Dusk - the brown animals

Cape hare, lièvre du Cap - Lepus capensis

One late afternoon at De Mond I left Vince hunting sunbirds and sugarbirds in the aloes behind the cottage and drove off to photograph an interesting little roadside garden we had passed the day before, planted outside a row of dilapidated farm cottages.

Afterwards, on my way back down the dust road in the Landcruiser, I stopped three times for three animals, the first wild ones we had seen while staying there. 

Steenbok (I think) -  Raphicerus campestris 

(...in a field, appropriately, for the Latin.)

Yellow mongoose - Cynictis penicillata 

S/he was about the size of a very long cat, with an excellent tail, to which the species name refers, "like a paintbrush."

Walk in the hood woods

Late in the afternoon, I went for a Saturday walk. It was very cold. Cashmere T-shirt plus cashmere pullover plus cashmere hoodie plus thick merino wool cable knit turtleneck plus long coat plus hood of hoodie under cashmere hat cold. Plus scarf-like-a-blanket (yes, more cashmere).

Cold.

Did I mention the knitted leggings under the jeans? For a South African that is Serious dressing.

The woods were empty. I crunched around for an hour.

Then I crunched back home. 

Pomelo salad

It's worth buying those soccer-sized, $5 Chinatown pomelos once in a while. Once you have bushwacked your way through the thick skin and endless pith the segments inside seem rather small and very pink grapefruit-like, and you wonder about all the fuss. But pomelos' strong point is their solid texture. They hold up really well to the rough treatment and emerge from their membranes beautifully intact.

Excellent salad material.

Here they were combined with quick-pickled beet slivers, toasted pecans, crisped shallots and some peppery arugula. A sharp dressing (ratio - 1/3 vinegar to 2/3 oil), is made even better with walnut oil (I've never seen pecan oil - why is that?).

Soon (big - ish) I'll be making this with winter cress.

Cold

I thought I'd post some snow for Johan, who says he is hot, in Koringberg. Johan, dit was minus vyf grade celsius terwyl ek hier gestap het. Ek hoop jy is beindruk! (Look for Johan and Peter's beautiful house in Visi's print version of Issue 75/November-December.)

I took a day off, yesterday, and rode to Brooklyn on the 2, and then crunched my way through the new snow and old, familiar streets to Cobble Hill. I was carrying  a pouch of freshly ground spices in my bag, and an order for a double batch of boerewors, from Los Paisanos. First I stopped at Stinky to buy malt vinegar for the recipe, and perhaps I also scored some saucisson, New York-made salami and a square of duck rillettes. At Union Market, I stocked up on garlic-stuffed olives for Vince. Back at Paisanos I placed the sausage order with Ivan and acquired two boxes of my favourite, Filotea egg pasta.  Over at Sahadi's I bought a dozen boxes of spices, several pounds of Danish Supreme coffee and a warm baguette, and gave the cashier a recipe for her family's dinner. She wanted something quick and easy. One pan: chicken pieces, can of tomatoes, handful of black olives, loads of lemon juice and garlic. 450'F. One hour and 15 minutes. Go.

And then I rode home, on the 2 that was empty till Wall Street where it suddenly turned into a holding pen for every New Yorker downtown. At 110th I gave my seat to an elderly lady.  At 116th her son thanked me. At 125th we three stepped off the train together and he kissed her goodbye at the frozen bus stop up top, and then went back down into the subway station.

I walked on home, and showed the Frenchman the things I had brought back from the other side of the world.

To Paternoster, to eat

I drove my mom up to Paternoster so that we could eat at Oep ve Koep. She had never been.

We spent the night at The Oystercatcher's Haven, a B&B on the beach, where I have stayed several times over the last many years (it has just changed ownership, so check up to date reviews if you're thinking of booking).

At lunch we drank wine we didn't know. Kookfontein - very good.

The wonderful bread arrived in its napkin of fresh herbs, with pots of farm butter and smoked mackerel and a preserved green fig.

Oysters followed, with the fresh syrup from sour figs (Carpobrotus edulis) and crisp Mesembryanthemum crystallinum leaves. The syrup, which comes from sour figs' fleshy seed capsule, is slightly salty and a little sour.

Below: this was a surprise. The broth is also made from Mesembryanthemum leaves, but this time another species, M. guerichianum, and called soutslaai ('salt salad,' in Afrikaans). I have eaten them raw (here, as an edible plate for marinated raw fish), the cooked flavour was unfamiliar - a little bitter and very, well, green. I liked it very much, my mom was less sure. I thought it worked well with the sweet nectarines and just-cooked mussels.

Later there was a delicate carrot bobotie, smoked farm-raised kabeljou (unsustainable, otherwise) and pieces of kudu speared on local sage, with the same sage turned into ash, as a condiment. To end, delicious traditional moerkoffie, whose picture I should have taken, as well as a taste of very special buchu honey.

After buying a copy of Kobus' beautiful Strandveldfood for friends in America, we headed back to our temporary home.

I took myself for a long walk.

Pink Limomium was in bloom, papery flowers improbable in the sand.

Below, I recognized lunch - soutslaai!

I don't have a West Coast field guide with me, so feel free to hop in with ID, below

...and here: tiny plant, tiny grey leaves, blond flowers, extremely fragrant; possibly a Helichrysum.

...help. Cotton bud-sized flowers. More fragrance.

In amongst those rocks out there live the local rock lobsters. Once upon a time I cooked them on a camp fire... I think those days are over. I feel too sorry for them.

The oyster catchers appeared on cue. Their wild call is one of the most evocative, especially at night.

We always scoff at their endangered status, because they seem to be everywhere, though never in large numbers.  Apparently they are returning from the brink.

And the place seemed to be swarming with rock kestrels. There was a family, with juveniles being pursued and harried by irate parents who wanted them to leave home, already.

 (Rock kestrels, rock lobsters, what can I say? There are rocks! It's evolution.)

I think the young one is in the foreground, below.

They could also be called kitchen door kestrels. Not afraid at all.

After my walk I sat with my mom on her little patio and looked at the view. 

And sipped the requisite gin and tonic.

And watched the fruits of her labours: The birdbath had been empty and she'd asked someone to fill it. Empty birdbaths irritate us. Immediately birds appeared.

The wagtail submerged itself.

The weaver went, as we say, te kere.

A wind picked up and the sun began to set.

We watched the waves, and walkers.

That night we ate out again, elsewhere, a bad meal featuring bad fish.

Fortunately that memory has faded and seems insignificant in the light of the bright things happening at Oep ve Koep, where integrity shines in every plate.

Go, if you can.

Mariana's

On our way back to Cape Town from our days at De Mond, we stopped in Stanford, to have lunch at Mariana's. The house where Mariana and her husband serve lunch several days a week is pretty and airy, full of good things to look at. We were early for what I thought was a 1pm reservation, and were told laughingly that no, there is not a time, anytime is fine, silly people. Nonetheless, we sat for a good 40 minutes before a menu appeared. 

The food is lovely. And it is good to sit on a stoep and see amethyst sunbirds visit the agapanthus (below) in the garden. 

I've eaten here about half a dozen times and so perhaps I do get a bit impatient hearing the same menu jokes every time. 

Mariana cooks. Peter talks and takes orders. 

The brown waitress who clears plates and brings silverware before new courses seemed an afterthought. She was either nervous or disinterested, never making eye contact. I'd love to see her share a sense of place and importance in the way that Kobus van der Merwe has done at Oep ve Koep, where the local waitstaff are involved, and happily part of a team. 

With lunch we drank a bottle of Strandveld Shiraz (or some of it, as we were driving), an estate I had not known about till we drove past it, in the middle of nowhere, en route. It is South Africa's southernmost vineyard and the cool climate wine is very good. It pushed our bill beyond the cash we carried and since they accept no credit cards, Peter kindly allowed us to pay by EFT- electronic funds transfer - once we were back in Cape Town.

One can buy things, too. There were green beans for sale, from the garden said the sign, and I pounced when I saw these heerenbone (lit. 'nobility's beans'). I have no idea what their cultivar name might be, but they are associated with South Africa's West Coast, where they are grown. I had some for lunch, with my slow cooked lamb shoulder and its powerful little fresh green sauce. 

My mother loves these beans, so I scooped up 2 kg.

Just looking at them makes me want cassoulet.

A resolution

In 2015 I promise to spend more quality time with my sourdough boules.