Madiba Muti.

Alas and alack, not everyone you meet in this world is nice. Sometimes you have to work with real walnuts. Oh, the nicknames and the things we utter loudly in Afrikaans, right next to those paleface barbarians...
 

So my side project this week was the little poppet below. Stuffed with extra crinkly plastic, he makes a very satisfying sound when prodded. I found sewing with luminous thread quite thrilling. And there's a tiny something hidden deep in his gizzard,
but it's a secret.

Happy Friday 13!

The Trans-Continental Bake-Off.

Or: Die dinge waarmee jy my in 'n wip kan vang.

Every now and then I come across a recipe that I just know in my bones will be delicious. If it contains baked apples and brown butter and ground almonds and cardamom... it is added by default to the list of things you can catch me in a trap with.

So I was nattering away on Skype to The Man with the Generous Heart aka Our Agent in Berlin and we decided to make this together:

Brown Butter Spiced Crisp
 

  Granny Smith apples, unpeeled. Sultanas and lemon rind. Also added: a dash of cloudy apple juice to 'get it going'.

It's always advantageous to have a partner to share a crumble with. (A sneaky dish this - before you know it, you've eaten the whole thing on your own.)

I had sparkly company in the form of The Fantabulous T, who is visiting from Blighty. She is quite the expert - the crumb was analysed and pronounced most satisfactory.
 

 And this just in from Berlin: 
 

 Lilt, ek het die fotos met my cellphone gemaak. Ek stuur die nou ook vd foon, want ons het mos huisgaste. En hulle woon waar my computer is.
Ook nie asof ek eintlik tyd gehad het vir enigiets nie.  Vandat ek begin het om die koek te bak, met I., was dit meer soos damage control. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.
 

 In die middle vd beurre noisette kom die gaste aan. Reg vir aandete.
Stuur hulle op hul eie boontoe, terwyl ek wag vir die botter om 'n hoër pitch te sing. Terwyl ek water kook en knoffel skil.
Exchange pleasantries terwyl ek die botter inroer, met I. wat insist: ek wil, ek wil.  Alles klaar, in die oond.  Skink wyn in vir die grootmense, klein potjie op die plaat met hot chocolate vir die kinders.  Die pasta sousie begin solank simmer, die water kook al amper.
Net toe kom C. met 'n week se groceries wat in die yskas moet kom, blomme wat gesny en in 'n vase moet kom, die tafel word weggeskuif vd muur en gedek vir 7.
People and sauce can wait, pasta cannot.
Dit was die eerste halfuur van ons drie-dae-besoek.
 

 Uiteindelik, apple crisp vir nagereg.  Voordat ek nog 'n foto kan maak, is driekwart weg.  Ek dink dis 'n goeie teken.

Reunions, Discoveries and Differences

 The boyfriend of my sixteen-year-old self said to me at the reunion on Friday night: "I'm surprised to see you here - not really your style, is it?" I'm a reserved kind of person and I mostly keep to myself. Now I offer this suggestion: go out and play. I'm discovering that I'm not that shy anymore and it was FUN.
 

 Kewpie is ready for her starring role in the next production by Nursery Rhymes for Adults Inc.

As I was sewing the last stitch, I remembered an incident from last Friday night at the Albert. The Tall Drink of Water and I were standing chatting at the bar when a very annoying man came up to us and held his finger to his lips. The band hadn't started yet and we were quite some distance from the stage. The Tall One said: You can't be serious! Annoying One continued with his charades. He was dressed like a Buddhist monk, with robes and shaven head. Just the Clark Kent spectacles detracted.

It so happened that I ended up standing behind him in the crowd and was just thinking how nice it would be to draw something rude on his shiny head with a fat khoki pen, when the Tall One piped up: "Ek wil sommer 'n mes dwarsdeur hom steek!" ( something to the effect of wanting to stick a knife right through him, like a skewer... ) I like these differences between men and women.

Making Manti.

 I spent a few hours yesterday afternoon making Manti, or Turkish style Ravioli. Following the Moro recipe, I made and rolled out the dough, made the filling (finely ground lamb with mint, parsley, oregano, shallot, allspice...) and stuffed about forty little triangles of thin dough. Cooked them in hot chicken stock, served with garlicky yoghurt and caramelized butter. Worth all the trouble? Definitely, we ate them with much happiness and a big chopped salad.

Life's too short not to eat steak fried in butter.

 Why is rib eye steak so underrated? Mention it to most people and they don't know what you're talking about. Well. It's a steak cut from the rib section (sometimes called the "Scotch fillet") and it is a marbled meat - this makes it succulent and especially flavourful. It's also way cheaper than fillet or rump.

Cook it in a very hot pan with a slice of butter. Do that thing the chefs do on tv - tilt the pan and spoon the hot butter over the steak until everything sizzles. I cook it medium rare, about three minutes a side, just enough to form a lovely brown crust. Let it rest for a few minutes after cooking - otherwise all the juices will ooze out when you cut into it.

Last night I deglazed the pan with a dash of Ponzu (citrusy soya sauce) and served it with sweet potato mashed with nutmeg, pepper and a bit of the steak's caramelised butter and a salad of watercress, avocado and fresh orange segments.

The Tweed Procrastination

I found a wonderful Danish pattern company last winter, ShopOnion. Ordered two patterns and took a long time to get going - the tracing of patterns, so many panels. And then... forgot to add the seam allowances, so coat too small, hanging forlornly on Shirley for weeks. Finally I added two front bands, extended collar and put in a zip instead of buttons. Any opportunity not to make buttonholes is a cause for celebration!
 

 Lined the collar with upholstery velvet.
 

The First Days Of Autumn

The nights are getting crisp and cold, today we had the first showers of drenching rain. I've just finished a stressful and very tiresome job, leaving me feeling disillusioned with the industry and the people. The time has come to dig out the patchwork quilt I started sewing last winter.
 

 This is my nest. Here I do all of my sewing & writing. Looking forward to it.

Hypochondriacs must love Google

I've had varying degrees of flu-like symptoms for the last week and for a laugh did a search on Google. So I went to the boot sale nursing my West Nile Fever ( fortunately not contagious ) and holding on to my flapping trench coat and scarf. It's one of those big weather Cape Town days - patches of brilliant blue sky, silvery dark cauliflower clouds and sudden showers of big plopping drops of rain. The few traders who turned up were mostly battening down the hatches from their cars, all misty-windowed with the breath of people and dogs. There was a happy looking farmer with mounds of beautiful Muscat grapes, dusky and slightly blushing. Found I was not in the mood for the book shop and now I am home looking forward to an afternoon on the couch.

Finished the Emmeline apron yesterday:
 

 I ordered the pattern from America. The envelope was post-marked Lincoln. My idea of where places are in the states is fuzzy at best. I need to go there one day.

Softie

 

Made from bits out of a fabric sample book, for my friend's baby, who's around the corner! I found a picture of a toy I liked and drew a little pattern. Hence the lopsidedness...  Stuffed with cotton and a tinkling bell.

The Curtain Skirt

 

 I bought a seventies linen curtain from Nazeem last winter. When I told him on saturday that I had cut it up to make a skirt, he looked completely aghast. He told me about a lady who had cut up one of his antique french linen sheets to make a dress with doilies for a bodice. I'm really happy with the skirt though, and there's enough left for a table cloth.

My mom used to call them broeks

 

 Last winter I found a great sewing pattern company called Colette. Recently they posted a free pattern for these Madeleine Mini Bloomers, and now I see them popping up everywhere! I took a break from writing today to do some mending and made these quick-sticks.

I think they're Italian

 

 I bought these tile roundels in Kalk Bay at Kwagga Books. The tag said "In the style of Luca della Robbia". On the back is a hallmark I haven't yet been able to identify. 

 

 Yesterday I tried to embroider fire. It's more difficult than I thought it would be. And I don't have any instructions....

 

The Red Procrastination

 

 Finally finished. It hung half-heartedly on Shirley (my dummy) for almost three months. All because I hate  making buttonholes. Then I had an epiphany: press studs! So now red has one button, no holes and drucknopfe. Bouton pression. Snap fasteners. And for anyone wondering - it's Liberty Lawn, from David Bellamy's shop in Muizenberg. I love that shop.