Thursday, September 6, 2007

Of Holy Things

Non holier. Biltong. Black gold. Given to teething children to chew on, the frail to make them strong, the sad to make them forget, the intrepid to feed them on mountain peaks, rugby spectators to get them through the tense bits,, because I love it. This biltong was given to my parents by my oldest brother Anton, who likes to shoot things dead, and whatever dead antelope-thing this was, it became delicious with air-drying and dry spice rub, heavy on the coriander. My mother thinks Gemsbok or Nyala...For non SAfricans, biltong is a little like Swiss bresaola, but drier, and completely unlike beef jerky.

Really holy. Rust en Vrede Estate Blend, 2000. My final year of school, at Abbott's College, the only year I actually enjoyed, I shared a homeroom with Jean Engelbrecht. We used to get into political fights constantly, and I should have made better friends...if only I'd known he would one day make this wine. We drank it last night - deep, peppery, round, gorgeous. Really a privilege.

And it sure takes the edge off...

La Marijke sitting by the fire in the study...very good to see her again.

The dinner table, my garlic chicken in the foreground. Marlene's hand on the left, Pa at the end.

Everyone else invisible, but lurking.


  1. Woah, that biltong looks absolutely delicious, exactly my kind of food. You wouldn't be willing to bribe a few customs officers and risk imprisonment to bring me some back, would you? ;-)

  2. They have sniffer beagles especially for biltong.



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