I am a ghostwriter, my own ghostwriter. So while this blog is indeed mine, it is that of the shadowed selves i sometimes fail to recognise as being me. If writing writes you, sometimes revealing those things that you hadn't intended for it to say,* then I write with the intention of exposing me to myself. sketching serendipity therefore depicts a series of thoughts and experiences in the hope of projecting a multidimensional self-portrait in the making.

* J.M Coetzee's theories on writing in Doubling The Point.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Wanted: a freckled Sunday-koeksister

I woke up this morning with the need to sink my teeth into the puff dough of a love-baked koeksister, syruped to perfection. It's the Cape tradition: Sunday Breakfasts begin with the coconut-sprinkled morning desert,  which is good enough whether homebaked or bought, served best nonetheless in a 2:1 ratio with a great cup of tea :)
I'm not sure of the history behind the Sunday-breakfast, although  a treasure hunt for the first-ever spicy koeksister recipe sounds like stomach-rewarding fun. Bo Kaap museum might provide a starting point... But we're drifting from the sore point: I didn't get to eat my Sunday koeksister! Bereft of the honour, my teeth are now going to bed unsatisfied. A great need for the sweet had me baking waffles in a snackwich-maker this evening instead... which, without the orange peel and aniseed ingredients, and buttery cinnamon-cardomon sugar syrup cannot ever compare (much less satisfy my insatiable need). With 50 minutes until midnight, and droopy eye-lids closing in on a dream, there's no way that i'm about to leave bed for a trial-run in the kitchen. But, in order to keep up the proud culture of Koeksister Sundays, I am doing my patriotic duty at least - by hoping that fairies will bring them to me in my sleep.

Sweet Dreams