Things that take us back.

These are lights!

Something in the world feels right when you wake up after dreaming of the water lilies in the Okavango Delta. On top of that, it's the first really, really hot day of Summer and there's left-over apple crumble for breakfast, with Greek yoghurt. My friend Madame Fi recently went to Botswana and Zambia and her pictures came to life in my dreams. Also read what she said upon return.

I've only been there in my dream, but I feel nostalgia for that place.

"A sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations."

As I watered the garden this morning, an old Mercedes drove by and the sound of it threw me back to my childhood and thoughts of my father. A true gentleman he was. This Summer I will make his Pimms no.1 Cup and sip it with my feet dangling in the pool.

I bought six of these plates at the boot sale yesterday. They remind me of my Grandmother's kitchen. Then, in the afternoon, T. brought me a bunch of sweet peas from her mother's garden. One sniff of their wonderful scent and I was back in Ouma and Great Aunt Lil's garden in the Eastern Cape.

It's a glorious and searing thing, this squeezing of the heart.

❤

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.