Obsessive Cooking Disorder

Coming Soon!

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 14:23:00 +0000

Just to let you all know, my blog is under construction :) hopefully by next week there will be a shiny new, updated and exciting blog for you all to read!! Lots of new stuff, lots of laughs, and hopefully a properly regular blog for 2012!

The best bad birthday meal

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 07:50:00 +0000

I love cooking for someone’s birthday; preparing their favourite meal with their favourite wine or drink, and a delicious something sweet to end... The thought and care that goes into it is my display of love and happiness to celebrate that person’s special day. But, and this is a big but, I am a perfectionist- and everything must go according to my plan.

The Sweetest Thing

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 20:38:00 +0000

Whether it’s end of the weekend blues, Monday procrastination, or sheer curiosity that got you to read this, I'm glad you are- because it’s around that time that January gets a little shook up. I think it’s safe to say that by this stage of the month, we’re all either repeatedly hung over, giving up on resolutions, in a new year funk, or majorly depressed about going back to work. The new year glimmer starts wearing off, or at least the complete optimism of it does. I'm really hoping that by reading this and taking on the challenge, you can keep that optimism and happiness glowing and growing.

The problem with news year’s resolutions is that they always tend to be long term, so that by the end of the second week you start losing interest or don’t make time for them anymore. I reckon one week challenges are the way to go, you put your whole heart into something and leave no room for excuses. So while you’re reminiscing about that six pack you’ll have by December, or your summer holiday to Spain, here’s your challenge for this week:

For just one week, focus on looking outside your life and at the people and things around you. I know you may think I’m going all airy fairy on you, but just hear me out. So many of our resolutions and goals focus on selfish needs, and we spend so much time worring about these things that we forget to appreciate what has been given to us. So instead of obessing about how thin you’re going to be by next summer, consider when you last stopped to take the time to help someone less fortunate. Pick your cause and do something for it; providing a warm meal for a hungry tummy may be how I choose to spread some love, but it could be anything- a visit to the SPCA if you love animals, a day spent with someone young or old who is without any family, going green and recycling, whatever motivates you to see the world in a new way! The idea is to remind yourself that there are much bigger things in life, that whatever your worries or concerns, you are reminded of how fortunate you still are. If you’re having a wonderful year and things are going swimmingly, then remember to share the happiness and positive energy.

Obviously, I really hope that we all spend more than just one week this year dedicating time and energy to a good cause, but it’s a start. I can hear some of my friends teasing me about my so-called Rhodes hippy-isms, but just you wait- when you’ve made someone smile through some small or big gesture, you’ll realise that the happiness you share with them is not just a fad. The Beatles had it right all along, all you need is love, so let this be the week of spreading lots and lots of love and happiness!

The best birthday cake in the whole world!

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 06:21:00 +0000

Master Chef Australia will be the death of me... that damn show plays on my biggest weakness: perfectionism. I thought making a delicious risotto was good enough, but then they would create these 20 component risottos that set alight spontaneoulsy and the ashes turn into dessert or something. It gave me a serious inferiority complex. AND on top of that, they came out with Junior Master Chef, so then I had to endure 9 year olds creating dishes I couldn't even pronounce. It was all just too much for me, I HAD to up my game, I refuse to be left looking like a peasant chef with my unsalted caramel and homeless gingerbread man.

Bring on 2012 please!

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 19:40:00 +0000

December is a funny time. It’s supposed to be about wonderful frothy feelings of festivity and carefree bliss, and there are a million advertisements, movies, celebrities, tv jingles and first-on-the-shelf-November-Woolies gammon to remind you about how you’re supposed to feel- problem is, not many people feel that way around December anymore. By the time the last month of the year arrives you’re either over-worked, broke, stressed, emotional, stressed, broke, unorganised or broke. And then you walk through the shopping centre on the first of December to sound of Christmas carols playing at a pitch louder than usual, but still at a sort of subliminal background pitch too, and you have a mild panic attack and begin hyperventilating. The endless list of things that need to get done starts to form in your head. You can see yourself running out of time and Christmas is still three weeks away. The days all blur into each other as you rush from work to shops to dinners, until the next thing you know, it’s Christmas eve and you’re rushing around spending your bonus buying ridiculously over-priced last minute gifts. Quite frankly, the only people these days that are really so blissfully happy all December long are those who are touring some exotic country sans extended family, those who will be getting a six figure plus bonus, or Nigella Lawson (because at this time of year, no one will judge you for using an extra vat of goose fat).

Happy Birthday to YOU

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 06:15:00 +0000

To my lovely boyfriend

When I asked you what kind of cake you wanted for your birthday, you very wisely said that there's no point making a cake that would be miles away and you wouldn't be able to taste it, and that it would make more sense to make something for people who could actually eat it.

I didn't forget, though you probably did, that I promised I would make something to feed those who really need it. I know you said I should probably make sandwiches or something instead, but cake makes everyone smile. So I made both; hot dogs and a beer-box chocolate cake.

And for your 24th birthday I fed 24 hungry stomachs for you.

Three were hungry little tummies on their way home from school, and whose next meal would only be later that evening. Another two belonged to a Zimbabwean mother and daughter who sell handmade crafts, and hadn't made any sales for days. You helped put a smile on the face of a little boy and his father, both had had flu and no appetite for days, until they saw the chocolate cake. You sent home food for the family of a man I've seen standing at the traffic lights all week, and who hasn't been able to find work for years. One hungry tummy could stop digging through the garbage for food. Another seven could continue their days hard work in the summer heat. A loving dad kept his cake for his daughter, as her reward for working hard at school.

Joba and his wife asked me to take this picture for you to thank you; today was the first meal they'd had in 2 days.

Zuleka, Sitha and Patience sang happy birthday to you in three languages.

These are only five faces, but there are nineteen other people a little happier today thanks. But I don't want to wait another year before the happiness can be spread again, so I'd like to ask everyone who reads this to please sponsor a lunch for someone today. It doesn't have to be gourmet, it doesn't even have to be home-made, just something to feed an empty stomach, a warm smile, and a little bit of time to talk can go a long way. Let's make everyone feel like today's their birthday.

So my Cruickshanks, from me, and our 24 new friends, happy birthday!

xxxxx

Beer Box Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 20:49:00 +0000

There's something really nostalgic about those great big slabs of cake you would take to school on your birthday; fighting over who got the last square of chocolate, and who got the ones with the blob of caramel. I haven't had a beer box cake in AGES! Sure, I'd love to be able to whip up a seven tier birthday cake coated in edible gold and modelled on the Burj Al Arab- but it still wouldn't taste as good as the memories of your whole class singing 'Happy Birthday' with icing covered faces.

And we're in business!

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 07:08:00 +0000

My first ever catering job was fantastic! I may not be able to feel my feet, and I am in serious need of sleep, but it was all worth it :) everything looked great, and thankfully, tasted good too, according to my new fans. It seems I may have some more jobs on the way, I'm regretting not having made business cards before the event but luckily the party was hosted at our pub so everyone knows where to find me (considering I spend a large portion of my time trying to run the place). Who knows, maybe I can convert the pub into a deli one day! My worry is that without the booze, they may not call me 'Master Chef South Africa' any more... I kinda enjoyed that nickname last night :( who cares if it was inspired by several whiskies and is not that accurate :P

The birthday boy owns a second-hand book store in the complex, so I used a whole bunch of Cinema magazines from the 70s to line the food table, and tried to keep the whole booky theme going... I don't know if it worked :/ but here are some pictures from the events, they're not the best quality since I didn't have much time, but I'm pretty chuffed with it all :D I know it doesn't look like much, but there was food to feed a freaking army!

better than KFC, double coating, baked, and low in fat ;)

The basic cheese, crackers and crudites- always my favourite, but always picked last but everyone else :(

Desserts!

Really mini lemon meringue cups with a soft, gooey and delicious meringue

And the star of the show....

D-day

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 07:31:00 +0000

I don't want to jinx it, but everything is going smoooooothly :) I have 25 minutes to kill while the pies are in the oven, then off to pick up some fresh ciabatta for the bruschetta, and the last minute cooking to do, and everything will be ready! Although my back is killing me, and I can't wait to have a long sleep tonight, I'm super chuffed that so far there are no disasters.

My only issue has been the debate of the pies: petite pastry cups, juicy filling, and topped with creamy mash, or manly all pastry, about 3 bites pie pies. And how small is too small? How big is too big to be mini? When the're so small I keep feeling like the pastry-to-filling ratio is out of balance (and not in favour of the filling), but when they're bigger, they just seem so, well, average and messy :/ so I have made 3 different kinds, and hope that everyone will be satisfied!

My favourite thing so far has to be my crispy cajun cornflake chicken, but I'm hitting that point where I've tested and tasted so much that all I want is a big bottle of sparkling water, lemon, and then chocolate ice cream. 6 hours to go! Can't wait to upload pictures, hold thumbs I don't have a last minute disaster and drop all the plates of food or something :/

Prep day

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 05:32:00 +0000

I am ADD at the best of times. Now, the day before I have to cater this event, my attention has gone AWOL. I have planned meticulously, but I can't concentrate on anything I need to do... hence waking up at 5am to test my pastry recipes, and now I'm sitting here on my blog. I need a routine smack every ten minutes to snap me out of it... hey, if you have my cell number, send me a message won't you? Just say "your pastry is going to burn!" or maybe "don't overcook the chicken!", or if you're feeling a little Gordon Ramsay-ish, "wake up you donkey!!".

If you don't have my number I'm not going to put it up here. The 40 minute blog viewer may have alterior motives (and no it's not my mom, it's an actual person who I don't know and is not even in PE). Then again, those motives may be to come help me make 50 miniature steak and Guiness pies.

See how I procrastinate? This should have ended at the first paragraph, but woops, we're on paragraph number three. And you're probably still reading, because you like to procrastinate too. Hell, why not go onto Facebook after this? You never know who is sharing overly personal issues or trying exceptionally hard to appear mysterious and deep when it's blatantly obvious what they're trying to say and to whom. It's a great way to feel better about yourself. You know what's even better than Facebook? My blog. That's why I'm still on it. And you are too.

But now I really have to go. Goodbyes suck don't they? Don't worry, I'll see you tomorrow xxxx

When it rains, it pours

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 17:01:00 +0000

The weather in PE is miserable, it's like the middle of winter and our customers are drinking like it's a public holiday tomorrow. But you know that feeling of walking along a empty beach on a freezing winter day, and everything seems frozen as though life is on pause, until you hear the screech of a seagull? That's what this weekend rain has been like, until last night, exactly a year to the day that Daniel proposed to my sister, my brother proposed to Marilugh, and suddenly the rain looked beautiful and the cold weather is just an excuse to spend time cuddling up with the ones you love.

So between lunchtime yesterday and today, I became designated caterer for both my sister's bachelorette and my brother's wedding :) that's three official catering jobs, and I don't care if the majority are for family- catering for wedding stuff counts!

But now the nerves are kicking in, I have a LOT to prepare before Wednesday, and unfortunately I don't work well sharing space in the kitchen (hmmm hints of control freak cheffy characteristics??), in fact there is only one person I can work well with in the kitchen, and I'm not sure how happy people will be if I up my fee to R10 000 in order to fly in help.

So now it's planning planning planning phase, and hope that doing the theory will help pull off the practical!

I'm a big girl now!

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 17:17:00 +0000

It's official, I am a caterer! I may not have a omelette station, or fancy cooking equipment, or a chef's jacket (well except a pretty pink one that says 'Baker Lauren' that my mom got me... for my 21st birthday), but I have a job, to cater, for an event, for actual people :D And it's in 4 days time :/

Perhaps it's not the smartest thing to start with a job for 50 people, and endeavour to make everything completely from scratch- but hey, I've never been one to do anything small, and I'm a perfectionist, they wouldn't be home-made pies if the pastry wasn't made at home, now would they? Then again, they're probably going to be so boozed that they won't know if they're eating vegetables or meat... but yeah, this is totally a professional job!

So the countdown begins! Join me in my temporary insanity of catering solo :)

Heartache Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 06:08:00 +0000

It's an age old friendship, love and food... They have romantic dates, fights, they rekindle their passion, they laugh, they cry, they exit dramatically, they run back into each other's arms. I once read a book where the daughter makes her mother a so-called heartache cake, and after eating the entire thing, it's supposed to fill some of the hole in your heart.

I think most of us realise that the only thing eating an entire cake can fill is your fat pants. When you really miss someone, and they're far far away, you find comfort in all the deliciousness around you.

"I love this cupcake because it loves me enough to stay here!"

"I love this pizza because every single slice is here with me and none of it has to go away!"

"Chocolate solves everything, if I eat a kilogram of it I'll stop crying."

Then after a little while of this, you reach the 'I want to go out and whip my cleavage out and feel sexy' phase. This is usually because it seems as though your cleavage has been given an extra boost. As you get dressed you realise that it's not the only thing that has filled out, and the attempt to feel sexy leaves you raging against every sweet and savory treat that may have simply looked at you the wrong way. Then comes the trauma:

"NOW he'll never come back because I'm SO fat!"

When you break up with someone, there's the period of not being able to eat because the emptiness overwhelms you. After a while, you reignite your friendship with food, and if ever there was a time to want to believe in heartache cake, it's usually at this point.

I am here to tell you that there IS a heartache cake, and it's better than you ever imagined. It's called a run. That's right. I'm that bitch that's going to tell you that chocolate will not solve your problems.

See the problem with food and love, is that they only go well together when they're both happy to be together. When love is attacking food like Oprah after a juice fast, then food is not so happy. So inevitably, while you'll be loving that triple chocolate mousse cake for the whole 10 minutes it takes to eat it, you're going to spend days cursing it when you realise that it's just made you feel worse. And poor food is left confused and caught in a love-hate relationship.

It's a simple solution. Go for a run. Running has been known to cure uncontrollable crying (if you can run, breath and cry at the same time you're superhuman), it provides a physical heart ache to cover the emotional one, and when you're feeling sorry for yourself, nothing will quite get your ass in gear like feeling everything wobble as you run past cars full of people. After a few days you'll even be brave enough to smirk at these people in that very satisfactory way that says, "You know you feel bad just sitting there while you watch me run, I know you wish you had the commitment I do".

So when you're missing someone and the heartache becomes unbearable, and you really need some love, run to the shop, buy a leeeeeeetle cupcake, run to a friend, share it, and run home. If it weren't for visas and border control, I'd suggest actually running to the person you miss, but I don't want to risk sounding crazy. I've obviously never considered doing that. And if I did, I definitely would get further than the end of my suburb... and of course I wouldn't be stupid enough to try it twice, while wearing non-waterproof mascara, thus looking like a stoned Panda :/

Cooking for my dad: the series

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 11:32:00 +0000

I love my dad, I love him and all his crazyness to bits. But I hate cooking for him. He once referred to something I was making as resembling fish bait; I can’t remember what it was I was making, but I do know that it wasn’t fish, and it wasn’t supposed to (and probably didn’t) look that bad. He peers into pots and pans with his nose wrinkled up, like a child that’s just eaten a sour sweet. He comments (make that complains) about EVERYTHING. Previously, this would be followed by him going off to bed and sulking about there not being any dinner. Now he demands to be part of the cooking process. This I can’t understand, as he very enthusiastically stirs and prods and whisks, but he does not for one second stop moaning. He proceeds to explain why this meal is nothing like the food his mother used to make him, why saturated fats are the good fats, and the merits of rys, vleis and artappels. He tries to force all his cooking methods onto a dish he doesn’t even know the name of, and then when I refuse, he mutters to himself while glaring at me and the stove. It used to be my goal to cook something he would enjoy just to prove him wrong for jumping the gun, now I desperately try to cook something he likes so that he’ll eat it and keep quiet for a few minutes!

Lately I’ve been on a good streak. This is a man that will eat something and enjoy it, and give you a sort of grunted “it’s edible”. I though luck was on my side; the previous night mom had made a curry that dad actually used the words “very good” to describe, so I thought I’d caught him at a culinary vulnerable point. Alas, by the following morning he had slipped into an insecure state due to his concerns that my mother’s curry may be better than his. I invited my sister for dinner as reinforcements; I’m hoping the peer pressure of everyone else enjoying food around him will inspire him to look at it in a new light. But I needn’t have worried, as he knocked me for a six when he took a bit of his specially made, individual chicken pie (his has to have more meat and pastry than everyone else, and not as much veggies), and responded with a “MMMMMMM!” followed by shepherding everyone into the kitchen, “Have you tasted this??”.

Now, I’m quite fond of my chicken pie, and my friends are quite fond of my chicken pie, but it’s not thaaaaaat good. I wondered if perhaps, tired of his moaning, my mom had snuck some special herbs in his pie when I wasn’t looking.

“This, THIS is restaurant quality!” became his new phrase for the night.

The puff pastry was store bought and I’d forgotten to baste it to brown it. The veggies weren’t even cut uniformly. This was most definitely not my finest dish.

“We are in the wrong industry, we should open a RESTAURANT!”

Oh lord.

“We could serve this food you know, and then it’s just word of mouth. We open up and serve 5 good meals, and those 5 people go and tell another 5 people...”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m chuffed that my dad is enjoying our cooking at last, and of course I’d love to have a restaurant one day, but the last time my dad spoke like this he had a midlife crisis and came home randomly one day to inform us that he had signed the lease for the pub he was opening. I’m currently trying to manage this pub as he directs himself through his late-life crisis. I’d at least like to cash in my shares from pub, travel the world, and wait until my own life crisis before I open a restaurant thanks!

Never the less, here is the promised series of recipes:

Easy homemade chicken pie

100% made-from-scratch trifle

Creamy custard

and coming soon....

*Orange and almond chiffon cake*

*Bestest banana bread*

Easy home-made chicken pie

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 11:16:00 +0000

A hearty meal for cold rainy days, this home-made pie is packed with veggies and has far less calories than the shop-bought kind. It's really versatile in that you can use whatever veggies you have lying around, and most of the other items are pantry staples.

Made from scratch Trifle

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 07:18:00 +0000

Ah November... shit weather, insane workloads, and the annoying early arrival of cheesy Christmas carols in shopping centres, reminding you that in one short month you will be frantically dashing around to those same carols blowing your hard-earned Christmas bonus.

Our Christmas gatherings have been shrinking as the years go by, and poor dad's designated braai-er and driver duties have been rewarded with less and less of his usual favourites. From great big Christmas lunches with all the fat, sugar and alcohol possible, to diabetic and cholesterol friendly meals paired with a Windhoek Light. One of his old favourites was always trifle, and probably for the exact same reasons, it was always my least favourite. My gran would soak the trifle in gallons of sherry, and my innocent youth taste buds would recoil in terror, and the best part of Christmas lunch would end in a minesweeper-esque game of find the sherry-free jelly.

So to surprise my trifle-loving dad and my Christmas-loving sister, we has little festive season warm-ups. Nothing store-bought and no short cuts (okay except the jelly), these little trifles are labours of love!

Decadent Custard

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 19:36:00 +0000

Food is filled with memories, and one of my most nostalgic foods is Woolworths fresh custard; I remember eating it from the tub when I was a child, sneaky spoonful after spoonful when no one was looking, when I was a teenager it provided comfort for all ailments and illnesses, and when I was a student it was a favourite surprise to find in a bag of Woolies goodies delivered to the desolate Grahamstown by my loving mother.

Despite all this, I've always felt a tad guilty for never making my own fresh custard. So recently I whipped up my first ever batch, and honest to God it tastes just like Woolworths, it's crazy easy to make, and it evokes all the feel-good memories that should never be separated from your custard experience.

Basic bechamel sauce

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 16:19:00 +0000

One of the 5 mother sauces, a bechamel goes wonderfully with vegetables, meat and tomato-based dishes. It's really simple to make, but it seems that so many people make one silly mistake and end up with a watery, lumpy mess.

The top tips for a gorgeous bechamel:
- equal parts flour and butter
- use boiled milk, never cold
- add the milk in very small amounts, dash by dash
- whisk, whisk, and whisk some more
- season!!

Here's my step-by-step easy guide:

PS- Telkom sucks

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 16:28:00 +0000

My internet is on a seemingly permanent vacation too now, so please be patient, I promise there are amazing recipes coming soon! Please check back asap :) and if Telkom burns down it wasn't me :/

Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I think I'll eat a feast

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 16:23:00 +0000

My dad does not cope well with abandonment. He spends a great part of his time warning us that there will be hell if we leave him alone in his old age, so when we do actually leave him alone for some or other reason it’s as though his worst nightmares have come true. While most define abandonment as being left alone a permanent period of time, my dad sees anything from not answering your phone, to talking about taking a trip somewhere as red flashing warning lights that we are all about to run away.

In his 20s and 30s, my mom (try as she might) could not separate my dad from his soccer and fishing club. In his 40s he took up golf and my mom adjusted to being a golf widow. Now in his 50s my dad has hit old-age paranoia and has taken to stalking my mother; if she says she’s going shopping, he suddenly appears in the meat aisle in Woolworths. If she says the girls are going for family lunch, he sheepishly shows up asking if he can have a quick cup of coffee with us before golf. If mom goes to the hairdresser or to some beauty treatment that he hasn’t determined the location of, he phones her incessantly until she gets home. If I’ve had a moment of ADD and can’t remember where my mother said she was going, my dad becomes a stuck record repeating: “Where is your mother? Where is your mother?” until he hears the car coming down the street, at which point he runs to the office window and stares like a mad man while the car pulls into the driveway.

Today, my mom left for a holiday to visit my aunt in Cape Town. My dad refused to join her (and was also banned from joining her) as he hates Cape Town and is known to turn the car around as soon as he arrives. Nevertheless, he began sulking 3 days ago. Then he found out that he could have been playing in a golf competition in Cape Town while she was there and is now thoroughly upset. He has taken to talking lovingly to the parrot again, who for the last week has had braai tongs thrown at his cage for being “a freaking little shit”.

In an attempt to cheer dad up, I’m planning on making all his favourite meals this week. A dedicated rys, vleis en artappels man, my dad is quite happy to eat meat with every meal, vegetables can be optional until Sunday lunch, and the more saturated fat the meal contains, the happier he is. As much as I’d like to please him, I refuse to cook to those exact standards (I like my heart beating thanks), instead I’m going to try indoctrinating him with healthy versions of his favourites. Keep an eye out for new recipes coming soon, which include home-made chicken pie and trifle!

Milk Tart = Love Tart

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 07:06:00 +0000

Saying the words ‘milk tart’ to an expat Saffa is like saying ‘free trip to Thailand’ to any other normal person; they get that far away look in their eyes, a smile creeps onto their face, and you can see the glisten of tiny tears in their eyes. The first time I ever made a milk tart was as recently as last Christmas, in London (awful I know- who makes their first milk tart outside South Africa??) for my boyfriend’s cousins who we were having Christmas dinner with. Kim’s excitement at the prospect of a good old melk tert was just a tad bit of pressure, and I spent hoooooours trawling the internet for what I hoped would be an executable and excellent recipe. Personally, I’m not a huge fan of milk tart, so I’m never really sure what makes a good one. Turns out, the Christmas one was pretty yummy and ridiculously easy to make. Still, I secretly shared the opinion of the pommy guest who claimed that it’s “quite like a custard, really” with a polite said-inside-her-head “and quite a boring one”. Not to be unpatriotic, but I think she’s spot on, the best way to describe milk tart to a foreigner is as a poor man’s custard!

Right, now before I put you off and you start wondering why you are reading this post at all, let me share with you the ultimate of South African patriotic deliciousness: Amarula milk tart. When requested again to make another milk tart, I just couldn’t bring myself to make a boring, plain, well, milk tart. So I spruced it up a little, and the results have been wonderful! In terms of taste, that first bite gives you a kick you aren’t quite prepared for, but after the second slice I reckon it’ll be really hard to go back to the old version!

This recipe is crazy simple, requires no baking, and can be whipped up pretty quickly. Plus, the best thing is that every time I find myself making a milk tart for someone, it’s just full of love. Maybe I’m overly sentimental, but surprising someone with this milk tart is like taking a sick friend a cup of chicken noodle soup- it’s comforting, nostalgic, and just reminds the receiver that they’re loved. So, no more poor man’s custard, it’s time for the Saffa’s African delicacy, served with a generous portion of ubuntu.

What I Ate Today

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 07:49:00 +0000

Dr Oetker's bunny cookies, the hardest ever box mix anything, but look how pretty they are!!

What I Ate Today

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 12:46:00 +0000

Home-made salted caramel macarons :) watch this space, recipe and story coming soon!

What I Ate Today

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Thu, 29 Sep 2011 18:39:00 +0000

A chai latte at Vovo Telo, Richmond Hill. Awesome coffee, cakes, and pastries but what a pity about the service :( friendly staff, but actual service and organisation was really disappointing...

Welcome Home! Meet the family

noreply@blogger.com (Lauren Minnie) — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 18:53:00 +0000

Me, age 4, enjoying chops off the braai like any proper South African meisie!

For me, nothing says home like a family braai or Sunday lunch. There are usually three options:

Lunch or tea with the Bothas (my mom’s family)

A braai or curry night with the Minnies (my dad’s family)

Sunday lunch or a steak braai with the Eglings (my sister’s soon-to-be family in-law)