Ekt gister gekyk hoe n baba gebore word, n meisie se hand vasgehou terwyl sy geboorte gegee het, n ander baba se naelstring afgeknyp en nog n baba skoongevee. sjoe, ekt meer bloed as wat ek ooit gedink het ek kan hanteer gesien oor die afgelope 2 dae. n meisietjie is gister dood. sy was 15 en was swanger as gevolg van n verkragting-sy los n gesonde dogtertjie agter. na Sondag moes ek eers deur als wat ek gesien het werk. my brein het oortyd gewerk, al die bloed, die anstige kyk in hulle oe. ekt besef nie een baba is met blydskap ontvang nie. die omstandighede waaruit hulle kom is erger as die stormagtige omstandighede waarin hulle gebore word. dit gaan nie weg as die strike weg gaan nie. ons grap en se die one star het oornag n 5 star geword. daar is orals dames wat probeer help. hier leer jy vinnig. babas word gevoer, beddens word oorgetrek, bed panne en pads geruil, jakkies word aangetrek. ons vergelyk met greys, dit voel soos n volcano fliek. die wereld buite die hospitaal verdwyn.

 

I'll post the recipes a bit later.

 

 

 

 

 

random snippet of unnecessary info - I LOVE 'Men in Trees' and I am inlove with Jack. Okay now that I've said that...

 

 

This weekend I ventured to Swaziland as I cannot live without travelling and my lifeblood was running a bit low... The last adventure I had was my little trippie to Zimbabwe. http://blogs.food24.com/milkandhoney/im-back-well-hopefully/. I just told an unintentional lie as I forgot I was in Mozambique a couple of months ago - another story for another day (but let me just ask you this - ever had an R&R at Fernando's?)

 

So Swaziland... Swaziland is a quick escape into another world as I live 20 minutes from the border. Those 20 minutes are spent swerving to miss the hundreds of looming potholes!!! I have replaced four tyres this year alone... We were even in the Beeld. They say you know a person is drunk when he drives straight through one of Piet Retief's main streets. On our way there were even little kids standing by the side of and inside the road with their palms extended as they had filled some of the holes with dirt. Dangerous!!! But as soon as you cross the border you have to swerve no more! There was also a sudden drumming sound as they actually have cat-eyes on their roads and as I am used to swerving I somehow kept driving over them. Thump, thump, thump...

 

As I picked up Leane, my trust was in her directional skills to get us to our destination. Epic fail. This was at least realised before we had even left the Pick n Pay for our 'padkos' of very healthy peanut m&m's and pump it waters. So we picked up the gps, borrowed a cellphone with roaming and found the map to Summerfields on my cellphone. Rather super safe than sorry.

 

Malandela's and House on Fire was our first stop. Malandela's is a laid back restaurant and B&B with a rocking amphitheatre, House on Fire, for a neighbour and some cool little shops. Check out the talent...

 

 

 

 

 

 

House on Fire...

 

 

 

 

 

House on fire's very cool bathroom

 

Visit the very tempting Swazi Candle Factory

 

 

And while you're there take home a soul soaking soap

 

 

As hunger finally took its toll on us we finally reached our final destination - the much heard about Summerfields resort. On Sundays the locals basically have to choose between us, them and the Spur... So a little expedition was in order. And I needed inspiration and some wine. And so there we let the wine, efficient staff and lingering waters refresh us. I had Duck and Lychee Red Curry and Leane had the Prawn Chow Mein. Not the culinary experience I was expecting but never the less - good food. Everything was hot and flavourful. And the service is excellent. And the chairs, don't get me started on the more than comfortable chairs.

 

 

I have an idea - lets take a photo with the timer and leave Leane out of half of the photo... Jammer Leane!

 

 

 

See the chairs???

 

 

We also stopped at the small ''mall'' that actually has a Woolworths! And quickly walked through some of the craft stalls.

aaahhh, I can breathe again!

 

 

 

 

 

I love getting produce from the garden but I'm often left stuck with what to do with it... So I've had a bunch of beetroot hanging around and waiting for me for the past couple of days. I kept on thinking about beetroot soup even though if I had to be quite honest with myself I knew my small little town wouldn't like it that much... I made it in anyways - and it was good. The colour of beetroot never ceases to astound me. It's just so beautiful. At least you've won the battle of sight!

 

This wholesome recipe book has somehow fallen into my hands - Food from the garden by Sonja Jordt. The beetroot soup and carrots are both variations on recipes from the book.

 

 

 

 

45 ml butter

15  ml olive oil

2 onions - chopped

3 cloves of garlic - crushed

500g beetroot - peeled and diced

500g potatoes - peeled and diced

1.5 ltr chicken stock

jogurt

lemon juice

 

fry the onions and garlic in the butter and olive oil till translucent. add the beetroot and potatoes and let them saute for a few minutes. Add the stock and let it simmer till the beetroot and potatoes are soft. Add the lemon juice and season.  Cool then blend in a food processor or blender. I added extra stock and jogurt to make it thin enough to be called a soup.

 

Garnished it with a swirl of cream and Gremolata.

 

 

 

 

For the delicious carrots you need:

 

500g fresh baby carrots

50g butter

50g toasted pumpkin seeds

 

Boil the carrots in water till soft enough to prick with a fork.

Drain the water.

Saute the carrots in the butter for a few minutes.

Sprinkle with the seeds and serve.

Food and I went through a wee bit of a rough stage a few years back. I knew the calorie content of everything, I went to bed hungry counting the hours to my next meal, I thought food. Constantly, without a break. I thought provitas, poached fish, steamed broccoli, grilled chicken breasts, brown rice (that's in the stage where starch wasn't a swear word), undressed salads, grape fruit, etc, etc. It just wasn't nice. I'd starve myself throughout the week and binge on Sunday nights. Not caring what I ate as long as it was usually off limits. Not caring if it was stale. I would raid the kitchen cupboard and stuff old Nicknacks in my mouth together with a Romany Cream cookie - tastes that shouldn't be married. Ever. I would eat and eat till the monster hunger in me was stilled. And then I would feel terrible. Hating myself for not savouring the food. For acting like a barbarian. Monday would come and I would restrict myself again, only to (God forbid!) break all my rules at the Spur by eating a starter, mains and dessert. Because if I ''cheat'' I should do it well. I would then be plagued by guilt for days. Abhorring myself. My stomach was close to bursting after such expeditions. Don't picture a skeleton - I never actually even lost weight. I only messed up my perfectly healthy metabolism. And my mind. As I slowly started being freed by my obsession I realised there is actually time in my day to be think about stuff, to be passionate about something. I had never thought about anything but food. I literally took me a year to become a person. Not a weight slave.

 

I began cooking because of my obsession though. Its not the only reason, its definitely not the main reason, but it was a sure catalyst. How can an eating disorder start a food centered career? Well it goes like this - my Mom didn't cook low fat enough for me. With the lamb stews, mashed green beans and roly-poly - my fat focused mind couldn't survive. So I started cooking for myself at the tender age of 13. My food would be made at the side, without butter or oil(without much flavour!). I started raiding cooking books each afternoon (as we lived on the farm and we had no television!). And so something in me took place.

 

As I left school and needed to decide on a road to take I avoided the chef route (I was a bit overweight and would never want to acknowledge a relationship with food as I considered this something to be ashamed of). I didn't admit this out loud though and it was only in my gap year when I was working with a missions organisation in Cape Town where I received some clarity regarding the issue. All the team members were assigned duties and I (big surprise!) got assigned kitchen duty. This entailed cooking for 80 people daily. After this there was no escape and my teammates constantly encouraged me to become a chef. This didn't free me from my fear though. What eventually did was one teammate in particular that specifically told me(without knowing my fears and insecurities) that I shouldn't not become a chef because of my insecurities surrounding my weight. I had never spoken the words out loud, I hadn't even really realised them myself but she hit the nail right on the spot.

 

Over the years I have been healing, slowly but surely. I had to learn what I like again. Not what would be the best option. I had to learn to cook with butter and oil - I gave my chef quite a hard time! I had to learn to live in the moment. I had to learn to love every kilogram of myself (still learning). I dropped all the diets. I had to learn to go out with my friends and enjoy their company rather than be consumed by, '' what to order!!!!'' conflicts. I had to learn to live free.

 

What made me really proud of myself yesterday was a muffin. A chocolate muffin. But why? Well I have the flu and as a result I can't taste anything. A few years back I would have stuffed it in my mouth in anyways (as it was a holiday so a definite excuse for cheating...) and maybe even have craved another one. But as I took a tasteless bite I decided against eating it without even thinking about it too hard. And not even because of the calories but because it had no value to me without the taste. It has no nutritional value and I wasn't hungry. Yay. It's been five years. And even though I weigh more than I did when I was obsessed( I was then perfectly healthy) I love myself a 100 times more, I enjoy food, I occasionally eat take aways, I know I like salads and bar ones, I still prefer water over cool drink and I love fresh bread with butter.I don't believe in diets but I do believe in a healthy lifestyle. And I hope to forever be a fighter for self-love. For the shunned people of this era. For big-mammas. For women who do their hair, wear lipstick and walk with their shoulders straight and their chins high. For individuality. Because that is true beauty. To love oneself.

 

 

 

 

 

I woke up with a wee bit of a cold this morning - not the morning to be feeling ill as weekends are my weeks. Saturdays are my Mondays and Sundays are my Tuesdays through Fridays (as we are one of the only open restaurants on Sundays! so it gets pretty busy...). I'm pretty lucky as I literally almost stumble into the kitchen when I get out of bed - its so close. We were expecting guests at ten this morning and I got out of bed - hair unwashed - at 9:30. excuse me???

 

Lately I've been having a go at Wildebeest meat since I had a whole carcass to work with. So I started making samoosas - among other things. The guests love them and I only occasionally reveal the true meat, since this is already a vague area in the samoosa world (dog? cat? horse?). And then there is the case of our lovely (but left out of the 'fully supplied' picture) town that only rarely stocks samoosa dough. Did I mention that I also suffer from the chef lazies and that I can actually make the dough? Well today I made the samoosas spring rolls (as this pastry was available).

 

The little tarte tatins in the photo are really easy to make  - yet another practical exam favourite. And then there is the New York cheesecake with Butterscotch sauce.

 

And off the topic - four wheelers and doef doef music should be banned as this disturbs all and any of the Saturday peace that I was hoping to have.

 

 

 

 

Roast Veg, Chilli Tomato jam, Camembert

 

Salami, Cherry Tomato, Olive, Feta

 

If you've got pastry, a filling and custard - you have quiche!

 

I use home made puff pastry - recipe on my blog. The filling should be cooked.

 

Custard - 1 cup cream cheese/sour cream, 2 eggs and 125 ml grated cheese.

 

Go on and be creative

 

I have unintentionally taken on a desserts theme - this will pass soon. (well - I hope so...)

 

 

It's been a quiet week at the old inn. Makes you worry a bit but on the other hand I really needed the break - got time to finish two assignments and get through 3 books! You might know some of them - The Year the Gypsies came by Linzi Glass, Princess Daisy by Judith Krantz and The Web by Jonathan Kellerman. I am also heading up to the big city on Monday - here's hoping I can squeeze in a visit to restaurant Mosaic. That's if I can afford it. But I really, really, really want to experience their rumoured greatness.

 

Creme Caramel

 

This dessert is close to my heart as it is the dessert I made in one of my final practical exams where I got to cook for a lot of the special people in my life. I had a Portuguese dinner - I spent three months in Brazil and learnt to speak some Brazilian Portuguese so the language connection brought me to the country. ( I don't know why I didn't just choose Brazil... ) But I love Portuguese cuisine. There are many stories surrounding the origins of creme caramel but the one I've hooked onto is as follows: The monks used the egg whites to clarify their brews/vino and as a result the nuns were left with egg yolks - and creme caramel was born. I have no idea how true this is but its pretty logical...

 

You shall need

 

500ml milk

4 eggs

2 yolks

150g sugar

vanilla pod

 

200g sugar

100ml water

 

4-6 ramekins

a bain-marie (water bath, in other words a roasting tray that can hold all your ramekins and enough water to reach their brims)

 

Start by melting the sugar and water till it reaches a golden caramel.

Carefully pour some into the bottom of each ramekin.About 5mm deep. Work quickly as the caramel sets quickly.

Heat the milk with the pod.

Mix the eggs and sugar together in a mixing bowl.

Add the hot milk a little at a time while mixing.

Put your ramekins in the tray.

Strain the mixture into the ramekins.

Pour boiling water into the tray.

Bake at 180 C till set.

NB - Don't let it brown or bubble - the texture will then be that of scrambled eggs.

 

I never thought I would have my own kitchen. I never pictured myself carrying around whole wildebeest carcasses or working with bloody livers. The smell of meat so strong in the air - I have to wash my bra. I never thought I would have to check the gas level, tug around heavy gas bottles or worry when the smell is lingering in the air. I never thought clean windowsills would be my responsibility. I never thought my thirst for killing the damn sheep and cattle that eat my precious little herbs down to the bone could be so strong. I never thought ice-cream for a big order that never got iced could make me cry. I never thought my kitchen would turn out onion marmalades, collared cakes, croissants, kitkes, souffles, wellingtons, fresh pasta, pestos, meringues, pickles, ice creams, beurre blanc, dauphinoise, pastries, etc, etc... I never thought I would get to say the words, '' my kitchen...'' and I never knew the weight they carried. Now I know.

 

 Boerejongens (alcohol drowned raisins)

 

500g raisins - I mix in sultanas for colour

250ml water

200g sugar(1 cup)

cinnamon stick

 

Boil the raisins with the water, sugar and cinnamon stick for ten minutes.

Strain but keep the syrup.

Pour into a sterilised jar and add back half the syrup.

Top up with Klipdrift (or any brandy of your choice...).

Best left to stand and get all drunken for a few days.

Can be stored for a very long time if the jars are sealed well...

 

Very nice for christmas gifts!

 

Cream Cheese Ice Cream

 

Let me tell you - people LLLOOOOVVVEEE this...

 

500g(2 cups) cream cheese

500g(2 cups) milk

50g(1/5 cup) lemon juice

300g(1 1/2 cup) sugar

250g(1 cup) cream

2g(pinch) salt

 

mix everything together well and freeze - stirring every hour. Or just pour it into an ice cream machine and tada!

 

 

 

 

 

Another one of the desserts people are going crazy over...