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Laboring under a misspelled apprehension about Americanisms

We cringe when we see or hear them. We have hot flushes. We come out in pimples. We sweat at the brow and our hearts pound. There are subs who have died of Americanisms, one too many causing them to clutch their breasts and fall to the floor gasping.

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It was Daisy de Melker, in the kitchen, with a knife

RACK of lamb is the spurned lover seeking revenge, which is not to say it is a dish best served cold. Neither should rack of lamb be served overly hot for that matter. Unlike revenge, it is a dish best served warm, just as its colour should be neither a virulent red nor a tired […]

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Best news yet: butter IS better, after all

Out of the wings comes the butter, out of the sin bin, out of the dunce corner, butter with a get out of jail free card while yellow margarine gets a do not pass Go card. Out of the attic, out of the dusty old suitcase in the corner, out of the cellar comes butter, shaking off the years of neglect, shucking off the shackles of hate like a dignified dissident who has always known he was right, who made a stand, who stood his ground, and who knew that one day, this day, would come.

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Mayhem on a plate

I would love to spot somebody like Dylan or a disinterred Hemingway or a Charles Bukovski in such a restaurant and sit quietly nearby, watching their faces, as such delights were set before them. Their BS antenna would be up quicker than a priest’s cassock on spotting a choirboy, and they’d be out of there in search of something honest, preferably involving a bar stool and plenty of Jack’s.

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Eric Lanlard shares his baking tips

I know how he felt. Whenever I am in France, and pass a patisserie shop window, I cannot walk by. I stop and stare, transfixed, at the beautiful things inside. You want to have them all, eat them all, just die right there on the spot. But that would be just silly, so you gather all your strength, and walk on.

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In the pink with pears and Grenadine

In the kitchen, pink is what you want in your lamb or beef, not pork or chicken. Pink is what you get if you include beetroot in a pan of vegetables and roast them. Everything else from the potatoes and onions to the carrots and courgettes will have turned a luscious crimson. It’s a worthwhile effect, and needs no fake food colouring.

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The Wolftrap Steakhouse Championship: Where the steaks are a little too high

If I were the owner of a genuine steakhouse, that well-seasoned beast in which generations of South Africans have grown up, what this tells me is that none of the old-style steakhouses is likely to win one of these gongs if these big boys are allowed in the competition. The bar is set way too high for most of them, so doesn’t that defeat the object?

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Mark Swift, romantic poet who battled his demons

Tony Jackman pays tribute to the late Mark Swift, poet, journalist, romantic, womaniser, drinker, colleague and friend

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Read. Digest. Think.

Now everything is the new everything else, and there’s no end in sight, and that’s the problem with an out-of-control cliché. It’s off and running, which of course is itself a cliché, but then again “no end in sight” is one too, as is “of course”, so we’re all doomed.

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Fine blend of food and wine at Camphors

There was a splendid lunch awaiting us at Vergelegen’s new Camphors restaurant, where PJ Vadas, formerly of a very impressive stint at the Roundhouse in the Glen, overlooking Camps Bay, is now ensconced. It is quite clear that by hiring this award-winning chef, Vergelegen intends taking Camphors to the top.

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