A Parisian love Affair

I’ve found myself entangled in a Parisian love affair.  Every time we meet it’s the same… we spend hours upon hours together, I catch myself dreaming that one day we’ll be together in a corner café in Paris and my heart… my heart just lights up when seeing the beauty and perfection in front of me. 

Thus I openly admit:  Pastry, you are my one true love. 

It’s been a long time coming.  I was headed for a career in medicine when I was asked to make a croquembouche for a home economics class.  A tall tower, with hundreds of pastry baskets oozing with custard, dipped in chocolate, bejewelled with a few flowers and covered in a thin veil of angel-hair-sugar.  The beauty was astonishing.  A French hero had stolen my heart.

For a year the affair continued.  I was taught to make flaky pastry to blanket a homey pie, sucrée, sablé and brisée pastry.  Together our days were filled with frangipane and diplomat cream, covered in chocolate, icing sugar and sugar work.

I distinctly remember the day I made my first little fruit tartlet.  A crispy pastry filled with vanilla baker’s custard topped off with a ruffled skirt of fresh strawberries.  Simplicity, but that perfect little creation transported me to the glass window in the pastry shop along the streets of Paris.  For a brief moment I swear I could hear “la Vie en Rose” playing in my ears. 

The affair has been going on for four years now, but recently sparks were flying whilst making the most mesmerising pastry of all...

Puff pastry.  A forgotten art thanks to the “Today” frozen pastry.  Now the thing about Puff pastry is patience.  To make the perfect laminated pastry takes eight hours.  A process of incorporating butter with flour, turning, waiting and repeating.  But with each of the four roll out processes you incorporate a little bit of yourself with your hands.  You add a little bit more … love.

Once in the oven the show you’ve been preparing starts.  Slowly your butter melts, causing steam and soon the pastry is rising and the perfect golden crust is formed.  For some bizarre reason the hours spent making it is forgotten.  I, for one, am always left in awe of the beauty of simply flour and butter and love.  This is my reward for a day spent with my lover.

This is also the reason why my relationship with Pastry works.  Yes, I put in time and effort and love, but I am always, always rewarded.

My Parisian born lover and I will continue our love affair for years to come, because pastry is exactly that… love.

Lady Liezl

PB & ...anything!

Yes – believe it! The same genius people who brought us chocolate, also brought us this ground-breaking ingredient: Peanut Butter.

The Aztecs were the first to roast and crush this nut, releasing its beautiful oils and pungent aromas. Since then, it has spread over the world – much like you would spread it over your sandwich: smoothly. It is known in every country, used for a variety of dishes, from Asian Satay Sauce to American Resse’s Peanut Butter Cups and everything in between.

Whether you call it ‘monkey butter’, ‘pindakaas’ as they say in the Netherlands, or ‘Katjiebotter’ as I do – I personally think it’s on the Top 10 list of Best Culinary Creations EVER.

 It should win an award for making my toes curl with happiness, even whilst my tongue is working hard to scrape this ultra creamy, sticky-smooth substance off the roof of my palette. A lot of people find this sensation unpleasant, but to me – it is something that rewards my patience once I taste the sweet nuttiness....

the taste of Earth itself.

 Aside from that, it is jam-packed with protein, monounsaturated fats (which can actually lower your cholesterol levels) and the antioxidant Resveratrol – also found in grapes, or red wine.

Apparently, Hemingway ate his peanut butter sandwich with thick slices of onion. Elvis preferred slices of banana and crispy bacon. Talk of eating it with mayonnaise, Marmite, pickles or even olives have reached my ears – me? I love the traditional PB & J: with some tart homemade apricot jam – my mouth puckering at first with the slight sourness of the apricot skins, then the pleasant sweetness of it all....and then Mr. Peanut strides in with his suave and dominating presence.

 

Whether you eat it on a slice of toast, on a celery stick, with an apple or with a spoon out of the jar – you cannot deny, what would the world be without it?

 

Imagine peanut butter, swirled with cream cheese, swirled with Nutella.

Did you just have a foodgasm?

I know I did...

 

Elsebe Cronje

Jelly Beans

The small, sweet, colourful bean treats that makes most bellies ask for more.

The origin of jelly beans is unknown. However it is said that Turkish delight was the start of the jelly bean.  One of the earliest references that have been found is from Boston, with a candy maker by the name of William Schrafft. He urged everyone to send jelly beans to the soldiers that were fighting in  the Civil War at the time.

And by the 1930’s jelly beans were part of Easter. Due to the shape it was seen as an egg.  As well as a treat that took the nation by storm and was sold as penny-candy.  And so, jelly beans worked their way into politics, holidays, music and slang.

They were sold colour by colour to fit the appropriate holiday. Songs were written about them and how they were used in slang. (When a young man dressed smartly in the 1920’s).  Jelly beans could be seen though out every room in Ronald Reagan’s time at the White House. It’s said that he started eating them to stop smoking.

The Beatles made the following statement after being through by jelly bean one to many: “We don’t like jelly babies, or fruit gums for that matter, so think how we feel standing on stage trying to dodge the stuff, before you throw some more at us.”  

Then came Jelly Belly! Which was also the first jelly bean in outer space.

Traditionally the centre was uncoloured sweetened pectin, and only the harder outer shell was coloured.  By the third and fourth generation, the centre was also coloured and flavoured.  The flavouring was also used in the shell to create an explosion of flavour.  The Jelly Belly Company used real fruit juice and natural flavours.

And after that jelly beans just grew bigger and better…

Or smaller and more scrumptious

-Lize Buitendag 

All about Honey

A product just as sweet as sugar, and produced by flowers and bees.

It’s been said that honey is one of the products for immortality. Well, it could just be. With all the vitamin C, different minerals and antioxidants it is good for one.

In ancient Egypt honey was used to sweeten cakes and biscuits, as an offer to the fertility God and embalming the dead. Whereas in China the importance of beekeeping and the wooden box was defined that would help with the quality and effects of the honey. And in Spain the oldest rock painting of honey seekers was dated to about 8000 years ago.  The oldest found honey was found in a vessel unearthed in a tomb that dated back to between 4500 and 5500 years ago.

Honey is made from the nectar of flowers. The honey bees that mainly produces honey is also more commonly known as by beekeepers. Honey is produced from regurgitation and evaporation. It is stored in honeycombs inside the beehive.

Due to honeys low water content it is difficult for bacteria to grow on or in it. However thee natural enzymes found in honey van be dangers to infants, which can leas so illness.

In general honey is enjoyed with a lot of food types. Mostly sweet. Like with Rooibos tea, apples in a honey-apple cake, on bread. Even sauces and dressings, like honey and mustard. Traces of honey can even be found in beer and wine.

Honey contains natural: fructose, glucose, maltose, sucrose, water sugar and a very small amount of ash.

Honey can also be found in a variety of natural flavours such as Fynbos, Buchu, citrus and many more.  Other products such as candles and body products are also made from honey and the honeycomb.

So then the main question is, do you have a favourite flavour honey or do you like it natural or honey product?

 

Salt of the earth.

It is said that the human body would perish in the absence of salt, that salt will cleanse an area of negative or harmful energy and that salt had once created and destroyed empires.

Civilization was catapulted forwards upon the discovery of this magic element, for it can be used in a thousand and one ways – from ferociously attacking harmful bacteria in precious food, to purification of the skin.

The word “salary” is derived from the word ‘salt’, as this was the monthly reward for the service of Roman soldiers and most important of all – salt is seen as a symbol of goodness in multiple religions.

Readily available to us today, we are ignorant of the fact that salt was once worth more than gold.....and if we think about it – we need it for our survival more than we will ever need money. We have a physical relationship with salt – it makes EVERYTHING taste better! Even sugar. Especially when sprinkled over a glass of cold chocolate milk... J

 

This particular picture was taken in Paternoster – a small coastal town on the shores of the Western Cape, and was harvested by hand in Tietiesbaai by Chef Kobus van der Merwe.(see http://www.facebook.com/pages/Food-Light-Writers/501763773193147?ref=hl)

To chefs, seeing salt in its crystalline form is nothing out of the ordinary, but the salt above is a beauty – some of the flakes were as big as a 5 rand coin – indicating the purity of this product. And immediately appealing to the Wild Child within me, for I know if I lived a thousand years ago, I would also have harvested this with my own hands – living an uncomplicated, natural life.

No matter the amount of salt your palate demands or what religion you are (if any), may every salt crystal you consume from this day forth, remind you that you have goodness within you.

That you are worth every salt molecule that resides in your blood.

That you could be Salt of the Earth!

....may you claim this.

And may your words be filled with grace, seasoned with salt.

Col.4:6

Paternoster- A treasure within

Who would’ve ever thought that a quaint little West Coast town can hold such beauty and talent? When we drove into the town on the narrow, poorly paved gravel I did not expect much at all! I was wrong…It is the South African equivalent to Europe’s Greece. White houses with coloured shutters are lined all along the beach front and the slim roads are bustling with energetic people. School children are cheerfully running around and older people are sitting on their porches, sipping tea and looking out over the picturesque turquoise ocean.  Vendors are walking around trying to sell crayfish that they claim, ‘they just took out of the water’ and seagulls are assaulting each other for the last morsel of leftover crumbs. There was not even the hint of a breeze – very rare for the West Coast- and the sun was sitting high. It was, in truth, the perfect day.

 

We stopped in front of a little white building with a bright red wooden door. A sign on the wall said “Die Winkel Op Paternoster”.  In front of the petite shop stood an old black bicycle and a wine barrel filled with old grass brooms- the same ones the older residents still use today out of habit, although they are not very effective. On the side of the building bougainvilleas of every colour were leaping over the low white wall. We had absolutely no idea what the day would hold for us, but the excitement was beginning to rise.

We entered the shop and I was stunned by what you could buy there- literally anything from biscuits to cutlery to clothes.  The walls were filled with portraits and old bookshelves with hundreds of books. In one corner was an old fashioned typewriter and in another corner was a shelf filled with enamel pots and mugs- just like my grandmother used to have in her kitchen on the farm.

We were greeted by big, friendly faces and were then led to the back, into the courtyard where the restaurant is. It was closed due to the fact that it was a Monday, so we had the whole place to ourselves. There we met the pleasant chef/blogger, Kobus van der Merwe, who shared his views and beliefs with us…

Fynbos is local to the West Coast and because it is so widely obtainable and freely available, Kobus uses it in plenty of his dishes, if not all of them. We learned a great deal about the different types of Fynbos and what you can do with each one of them. It was mind-blowing. He also uses seafood predominantly because it is readily available and in demand. Paternoster is well known for their mussels, oysters and bokoms- which is dried fish- and thus he almost always has them on his menu. The menu is written on a black board and changes daily, depending on what he can get hold of. Like he says; “fresh is always best”.

He cooked up four different dishes for us so we could taste it and take some photos of it. The flavours were incredible together…nothing like you would ever expect!

This is one of the dishes that we tasted. It is kabeljou- farmed in Paternoster- on a fig leaf with a buchu stalk and some Darling farm butter on top of it. It is then put into a bag and cooked ‘en papilotte’ in the oven for six minutes.  It is amazing how the subtle flavour of the crispy fig leaf complements the fish and how the melted butter connects everything.

 

It was an incredible experience and I will definitely make the drive to Paternoster just to go and have a stupendous meal at “Oep Ve Koep - Die Winkel Op Paternoster”!

Afterwards, we drove down the narrow main road towards the pale, white beach to have a late lunch at the local ‘Voorstrandt ‘restaurant – seemingly the best (and only open) restaurant in town. The red wooden building is situated directly on the beach. They were jam-packed but luckily we got a table outside on the deck and could enjoy a plate of fresh hake and chips with a stunning sea view. 

This was a fantastic experience and I would definitely go to Paternoster again tomorrow if I got the chance… a place that would permanently be remembered.

 Marvellous Mareli

 

Babelonstoren - The Promised Land

A garden of utter abundance. Rows of fig trees, olive tree orchards, bright orange pumpkin patches and golden, sweet fruit dangling from the branches.  A garden overflowing with milk and honey.  Babelonstoren must be what God meant when he spoke of The Promised Land.

A recent day spent in the kitchen at Babel Restaurant left me in awe of their striking gardens.  The morning started with obtaining our ingredients.  I got handed a basket and sent into the eight acres of lush, green gardens to harvest for the day’s needs. 

In previous restaurants you just asked ‘Did the deliveries come in yet?”

On our morning harvest I was handed a plum. With the first bite of breaking into that skin to expose the bright yellow flesh, I was grinning from ear to ear.  Soon I had the sweetest plum juices dripping down my face.  This is how we were meant to eat. 

I don’t think the Greek gods ever intended for us to push a cold metal trolley, impassively placing fruit in a plastic bag and handing it to a poker-faced cashier, paying through your neck, getting stuck in traffic and eventually placing your fruit in the veg compartment of the refrigerator to ‘enjoy at leisure’.

Perhaps Babel got it right?  You move through the gardens in the morning, find what in the vegetable patch is ready – perfectly ripe – and use that.  A menu dictated by the garden.  What the garden is ready to give you.

I distinctly remember getting my hands dirty as I gathered some beetroot, a humbling experience that made me treat my produce throughout the day with much more respect.  A concept I think the Babel team fully grasp.

What is put on your plate isn’t bashed or pounded.  It isn’t cut up into mind bogglingly precise blocks.  They maintain the integrity of the product, letting it speak for itself.

Walking through the gardens is humbling.  It makes one realise how far the human race has wondered off the path onto the well travelled road of consumerism. I hate myself for sheepishly following the herd.

An occasional breath of fresh air from the lush, green gardens is needed, if only to remind you of how it was designed to be enjoyed.

Babelonstoren might just be the gift from God in this wearisome age of consumerism.  The Promised Land of the twenty first century.

Lady Liezl