Tag: Heritage
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My search for my ancestors helped me to find myself
I never got to meet my aunt, but learning about her from family has made me proud to be the one who carries her name.
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Falling in love with my mother tongue brought my mother back into my dreams
My therapist consults in English and Afrikaans, and she was amazed to hear me speak Afrikaans so fluently.
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How the food in my hood brings me comfort & joy
Fried eggs on toast remains a regular and easy option for the fussy palates of my children in the diverse eateries of Observatory in Cape Town. Here, in this happy fuzz of small eateries, there is a stark absence of food chains.
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The Kitchen Secrets of Chef Lesego, SA’s King of Vetkoek
Lesego Semenya is just as comfortable judging Top Chef on television as he is tweeting about football, vetkoek or fine wine. And it’s exactly this authenticity that have made him so popular.
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Talk to Your Money Before it Says Goodbye!
Money talks. It jingles it jangles, it rustles, it clatters, it ka-chings. Most of the time, before you can even get a word in edgeways, all it does is whisper as it waves you goodbye.
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In the Melting-Potjie of South Africa, a Canadian Finds a New Flavour of Life
Born in Canada to Indian parents, I’ve gotten used to the gastronomic blending of cultures and it’s always been a delight.
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If Heritage be the Food of Love, Let’s Eat!
Melkkos is a boarding school staple and it’s best described as a liquid pancake. It’s just flour and milk with a touch of cinnamon. Melkkos is so wrapped up in my childhood that I would honestly include it in my family tree. It’s my family. It’s my heritage.
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From Padkos to Oukos, These Are the Foods of My South African Soul
I grew up eating boontjiebredie, tamatiebredie and a host of other versions of this Afrikaans stew – mutton paired with onions and another vegetable and slowly braised till the meat melts off the bones, and the vegetables practically dissolve in your mouth.
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In Teaching me to Cook, My Mother Taught Me About Life
My mother taught me how to cook. When I was 10 years old, she stopped packing my school lunches and made me help her in the kitchen at night.
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Why I Married a German, For Better or Wurst
When I first met Andreas at university, he didn’t seem very German. I knew he had a surname no one could pronounce, but he had worked hard on losing his accent and didn’t speak that much anyway.