my father didn’t.  Fish was not a regular menu item.  I have no recollection of eating pickled fish other than at Christmas.  It was only when I moved to the Western Cape that I was assailed with stories of the Easter pickled fish tradition.

Making pickled fish

My original pickled fish recipes

I have no recollection of what spurred me on to making pickled fish.  I do know that the first attempt was probably nearly 20 years ago.  I don’t remember the occasion.  I do remember two things:

  • Consulting the lovely lady in “our” spice shop who not only gave me a recipe, but a few tips.
  • Hearing celebrity chef, Jenny Morris talking on the radio about making pickled fish.  Not long after, her regular newsetter – and recipe – arrived in my inbox.

I carefully copied, pasted and saved the email recipe.  After printing it out, I filed it with the other.  They still “live” together.

“My” recipe is “born”

Pickled fish starter: Christmas 2021

I now make pickled fish twice a year.  Before we moved to McGregor, it had become our standard Christmas starter and a tradition that continues.  Because of this, in addition to the traditional Easter “season”, I also sell it at the market.

An lockdown-related aside

Portioning pickled fish for the market

I know I’ve told this story elsewhere, but it bears telling again:

When we went into a hard lockdown, two years ago in March, Easter fell earlier than this year. Feeling the fear and now “un-normal” things were, l naively decided to try to retain some semblance of normality, if not cheer. So, I posted on our community notice board, something to the effect and that I was taking orders for pickled fish. As I had done, twice a year for the last several.

I say, naively, because our my understanding of the lockdown had not included word for word interrogation of the regulations. I discovered, thanks to vitriolic keyboard “police”, that even my suggestion could not be countenanced.

So, began for me, a very difficult patch. That was just one incident. Perhaps I will write about the others. Suffice it to say that I retreated, folded my wings and embraced the black that came with being locked down.

I recognise that, only now, am I beginning to re-emerge and really heal. Partly, too, because at least three of those self-appointed keepers of the village wellbeing have been spat out have left.

Back into the pickle

Over the years, and because I’m not a fan of deep fried foods, I decided that I would take Ms Simply Spice’s advice and bake my fish.  Not fry it – either with or without batter – which is the most common way of doing it.  That, and my use of fresh ginger and the ratios of curry powder are the result of trial and error.  My go-to curry powder is a blend called mother-in-law.  Yes, it has a bite as the name suggests.  And it has good flavour.  One of the women who cared for my ailing father, and of Cape Malay descent recommended it.  I’ve not looked back.

Flavour roots

As I’ve learned more about the smorgasbord of traditional cuisines with which South Africa is blessed, and as I’ve learned about cooking and preserving in general, I realise that pickled fish is deeply rooted in the miscellany of cultures that make us who we are: Malay and often Muslim, Dutch, Catholic and Protestant.  The consumption of pickled fish on Good Friday has Catholic roots;  the spices and sweet curry flavouring: Malay and Muslim.  I love it.

Advance planning and long life

Last  but not least:  don’t decide to make pickled fish tonight for tomorrow.  It needs to pickle.  It needs at least three days.  That means its a great dish for preparing ahead and copes well with being left over.

Market sales

The 2022 batch of fish ready to pickle

I don’t know how long ago I started making pickled fish to sell at the market.  Considering I’ve had a stall at the market for nearly ten years, it must be at least six or seven.  This year, at least six weeks ahead of Easter, I had somebody asking if I’d be making pickled fish this year.  Well, umm…is the duck’s…?

On the back of that, I canvassed my usual customers and had I made my regular batch, I’d have sold everything before it got to the market.  This year’s batch is the largest I’ve made in years.

Pickled Fish

A traditional South African recipe

  • 2 kg Firm fish (Yellow tail, kabeljou, snoek, hake, angel fish)
  • Oil (For baking/frying)
  • 3 cups vinegar (red wine vinegar adds an extra depth of flavour)
  • 1 cup water
  • 25 ml turmeric
  • 15 ml curry powder
  • 25 ml black pepper corns
  • 25 ml crushed, fresh ginger
  • 4 large onions, finely sliced
  • 6 lemon leaves
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 cup sultanas
  • 40ml cake flour
  1. Cut the fish into portions, season and dust with flour and a little of the curry powder.
  2. Bake in a moderate oven for about 20 minutes or until cooked; turn half way through.
  3. In a large, stainless steel, ceramic or enamel pot combine the vinegar, water, sugar, turmeric, curry powder, salt and pepper corns. Bring to a boil.
  4. Add the onions, lemon and bay leaves. Simmer for about 10 minutes.  Be careful not to overcook the onions – keep them crunchy.
  5. Place the flour into a small bowl or jug and gradually add a little of the sauce to make a smooth paste. Add this to the sauce and stir over a high heat until it thickens.
  6. Add the sultanas.
  7. Starting with the onions layer them with the fish in a glass dish (do not use plastic or metal). Pour over the sauce.  Cover and allow to cool before putting it into the fridge.
  8. Allow to stand for at least three days before eating. Keeps for up to three months.
  9. Serve at room temperature with brown bread and butter.
Appetizer, Main Course
South African

If you find that awkward to print, you’ll find a downloadable copy of the recipe here.  If you download it, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?

To all are celebrating religious and cultural festivals over the next few days, I send blessings.

Until next time, be well
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma

Post script

I am participating in @traciyork‘s twice-yearly Hive Blog Posting Month.

If this post might seem familiar, it’s because I’m doing two things:

  • re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
  • and “re-capturing” nearly two years’ worth of posts.

I blog to the Hive blockchain using a number of decentralised applications.

  • From WordPress, I use the Exxp WordPress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.

  • Join Hive using this link and then join us in the Silver Bloggers’ community by clicking on the logo.
Original artwork: @artywink
  • lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs and Canva.

 

 

Of licenses, liars and scrambled eggs

She came into the kitchen, clearly distressed, and asked, “Do you vear licenses?” pointing at her eyes.

“Umm….ye-e-s…”

“So could I pliz have some of zat liqvid to clean mine?”

Then the penny dropped.  LensesContact lenses.  I had taken a flyer and thought that our Ukranian house guest was talking about prescription spectacles.  This was after her first breakfast in The Sandbag House.  Each day, it consisted of fresh fruit salad, homemade meusli, yogurt and honey.  Snuggled in the wax wrap is a muffin – for later.

Languages and learning languages

I’ll come back to the breakfast, but that exchange about the contact lenses got me thinking about languages.  I am a pretty proficient English speaker and writer.  At school I was compelled to learn a second language – Afrikaans – then South Africa’s only other official language.  It was not a language to which I had any exposure:  neither parent spoke another language fluently having been born and brought up in the UK.  My mother had a smattering of French and my father, having worked in the Parks’ Department in Kampala, was at one time, relatively proficient in Kiswahili. That I managed, somehow, to scrape through Afrikaans with a passing grade at school and, subsequently, a one year course at university, is nothing short of a miracle.  I have dabbled with learning French – an opportunity offered by the Alliance Française, a million years ago.  I picked up less than a smattering of isiXhosa when I lived in the Eastern Cape doing community development work. I learned a smidge of Spanish from having spent three weeks in the Old City in Palma de Mallorca.

The view across the way from the room where I stayed when I was in Palma de Mallorca.

The examination

Returning to Afrikaans:  a prerequisite of my teacher’s qualification was oral proficiency in that language.  I was automatically credited with written proficiency (ha!) by way of having completed that one-year, watered-down university course.  Four years later, I had to do an oral exam in a language that, to be frank, I had rarely heard spoken, let alone understood.  Preparation had been a weekly group discussion in which, I suspect, I was largely silent.  Unless required to speak.  Because I couldn’t.  The appointed day arrived and I presented myself.  The panel consisted of the local school inspector and our tutor.  She also happened to be a family friend which makes what transpired all the more mortifying, and which is why the entire episode is etched in my memory.”Goeie môre Mejuffrou Cameron.”

Burble, mumble…um… Good morning!

Pleasantaries done, the serious stuff of working out whether I could “praat die taal” ensued.

“Sê my, hoe bak jy ‘n sjokelade koek?”

Let’s not get stuck on the stereotypical question by a man of a young female student, because my response:

I’ve never baked a cake, let alone a chocolate cake.  Besides, I don’t like chocolate cake.

“O!

“Sê my, wat van motorbestuur?”

Oh, good, I could answer this!

“Ek bestuur nie motor nie, maar ek is van plan om in die volgende tyd, my leuenaars licensie te kry…”

So you don’t drive?  You need to get your learner’s license?

“Ja, seker in die volgende paar weke, sal ek my leuenaars toets gaan doen…”

And I warbled on happily about my leuenaars liensie until I took my leave.

It was only a looong time after I left that room that it dawned on me that I was was not planning to get my leerlings lisensie but rather, my liar’s licence…

Needless to say, I scored the lowest possible grade in Afrikaans proficiency – an “a” as opposed to an “A”.  It allowed me to qualify and to teach only at an English medium school.

Lessons

That is a lesson that lives with me.  Learning, let alone becoming proficient in, a language not one’s mother tongue when you are not immersed in it, is inordinately difficult.  My Afrikaans is much improved – because of where I live – it’s the mother tongue of most folk in the community and people who work with and for us.  Improved proficiency, however, hasn’t given me the confidence to hold an entire conversation in the language, let alone read and write it with any comfort.

English, is a complex language with many equally confusing words. Having not only trained as an English teacher, but having been an online writing tutor where many of my students were second language English writers, I have great empathy with the struggles of speakers and writers of second languages.

Ukranian diplomat poet

Returning to our Ukranian guest:  she was in McGregor for the seventh edition of the annual weekend of Poetry in McGregor.  Through our conversation I learned that she’s been in South Africa for only a year.  Her work as a poet and academic, had put her in touch with some South Africans and her proposal to the Ukranian government, earned her a diplomatic role.

She fell in love with McGregor – and my scrambled eggs – which brings me back to breakfast.  Her three-night stay was punctuated by Saturday and the only morning I make it clear to guests that there will be no cooked breakfast.  A continental breakfast will be set on a tray and/or put in their little fridge.  The first morning:

“How would you like your eggs?”

“Oh, any vay.  Vot iss easier for you? Boiled, scrambled…”

I’ll scramble eggs any day.  As it so happens, eggs, scrambled is one of my favourite ways of eating them.  I confess that I’m fussy.  I like them the way my father ate them.  I loved sitting on his knee and insisting on eating them off his plate:  creamy on buttery toast and with a good grinding of black pepper.

Our guest enjoyed her scrambled eggs so much, she contemplated no other choice for her last breakfast. And –

“How do you make them?”

Fiona’s Mum’s creamy scrambled eggs

First, I don’t do scrambled eggs in the microwave.  Nor do I do them in a frying pan.  I do them in a small saucepan.

Second:  making scrambled eggs is not a quick exercise.

Thirdly, it’s a study in concentration:  take your eye off them and they spoil.

Ingredients

2 eggs per person
2 generous knobs of butter – even if you’re using a non-stick pan
a dash of milk – proportional to the number of eggs, of course
salt and pepper

  1. Beat the eggs.
  2. Add the milk if using (I always do).
  3. Season to taste.
  4. Heat a saucepan with a good quantity of butter – it must coat the base.
  5. When the butter is sizzling, pour in the egg and stir.
  6. Continue stirring frequently until the egg mixture begins to cook – it sticks to the sides and bottom of the pot.
  7. Now it is essential to stir continuously, making sure you move the cooked egg into the middle of the pot, agitating the mixture all the time, so that it doesn’t stick.
  8. Do not overcook them otherwise they go watery,
    and remember
    scrambled eggs continue cooking in the hot pan after you take them off the heat.
  9. Once they are creamy and lumpy the way you like them, take them off the heat and add a knob of butter.
  10. Serve either on their own, or use some of the ideas below.
Oksana’s delight at her Scrambled Egg Breakfast

Breakfast stacks

I cobbled this breakfast together a few years ago, the morning after we had returned from a short trip and we hadn’t had time to shop.  I ferreted in the fridge and wandered round the garden and discovered eggs, bacon, spinach and tomatoes, as well as fresh chives and parsley. After a week of hotel breakfasts, I wanted something different.  I made a thick, rich tomato sauce starting with onion sautéed in the fat from the crisply fried bacon which had been set aside to drain.  Once the bacon and sauce had been sorted, I wilted a small bunch of young spinach leaves and made a batch of creamy scrambled eggs.

While all that was going on, plates were happily warming and waiting to have the breakfast bits piled on them.  First the wilted spinach and then a dollop of the tomato mix, followed by the scrambled egg and, finally, the crispy bacon.  Before garnishing with a sprig of parsley and a fresh chive flower, I chopped some and sprinkled chives over everything.

2013-11-17 09.58.34
Back to our guest:  when she departed, she left not only a beautiful beaded bracelet with a traditional pattern from her beloved Ukrania, but a note in our guest book that stole our hearts.

And when I expressed my appreciation for both on Facebook, her riposte:


Last word

I wrote this in August 2019, before the pandemic was imagined and before Russia invaded Ukraine.  Needless to say, she, her family and the people of her country have been much on our minds the last two days.  The original went the way of so many of my 2019 posts and I thought that given the events of the last few days, appropriate to share it again.

Until next time, be well
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma

Post script
If this post might seem familiar, it’s because I’m doing two things:

  • re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
  • and “re-capturing” nearly two years’ worth of posts.

I blog to the Hive blockchain using a number of decentralised applications.

  • From WordPress, I use the Exxp WordPress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.

  • Join Hive using this link and then join us in the Silver Bloggers’ community by clicking on the logo.
Original artwork: @artywink
  • lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs and Canva.

 

Decadent Mushroom Pâté

I suppose I should be writing something about the festive season and how festive it was (it wasn’t really, but it was better than 2020) and/or what I’m resolving for the New Year.  Resolutions seem moot given the curved ball that is Covid, and which has derailed the last resolutions I made at the beginning of 2020.  Perhaps, instead of resolutions, there is a smidgen of hope.

In the meantime…

It’s no secret that I am very fond of things mushroom.  It’s also no secret that I’m constantly on the look out for plant-based dishes that I could add to my repertoire(s) at home and at the market.  This recipe was a lucky find for two, no, three, reasons:  it’s a great market product, flavour combinations are heavenly and, best of all, it’s versatile.

Deep flavours

A miscellany of mushroom dishes (clockwise from the top left): stuffed, soup, omelette, pickled and risotto.

A restauranteur friend of ours, is of the opinion that fresh mushrooms have no flavour.  Years ago, he shared his secret for flavour:  mushroom soup – the powdered version.  I didn’t understand.  With hindsight, I realise that quality mushroom soop powder should have a goodly quanity of dried mushrooms.  Now they do have flavour.

I’ve always, and instinctively avoided raw mushrooms.  They have no flavour and worse, if they get wet develop the worst kind of slimy texture.  A pet peeve:  mushroom slices in a green salad.  Pickled mushrooms? Well, that kind of slimy silky texture I’ll take any day.  As a matter of fact, that reminds me of a salad that the chef at the hotel where I worked for a university vacation used to make, and which I must try to replicate (again) and write down next time we have a surfeit of mushrooms.

This pâté is a slow cook that both combines and develops deep flavours.  The combination and the process.

Chunky Mushroom Pâté

Plant-based, easy, but not so quick mushroom pâté

  • skillet or wok
  • serving dish or 4 ramekin dishes
  • 15 ml olive oil
  • 1 medium onion, diced
  • 1 clove garlic, finely chopped
  • 500g mushrooms, sliced
  • 15ml fresh thyme, finely chopped
  • ¼ tsp salt
  • ¼ tsp freshly ground black pepper
  • 60g nuts (pecan, walnut, almond)*
  • 125ml dry white wine
  1. In a large skillet (use a wok), sauté the onion and garlic until glossy and beginning to caramelise, 7 to 10 minutes.

  2. Add mushrooms, salt and pepper. Cook over a low heat until the liquid from the mushroom has evaporated, 18 to 20 minutes.

  3. Add the wine and turn up the heat and simmer until the liquid evaporates, 8 to 10 minutes.

  4. Then transfer mushroom mixture to a food processor, add the nuts and another tablespoon of olive oil. Blend for about 30 seconds, until the mixture is as smooth or as chunky as you would like.

  5. Pot into a single bowl or three or four ramekin dishes.  Chill before serving.

I have made this with walnuts, pecan nuts and almonds.  All work equally well although there are subtle differences in flavour.  If using the pecans and/or walnuts, toast before adding them to the mixture.

Appetizer, Drinks, Snack
vegan
appetiser, plant-based, snack, tapas, vegan

Versatile

I mentioned that this is a versatile product.  It is, for two reasons:  the pate makes a great addition to a plant-based tapas platter (some say it’s a great substitute for chicken liver pâté.  Others vehemently disagree.  I tend to make it a little chunky which makes it fabulous to stir through pasta.  Which brings me to my next point.

The process is the real secret

Mushrooms are like good wine and cheese:  they need time to develop their flavour.  If you read the recipe properly, the mushrooms are effectively cooked twice:  the first time to release and allow all the liquid to reduce and effectively cook out.  The second after adding the white wine which is also reduced so that there is little if no liquid left.  While this is going on the onion caramelises, softens and releases its sugars.  With the addition of garlic and fresh thyme, I’ve begun using this process for our regular pasta night.

The mixture is not puréed as it is for the pâté, but rather left chunky and the nuts are optional.  With a good glug (or two) of olive oil, a bit more fresh thyme and a Parmesan style cheese.  Or not.

Until next time, be well
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma

Post script
If this post might seem familiar, it’s because I’m doing two things:

  • re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?
  • and “re-capturing” nearly two years’ worth of posts.

I blog to the Hive blockchain using a number of decentralised appplications.

  • From WordPress, I use the Exxp WordPress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.

  • Join Hive using this link and then join us in the Silver Bloggers’ community by clicking on the logo.
Original artwork: @artywink