Imitation is the highest form of flattery or so they say.  Over the years we have been very very flattered.  Lately we noticed that people have been trying to imitate the recipe of our delicious wings and they can be found as close as right around the corner.  But the copy is never as good as the original.  Portia made up the recipe for these wings while on a family holiday in Namibia – Jason tells the story below:

“We were two weeks out on a four week trip ’round Namibia when we discovered an idyllic camping spot at the source of the Tsauchab River. This is the source of all the water that flows into Sossusvlei between the giant red sand dunes. We set up camp in a valley over-looked by steep, rocky cliffs, shaded by Fever Trees. We had Guinea Fowl to wake us in the morning and the barking of baboons to send us to bed at night. Occasionally a startled Kudu would stand in the path as one rounded the corner; in a word, it was very remote.

On the the day after we set camp Portia discovered the chicken wings had defrosted completely and were about to go off. Supplies of fresh meat were hard to find and she new that Lumai, Leo and I would be looking forward to a braai that night. She had to do something urgently!

As usual Portia always travels with a good selection of spices and condiments. Out came the spices, soya sauce and honey. Into the bowl went  the wings and the mixture and that’s where they marinaded until evening.

The day was spent lolling in pools and exploring the fresh spring as the sun baked down. That night as the day cooled off we lit our fire and braai-ed the wings. Leo ate one wing and said to Portia; “This is good. Where’d you get the recipe?’ Her reply,’Out of my head,’ seemed to please him. He loaded his paper plate and worked his way through about ten more.

Portia’s Sticky Chicken Wings became an all-time favourite and she put them on the next menu in the restaurant.”

We are hoping to have many of the vegetables used on our menus 100% organic and sourced from our own gardens which we have planted at our home and ceramic studio both of which are in Plumstead.

The Vege Garden at home is well into the 1^st Cycle, meaning we have LOTS of baby plants popping up between the straw mulch and amazing us with their eagerness to rise up and greet the sun as the days grow warmer.

Yesterday Ben from Urban Harvest, the company who set up our home garden, Slydan and their team came for the first Edu-Maintenance visit. We decided they should pull out some more flowers and make another bed. They replaced a boarder of Irises, dotted some wooden disks around and laid more straw mulch. No planting yet. That will happen in two weeks time when the earlier plantings are nearer to harvesting in order to have a cycle of crops. Ben is very chatty and full of tips and reminders;

‘No garlic, onion, citrus or potato peels in the Worm Farm.’

‘Flush out the Farm with a bucket of water whenever you need more ‘tea.’

‘‘Tea’ can be diluted 1 to 10 and poured on to vegis 2 x per week or more, this helps put nitrogen into the soil; but not for the root crops, like carrots.’

‘When the Cumfrey is established I will be showings you how to make another ‘compost tea’.’

I have to pass on this knowledge to Henz, who will be doing a lot of the weeding and pest control. All manually done. But Henz and I don’t come close to Portia in her snail catching zeal. Portia is out there at night with her head torch, a small stick and a plastic beach bucket lifting leaves, nudging aside mulch and generally tracking down anything that leaves a slimy trail. Sometimes I have to shout into the darkened garden and remind her of bedtime or she loses track of time.

An unexpected garden pest is The Cat. Frankie, the cat, has decided that there’s nothing quite like a bed of hay mulch to loll on on a warm summer morning. I looked out of the upstairs window while brushing my teeth this morning, and there was the cat sprawled out, licking his furry belly and crushing the coriander! I think he’s decided that the little nest where the baby plant is peeping out of the straw makes a perfect hollow for him. No amount of rapping on the glass with my toothbrush or bellows of rage, once I had the window open, had the slightest impact. After a brief stare from those golden eyes he simply continued licking himself.

The home garden under construction

The finished garden

Talking about food is almost as important as eating in our family. Each in our own way we are obsessed with food. I love food but I’m not much of a cook. Thank God I’m married to a woman who is a one of the worlds great cooks! Sometimes I’m expected to prepare a meal, but mostly I’m untrustworthy as a cook and expected, simply, to turn up at the table with a good appetite. Eggs, pancakes, porridge their accompaniments are my

safe turf. Oh! By the way I can do grilled fish in a herb crust with a few simple veg on the side. But! – When the meal is served the critiques and the post-mortems begin.

As with most families opposing camps are formed depending upon the subject under discussion. In our family, when Food is the topic, there are the Boys and the Girls. Portia and Lumai, chef and protégé’, will start by circling around the ‘kill’. ‘ Are you sure it’s done?’ My mind purses its lips and whizzes thru the preceding minutes to check that I have followed procedure to the ‘T’. The first fork parts the firm white flesh and the Inspection of the Interior begins. ‘Looks a bit underdone, don’t you think?’ Leo rips into the meal without a moment’s hesitation; ‘Ts great Dad.’ At least I know he’s in the Boys camp. ‘It’s fine –needs a bit of salt,’ Portia puts herb salt on her piece and takes another mouthful. Whew! Passed the inspection!

Leo is usually finished first. As long as there are no funny textures, excessive spicing or the dish is too unfamiliar, Leo is your man. And chicken is top of his List. Moms’ Sticky Chicken Wings are music to his ears. But Dads’ fish is fine as well.

But on Sunday mornings the Girls take over the kitchen. All late breakfast eaters are banished or given marching orders. The preparations begin!

Fish Curry is one of my favourites on Sundays, but it usually only reveals itself when friends are invited. First the kitchen is suffused with the heady aromas of spices toasting gently in the oven. Fenugreek, Star Aniseed, Allspice. I start to fall in love with my wife all over again. Then the utensils come out. An olive green, stone mortar and pestle are set before Lu and she sets to work with pounding as soon as the spices out of the oven. A shining stainless steel dish with a copper bottom appears on the gas hob and the bouquet of olive oil starts to garnish the air. A solid beach chopping board is plonked down on the concrete counter along with a razor-sharp Zwillig blade and diced onions appear under dancing fingers.

The onions are fried briskly, to a golden brown. Grated carrot goes in with the spices and allowed to simmer with the lid on. Once the ingredients are cooked chunks of firm white Kingklip are added, mixed in and the heat is turned up once more. Ten minutes later the Fish Curry smells so good it’s just begging you to eat it.

Did I forget to mention the rice? Well, light, fluffy basmati rice is the only rice for this meal! Portia says: ‘Basmati rice is dead easy to cook. Just take it off when all the water has been absorbed; before it burns!’