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.

 

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.

 

 

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

Carrots – yes ways – three ways

Foreword

This post first appeared in 2015, and since then, the recipes have gone through a number of developments/iterations/whatever word you’d like to choose.  Originally, it was carrots, two ways.  Now, I’ve added a third.

Growing carrots

One of our earlier harvests – around 2104

Our soil is rocky and very clayey.  Certain root vegetables grow, but very differently from what one would expect.  Short and stubby or a bit twisted, so they’re right at home.

However, working the garden the last eight ten or so years (with a break thanks to the drought and other crud), has improved the soil quality:  fewer stones helped along with our own compost and locally sourced manure.  Of course, crop rotation – a necessity – also helps.  Carrots are a crop we can grow all year round – with patience.  They are a slow crop.  They are also versatile because they are great for eating raw and cooked;  hot or cold; in salads and as sides.

Putting up my hand

Let me nail my colours to the mast.  Again.  I am not a fan of the local traditional carrot salad which is just too sweet, or the salad of finely shredded carrots with pineapple and raisins.  They are in the same category as coleslaw – with slightly less vehemence.

As happens when there are two of you, and a crop is ready to harvest, the choice of accompaniments for meals becomes somewhat restricted.  We go through patches of wonderful (and ongoing) crops of carrots, but there is a limit to the number of carrot sticks one can eat.

But now –

I can get quite creative with carrots and love growing heirloom ones of different colours.

Carrots make great table decor. Especially with my bunnies which often graced the Sunday Supper table.

A word to the wise:

Don’t be conned by the lovely colours of heirloom carrots:  I thought they’d make my pretty pickle extra pretty. Well, they did, until the colour faded into the pickling brine…overnight!

“No!” to the death boil

I definitely don’t do boiled carrots.  I had too many of them as a child – boiled to death, they were.

A few years’ ago, thanks to celebrity chef, Jamie Oliver, I learned about finishing carrots off in the oven.

I subsequently found the recipe, by which time the practice of parboiling* and finishing off in the oven, had become a Fiona SOP.  I have to agree with his sentiment that the practice makes the carrots “meatier”;  it certainly does intensify the flavours and it’s become my favourite way of preparing carrots – whether they have the full Oliver treatment or not.

* save and freeze the water you drain off – for gravy or vegetable stock

Photo: Selma

The “pukka” Oliver treatment involves orange, herbs, butter and garlic.  Of course.  Bung them in a pot with some salted water, bring to the boil for about 10 minutes.  Drain and spread on a baking tray with butter (or olive oil), squeeze the orange juice over the carrots, doing the same with the garlic.   Now, whack that into a pre-heated oven for about 15 minutes.  Serve hot or cold. With extra herbs.

I have also created variations – with or without the oranges and herbs – used my spicy plum jam as a glaze and served them cold with blue cheese on a bed of rocket (arugula).

Rocket and me

Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not overly fond of hot, peppery stuff and for years I really didn’t like rocket in anything other as one of the leaves in a green salad.  When it was the vogue to have rocket with everything, I was often found to be picking it out of my salad or asking for an alternative.  Yes, I can be that customer, and if it can’t be done, I’ll find an alternative restaurant dish.

Then, a few years ago we visited Babylonstoren and toured the garden.  I left with their book which is less about recipes than it is about ingredients and combinations that work.

Among these was beetroot with rocket and goat’s cheese (chevin to be precise).-It’s become another favourite combination.  The sweetness of the beetroot works really well with the pepperiness of the rocket, rounded off with the saltiness of the cheese.

That combination gave me the idea of trying carrot with rocket as I did for this dish – and with the saltiness of blue cheese.

 

Monster rocket leaf from the garden

I am now a whole lot more adventurous open to recipes that include rocket and am now exceedingly annoyed if anyone tampers with my self-sown rocket plants.  Because, theoretically, once you have rocket, you always have rocket.  Unless someone frantically weeds it all out.  This monster plant survived the last weeding frenzy.

Which brings me back to carrots.

Going back some a few years, I built a stash of carrot recipes, many of which I’d rejected or not tried. Because, well, just because.  Then, because of Sunday Suppers, and because I keep an eye open for dishes that are vegan and vegetarian-friendly, I have a somewhat different lens.

Among the recipes is one with almonds, olives and cranberries.  Yes, you guessed right:  with rocket as more than garnish.

I gave it a go.  It’s a winner.

The best carrot salad(s)

Carrot salad with rocket, almonds and olives

What makes this salad best of all, is its versatility and with various additions or subtractions, it can form a main course for either vegetarians or vegans. What’s more, it stores well so one can make it ahead of time.

In summary:  roast the carrots, slivered almonds, garlic and salt and pepper.  Set them aside and then combine with pitted olives.  Serve on a bed of salad (and rocket) leaves dressed with apple cider vinegar and honey, or spicy plum jam. Garnish with more rocket leaves and flowers.

In a jar – better storage and/or for a picnic

Regular readers and followers of my Insta feed know that I have a stall at the Saturday morning market in McGregor.  Last winter, I resumed my soup offering (which had ground to a halt because I served the soups at Sunday Suppers).  Now the seasons are changing and the weather’s warmer, soup’s not quite so popular and instead of ditching the jar idea, I am now offer either a seasonal soup, salad or meal in a jar. This wasn’t the first – that was the Butternut and Lentil salad that everyone raves about.

Remember I said that this salad stores well?

It really does. It also looks very pretty in jars.  I sold a few at the market and those I didn’t, I stored in the fridge.  As a test.  The rocket leaves stayed crisp, for a full seven days. That makes it a great market/street food product and a winner for the busy person who plans and prepares ahead.

The full, recipes are available to download here.

Oh, and if you do download the recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?

Post script:

The spicy plum jam to which I refer, is a condiment I’ve been making for a number of years.  I did share the recipe, and that post, like so many others, went the way of an erstwhile website host.  A new post – with the now tried and trusted recipe – will appear during (or after) plum season.  I shall be making more.

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
    • I also share my occasional Instagram posts to the crypto blockchain, Hive, using the new, and really nifty phone app, Dapplr. On your phone, click here or on the icon, and give it a go.

A pretty pickle

I’m in a pickle:  I have been revamping a post from a while ago.  About carrots.  After creating a variation of a salad I’d done before and I wanted to add it.  I discovered not only that it had disappeared, but the references to other posts no longer worked.  Not because they were wrong, but rather because the posts no longer existed. Like this one.

A bit of a pickle.

And pickles need time.  And revamping posts take time.  Especially when one realises how far one has come in the nearly five years since the original post in 2016.  Water under the bridge, as they say.

However

The McGregor Board offering at the 2015 McGregor Food and Wine Festival

Another reason for revisiting this is keeping my promise to “pretty up” the recipes and make them available to download in a printable format.  The pickle (the real one) that’s the subject of this post, has become one of my “signature” products at the local market.  I first made them for the McGregor Food and Wine festival in 2015.  It no longer happens…and which is only partly attributed to the dreaded C-lurgy.  Since that first effort, I’ve adapted the recipe slightly and learned a few things.

Colourful Pickled Vegetables

The 2021 fennel seed harvest

When I decided to have a stall at the Food and Wine Festival that year, I wanted to do something different.  But something that would work on a ploughman’s platter and, of course, with wine.  I was not going to do picalili.  I’m not a fan.

I’ve adapted this from a quick pickle recipe and, to be honest, the end result is better because, well, at the risk of repeating myself:  pickles take time.  The brine includes a number of different herb and spice seeds, like cumin, coriander, mustard and fennel.  This last comes, in abundance, from the garden.  Among other essential ingredients are garlic, ginger onions and apple cider vinegar.  And turmeric.

Which vinegar, and why

I’ve used both white wine and apple cider vinegar for this pickle.  I now tend to stick with the latter:  it’s a softer vinegar and better flavoured.  Oh, and also this brine makes a great addition to a vinaigrette if you retain it after you’ve eaten the pickles.

Vegetables

One of the challenge of this pickle is that not all the vegetables one needs are in season at the same time. Here, carrots are available and grow all year round;  the cauliflower is a winter crop and the bell peppers, spring and into summer.   Consequently, and  sometimes, I do fiddle with the ratios and with the cauliflower is the base vegetable.  The turmeric turns it a lovely golden colour.

The quantities are hard to work out exactly, but there is more cauliflower than other bits – the ratios are more important.

Packing the jars

Although I often mix the vegetables, I do monitor the distribution of vegetables between the jars.  I have ended up with a tail-end jar of mostly one vegetable which ends up on our table rather than in my market stock.

Don’t be afraid to press and pummel the vegetables into the jars.  They shrink a little during the pickling process,  anyway.

Once the jars are packed, pour over the hot brine.  This is a messy process and if you’re worried about turmeric stains, take the necessary precautions.  Distribute the seeds and other solids between the jars, making sure that there is sufficient “space” for expansion when they’re sterilised.  Before putting the lid on, make sure there are no lurking air pockets:  tap the jar and poke a plastic or wooden (not metal because of the vinegar) skewer, kebab stick or swizzle stick down the sides to liberate any bubbles.

Do not over tighten the lids: when the jars cool, they will seal, forming a vacuum.

Processing and sterilising

Place the jars in a large (stock) pot and fill with water (do this on the stove – don’t try to lug the full pot and the jars from the sink to the stove and give yourself a hernia … or worse…)  Oh, and before you begin, put a tea towel at the bottom of the pot so that the jars don’t rattle around.  Bring to a boil and then reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes.  Remove from the water and allow to cool.  The lids should all pull in and form a vacuum at the top of the jar as they cool.

These pickles keep their crunch and can be stored for a good few months.

What else I’ve learned

For this batch, we had lots of red onions and some beautiful heirloom carrots, from the garden, and I thought that they would add to the colour of these pickles.  They did.

But only for about a week:  the vinegar bleached the colour out so that the red carrots ended up just being orange and the red onion lost its blush and went slightly yellow from the turmeric.  The flavour is not affected and the pickle is just as pretty because of the red of the pepper, the gold turmeric which is absorbed by the cauliflower and, or course, the orange of the carrots.

This time, and because they were baby carrots, I left a bit of the stalk on them and then quartered them longways.  Just adds to the character and texture of the pickle.

The full, recipes are available to download here.

Oh, and if you do download the recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?

Finally, the post that links back to this – with the carrot salads – will be out soon.

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
    • I also share my occasional Instagram posts to the crypto blockchain, Hive, using the new, and really nifty phone app, Dapplr. On your phone, click here or on the icon, and give it a go.

 

Marvelous Malva

I can’t remember the first time I ate this dessert.  It’s one of our favourites – when I “do” dessert.  I don’t often.  I don’t have a sweet tooth.  I am was not much of a baker.  My chef friend and market pal reckons mine are among the best she’s tasted.  I brimmed with pride when she said that.  

Confused

I do remember thinking that its name confused me.  I knew that malva(lekker) is a marshmallow (sweet) in Afrikaans.  In my head (and mouth), the dessert bore bears no resemblance to marshmallows.  

That’s just the beginning.  Because, of course, I am fascinated by words and need to know how things get their names.  

When I developed an interest in herbs – edible and medicinal – I discovered that Malva is a plant genus into which the mallow falls.  This includes the indigenous South African geranium – scented and otherwise.

The red geraniums one sees in Mediterranean window boxes, as I did in my trip to Mallorca in 1999, all originate not far from where I grew up.  I remember them from the regular trips between boarding school in East London and Grahamstown.  They grow wild through the cracks in the road cuttings on either side of the Great Fish River.  Some of the scented ones grow in our garden.  I use them for iced teas and garnish in summer, but that’s another story. 

All of that’s a long way of saying that nobody, least of all me, has any idea as to why this pudding is called “malva”.

Many roads lead to The Sandbag House

Of course, I’ve digressed.  I had wanted to tell the “proper” story behind this recipe last week – ahead of South Africa’s Heritage weekend and having already “done” some heritage food.  I was derailed by having to revisit this post to give the context I needed:  Sunday Suppers @ The Sandbag House and the smorgasbord of guests who sat around our tables. 

The note in the banner for this post is from guests from Germany.  They insisted on a photograph with me, and which they subsequently sent via WhatsApp:

Malva pudding was also on that evening’s menu, and as I recall, they also went home with a jar of my spicy plum jam. 

January 2020

Unexpectedly, last February, and before lockdown, I received a WhatsApp message.  It went along the lines of…

Hello, we so enjoyed our dinner.  The Malva pudding was the best we had in South Africa.  We are planning a dinner with a South African theme.  Would you be able to send me the recipe?

Well, I had to scrabble around a bit.  My recipe is not in any of my books.  I wasn’t sure if I’d ever typed it up.  It’s in my very tatty, dog-eared file.  Too tatty for a photo.  Typing it up had been on my ever-growing “to-dos” forever.  Now, I had to do it.  I did. 

It went, through cyberspace to Sweden.  

The thanks:

Thank you so much! I’m very grateful. I will make Boboti and Malvapudding for my guests. I will share photographs.

Then the pandemic was declared.  I don’t know whether they had their South African dinner.

Another back story

Our Sunday Suppers were a thing.  That delightful Swedish couple joined us for the penultimate supper at which we had guests:  January 26th, 2020.  There were two other diners.  A couple who live in America. She is South African and they are were annual visitors to South Africa to see her mother and family.  During the evening’s conversation, we learned that they’d tried to join us before Christmas, but we’d been full.  This time, they were determined and drove from another town. 

The menu and our Swedish guests’ note in our book, that evening.

The proof of the pudding

Malva pudding is, as I’ve already said, a baked dessert.  I have no idea why I offered this menu in mid-summer because all of those are winter dishes.  We must have been having an unseasonal cold snap.  

I don’t know where my recipe comes from, or who gave it to me.  For years, this was a dessert I didn’t do because a chef friend of ours in Cape Town is the Malva King.  It was often his contribution to one of our gatherings. 

Traditionally, it’s baked in a large square dish and served in squares with custard, cream or ice cream.  Personally, I prefer custard.

Perfect Practice

They say two things:  practise makes perfect and with practise comes the confidence to experiment.  This was case with much of Sunday Suppers, especially the desserts – and my graduating to individual desserts.  As I did with the Malva Pudding.

Mini Malva puddings: just out of the oven (left) and then ladled with the sweet, creamy syrup (right)

Fortunately this recipe serves ten, and I use the ten little enamel cups I bought a few years ago.  Much to The Husband’s confusion.  I used these often during the time of Sunday Suppers.  They, along with a few other bits and bobs have gathered much dust on shelves in this time of disuse. 

Enamel “crockery”

One finds enamel mugs and flatware in virtually every South African kitchen.  In my childhood, in middle class and white households they were reserved for the servants.  Perish the thought.

Before that, though, and now, they are the sensible utensils for camping and the fireside (braai).  I remember them in piles in the trading stores of my childhood and youth in the Eastern Cape. 

Using them to serve Malva pudding, a traditional Afrikaans dish, which probably harks back to the great trek, just makes sense to me.  Sometimes they sparked conversations.  Sometimes not.

Regardless, this traditional South African favourite is a hit every time.  Download the recipe here and if you do, please buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?

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
    • I also share my occasional Instagram posts to the crypto blockchain, Hive, using the new, and really nifty phone app, Dapplr. On your phone, click here or on the icon, and give it a go.

Not killing mother

In December 1999, I spent my last Christmas with my father.  Three days earlier, we’d bade my mother a final farewell.  As I’ve probably said before, her death was a shock.  Six weeks prior, she’d had surgery.  By all accounts, it was successful although the procedure meant a protracted stay in hospital.  Cleared of nasties, she was doing well and then suddenly took a turn for the worse.  Back in ICU;  back into theatre, twice; organ failure and dialysis; in and out of a coma.

Skipping the long version

If you aren’t inclined to reading, scroll down to the short version.

Things in common but not friends

Let me be clear.  I loved my mother, but she and I were not friends.  It was, to say the least, an uneasy relationship.  We had little to say to each other and although we would have had things in common, now, I doubt they would have been enough to have transformed our relationship.  Some of my profound enjoyment of traditional crafts – knitting and crochet – I get from her. And cooking.  She was a good cook.  My parents’ dinner parties were legend.  The celebration for my 21st birthday was a garden party which, except for the cake, she catered.

Mum and me at different times in our respective lives.

This collage, is of photos of Mum and I.  At different times in our lives. The first time I came across the one of her in the centre, it was like looking at myself.  I’ve never forgotten that weird feeling.  The bottom right photo is one of me, at about the same age.

Opposites in magnets (and in life), attract, but the like poles repel.  Perhaps that was my mother and I:  too alike. It took fifty-odd years to acknowledge that – even after she had died and I found that photograph.  More than twenty years ago.

No conversation – then

Having little in common, there wasn’t much to talk about. I don’t remember any profound or really adult conversation with her.  Only once, that I can remember, did I ask for advice about cooking.  When I cooked my first Christmas turkey nearly thirty years ago.  Next time I wanted to ask her advice about something – also cooking related – some eight years later, I couldn’t.  Although it made me momentarily sad, it did make me remember her kitchen ritual for the sauce I had wanted to make.  Also for a Christmas meal:  traditional British bread sauce which is traditionally served with roast chicken or turkey.

Not a baker

After she died, my sister wasn’t interested in our mother’s personal recipe book – to which I refer, pretty frequently.  My now famous chicken liver paté, and which I sell at the market is hers, and in that book. She also had two different editions of the Good Housekeeping Cookery Book.  I got one, my sister, the other.  I still use it and it taught me how to make marmalade and it’s my go-to for certain basics.

While my mother was an excellent cook, she always said she couldn’t bake.  One vivid memory of such an effort was a birthday cake.  My sister had commanded pink.  Pink. Very. Pink,  it was.  And hacked sculpted to turn it into a cake shaped cake.  For years and for some reason, I believed that I, too, could not bake.  That I have become a relatively accomplished baker of certain desserts, shortbread, biscuits and now, sourdough bread is, to say the least, ironic.

A selection of baked desserts that I used to serve at our regular Sunday Suppers

The absence of conversation, however has changed.  Over the last year or so, I’ve had more conversations with “mother” than I had with my real Mum in the thirty six years I knew her.

Blame it on Lockdown

Last year (2020 in case you’ve forgotten), and when we were in hard lockdown a chef friend in the village started a Facebook group – what’s for supper? It started, among other things, my now ritual photographing of our supper, stretching the imagination (and the budget) as far as it (would) will go.  The other starter was, literally a starter:  a mother or natural yeast for making bread.

Having been scared of yeast, I resisted baking bread.  Also, it’s not something one can do on impulse.  Until then I had tried baking bread a couple of times and had long wanted to literally do it from scratch.  That included my own “mother”.  With no other distractions, let alone plans, and with encouragement from Pixie who, at that stage, had her own, well established jar of glop, I started my journey.

Uncle Ritchie and Auntie Doris

The first “rule” of making one’s own mother, I’m led to believe, is giving her a name.  Of course, being who I am, I was not going to give her a conventional name.  Not female.  I chose “Uncle Ritchie” because he was the only baker to trade I’ve ever known.  I remember the bakery next door to his and Auntie Doris’s (she of my birthday cake) house. And the big ovens…  Nearly forty years ago, it was demolished to make way for a block of flats (apartments).  I digress.

So, in late March, my sourdough journey began.  I mixed equal parts of flour and water in a jar, religiously closing the top, feeding Uncle Ritchie every day.  On day two, I think, there were a couple of bubbles.  Then, a few days later.  Nothing. Dead.  Like baker Uncle Ritchie has been for the last thirty something years.

I killed suffocated him. I’d closed the lid too tight. He couldn’t breathe.

Rinse and repeat

I don’t do well being challenged thwarted.  I was determined to try again;  if Uncle Ritchie wouldn’t oblige, I was sure Auntie Doris would.  She’d come through for me before.  So again, I mixed equal parts of flour and water in a jar, religiously closing the top – not too tightly, but tightly enough to keep the fruit flies out.  I  fed Auntie Doris every day.  On day two, there were a couple of bubbles.  Then more. But I noticed a layer of water forming at the bottom of the jar. A few days or so later the water had risen to the top.

I had drowned Auntie Doris!

Third time lucky

I was not going to accept defeat.  Not from a fungus.

The universe was sending me a message.  I’d resisted, right from the beginning, the obvious choice – my own mother’s name.  Her given name was Ursula, but she was always known as Ula (pronounced Yoo-la).  “Ursula” has significance for another reason:  it’s the name of a former teacher who became a mentor and good friend.  I tried again.

By the end of April, Ursula was a bubbling jar of glop with a veracious appetite and which needed to be used.

It had taken just over a month, bit with hindsight, seemed longer.  As everything did when we were in that hard lockdown.

The short version

For detailed instructions on making your own natural yeast, download them here.

The first sourdough bake off

Having consulted GoG*, I found that although Ursula was growing out of her jar, I didn’t really have enough for anything worth while, and I found recipes for “discard”. As it’s called, and for when mother grows out of her dress jar.  My first effort was scones (or as my American friends call them, biscuits).  I chose those because I wasn’t confident of my kneading skills and, and, and….

For a patch, I made those quite frequently.  I took a batch along or our first skelm social engagement when lockdown restrictions eased a little.  They were a hit.  The recipe’s here.

If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine….?

Graduation

Then I graduated to rolls and bread.

Early efforts at sourdough bread loaves and rolls

I’ll save stories of those journeys (and how they ended up on my market stall) for another episode time.

*Good old Google

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

Photo: Selma

Post Script

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