This land is quite different from the usual serried vineyards of these parts. It is sparse and seems dry, and the plants neatly spaced in the garden are still small, with only the promise of the harvest to come a year or more from now. Fyndraai restaurant celebrates the region’s three culinary traditions – the veldkos of the Khoe who lived on this land 2000 years ago with their Sanga cattle and fat-tailed sheep, the Cape Malay tradition of the slaves of the white farmers, and the boerekos and Dutch food of the farmers themselves.
This year’s Christmas Eve dinner menu has a vaguely Cape touch: Amarula cream chicken liver pate, miniature roast turkey with a very Christmassy stuffing, and, instead of the obvious (and yummy) Christmas pudding, Cape brandy tart served with brandy butter and maraschino cherries to give it a festive touch.
I reckon we’re made of tamarind and mustard seed, coconut and aniseed, most of which went into the Indian-inspired dinner I put together last Friday evening.
So call out the gendarmes, for here comes one of my occasional confessions – I have never been overly partial to rare duck, nor have I ever been convinced that, as with rare steak, it is simply the best way to do it. Give me my steak blue. Give me my duck brown amd meltingly good.
By 4pm the sea was rushing at us as if fleeing the beasts of Hell. The wind was a fearsome force, supported by lashing rain. I conceded defeat while the Weather Gods smiled a cruel smile of triumph and threw yet more opprobrium down on our sodden beach.