All across the world, millions of South Africans are digging into homemade curry or bobotie accompanied by a generous dollop of a perennial favourite – Mrs Ball’s chutney.
Everybody knows you can count yourself lucky if you have experienced life on a farm. There is nothing like it, waking up early to milk the cows, exploring the wonders of the veld, not to mention the dramatic, rolling rainstorms. I was happily plunged into this experience when my father married a lovely woman with red hair and they decided to raise their children on her parent’s farm in the Kowie River valley, halfway between the villages of Bedford and Adelaide in the Eastern Cape.
First published in Sunday Times, in The Accidental Tourist column
Moving a portrait of the Madonna out of Argentina is an adventure in its own right, writes Anna-Karien Otto
Politics Masters student, Danielle Bowler, wrote a paper exploring contested constructions of colouredness, after being incensed by a column written by Nomakula “Kuli” Roberts in a Sunday paper. She describes how this is similar to what Frantz Fanon referred to when he said he wrote Black Skin, White Masks after “the fire had cooled”.
When I tasted cumin for the first time, it felt like a whole world was opening up before me. There was something familiar about its earthiness, yet that fragrant, almost astringent note was wholly new and surprising.
Quinces are one of my favourite fruits. Somewhat overlooked and under-appreciated, they magically transform from furry, knobbly things that look almost inedible to the most unctuous of cooked fruits with a layered, evocative flavour. And when you turn them into a jelly or preserve, they transmogrify from a nondescript, yellowish colour to the most celestial of all pinks.