Shades of winter

3 February 2016 ~ Fiona ~ Leave a comment

We live in the most diverse floristic kingdom in the world which has a Mediterranean climate. The contrast between our part of South Africa and the Highveld struck me again as I flew between Cape Town and Johannesburg last week. The latter, which has had rain, is lush and green. In our part of the world, except for cultivated land: the vineyards, orchards and domestic gardens, the veld (countryside), is drab and brown but with its own beauty.

Then, as I was browsing through my photographs, looking for something else, I found these.

All of these grew (some naturally occurring, some cultivated) and were picked on the mountains above our village, and all except the Banksia, are indigenous and natural (i.e. not dyed).

Our mountains after a hot summer, before the winter rain.

A closer look at the colours to which we look forward each winter.

Not all are as vibrant. The aptly-named blushing bride is delicate and ethereal.

In 40°C+ (100°F+) heat, winter cold is hard to contemplate. I hate winter. The flowers are the best thing about it, especially as they are at their best when the weather’s the coldest and just before spring.

Postscript

Having seen Hugh’s post about this week’s WordPress Daily post photo challenge, and this week’s theme, “vibrant”, this is my entry.

The Streets where I Live – I

26 January 2016 ~ Fiona ~ Leave a comment

When I travel on business, like I am this week, this is some of what I miss: the streets where I live.

SmithSt_4_Dec2014 — Our street: left from the gate

The long view - past the gate — The long view – past the gate

...others stop to snack... — …others stop to snack…

MillSt_Dec2014 — A little further down the same road

Looking down the main road from our corner

VtrekkerSt_2_Dec2014 — Looking up towards the Road to Nowhere and our house…

The Pavement Persian Princess

28 December 2015 ~ Fiona ~ Leave a comment

Three years ago this month (December), just after the first anniversary of our arrival in McGregor, we had to say goodbye to our Pavement Persian. She joined Calico and me in as I was “transitioning” from a “past life” and before I met The Husband. At the time, Calico and I had moved from a house with four other cats, to one with just us. As we had been when we had left Johannesburg some six years earlier. A friend figured that we could offer a good home to another feline. Tasha.

Briefly, she had been acquired from a pet shop, interestingly, also some six years earlier, and needed a new home. Her owners were going their separate ways and her home was no more.

And so, Tasha arrived in my life.

Tasha_Flowers_Rutland — In the cool of a summer night

Her lineage was clear: Persian royalty somewhere along the line, but to have ended up in a pet shop, it’s likely she had ascended from a pavement somewhere.

As it turned out, she had been a solitary cat; her previous owners spent a great deal of time working and socialising away from their abode. Adapting to a feline sister, and the Cat’s Mother, who worked from a home office, took some doing for this princess. On all our parts. Twice she tried to return to her old stomping ground, only to return having discovered that her old home was no more. The tendency to go back to her old turf was a pattern she was to continue with other moves, including to McGregor, but each time she returned – she must have figured we were ok.

To add insult to injury, not long after her arrival, Tasha developed a nasty eye condition that necessitated extended hospitalisation and surgery. So when The Husband (then not) arrived on the scene, about eighteen months after she had deigned to finally take up residence, she was still very much in Greta Garbo mode: a snarling, grey ball of fur that hissed at him (and sometimes me) from under the bed, only to emerge when it suited her.

Tasha_Study_Dundee — Supervising The Cat’s Mother in the office

Needless to say, she eventually settled and even accepted Melon when she arrived ten or so years later, in December 2009.

When we moved to McGregor, she was about 18 and about two weeks after we arrived, she went walkabout, having not strayed until then. I had visions of her trying to head back to Cape Town – some 200km hence. Forty-eight hours later, as I was sitting and contemplating what I thought was her inevitable demise, I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye: there she was, warily making her way down the hill in the lei water channel.

View_front_13SmithDec2011 — The lei water (lead water) channel is just the other side of the fence. This photo (courtesy of Shaun King), taken the year we moved to McGregor, shows how dry and inhospitable the terrain is during the height of summer.

Home Tasha came, but she was dehydrated, with an eye infection, and it was hot. Very hot – about 40ºC (105ºF), a temperature none of us was used to, having not long moved from much more temperate Cape Town.

The trip to Dr Vet and subsequent regimen of hourly administered medication were so traumatic that we thought it would kill her. It forced us to take the difficult decision to allow her to just be a princess – no medication, but food if she wanted, and water – in her favourite spot.

Tasha_Sofa_Dec2011 — Very hot and unwell

That evening we said good night to our much loved Tasha, and went up to bed not knowing whether it was also “Goodbye…”

The Cat’s Mother is a coward and the following morning, The Husband was dispatched downstairs. Imagine our surprise: not only was she still alive, but she had rallied.

Tasha_Dec2011 — Tasha recovering from her adventure and brush with death

And she got stronger and stronger.

Tasha2012-05-19 — Tasha in her winter coat, May 2012, when she was about 19.

She coped with the winter by snuggling up to the fire in her basket – she wasn’t able to get up the stairs and curl up on the bed. It was, however, her last winter and by spring, she was becoming more, and more frail and disoriented. By the end of November, we knew that the decision was nigh. We were privileged that Dr Vet agreed to come to The Sandbag House which spared everyone the final trip and some of the trauma of that last goodbye.

Because Tasha had always been aloof and too old to play with Melon, it had always been assumed that the old lady would not be missed. But miss her, Melon did. Something had to be done.

So Rosie arrived. The sisters who never met now lie side-by-side in the shade of the Karee, and where both Melon and Pearli take refuge from the hot summer sun.

Pots and a poet

2 November 2014 ~ Fiona ~ Leave a comment

Just a week ago, our village was bursting at the seams. It was the second McGregor Poetry Festival which brings many people and amazing poets to our village – including a colleague and his wife. She and I had worked together nearly thirty years ago and we hadn’t seen each other since those days – and when we had all lived and worked in Johannesburg. Lots of water under various bridges, children born and grown up, and we bump into each other in McGregor! So lovely to see them both and to have an all too brief catch-up…

I will confess: Poetry – she and I are not friends. When I read English, the novel was my thing. Still is. That said, I do enjoy the poetry of song lyrics. The Doors, Queen, Bob Dylan, Bright Blue, Freshlyground, Dire Straits, and Leonard Cohen, are just some of the artists whose songs and lyrics speak to me in magical ways, and have, for years. If I had taught, as was part of my original life plan, I know that I would have used popular and contemporary music as a mechanism of piquing my charges’ interest in poetry.

As often happens in life, timing could not have been worse for me: a project on which I had been working for nearly a year was approaching its end or, more to the point, its end had come and gone, but the work just seemed never ending. The light at the end of the tunnel really had been the proverbial oncoming train.

And then, what relief when my colleague and I had our daily check-in, and she said, “We’re there!”

All that remained was to tie up the last loose ends.

And that was the day that before the poetry festival began.

And our closeout conversation ended, literally, as the lovely Lara Kirsten, arrived.

She stayed in our tiny guest room while she discovered McGregor and charmed audiences with her words and music.

So, why “pots”, you’re asking. Well, I had promised a large quantity of ratatouille for a street food stall, and a bit like my project, the ratatouille grew out of its pot (twice) and I ended up with a kitchen that was wall to wall pots and receptacles. Over two days, I must have chopped about fifty onions because I also (madly) made a batch of onion marmalade, but more of that another time…

Happily, as with so many things, it all works out in the end: the ratatouille made its way to right place at the right time and, more importantly, McGregor’s second Poetry Festival was a success.

I hope that Lara will be back to share some more of her music and poetry at the 2015 festival.

Here, Lara performs in Caritas which is in the beautiful Temenos gardens.

Finally, here are two of Lara’s poems, one in Afrikaans and the other in English.

klou en wag

ek lê in die bed met
‘n pen vasgeklem in my hand
en ‘n papier gekrater onder my elmboog
wagtend dat my drome heel moontlik
die pen sal vat en
die nag se poësie sal
neerskryf in die hoop dat
die griffels die weg sal wys
en die rigting sal skryf binne-in
die stuk wit wat die kaart
van my kreatiewe lewe sal uitlê

miskien
sal die swart rots
blink
in die reën en son
en tekens
sal die toekoms
helder in my oë
flikker

ek het geen probleem om te wag

pen in hand

‘n stille krag

we are too weighed down by our ideas and our minds

we are too weighed down by our ideas
our minds
our wants
our ideals
our habits and our fears
our shames and our sighs

our minds are heavy
look how we all walk with our heads
trailing like heavy baggage behind us
they just can not keep upright anymore
all these orthopaedic concerns are because of
our heavy heads
i am surprised they have not exploded yet
thanks to all our smartphones, laptops and tablets
they carry a part of the great heaviness
of too many ideas
what would we have done if we could not steer
the overflow into these metal brains?
maybe because we have these metal brains
our fleshy brains just keep on churning the thinking
the computing
the inventing
continual stimulation between inorganic and organic matter

fuck this!
arch out our backs
lift our heads
and shake all the heaviness out
be light and empty
feel the air move between our ribs
our diaphragms
and every cell
feel our feet
losing touch with the earth
start to rise
and float to the lightness of the clouds

Read more of Lara’s poetry, and listen to her music on her blog

Roasted Red Pepper Pasta

28 October 201412 April 2020 ~ Fiona ~ Leave a comment

This is a warm pasta salad with roasted peppers, cilantro and ginger – another of my “made-up” dishes. I had not made it for a while when I saw Jamie’s recipe for roasted red pepper and walnut spread. This prompted me to make it again.

Ingredients:

Sweet bell peppers. I generally use robot peppers as that gives great colour variation, but go lightly on the green peppers because they have much stronger flavour. This time I used red peppers with yellow (small and end-of-season) ones.
Fresh ginger, grated
Fresh cilantro (coriander and, in South Africa, also known as Dhanya). We still have some in the garden which is flowering – so I used the feathery leaves, green seeds and flowers for garnish
Clove of garlic (I add it to the water in which the pasta cooks and after I’ve drained the pasta, I squeeze out the creamy flesh, mash it and add it to the cooked pasta).
Cheese – this time I used lovely Labneh made by a McGregor resident, but cheddar and/or another mild cheese works equally well)
Pasta (commercial or home made)

Here’s what I do: Roast the peppers, cool and and then peel them, removing seeds and any pith. The peppers release juice – I reserve that – the flavour is wonderful. Slice or tear the peppers into slivers. Once the pasta is cooked and drained, and a little olive oil tossed in, the rest of the ingredients, except for the cheese and some of the fresh dhanya, are equally unceremoniously tossed in and about. Plate in a pasta bowl and garnish with the cheese and reserved cilantro. Serve immediately (on hot plates if the weather is cold; in summer I don’t bother).

Places and spaces – I

26 October 2014 ~ Fiona ~ Leave a comment

Tiny as McGregor is, it is a place of places and amazing spaces. One such place with amazing spaces is Temenos.

Choose a path – literal or figurative

in the sun, through the fowers — in the sun, through the flowers

– to take you to beautiful spaces

or with views –

out to the village

When spring flew in!

5 October 2014 ~ Fiona ~ Leave a comment

Late last summer, a pair of African swallows, built a nest under the eaves of our front veranda. At the time, we thought it a bit late in the season for a brood, but a brood they had. Many a late afternoon, we watched as they went about the very frustrating job of getting their babies to bed. Much like humans, these swallow parents had to deal with the exuberance of a new-found, fun skill: the children did not want to go to bed – flying about was such fun!

Winter arrived. Jack and Jill left and I missed their cheerful “chissick!” greeting as they swooped along the veranda past the office window several times a day. They would be back, I knew, to add to the nest that they had so carefully built.

Along with winter, came the need for work on our roof. Large men with even larger boots stomped about on the veranda roof – Jack and Jill’s house came tumbling down! I was horrified! There, in smithereens, was their hard work, and lying amongst them, the most beautiful warm bed that they had made with, among other things, guinea fowl and pigeon feathers.

Jack and Jill's feather bed - top (l) and bottom (r) — A feather bed – top (l) and bottom (r), beautifully curved to fit into the base of the nest

Then, about six weeks ago, much to our delight, as we were contemplating something or other in the office, we heard a flutter and something swooped past the window, under the eaves. Then another. And then a “chissick!”

Jack and Jill were back! For a few days they were much in evidence, flying about, and generally having a ball…

After a cold snap and some rain, we noticed that they had started to work on the old nest. The weather cleared and went from winter to summer in a single day, and there was no more mud. Work stopped.

A couple of weeks passed and we had another cold snap and rain – lots of mud about again. Jack and Jill began rebuilding in earnest, and this is what they have built over the last 10 days, from the ruins of their old home.

Yesterday and today, they have been literally feathering their nest, so I suppose we will soon see less of Jill as she sits on her eggs in the nest under the eaves of our veranda.

If I am able to get good pictures of the babies, I’ll update this post and re-blog….

Wicked and wonderful things in the valley

9 September 2014 ~ Fiona ~ Leave a comment

Our valley is one of contrasts, and last week reflected this. It began with a slow burning fire on our mountains which had, a week earlier, been covered in snow. Neither the farmers nor the conservationists not know what started the fire, although a human element is suspected. The wild animals are fleeing down the mountains, nearer and nearer to working farms, livestock and human habitation. This area is one of the few areas where the endangered Cape leopards both traverse and live, and is part of a leopard conservation project, whose efforts are also being jeopardised by this fire.

Fire and snow, equally spectacular. The fire is still burning…

Last week ended (or this week began) in a somewhat different, but also dazzling way, with Sunday picnic lunch under the fig tree at Tanagra, another of our wonderful boutique wineries. We were entertained by two groups of very talented young people from our valley, all of whom come from very poor circumstances – informal settlements and/or farms. Both the Langeberg Steel Band and the Next Step Dance Company are award-winning groups in their own rights, and mentored by two talented individuals who live in McGregor.

We left Tanagra with a song in our hearts and a bounce in our steps. Here is just a soupcon of the sound of the Langeberg Steel Band.

[wpvideo YiHv2KLx]

Angel fish – astonishingly versatile

1 September 2014 ~ Fiona ~ Leave a comment

A couple of weeks ago, the new season of Master Chef SA started, and I was watching with half an eye, as I was preparing our supper – angel fish. Imagine my surprise when the first episode concluded with a boot camp – on a wharf in the Cape Town harbour – with the contestants having to prepare a dish with, yes, angel fish!

Before we moved to McGregor, we used to eat fish regularly, and over the last 10 or so years, the range of fresh fish available in the few independent fishmongers (as opposed to large supermarket chains), has shrunk enormously. The implications of this, beyond availability for home consumption, is profound for both our environment, and for small fishers in South Africa. However, that’s a rant for another time and place.

Inversely proportional to the reduced choice, is the increased price. When I first moved to Cape Town some 22 years ago, my adventure with cooking fresh fish began. I used to ask the lady behind the counter what was nice and how to cook it. Being cash strapped, decisions were price-driven. Consequently, and because hake seemed boring (and not always cost effective, and I am not fond of snoek), choices were limited: Gurnard (shad) and angel fish. Both, I discovered, are great eating – and very underrated. In the Western Cape, Gurnard is not frequently available, so angel fish became our usual, and almost most favourite fish. It remains so. Even after moving, we still go into our “old” fish monger (Plumstead Fisheries), when we are in Cape Town. A friend who commutes, also goes into the shop to get fresh fish for us – she has now got to know Desiree who has looked after us so well for about ten or so years now. However, I digress…

A simple supper

Returning to angel fish – we eat it at least once a week. Angel fish is moderately flavoured and relatively firm; the fillets are thin, if you have a medium sized fish, so they don’t take much cooking. Tom is very fond of cooking over the coals (braai or barbecue), and will do so at any opportunity. Having grown up in a land-locked country, when we first met, eating sea fish was foreign, and the first fish meal I did for him, he ate “met lang tande” (with long teeth), and was pleasantly surprised. The next task was to get him to braai it: a typical Western Cape way of eating fish. Needless to say, some nearly fourteen or so years later, he’s a convert.

All that’s a long way of telling you that nine times out of ten, our angel fish is braaied on the Weber, over a moderate to dying fire, skin side down, regularly basted with a mixture that always includes an appropriate herb, garlic, butter and olive oil. Recently, I’ve been using my lemon and parsley pesto as a base for what what is commonly referred to as “the paint”.

This is a simple, easy meal accompanied by a garden salad and potatoes (or not) boiled in their skins. Depending on the weather (or the season, my mood and what’s in the garden) I will make a parsley or tartare sauce or a salsa, so although we eat the same thing, often, it doesn’t get boring.

Cold fish or luscious leftovers?

With only two of us, we often have fish left over, and I’m not one to throw away good food. Prepared over the coals, the cooled fish has a lovely, light smokey flavour. We have, on occasion, taken cold angel fish as a contribution to a picnic – the first time, against Tom’s better judgement. On one occasion, there was quite a quantity and he was certain that we’d have lots left over: what would I do with that? “Make fish cakes,” was my immediate response. But there was none left – no fish cakes! On that occasion, the “paint” consisted of olive oil, butter, a little garlic and some grated ginger.

Fish cakes

Fish cakes are really easy to make, even if a little messy towards the end, with the egg-dipping and crumbing. That said, they are worth it and they freeze well, making them a great stand by. Fish cakes are also a good way of using up extra potato and parsley sauce, which is what I did when I had a surfeit of fish, a week or so ago. To make them, break up the fish, and mash the potato and then mix the two together, well. Add the parsley sauce (if you have it; it’s not mandatory) and a good handful of fresh, chopped parsley. Ensure this is well mixed in, season and add a lightly beaten egg to bind.

Then divide into cakes. I’m not a great judge of size by eye and always used to end up with a load of unevenly sized fish cakes. Now, I prepare a tray, covered with a layer of grease-proof paper, and then use a cookie cutter as a mould. I press the mixture firmly into the shape and then once I’ve used it all up, I roll each cake in flour, dip it in beaten egg and then roll it in commercial bread crumbs: fish cakes ready to fry. At this point you can freeze them if you have more than you need.

I love fish cakes. For me, they are a rare but indulgent comfort food. I’ll eat them with lashings of tomato sauce (ketchup) and peas. I’m especially comforted when the peas are freshly picked and lightly boiled/blanched with a sprig of mint.

Angel fish paté

Of course, to make fish cakes, you need a relatively large quantity of left over fish. Often this isn’t the case, and one way of using up little bits of left over fish is to make a paté. This has become one of the most popular products that I sell at McGregor’s Saturday pop-up market. As far as quantities are concerned, use your discretion….

The paté consists of the left over fish, a spritz of dry white wine, a dollop of plain, creamed cottage cheese, a sprinkling of chives (or if it’s winter, and the chives have died back, green onion leaves) as well as salt and pepper. Mix that all together, and you have angel fish paté. Of course you can serve it with biscuits and/or fresh bread, but I have also served it in a lettuce leaf with a baby salad as a starter.

A last word (or two)

The South African Sustainable Seafood Initiative (SASSI) is a World Wildlife Fund initiative and, among other things, aims to create awareness about marine conservation and encourage people to eat fish responsibly, ensuring not just the sustainability of our oceans, but also, one hopes the re-establishment of stocks.

Both Angel Fish and Gurnard are on SASSI’s green list – at the moment.

I loved what the Master Chef contestants did with their angel fish and am grateful for a slew of new ideas….

Anyone for eggs?

25 August 2014 ~ Fiona ~ Leave a comment

I have always loved eggs. As a little girl, I loved eating Dad’s scrambled eggs; of course I had had my own, but they were much nicer when I perched on his knee, eating them off his plate. He loved his eggs on buttery toast and topped with a good sprinkling of freshly ground black pepper. Another “egg” memory associated with Dad, and which I’ve mentioned before, is my (actually Dad….) bidding for the winning egg and succeeding, at the Gonubie Agricultural Show. I guess those eggs must have been quite expensive in the grand scheme of things. Why was I besotted with those particular eggs? I have no idea, except that they were generally a beautiful white, not the brown we are used to, now. And always double yolkers.

Eggs feature quite a bit on our menu; fortunately, we both could eat them for breakfast, lunch and supper! There was a time when an egg-rich diet was considered potentially dangerous. Not so, nowadays, and for two key reasons, it seems: they don’t contain “bad” cholesterol, and it would appear that there are now even questions about whether cholesterol is the consequence of too much unsaturated fat. Adding fuel to this fire is the move to a low carbohydrate, high-fat diet – people are Banting bonkers at the moment. I’m not knocking it as I have been leaning in that general direction for a while…

Eggs are an essential ingredient in many things we eat, often without realising it, for example mayonnaise, cakes and cookies, rich pastries and of course, in custards, including the savoury custard in a quiche. My home made pasta is egg-rich. So, we eat eggs, often, and not just for breakfast.

Breakfast

Over the weekend, have sort of a ritual. I loathe early mornings and am virtually non-functional, so what needs to be done must be done in “auto pilot”. On a Saturday, because there is no alarm, things are a little more leisurely, but we still need to be at the McGregor pop-up market, and set up by nine o’clock, so our day begins without breakfast.After the market, we get home and unpack the bakkie (also known, depending on where you live, as a pick-up or ute), and Tom does breakfast: soft boiled eggs, toast and coffee. He’s a real egg-boiling pro, and if the batch of eggs contains a speckled one – it’s always mine! The speckled egg is another throwback to my childhood and Alison Uttley’s wonderful stories about Grey Rabbit and Speckeld Hen; stories that my granny read to us when she visited South Africa in 1969 into 1970. A “speckeldy” egg always gets me clucking with childlike delight!

Sunday is a whole different ball game; breakfast is the full catastrophe! Fried egg, beautiful, homemade bacon, fried tomato, mushroom, brinjal, potato… And, needless to say, toast or croissant, and coffee. We love our Sunday brunch which, weather permitting, we usually eat on our lovely, sunny veranda.

Lunch

So, if that was breakfast, what about lunch, you ask. Well, ever since I was a tot, a favourite sandwich was egg mayonnaise – it still is. I even enjoyed the ones we got at boarding school! There can be few things more delicious than lovely fresh bread, hard boiled egg, grated and mixed with home made mayonnaise, seasoned with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Jazz that up with some fresh parsley, a lettuce leaf and some sliced tomato, and you have a feast!

But you don’t have to stop there: firm, but not quite hard-boiled eggs (so that the yolk is not quite cooked and a lovely rich, orange colour), added to a green salad are delicious, on a hot summer’s day.

On a cooler day, here’s a thought: poached eggs on freshly picked spinach, wilted, with tomatoes, topped with a dollop of cottage cheese, grilled. Fresh fennel goes well with all of these components, so I use it both as a garnish and as an element in the meal – with or without lovely crusty bread.About poaching eggs: make sure that your eggs are as fresh as possible, and add a little vinegar to the water when you cook them. Once they’re cooked to your taste, remove them with a slotted spoon and place them on a cloth (not paper towel – it sticks to the egg and is hard to get off). Allow them to drain for a little while – there is nothing worse than a poached egg that deposits puddles of water over your plate!

Supper

A regular supper, one night during the week, has egg as the main protein, in one form or another: an omelette, a Spanish Omelette, a frittata, or a quiche, accompanied by a garden salad. A two-egg omelette, with a filling of your choice, which includes cheese, is a really filling and easy meal.If you’re nervous about folding an omelette, and other than practice, my technique is to make sure that I use a pan that is the right size, and I don’t believe anything is non-stick, so I always add a knob of butter and olive oil. Don’t overheat the pan…. Once the eggs are in the pan, don’t fiddle with them until you see that the edges are cooking. Then, with a small egg lifter, draw a little egg towards the centre and allow the runny egg to flow out to the edge. Once the egg is mostly cooked, add your filling – on one side and then gently lift the other over it.

Another tip about folding omelettes over their fillings: make sure that you have the pan handle at nine o’clock. Put the filling on the same side, between twelve and six o’clock. Then you can comfortably hold the pan and gently lift the other side of the omelette over the filling, and then slide it onto a warm plate. If you’re left handed, do it the other way round, i.e. have the handle at three o’clock, etc…

Have a look at another supper that includes eggs, cooked in a tomato sauce….