Wildsvleis in die winter

Met die Noordwester wat die blare voor die kombuisdeur in koue sirkels rondjaag, was dit tyd om die jaar se Springbokboud in die pot te sit. Winter is jagtyd in die Karoo. Die pose tusssen oes en begin gereed maak vir die lente, gee vir meeste boere die kans om weg te breek en iets vir die pot te gaan skiet.

Ek self het nog nooit erg gehad om iets te skiet nie. Kook sal ek hom kook, maar ek is meer ‘n kweker-versamelaar as ‘n jagter-versamelaar. Die wildste wat dit vir my raak is om cilantro en arugula te jag in my groente tuin.

Ek het genoeg ervaring van diere slag deur groot te raak op die Wes Kaapse platteland en met ‘n pa wat ‘n hand vir slag gehad het. My pa het blykbaar net geweet hoe en waar om ‘n slagdier se nek af te sny om die dier die minste pyn en trauma te laat verduur. ‘n Goeie slaghand het verseker dat die vleis beter smaak, en daarom was my pa gewild as dit by slag kom.

My bydrae, was om die skaap of bok se bene vas te hou terwyl my pa slag. En behoede jou as die dier los skop, want dit kan ‘n traumatise ervaring vir almal betrokke raak. So het ek altyd seker gemaak dat ek die bene goed vashou. Skape was baie maklik want hulle het net daar gelê. Die uitdrukking “‘n skaap ter slagting”, maak vir my heeltemal sin. ‘n Bok  was ‘n heel ander saak, jy moes jou vashou ken. 
  

Karoo lam is koningskos, maar ‘n Springbokboud gebraai in ‘n swart pot, maak die winter net werklik. Springbok jag is so deel van die winter soos rose snoei. Maar ek verkies rose snoei.

Terug by my Springbokboud. Ek marineer die boud in karringmelk, rooiwyn, lourierblare, heel peper korrels, heel naeltjies en jenewerbessies vir so drie dae. Daarna gaan hy pot toe in ‘n spek kombers met uie, wortels, knoffel, sjerrie en asyn vir so drie uur.

Springbok en kwepers is koningskos. Ek hou van gebraaide kwepers en so ‘n bietjie kweper jellie saam met die vleis. Die groente wat ek saam met die vleis bedien hang af van wat die tuin op daardie stadium vir my het. Hierdie jaar was dit wortels en patats.

Met ‘n potgebraaide warm wilds boud op die tafel, en die winter wind wat buite tier, voel alles reg en in hul plek by Towerwater.

Towerwater Springbokboud resep

2kg Springbokboud
Marinade:
500ml Karringmelk
250ml Rooi wyn
6 heel Peperkorrels
5 heel Naeltjies
5 heel Jenewerbessies
2 vars Lourierblare
Marineer die boud  vir 3 dae in die yskas. Die marinade kan weg gegooi word nadat die boud klaar gemarineer is.

Bestandele vir die pot saam met die boud:

250g Varkspek
2 Wortels gekap
2 Uie gekap
2 Knoffelhuisies gekap
100ml Bruin asyn
125ml Medium Sjerrie
5ml Fyn Koljander
4 heel Jenewerbessies
4 heel Naeltjies
Sout en Peper na smaak.

Draai die boud toe in die spek en plaas dit in ‘n swart pot saam met die bestandele. Plaas dit in die oond vir 30 minute vir elke 500g en dan ‘n ekstra 30 minute teen 180° C . Draai die vleis gereeld om en gooi van die pan sappe oor. Waneer die boud gaar is, verwyder dit en verpulp die groente in die pansappe. Voeg 175ml room en 30ml brandewyn by die sous en roer deur. Proe en geur indien nodig.

Sit voor met geroosterde kwepers en kweperjellie.

Fallen sunshine

The predicted rain for the valley never materialised this past weekend. Further, the weak winter sun could not provide enough warmth to heat up all the corners of the house. We found solace in the lounge, on the chesterfield and in front of the heater.

The winter day was bright and hued in browns and yellows. This was comfortably observed through the window panes of the shut French doors looking towards the cottage. The garden colours were warmer than the winter air. The orchard floor provided for a feast of yellow and red, where fallen bougainvillea flowers joined the yellow leaves from the fruit trees.

The oaks are losing more of their leaves, allowing the weak winter sun to penetrate the bare branches. In the parking area, the filtered sun awakens the narcissus below the oak.

A walk along the irrigation canal and vineyards was punctuated by the reds and yellows of aloes, poplars and vineyards. With so many yellow leaves on the ground, it was as if we were walking on sunshine.

Soon we will have no more leaves. The trees, roses and vineyards will be completely bare. The leaves that brighten up the ground and find their way into the compost bins, will decompose to a black colour. They will echo the branches and stems of trees and plants to which they will once again add sustenance in the spring.

The rose blooms seem to be fewer than last year. However, the ‘Wedding Garland’ provided a surprise bouquet where it hung fragrantly alongside the irrigation canal. There is no sign of the daffodil bulbs as yet. I will give them one more week to show me what they are going to do. I decided to put in more of the bulbs either way.

With the last of the yellow leaves of autumn floating earthwards to join the carpet of sunshine colours on the ground, I pull my coat closer and enjoy the fallen sunshine on the orchard floor.

Smoorsnoek en soet patats

Daar is min dinge in die Kaap wat so nostalgies is soos die vishoring in die strate van Woodstock. Jy hoor hom lank aankom en sy diep bas geluid is eens met snoek seisoen. Die bekende perdekar is vervang met ‘n bakkie, maar die koop en verkoop van snoek voor jou deur is soos dit ‘n 100 jaar terug kon wees.

Smoorsnoek en soet patats

‘n Visserman is ‘n unieke mens. Met son verweerde gesig en ‘n breë glimlag, maak hy jou snoek skoon en vlek hom met grasie daar in die straat. Wil jy jou snoek in mootjies hê, word dit behendig in porsies opgesny net reg vir ‘n deegbeslag en braai in die pan.

Ons verkies ons snoek heel en sonder die kop, iets wat met ‘n kopskud van ons visserman begroet word. Almal weet die heerlikste gedeelte van ‘n snoek is die kop. Eendag sal ek die kop hou en snoek kop sop maak. Maar dit is vir ‘n ander dag.

Ons staan met ons vet snoek en kyk na Tafelberg wat vining besig was om onder ‘n koue front te verdwyn terwyl die vishoring se blêr al verder deur Woodstock se strate verdwyn. Om vars snoek te koop is een ding maar om hom uit die see op die kole te sit, is nog beter. So met die dreigende reën teen Tafelberg se hang, steek ons laas Donderdag vuur aan om ons ‘vangs’ te braai.

Smoorsnoek

Snoek op die kole is hemels en so Kaaps as wat mens kan kry. Na ‘n heerlike snoek ete terwyl die welkome reën ons in die middel van winter kom sit, het ons besluit die res van die snoek gaan Towerwater toe.

Soet patat met gedroogde nartjieskil

Op die solder by Towerwater staan daar drie ballas mandjies vol vars patat en wag. Wat kan nou meer traditioneel wees as smoorsnoek en soet patats met kaneel en nartjieskil. Saterdag kon ons heerlik smul aan smoorsnoek met soet patats uit Towerwater se tuin uit.

Avokado pannekoek met gemmer en rissie roomkaas

Vir ekstra bederf, het ek die traditionele pannekoek op sy kop gekeer en ‘n voorgereg gemaak van avokado  met ‘n rissie en gemmer gegeurde roomkaas. So in die amper 200 jaar oue eetkamer van Towerwater, kon ons smul aan ‘n tradisionele gereg wat seer sekerlik ouer is as 200 jaar.

So met die smoorsnoek kom groet die Weskus die Klein Karoo met Towerwater se organise patats op een bord. Wat is nou beter as hartskos in ‘n hartsplek.  

Capturing the essence of pomegranates

The first weekend of June arrived with the blessings of rain. Just on 30mm of much needed rain, to be precise. The wintery weather reminded me that it was time to harvest all the remaining pomegranates and quinces. It was clear that the trees needed to go into rest.

Nearly all the leaves from the pomegranate tree have dropped. Leaving the last fruits to hang there on bare branches, resembling the silk painting of 'Pomegranate Branches’ by Sano Gofu (1904).

           'Pomegranate Branches’ by Sano Gofu (1904). (https://www.mfa.org/collections/object/pomegranate-branches-29082)

Some of the fruit had been completely hollowed out by the birds. They had managed this feat through the round portholes they had made in the skins of the fruit. It is quite poetic in some respects. ‘Portholes to pleasure’, if one thinks like a bird.

Picking pomegranates is always easier than the task of deseeding them, or however one might describe the task of removing the arils. Well, Sunday morning disappeared into bowls and bowls of arils. Standing at the kitchen sink removing the near black-red arils to the background sounds of the neighbourhood, the sounds somehow seemed more pronounced. Dogs barking, parrots screeching and children laughing.

Eating the wayward arils that tried desperately to escape, I was aware of the typical aromas of a Sunday in the country drifting into the kitchen. These were primarily in the form of the homely aromas of the open fire braai drifting by from neighbours.

With all the pomegranate arils harvested, I decided to make some pomegranate liqueur. I did so using the added combination of lemon zest and cardamom. This year, I also opted to make a pomegranate and rose geranium infused gin.

The bulk of the arils were poured into sealable bags. The trick which follows, and which I picked up from the internet, allows one to conveniently roll out the juice with a rolling pin. It is very handy in that it helps one to extract the juice from the pomegranate arils in no time. After rolling out the juice, one simply snips away at a corner of the bag, enabling one to decant the juice into a container. No mess, no fuss.

The squashed pomegranate arils

I plan to use the juice to make homemade grenadine. This in turn will liven up cocktails at Towerwater. It is such a luxury to make cocktails with one’s own home-grown, homemade produce.

The arils of the pomegranates that actually overstayed their season on the tree, the late harvest, were the most glorious black-red in colour. The white bowl of arils was reminiscent of an offering of the most amazing precious stones.

I could spend hours trying to capture this beautiful fruit in all the possible ways it might reflect and capture the light of the kitchen. In the end, I could stand back, feeling satisfied that I had captured this season’s pomegranate harvest in more ways than one.