Birthdays are big in my book.
Yotam Ottolenghi's new book has my gentile heart a-flutter. I cooked the hummus with tender lamb. Bought Za'atar for the first time, and whole pimento berries.
What satisfaction to bash them in my mortar.
Roasted sweet potato and fig salad.
A red hot chili balsamic reduction.
Yes.
Bless the friends who gave me a celeriac bulb wrapped in a golden ribbon. Shaved into fragrant wisps, into the salad it went.
And then lunch at Babel, on that most beautiful farm Babylonstoren, outside Franschoek. After an icy flute of Christine-Marie, there wasn't much talk, there were hmmms and plenty of sighing.
The fruit and vegetables come straight from the garden. The bread has a pear for a heart, drizzled with herbs in oil. In each dish a small pool of delicate sauce.
The plates silently proclaim toro, toro ...
The plates silently proclaim toro, toro ...
Fleecy clouds.
An arbor of guava trees.
A chamomile lawn with the invitation to walk barefoot.
Clivias, bees, chickens, ducks, lotus ponds, a prickly pear maze!
Serenissima.
