Gebed vir die aarde

Daar lê so baie klein juwele in ons huishoudings en families wat wag om ontdek te word. Wat en hier van praat is Kos stories..

Hierdie stuk wat volg kom uit ʼn boek van Hennie Aucamp getiteld Borde Borde Boordevol. Die agtergrond gaan oor die droogte van ʼn paar jaar gelede. Die boere het gereeld bymekaar gekom en gebid vir reën. Dit gaan nie spesifiek oor kos nie, maar tog hier kom die uittreksel

Gebed vir die aarde

Chris Barnard

“Oom Jacob het eerste gebid. Dit was die langste gebed wat ek ooit (voorheen en daarna) moes aanhoor, maar ek het nie aan die slaap geraak soos ek dikwels voorheen het nie. Ek het geluister. En ʼn bietjie skuldig gevoel. Want dit was asof ek agter ʼn deur gestaan het en ʼn argument afgeluister het.

Oom Jacob het die droogte posisie baie netjies vir die Here uiteengesit. Hy het by die vorige jaar se reënval begin, die winter se droogte posisie geskets en die situasie toe op datum gebring deur ʼn oorsig te gee van die skade wat die droogte tot op hede veroorsaak het.

“Here” het oom Jacob gesê, hierdie lemoen boompies onderkant die tweede dam – die boompies wat ons laaste jaar geplant het – ag’ daar leef omtrent nie meer een van hulle nie. En self die ou boorde. Ek stap vanmiddag juis deur die nartjies – nie die by die rivier nie, Here, hulle kan nog gaan – maar die nartjies bokant die klipplate, U weet? Hulle lyk sleg. Ek sê vanaand vir die vrou, Here, ek sê vir haar as dit nie hierdie week nog uitkoms is nie, dan weet ek nie. Here, ek wens ek kan U saam met my vat more vroeg oorkant die rivier toe. Daardie arme avos daar. Daardie avokado’s moes nou dra. En hoe kan hulle dra as hulle nie water het nie? Daardie bome kyk heeldag vir my. Ek wens U kon sien hoe kyk hulle na my. Ek moet juis weer more daar laat skoffel. Ek sien amper nie kans nie. Nou vra ek vanaand – ek vra reguit hoekom? Wat het ons dan vir U gemaak? Ek meen, ons praat nou ʼn slag reguit.

Daardie nag het ek wakker geword van die reën op die dak.”

As dit nie vir die reën was nie sou ons nie kos gehad het nie.

Nou ʼn ander kos storie. ʼn Man wat lank gelede saam met my gewerk het sê hy het een aand ʼn jonge dame uitgeneem vir ete. Alles moes natuurlik perfek gewees het, want hy wou haar graag ʼn baie goeie indruk op haar gemaak het. Hulle kyk so na die spyskaart en hy vra aan haar wat sy wil eet en sy antwoord hom toe Vis. Die kelner vra aan haar hoe wil sy haar vis gaargemaak hê, bedoelende gebak of gebraai en sy antwoord die kelner “Well done please”. Net daar het die verhouding geëindig.

Hierdie volgende kos juweel kom van Riekie af :

My Oupa as ouderling en die predikant het jare terug maar huisbesoek gedoen soos wat die gewoonte was. Elke drie maande by elke huisgesin in die wyk omgegaan voor Nagmaal.

Die jaar is dit slagtyd toe die groot huisbesoek tyd daar is.  Oupa en Dominee besoek gemiddeld drie tot 4 huisgesinne elke aand.  Soos dit in die slagtyd gaan en groot hoeveelhede vleis verwerk moet word, is die huisvrou maar besig en word gou ‘n stukkie wors in die pan gegooi, saam met wat ook al – brood, pap en sous, aartappels.

Toe Oupa en Dominee die vierde aand by huis nommer drie aankom en vir die hoeveelste keer genooi word om saam met die gesin aan te sit, kan hulle dit nie weier nie.  Weereens is wors en wat ook al op die spyskaart.  Toe die boervrou haar rug draai, sit dominee die ou stukkie wors in sy wit sakdoek en

druk dit in sy sak maar o wee, van die speserye (seker maar peper) kry hy die groot nies, ruk sy sakdoek in ‘n oomblik van waansin uit!  Daar trek die stuk wors!  Ek wens ek was ‘n vlieg teen die muur…… Riekie du Plessis Johannesburg

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Caesar’s Slaai

Caesar’s Slaai

Hierdie slaai was nie Julius Caesar se gunsteling slaai gewees nie. Die oorsprong van die slaai is nie eers naby aan Rome gewees nie. Die geboorteplek van die slaai is in Tijuana, ‘n klein dorpie in Mexico, gewees. Wanneer mens in die Avenida Revolucion wandel is dit ‘n lelike buurt waar mens nie eintlik gesien wil wees nie.

Caesar’s Sports Bar & Family Grill Restaurant is ‘n half donker plek teen die ou verslete Hotel Caesar. Die restaurant bestaan uit 6-halfmaan tafels en ‘n lang kroeg toonbank. In 1924 is die beroemde slaai die eerste keer in die restaurant gemaak

Die storie van die slaai begin met Alex Cardini ‘n Italiaanse vlieënier wat in Tijuana gewoon het. Hy was die eienaar van die restaurant. Eendag kom daar van sy mede-vlieëniers daar aan wat lus was vir iets om aan te peusel. Daar was nou juis nie baie kos voorraad gewees in daardie tyd nie aangesien Mexico Stad baie ver van Tijuana is.

‘n Tannie van Alex Cardini wat in die kombuis gewerk het, het maar met die voorraad wat sy gehad het die slaai gemaak. Wat is in die slaai wat so beroemd geraak het ?

Bestanddele
8 Anchovy Filets
2 Klein Suurlemoene
1 tot 2 eetlepels Knoffel
2 eetlepels olyf olie
2 eetlepels rooiwyn asyn
1 eetlepel Worcestersous
3 eiers sag gekook
4 teelepels mosterd
5 tot 6 eetlepels gerasperde Parmesaan kaas
1 koppie Croutons
3 Klein Slaaiblare
Vars peper na smaak.

Metode

Neem die anchovies, sap van die twee suurlemoene en knoffel en maak tot ‘n pasta met ‘n vurk. ‘n Voedsel verwerker sal hier handig te pas kom. Meng nou olie, asyn, eiers, mosterd, worchestershire sous en kaas by die pasta. Meng nou die croutons en gesnyde slaaiblare by.

Hierdie slaai sal met al die verskillende smake ‘n wenner wees by enige ete.

Die Caesar’s slaaie wat mens by die restaurante kan koop word nie meer op die oorspronklike manier gemaak nie. Dit bly ‘n heerlike slaai om te eet.

 

What Is Hoisin Sauce?

Definition and Ingredients Definition:
Hoisin sauce, sometimes called Chinese barbecue sauce, is a fragrant, pungent sauce used frequently in Asian vegetable stir-fries and marinades and Asian-style grilled dishes such as this grilled tofu with hoisin sauce.
Made from a combination of fermented soy, garlic, vinegar, and usually chili and sweetener, hoisin is dark in color and thick in consistency.
It has a very strong salty and slightly sweet flavor, which, if you’re not used to authentic Asian flavors, you may find slightly objectionable.

Hoisin sauce is a key ingredient in many traditional Chinese food and some Vietnamese food recipes.

What does hoisin sauce taste like?
Hoisin sauce does taste a bit like an American-style barbeuce sauce, but much saltier, richer and less sweet.
The flavor is unique.
Because the unique flavor can be overpowering, particularly if you’re new to Asian cuisine, it’s recommended that you use only a bit at a time to experiment with the flavor.
Or, dilute the flavor by adding water or oil to the hoisin sauce before using in a recipe.
Hoisin sauce is a great way to add an authentic Asian flavor and thickening color to a stir-fry or noodle dish, and it can also be used as a dipping sauce for egg rolls, spring rolls, or other vegetarian appetizers.

**Many grocery stores stock hoisin sauce. Look for it in the ethnic foods section of most grocery stores near the noodles, soy sauce and Thai curry pastes.

 

Prikkel Kos

Hier moes ek nou redelik vinnig aan ‘n Afrikaanse woord dink vir “aphrodisiacs”. Die enigste goeie en betaamlike naam waaraan ek kon dink is Prikkelkos.

Maak nie saak wie en wat jy is nie, of jy nou ‘n straatveër is en of jy ‘n rekenaarprogrameerder is nie, een of ander tyd in jou lewe gebeur dit dat die wil om romanties te wees nie meer daar is nie. Romanse sal jou altyd beter laat voel. Maar wat moet jy doen om daardie wil terug te kry ? Eerstens kan jy apteek toe hardloop en een van daardie blou pille gaan koop of jy kan die heel natuurlikste manier gebruik om jou weer ‘n goeie wil te gee en dit is om Prikkelkos te eet.

Om Prikkelkos te eet is in elk geval meer romanties as om pille te drink. Die koning van Prikkelkos is oesters. Die vorm en smaak sal jou mond laat water van wat nog vir jou voorlê. Knoffel (?), uie, tiemie en roosmaryn is ook hoog op die lys van Prikkelkos. Die bestanddele vorm natuurlik die basis van pastasouse. Hier moet ek net sê dat knoffel seker een van die grootste anti Prikkelkossoorte is, as dit deur net een van die twee vennote in die liefdespel geëet word.

Speserye soos karmadon, naeltjies, gemmer en neutmuskaat kan ook nie weggegooi word as ons van Prikkelkos praat nie. Hierdie speserye vorm natuurlik die basis van Indiese geregte. Hierdie speserye laat jou ‘n warm gevoel kry en dit is natuurlik ‘n voorvereiste in die liefdespel. Naeltjies en neutmuskaat word ook natuurlik baie gebruik in disse wat voorberei word vir Kersfees.

Sekere kosse bevat geen chemiese middels om jou te prikkel nie maar net die vorm kan baie suggestief wees, en wanneer jy dit dan saam met jou geliefde eet, in ‘n romantiese omgewing , weet mens nooit waar dit kan eindig nie. Die kos waarvan ek hier praat (wat meer suggestief is as iets anders) is aspersies.
Seldery bevat androsterone. Dit is ‘n manlike hormoon wat in staat is om dinge wakker te maak in vrouens. Verder word daar beweer dat piesangs goed is vir mans om hulle stamina te verhoog. Maar ongelukkig bestaan daar geen wetenskaplike bewyse hiervoor nie.

Daar word altyd beweer dat ontbyt goed is vir ‘n mens. Maar nou is daar uit ‘n prikkel-oogpunt bewyse daarvoor. Wanneer jy Hawermout-pap eet in die oggend laat dit jou dinge doen in die aand. Hawermout-pap is ‘n katalisator wat testosteroon by mans vrystel.

Hierdie laat my dink aan ‘n toneel uit die film Chocolat waar die huisvrou sjokolade gaan koop. Sy gooi die sjokolade in die asblik en haar man sien dit, hy eet alles en toe hy by sy vrou verbyloop waar sy vloere was, is die vet in die vuur.

So mans as julle vrouens by julle aandring julle moet Hawermout-pap in die oggende moet eet, dan moet julle maar solank ‘n bos blomme gaan koop om dankie te sê.

Daar moet net onthou word dat alles omtrent Prikkelkos met ‘n knippie sout geneem moet word. Prikkelkos kan nie vir romanse instaan nie. Daar is geen beter prikkelaar as ‘n ete, saam met ‘n heerlike bottel wyn en die regte atmosfeer wat die vuurtjie kan aansteek nie. Blomme, mans, kan ook ‘n dame se hart versag.

Hou matigheid voor oë en moet net nie te veel Prikkelkos eet nie.

 

Salt

MARCH 31, 2017

BY NICK PAUMGARTEN

Once upon a time, salt was just salt. It was the stuff in shakers and canisters, the gustatory equivalent of the treble dial. You used more, or you used less. Whether it was a little girl with an umbrella, a toss over the left shoulder to ward off bad luck, or a nontaster’s affront to the chef, it was all just salt.

 

This was more than 20 years ago, but well after people learned that there might be finer coffee than Medaglia D’Oro in a can. Maybe the first inkling was the coarse salt on the rim of a margarita, or a salad invigorated by sparks of La Baleine, or a virgin bite of chocolate sprinkled with fleur de sel. For Mark Bitterman, the author of Salted and the coiner of the term selmelier (which so far seems to have been applied just to Bitterman), the epiphany was a transcendent steak at a relais in northern France in 1986. He deduced that the difference-maker was the rock salt provided by the owner’s brother, a saltmaker in Guérande in Brittany. Bitterman came to learn, as all chefs now have, that before salt was just salt—before it was industrialized and homogenized—it was a regional and idiosyncratic ingredient, perhaps the quintessential one, precisely because it was so universal. You could tell salts apart, prefer one to another, and pair them with different foods. You could acquire a salt vocabulary, tell salt stories. If you could be a snob about coffee, beer, butter, peppers, and pot, why not sodium chloride?

A box of Maldon, something you can find in kitchens across the globe

I was slower to catch on. I’d encountered a certain variant everywhere: delicate flakes of sea salt, in ramekins or little wooden bowls, in snug neo-rustic restaurants with one-syllable names (Prune, Hearth, Salt, et al.) or at the kind of rooftop barbecues where people served mead cocktails and put watermelon in salad. It was a pleasure to pinch it between forefinger and thumb, or absentmindedly dab at it and taste a few flecks, like a narc testing a confiscated drug shipment. It had a sublime effect on a tomato or a pork chop. But I didn’t think of it as a particular kind. It was just “the fancy salt.”

Then I got wise. On a kitchen shelf at home, there was a small box adorned with the Royal Warrant of the Queen of England and some Edwardian-sounding patter in small print, attesting to the “curious crystals of unusual purity” contained within. The brand was Maldon—Maldon Sea Salt Flakes. It came from a 135-year-old family-owned salt works on the southeast coast of England. My wife had been buying it for years.

I soon realized that almost everyone who gave food any thought—professional chefs, restaurant junkies, people who keep a water-stained spiral notebook of a great-aunt’s favorite recipes—knew about Maldon. It had the omnipresence of Hellmann’s mayonnaise, the old-school cred of Walkers shortbread, and the high repute of Gevrey-Chambertin. It had also become trendy. Cameron Diaz carried a tin of it in her bag; Gwyneth Paltrow sang its praises on Goop. Chef Judy King revealed it to be her secret prison seasoning in Orange Is the New Black. (“This is my heroin,” she says.)

Along the shores of the River Blackwater

Ruth Rogers, the chef and owner of the River Café in London, declared in her first cookbook, back in 1996, “You must use Maldon salt.” When I visited her at home in London last fall, she said she had been talking about it with some chef friends earlier that day and “one of them said, ‘At last, the British have an ingredient.’ It’s a very chef-y ingredient.”

When cooks talk about Maldon, they inevitably mention the feel of the flakes between the fingers, the pleasing tactility of the pinch. (No one really measures out salt.) The pyramid shape, no bigger than a tab of acid, keeps it from caking. It has the look of something valuable and hard-won, a delicacy that has crossed deserts on camels. It works best as a finishing salt—one sprinkles it on vegetables, butter, caramel, or grilled meat, just before serving. As for the taste, Maldon is considered less bitter, less salty than other salts. There’s a quick savory zing that doesn’t overpower or overstay—“an ephemeral saltiness,” as Bitterman describes it. It’s almost sweet.

“Nothing else has that flaky quality,” Daniel Rose, chef-partner at Le Coucou in New York, told me. Having spent the past 20 years in Paris, where he owns Spring restaurant, he also used a variety of French salt, in addition to the English stuff. But, he recalled, “there is definitely a pre-Maldon time and a post-Maldon time.”

This boom first took hold on Maldon’s home turf, with the British food renaissance of the ’90s. One springboard was the so-called Delia Effect, after Delia Smith, the food personality and cookbook author who championed Maldon in her BBC Series How to Cook; around 2000, she named Maldon salt, along with Worcestershire sauce, as one of her ten essentials. As a result, the big supermarket chains in the UK, like Tesco, stocked up on it. Maldon, a tiny operation, had to scramble to ramp up. One of the many viral ways it made it to America was via Paltrow, who apparently was twigged to it when she was married to Chris Martin, pre-uncoupling. “I was living in London, and it was ubiquitous there,” she told me. “I just stumbled on it, in my quotidian life.” Paltrow included it in her second cookbook in 2013 as, among other things, an ingredient in her famous but otherwise scary-sounding vegan and gluten-free almond butter cookies. The celebrity chef Jamie Oliver, who got the Maldon bug as a young cook in Rogers’ kitchen at the River Café, made it his go-to salt in his cookbooks and TV appearances. Before long, it was everywhere: the iPhone of salts.

This fuddy-duddy-yet-posh, not-just-salt salt had become a thing. But where did it even come from?

Those wonderfully salty pyramids we know and love.

I traveled to Maldon in the chilly dark days of November, timing my visit to the tides. Maldon is, first, a place—a town in the county Essex on the River Blackwater, an estuary in the east of England. It’s an hour from London by train, but it felt farther once I was strolling along its desolate waterfront, peering through the twilight toward the island of Mersea, which is renowned for its oysters. Mersea and Maldon have in common the brine. At a pub by the quay, the Queens Head, I ordered fish and chips and a pint of a local brew, Puck’s Folly, and eavesdropped on a chapter meeting of the local rowing club. The salt was table salt.

Blackwater is a bastardization of Brackwater, as in, the water is brackish, quite salty in fact, because the Essex coast is dry, by English standards anyway. Less rain means more salt. The marshes are seaward, east of town, on land belonging to the Crown. Humans have been harvesting salt there for thousands of years, even before recorded history. The spring tides come in over the seagrass and, when the water retreats, leave salt to crystallize. In the Iron Age, people heated clay vessels to reduce the salty water. Two thousand years ago, the Romans scaled up that operation by trapping water in clay-lined pits and boiling it off in pans made of lead. (Lead! And you thought a high-sodium diet was bad for you.) These were heated from underneath by wood fires, and the salt was left in the bottom of the pans. In the Domesday Book of 1086, large numbers of brine pits and pans were recorded along the Essex coastline.

Humans have been harvesting salt in Maldon for thousands of years, for thousands of years, even before recorded history.

The 1825 abolition of a tax on salt made it more economical to mine for it in caves elsewhere in the country. The little local sea-salt guys went out of business. The advent of so-called solution mining, which involved pumping freshwater into these caves, made mass production possible—most of that haul became standard table salt or sodium chloride used to make rubber. It was not good for cooking, though: too bitter, too harsh. (Later, the dawn of refrigeration diminished salt’s historical value as a preservative.)

Gary Bentley, a sea salt harvester

The Maldon saltmakers who remained, in the 19th century, were chiefly employed as coal merchants. One local coal firm called Bridges, Johnson and Co. also produced sea salt, and in 1882 christened that standalone business the Maldon Salt Company.

Londoners would ask friends traveling to Essex to pick some up. In 1900, it wound up in Harrods, which sent the company a letter: “We found the salt much better than ordinary salt for pickling beef, a much smaller quantity being required for brine. Also gives the beef a much better flavour.” A man named James Rivers bought the company in 1922. He married Nellie Osborne, a widow with three sons. And when Rivers died, the youngest, Cyril Osborne, was eventually given the saltworks. In a Pathé film from 1964 called Salty Business, on YouTube, you can see Cyril in his Wellies, opening a gate to let the tidewater fill the storage pond.

It was very Spit and sawdust, to be honest with you,” Cyril’s grandson, Steve Osborne, explained once I arrived. The family still owns the business outright, and Steve, who is 42, runs it. He’s modernized many aspects of the operation, yet the way the salt is harvested remains pretty much the same. He picked me up at my hotel outside of town just after sunrise in a Porsche Macan and drove us out to the salt marsh. It was a clear, cold morning. Steve had on black corduroys, a quilted Barbour jacket, and brown suede lace-ups ill-suited to the marsh. After two years of college, he’d spent his 20s in the city trading bond futures in the open-outcry pits at the LIFFE Exchange. Technology rendered the job obsolete, but the ancient way of harvesting salt still pertained, so in 1998 he returned to Maldon to work for his father, Clive, who had taken over for Cyril in the ’70s. In his youth, Clive, too, had gone to work in London, as a lighter salesman, before returning to the family business. By 1998, Clive, then in his mid-50s, wasn’t sure if there was anything for his son to do. Steve helped with marketing and learned the ins and outs.

When Steve took the reins, five years later, the father found the son’s approach a bit ambitious. Here was a go-go kid just back from the city, with big ideas, coming home to the sleepy provincial saltmaking shed. The younger Osborne wanted to buy land to expand, but his father argued against it. ­Eventually Steve prevailed and they bought a plot of farmland on the shore. In his view, the only thing preventing world domination was the limited production of ­Maldon salt. Since then, Steve’s been all in.

Maldon’s original salt pans at The Downs still remain.

Maldon’s original saltworks are in a low-slung building in an area of town called the Downs, along the river. Built in 1850, it’s not much bigger than a basketball court. When Steve took over, there were just three salt pans here. He added a fourth the next year, then three more the year following. In 2006 they opened a second facility, a few miles up the coast at Goldhanger. He also built an administrative and packaging plant to free up space for saltmaking. Now they have 37 pans; the great-grandson has multiplied production a dozen times over. “I’ve just bought another piece of land,” he said. “I want to build another factory and double the number of pans.”

In 1980, at the Downs, Clive Osborne replaced coal with natural gas, which was more efficient and made it easier to regulate temperature, to produce crystals of the right size. “The art of making salt is one of temperature and timing,” Steve said. Back in the coal era, Cyril had a famously deft touch. “Pop was an expert with the shovel. Of course, there was that day when he crawled into the flue with a fag between his lips.” The coal dust exploded, and Cyril came out singed, a Wile E. Coyote in Wellies.

In the United States alone, the Maldon market has doubled in the past three years.

The saltmaking now begins with a steel barge docked out front on the Blackwater. At high tide, pumps fill the barge with seawater. It’s taken at mid-depth in the estuary, to avoid mud particles yet maximize salinity. The barge holds four weeks’ worth of seawater; every two weeks—during spring tides, which occur at the new and full moons—the Osbornes top up. The water passes into six settlement tanks, and then into other filtration tanks, and then finally it is pumped into the pans. “We’re releasing the salt from the clutches of nature,” Steve said. Nature doesn’t charge anything for the right—though the British Crown does.

Maldon salt, being harvested by rake

Inside, the operation resembles a lobster pound housed in a schvitz. The square pans are steel, three yards on each side, and not much more than a foot deep. An intricate system of flues heats each pan evenly from beneath, as the brine solution thickens. The air is humid and steamy and is rumored to have health benefits. Steve pointed to a hale gent raking salt from the pan and joked, “Gary here is actually 105 years old.”

The saltmakers boil the brine, then reduce the temperature until inverted-pyramid crystals form on the surface, like the skein of ice on a martini. At some point, the crystals, under their own weight, fall to the bottom of the pan like snow. Gary then rakes the crystals and shovels them into plastic draining tubs, like garbage bins, which hold 331 pounds each.

The salt drains for 24 hours. Then comes the drying. In Cyril’s day, they piled sacks of it next to a woodburning stove. Clive upgraded to an industrial oven. Back then, the family lived in a house across the street; Clive came over every night at 10 p.m., just before bed, to change the trays and heat them overnight. Several years ago, Steve introduced a Rube Goldbergian oscillator, a modified grain dryer of his own design. “It saves me having to come over at 10 p.m.,” he said. The salt, once sifted, drains into 882-pound bags, which get trucked up to the packaging plant. By this point, many of the pyramids have crumbled into flakes. (Finding a fully intact crystal is a little like getting a two-yolk egg.) A $7 box comprises a fistful of salt: eight and a half ounces.

“Sea salt flakes—we came up with that term,” Steve said. “Seems to be in every recipe now, but we made it up. I don’t want to sound arrogant. But I’ve seen people saying ‘flakes’ when it’s not flakes.” He also claims that his open-pan process leaches out magnesium, a source of salt’s bitter taste.

A few years ago, Maldon changed the design of its boxes, making them simpler, cleaner, simultaneously more retro and less frumpy. Long gone is the impressionistic close-up of a sweaty mixed salad. The packaging plant’s new automated assembly line turns out 100 boxes a minute, more than five times what Maldon produced when the company packaged by hand. “We’re producing 2,755 tons a year,” Steve said. That’s 10 million boxes. That morning, they were churning out a shipment bound for Norway; these boxes read “Havsaltflak.” A daily call sheet in the warehouse specified orders bound for Italy, France, Sweden, the United States, Spain, Dubai, Germany, and Austria.

We’re producing 2,755 tons a year,” Steve said. That’s 10 million boxes.

Sixty percent of the take is for export. Maldon is now in 50 countries, a half dozen of which make up the bulk of the foreign orders. At the pub the previous night, the president of the rowing club told me he had recently come back from Stockholm: “One shop was completely full of Scandinavian stuff—elk’s heads and things—and there in the corner was a Maldon salt display. I thought, That’s my hometown!” It turns out that some 50 years ago, a Swedish exchange student brought a box home from England. Her father was the buying director for Coop, the national supermarket chain. Soon Maldon was everywhere in Sweden.

Right now the biggest importer is Spain. “That’s selling ice to Eskimos, basically,” Steve said. “There are great saltmakers there, but they don’t produce pyramid crystals.” He ascribes Maldon’s success to a 1996 magazine endorsement by chef Ferran Adrià.

Next on that list is the United States, where the market has doubled in the past three years, due, it seems, to the cascading heap of praise from celebrities, chefs, and celebrity chefs. Like Anson Mills grits or Wellfleet oysters, Maldon now goes by its proper name among the food cognoscenti. Steve claims not to have sought the attention, although he recently hired a marketing manager from Diageo. Financiers and investors with grand schemes have approached him—“I’ve heard it all”—but he says he’d prefer to keep the business independent. Still, he isn’t sure operational control will fall to the fifth generation. (Steve has two stepkids, and his sister has children, too.) “Just because you’re family doesn’t mean you’re the right person to carry on,” he said. “It’s quite a heavy cross for me to bear, to be honest. It’s been four generations. I’d be the one to cock it up.”

“Sea salt flakes—we came up with that term,” Steve said. “Seems to be in every recipe now, but we made it up.

In a way, Maldon had first-mover advantage. It’s the gateway salt, opening the doors of perception to a whole new saline consciousness. There is a growing range of commercial artisanal sea salts, such as Jacobsen Salt Co. in Portland, Oregon, drawn from the Pacific on the Oregon coast (which apparently has a lower salinity than the Blackwater). This is the Portlandia version of Maldon, for chefs with beards and fixies. Or Norđur, harvested on the western coast of Iceland, created using geothermal water.

Recently, I stopped by The Meadow, a Manhattan salt boutique that Bitterman owns. He was there holding forth in front of several shelves of hand-labeled glass jars: Papohaku Opal from Hawaii, Trapani e Marsala from Italy, Amabito No Moshio from Japan, pinballs of salt from Lake Assal in Djibouti. I tasted flecks out of the palm of his hand. It was easy to wonder, amid such exotica, if Maldon might soon be crushed by an array of salts from around the world.

Steve worries more about wet weather than about his competitors. “We stick to the knitting,” he had told me, looking out toward the North Sea. “What, I’ve got to do pink salt now? No. The moon’s still there, and the tide still comes in.”

Nick Paumgarten is a staff writer for The New Yorker.

 

Appelasyn: Gebruike vir

Ingestuur deur Jan van Niekerk

Appelasyn word beskryf as ‘n wonder middel en baie mense glo dat appel asyn omtrent enige kwaal of skeet kan gesond maak. Ek staan nie skepties teenoor die wondere toegedig aan appelasyn nie, aangesien dit ‘n natuurlike produk is glo ek nie dat dit skade sal aanrig nie.

An Apple a day keeps the Dr away. Hierdie ouvrou storie word baie keer deur ons moderne mens afgelag. Maar soos die wetenskap vorder hoe meer bewys die wetenskap dat die gesegde waar is, want in appels is daar nie minder as 10 elemente. Daar is ook ‘n hordes spoor elemente teenwoordig in appels. Wanneer appelasyn gemaak word dan gaan al die goedheid van die appels in die appelasyn in.

Sommer so aan die begin van my navorsing het ek al agtergekom dat hulle sê dat appelasyn ‘n baie goeie detox middel is. Dit sorg dat sekere organe soos die lewer, niere en blaas gesond bly. Dit oksideer ook die bloed wat dan lei tot dunner bloed en ‘n laer risiko tot hartkwale.

Daar is ook ‘n studie gedoen met ‘n groep mense waarvan die een helfte appelasyn saam met water voor hulle ete gedrink het en die nader helfte het net aangesit. Dieselfde ryk maaltyd is aan die mense voortgesit. Die mense wat die appelasyn gedrink het, was glad nie ongesteld nie. Dia ander mense daarteen het diarree gehad en het nie wel gevoel nie.

Aangesien appelasyn so ryk is potassium help dit om die gebreke wat dit veroorsaak reg te maak soos bv. tandbederf en gesplete vingernaels. Appelasyn help ook van oorgewig tot artritis. Die beste manier om jou gesin gewoond te maak aan appelasyn is om dit gebruik in plaas van gewone asyn. Appelasyn saam met heuning is ook ‘n baie goeie plaasvervanger vir koffie en tee. Dit is ‘n besliste moet vir elke gesondheidsbewuste.

Die appelasyn sal slegs die gewenste uitwerking hê as dit gereeld gebruik word.

Persoonlik kan ek net vertel van my eie ondervinding met appelasyn. In die oggende wanneer ek opstaan uit die bed uit, het my een knie so gekraak dit het amper geklink asof ek op my laaste was. Nadat ek seker so ‘n week appelasyn in die oggende gedrink het is die gekraak weg. Daar is nog soveel wonderlike dinge wat ek graag oor appelasyn wil sê maar die spasie is beperk, so volgende keer skryf ek meer van die natuur se eie wonder produk.

Onthou net dat siektes baie oorsake het en as jy appelasyn gebruik en dinge word nog nie beter nie binne ‘n paar dae nie, gaan spreek eerder jou geneesheer. Onthou ook net dat ons hier met natuurlike produkte te doen het, en dat dit miskien ‘n rukkie langer sal neem om te werk.

Artritis
Gooi twee teelepels appelasyn en twee teelepels heuning in ‘n glas water (lou water), roer en drink drie keer per dag. Verder kan mens die aangetaste dele ook daagliks smeer met appelasyn.

Asma
Een teelepel appelasyn moet in ‘n glas water gegooi word. Die water moet dan drupsgewys vir die volgende halfuur gedrink word. Na ‘n verloop van ‘n vêrdere halfuur moet weer ‘n glas appelasyn water gedrink word. Hierdie sal ek net aanbeveel in ‘n noodgeval wanneer medikasie nie beskikbaar is nie.

Bloedverlies
Wanneer jou neus sonder enige rede begin bloei of jy bloei redelik lank as jy jouself gesny het kan dit beteken dat jou bloed se natuurlike stollings middel moet so ‘n bietjie opgebou word. Neem twee teelepels appelasyn in ‘n glas water drie keer per dag.

Diarree
Neem twee glase water met een teelepel appelasyn daarin voor en na elke ete.

Duiseligheid
Neem twee teelepels appelasyn saam met twee teelepels heuning drie maal per dag. Binnekort sal jy sommer weer perdfris wees.

Hoes buie
Hoes buie kan deur baie dinge veroorsaak word. Maar as dit net sommer ‘n irriterende hoes is neem twee teelepels appelasyn en twee teelepels heuning in lou water drie keer per dag voor etes of wanneer die hoesbui begin. Hou gerus so ‘n glas muti langs die bed ingeval jy in die nag begin hoes.

Hooikoors
Sowat twee weke voordat die hooikoors seisoen begin moet jy een teelepel heuning neem na elke maal. Daarna moet jy drie keer per dag na ete ‘n teelepel heuning saam met een teelepel appelasyn in ‘n glas lou water neem.

Haar verlies
Neem een teelepel appelasyn in ‘n glas water, saam of net na etes. Binne twee maande sal die haar verlies sy moses teëkom.

Moegheid en slaaploosheid
Neem twee teelepels appelasyn saam met twee teelepels heuning sowat 1 uur voor jy gaan slaap. Voor jy jou oë uitvee is jy aan die slaap. Indien jy na ‘n uur nog wakker is moet jy weer die dosis herhaal.

 

Sjokolade (Sjokolade en Wat ??? Is jy Mal)

Wanneer ons mans so ‘n bietjie aan die verkeerde kant van ‘n vrou kom, en ons weet dit is ons skuld, dan gaan koop ons vinnig ‘n sjokolade om te sê ek is jammer. Jongmans het altyd ‘n sjokolade dingetjie saam gevat as hy gaan opsit. Ek weet nie meer of dit so werk in vandag se tyd nie. Daardie sjokolade het darem altyd gesorg dat jy so ‘n ekstra drukkie of soentjie ingekry het. Maar dit is nie ons wat die geheimenisse van sjokolade uitgevind het nie.

‘n Asteegse (Aztec) koning het sterk daaraan geglo dat sjokolade hom help om sy libido te verbeter. Hy het 50 klein “tot” of “sopie” glase verorber. Dit het skynbaar gewerk, want die man het nadat die kerse uitgeblaas was, stamina gehad, wat aangehou het tot die vroeë oggendure toe.

Vandag is die sjokolade meer vervynd en word in verskillende geure en smake verkry. Dit word in, om en bo oor enige iets gesit. Dink maar aan Chrunchies, Smarties en die Vrugte en Neute sjokolade wat mens kry. Dit is nie ongewoon om sjokolade in souse van kos te kry nie. Ek het eendag gesien hoe ‘n sjef, knoffel in botter braai, dan rissies byvoeg. Later het die sjef sjokolade bygegooi en die sous oor garnale gegooi. Volgens die mense wat die dis beoordeel het, was dit ‘n ongelooflike smaak sensasie.
Die Meksikane dink ook nie dit is snaaks om sjokolade in hulle vleis disse te gebruik nie en daar is ‘n paar resepte waar hulle sjokolade en hoender meng.

Sjokolade kom al ‘n lang pad en die sjokolade boon is tot al gebruik om te dien as ‘n betaalmiddel en vir ‘n vrou met losse sedes moes mens daardie tyd 2 sjokolade bone betaal. Die Spanjaarde was die eerste mense wat in die vroeë 1800’s soliede sjokolade gemaak het. Na hulle het die Nederlanders gevolg met hulle uitvinding van die vervaardiging van die sjokolade poeier. In Switserland het die mense die metode uitgevind om sjokolade stawe of blokkies te maak. Hulle het ook uitgevind hoe om melk sjokolades te maak.

In Europa is daar die goeie en medisinale kwaliteite van sjokolade opgeteken. Sjokolade bevat antioksidante, en verskeie navorsers beweer ook dat sjokolade tandbederf beveg. Donker sjokolade wat in matige hoeveelhede geëet word, kan van kanker to hart siektes help keer. Wanneer enige sjokolade geëet word gee dit ook die chemiese stof serotonin ‘n hupstootjie. Die chemiese stof kom in die brein voor en is verantwoordelik vir ‘n mens se gemoedstoestand. So is bewys dat sjokolade eters meer vriendelik is as mense wat nie sjokolade eet nie. Nou weet ek hoekom ek so vriendelik is…..

Nou by my subtitel – Sjokolade en Wat ??? Is jy Mal. Om na ‘n goeie en volgende vlak van ‘n smaak ervaring te gaan, probeer gerus om sjokolade en wyn saam te bedien. Dit klink nie lekker nie, maar ek kan u verseker dit is ‘n ervaring wat u lank gaan onthou. Hier is net so ‘n klein rigting wyser om u op u pad te sit. Melk en donker sjokolade (Albany) gaan goed saam met ‘n Cabernet. Die vrugte wyne wat deesdae so gewild is, gaan ok goed saam met ‘n donker sjokolade. Switserse sjokolade gaan weer goed saam met die soet tipe wyne soos die sjerries.

Vir my was dit ‘n wonderlike ervaring gewees om dit te probeer. Wanneer u die regte sjokolade en wyn keuses gemaak het, nooi u vriende uit vir ‘n drankie en sit aan hulle sjokolade en wyn voor i.p.v. kaas en wyn. Vir weke daarna sal u die “talk of the town” wees. Geniet die eksperiment.

 

Sampioen Brood

Hierdie is die oulikste kos storie wat ek al gehoor het. Een van my fens het dit aan my gestuur. Dit het my baie oorredings vermoe gekos om toestemming te kry om die storie te plaas.

As julle sulke oulikke stories het stuur dit asb aan my. My e-pos adres is net hier langsaan.

Jong, Mamma het my nie geleer kook nie. Kinders was onder haar voete, die dat ek eerder op die perd se rug was die hele dag of in die bos, veld en berg.

Ek was so 3 jaar getroud toe ek uiteindelik moed bymekaar geskraap het om ook te probeer brood bak. EK het vir niemand gesê ek kan nie, en my Ma kon sulke groot heerlike boere brode bak en almal het verwag dat ek ook moet kan.

Wel, die dag besluit ek dat ek die resepteboek gaan vat en probeer. Gonna man, ek het alles gedoen nes hulle sê, maar die goed wou nie rys nie. So teen middag het ek maar bes gegee en omdat my man erg was oor kos mors, het ek dit nie in die asblik gesmyt nie, want hy sou dit sien, toe gaan begrawe ek dit agter in die erf. Daar het hooi bale gestaan wat ons gebaal het vir die beeste en ek het geweet dat hy lang laas daar was, maar die middag laat kom hy van die myn af en hy loop toe wragtig bale toe. Ek het met angs gestaan en bid. Hy het skielik gebuk en ek kon sien iets puzzle die man erg.

“Gogga, kom kyk hierdie snaakse paddastoele wat hier opkom!” roep hy. Ek loop bedees nader en sien hy staan by my begrawe brooddeeg. Dit het begin rys, uitrys, en die grond het sulke korse bo-op gemaak en dit het inderdaad na vreemde reuse paddastoele gelyk wat daar wou opkom, maar hy het geweet en toe hy my gesig sien, bars hy uit van die lag. Ek het natuurlik so verleë gevoel dat ek skoon aan die grens gegaan het. Ek het alles uitgeblaker!

Hy het my goedig in sy arms gevat en my trane weg gesoen en saggies gesê “Dis ‘n begin, maar ek sal laat my ma jou leer brood bak.”

Ek kan tot vandag nie ‘n brood bak nie … nie boere brode nie … want elke keer as ek begin, dan dink ek aan daardie dag, dan maak ek eerder maar net vetkoek.

 

Rooibos o Rooibos

Die rooibosplant groei net is Suid Afrika en kom net in die winterreënvalstreke voor. Dit is maar ‘n platterige bossie wat so ‘n halwe meter tot meter groei. Die saad van die rooibos is baie skaars want elke bossie produseer net een saad. Sodra die saad op die grond val sleep die miere die saad na hulle neste toe.

Die saad word geoes en dan deur meganiese skuurders geskuur om die ontkiemings proses te verhoog. Indien die sade nie geskuur word nie ontkiem slegs sowat 30% van die sade. Wanneer dit geskuur word verhoog die persentasie tot sowat 90%.

Hoe het dit van bossie na die ketel gevorder ? In die begin 1900’s het die plaaslike bevolking gesien dat die blare van die bossie ‘n heerlike vars en verfrissende tee maak wanneer dit gekook word. Die bossies is afgekap en takke met hammers geslaan. Dit is dan so in hope gelos om te fermenteer. Sodra die fermentasie verby is, is die hope oopgekrap om droog te word.

‘n Russiese immigrant, Benjamin Gingsberg, het in 1904 begin agterkom watter potensiaal lê daar in die bossies. Hy het begin koop van die bergies af en het dit begin bemark.

Wat Rooibos so uniek maak is dat dit geen kafeïne, kleurstowwe of preserveer middels bevat nie. Dit is ook die rede waarom dit so gewild is by gesondheidsbewuste mense. Rooibos kan in onbeperkte hoeveelhede geniet word aangesien dit 100% natuurlik is. Die minerale is Rooibos is ook in ‘n mate verantwoordelik vir ‘n gesonde vel, gesonde tande en bevorder ook die metabolisme.

Die mediese wetenskap begin nou eers van die kwaliteite van Rooibos ontdek. Rooibos word aanbeveel vir mense met senutoestande. Rooibos het ‘n strelende effek op die sentrale senustelsel. Die navorsing gaan nog aan en daar behoort nog baie goeie en gesonde kwaliteite ontdek word.

Mense met spysverteringsprobleme, naarheid en sooibrand kan verligting kry deur Rooibos te drink. Rooibos het ‘n natuurlike soet kilojoulevry versoeter wat dit ‘n ideale drankie maak vir mense op ‘n kilojoulebeperkte dieet. Wat Rooibos verder ook uniek maak is dat dit warm of koud gedrink kan word. Vir ‘n heerlike verfrissende drankie meng koue Rooibos met vrugtesap. Plaas ‘n paar blokkies ys daarin en geniet op ‘n warm dag.

Soos die dames seker weet word Rooibos met sukses in skoonheidsmiddels ook gebruik. As jy allergies is vir seep gebruik dan net die Rooibosseep. So ook kan jy Rooibos gebruik vir omtrent enige iets.

Hierdie is ‘n produk waarop ons op trots kan wees, ‘n produk wat nie een tree terugstaan op die wêreld mark nie. ‘n Produk wat ons met trots oorsee kan stuur. Dit is een produk wat niemand kan namaak nie, nie eens die “Ons doen alles beter as julle”-Australiërs nie.