Cooking, loving and hating by a regular inebriate, master thesis-dodger, pseudo-foodie and all-round trouble maker.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts

Monday, 7 January 2013

Love+New Beginnings



TWO things have happened that had me so troubled and bogged down that I bowed out a little from the blogosphere. But you might as well be told about them now. We lost Eva to hip dysplasia. I think when you rescue dogs you never know, and this was a painful reminder of our own not-knowing and the frailty of our best intentions. She had to be let go, or else her suffering would have only gotten worse. My pain was immeasurable, loads of heaving sobs in bed, in the shower when I could be bothered to have one. No sleep, no food, eventually…barbiturates. I am no good at these things.

I take brother dog with me everywhere. We have each other. We take drives and go to work. I tell him he is smart and handsome. He is. He tries to get along with the kittens. He tolerates their cuddles and eyes them suspiciously. He doesn’t trust their energy and cheerfulness. He sighs a lot. He is too big to play with them.

Also, the farm burnt down. To cinders. The house and buildings were saved. All the animals survived but there was not a speck of green to be seen. The fire started three farms down, and spread about 100kms from there. By the time it reached Natal it was considered ‘unstoppable by human intervention’.  The forever pasture smouldered, the field-shelter was laid to waste.

The forever pasture and favourite tree burnt





What's left of the field shelter


The horses were shocked and bewildered. For days after the fire tree stumps smouldered, smoke hung in the air. Soot blew into the house via the gaps between the floor and the door, open windows, clinging to shoes. The worst part was the smell, the smell of burning. The neighbour lost ten horses. We needed to phone the doctor to get a script for our brave groom with singed facial hair, puffy red eyes and chest pain. He recovered 100%. We were desperately afraid – we’d have to buy in loads of grass, and quick. It was incredibly hard to find decent grass at the end of winter. We managed, in the end. We paid through our teeth for lucerne.

Horses and Adolf immediately after the fire.

The grass is up again. New grass. Amazing. My little garden is thriving. The shoots are turning into onions again, weapons-grade a usual. No less. Corn is growing in the vegetable garden space, there is lettuce and rhubarb in the ground. There is tarragon, basil, rosemary and oregano.  The begonias and violets are out, the jasmine has grown, the day lilies have taken over. A beautiful lily has come up and so has one lonely bush of marigold with wonderful deep orange flowers. The place teems with new life. The poppies have not returned, they are stubbornly still in the ground somewhere. I think they are too fragile for fires and loss.

Carrots?

Horses graze on new grass

Remember Yatan?



 And then it got even more lush:

December, mid-day heat
Masu, theeerrreeeee!


Begonia, basil, onions some pink flower bushy thing


I adopted a gray kitten and named him Yoshimoto. His litter mates’ adoptions fell through and we rescued them. I have no idea what we’ll do with these two extra bundles of life. Feed them, love them…

I flew off to Cape Town on business, I ate more than I should have got very little sleep and I travelled on plane, train, catamaran and rental car. It was amazing. I lived in the fairest Cape for four years as a student and my heart still recognises it as home. So I went home for the first time in six long years. I love you Cape Town.

I saw Uriah Heep, live in concert. They played outdoors on a beautiful escarpment. It was amazing.  New grass was growing while old music hummed around the intermittently rocky and then grassy spaces.

What a night!


We said goodbye to our first groom, he headed back to Zimbabwe to live with his new wife and their brand new child. New life, everywhere. This is the fifth year our living harbour has been in operation. Since 2009. Amazing.

For the New Years Eve I cooked gammon in ginger ale, and lamb in wine. I was joined by my oldest friend in this world – from that soviet-looking era, he calls it a ‘poor white farm school’ – with his delightful girlfriend who put on a fire poi performance. Kyle and Tristan was there too. It was a good time.

On February the 13th I get to see Rodriguez live in Gauteng. In case you don’t know: Rodriguez is a South American rocker who rose to considerable fame here in South Africa. Recently they made a documentary about him, where South Africans went to look for him in South America, they found him… shortly after a rash of concerts were sold in SA. Good for him, I hope it lines his pockets for a while. We love you Sugarman.

I am starting an art class this month. Weekly and for two hours at a time. I am as excited as a child. My application inquiry read: complete novice with no talent would like to join art classes.

My favourite thing to cook this year has been plain-old breakfast and a delightful peasant stew I made with lamb leftover from the New Year’s roast. If you don’t know how to make potato bake with some milk and a packet of brown onion soup ask me how, it is amazing. My favourite read has been Lisa Klaussmann’s Tigers in Red Weather. I have discovered turquoise and the joys of frivolously buying shoes. I have bought plum coloured eyeliner.

I am turning 30 this month and I have lived in spite of everything. Happy New Year bloggers, may this year gleam as brightly for you as it does for me.

PS: Live in spite of everything, it’s the only way. And also: I’m back J

Thursday, 31 May 2012

It's been ‘a lot’…


MANY things have happened. Some happened at once, others in brief intervals between one thing and another, and things keep happening still.

Things happening is good and bad. When the thing happens where I have had too much sugar to focus on working or blogging all in a vain and stupid attempt to stay awake in order that I may work or blog, that is a bad thing happening. When the thing happens when you get food poisoning so bad you are down for three days that too is a bad thing. Eating out when you know you should be cooking your own food, tends to be a bad thing.

When the thing happens where you wake up after three days of being down and in bed with cramps and sore muscles and you wake up and flow into yourself again, scrub off all the sleep and read then you have turned a bad thing into a good thing. When you eat raw food for a week because you feel toxic and lousy, this is also a good thing.

When you stay awake until 2am to finish a company website’s copy and update contents, knowing that you’ll be sleeping late tomorrow and enjoying the camaraderie of a team of people, all in exhausted good cheer and high energy working together like cogs then you have turned a bad thing into a good thing, minus the midnight snacking involving chocolate – but then the jury is out on whether this is good or bad.

When you spend a week or two, perhaps more, in turmoil about whether you should move an old gelding close to the city so you may do horse things in your four days of work things, only to have him stabled three minutes from work with your friend’s horse – this is a good thing. I now have a city horse, he is happy as anything. He thrives on the traffic, the people and the fuss. I think this is good for him too.

When you purchase 16 1.5-meters-high round bales of good grass, that can only be loaded four at a time as opposed to the usual eight – and have it delivered to the farm where a herd of previously neglected, abused, or thrown away animals stand waiting happy, content and fed then you have done a good thing.

When you forget about dessert and remember a few lonely tins of apples, some puff pastry, cinnamon and brown sugar in your pantry, you have the makings of a very good thing indeed.

When your dog looks at you anxiously, waiting for the moment when you cover her with a blanket so that she may sleep during the long winter night, then you have turned bad cold weather into a good warm thing.

Sometimes it helps to group things into two very simple categories. Sometimes it helps to be less cerebral and more impulsive and to try and see all the good you manage to achieve, despite the bad things happening.

This is my living in spite of very long hours of tedious work, food poisoning, tough decisions, bad planning, winter in a summer body and the ever-constant struggle for good grass.

Last-minute pie, anyone?