Picture this:
It's a kitchen from out of space - flying saucers and a whooping kettle clamour up a cacophony along with that vociferous Jamie Oliver voice... in my mind. Through the window, the moon passes to nod a greeting as the sun enters to warn me of the time, which is up. Already?!
It's a kitchen from out of space - flying saucers and a whooping kettle clamour up a cacophony along with that vociferous Jamie Oliver voice... in my mind. Through the window, the moon passes to nod a greeting as the sun enters to warn me of the time, which is up. Already?!
I snap out of my dreaming and move towards the kitchen, unintentionally recreating the scene i create every year: a meaningful and chaotic Mothers' Day morning.
I don't know where and how the notion of South African Mothers' Day breakfasts came into being, except that it became an unfaltering yet evolving tradition in my home since nearly a decade ago. I hear many people argue about the correctness of the two internationally celebrated parent days:, asking why we should we want to dedicate only a single day of an entire year to loving our mothers. And, is not everyday a day to honour and shower them with love?
Quite true, i say. Except, Mothers' Day is not quite that in my home. It isn't a day for mothers: it is a credible excuse for a cooking extravaganza, where the guest list and menus change along with the sibling cooks (my brothers hate to be dragged out of bed, and my 10 year old sister can't fathom the need for her to cook when she can be served in style instead - if my kindness permitted her that luxury, which it never does, not since she was 3 years old and cute enough to be spoiled).
Usually, i don't plan my menus. Multiple breakfast dishes are prepared simultaneously, all of which are imagined and concocted as i go along which, i guess, is just about the time that serendipity illuminates my world. This year though, I did something different, and baked koeksisters the evening before. The dough takes a lifetime to rise, you see. And my koeksister-baking grandmother, despite being bid to the kitchen to teach me her granny-food wisdom, refused to leave her game of tetris on the computer. Being forced to bake them myself, i finally learned just how. And so, as promised, I found and saved an old Cape recipe to share:
A nice recipe and the name sounds good.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing. :)
Anytime Balqis, You're most welcome to comment as you please :)
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ReplyDeleteHi, thanks for your comment. What information specifically :)
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