Mothers' Day Madness: The Koeksister trial begins

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?!

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:

The results: Not a bad koeksister. It's actually quite tasty. But, it isn't the best I've tasted thus far. 1 recipe down. Two more to go :)

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

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