Our doors officially opened during the flower show. And although you must be feeling bombarded with Trading Post news by now, it’s because it’s been rather all-consuming: A happy vortex of creative chaos that has somehow spun itself into a neat existence.
I wish I could tell you that I’m unflappable. That I can pull things off with grace and style, nary a strand of hair out of place. Alas, I’m not.
The truth is, The Trading Post has had a small army of supporters – a sort of cheering team in cute skirts (except they’re in jeans mostly):
There’s our HR slash PR manager, Make-Things-Happener and Master-of-Colouring-In. Just remember, should you meet her, that nobody says ‘no’ to her. This is a vital skill. If you don’t happen to have this as part of your skill-set, I highly recommend that you access it vicariously by befriending this woman. She also has access to a very gifted wooden deck builder, should you be in the market for a deck.
Next, our Chief Officer of Irony, Master of Quiet Diplomacy, Itinerant Postmaster, and Behind-the-Scenes Champion. He’s also a wonderfully calming influence when undesirable matter hits the fan. And undesirable matter always seems to have a built-in fan detector, doesn’t it? I highly recommend him on your team. He definitely chooses not to wear cute skirts, however.
Then there’s our additional PR manager and Connector-of-Dots, elbow grease supplier and cartographer extraordinaire. She also wrote a post on her lovely new blog about their stay at River Cottage, as well as Mathe’s artisanal bread- now also alvailable at The Trading Post.
We’ll miss the Olivier Family as they start their new adventure in Dubai. They did however leave a trace (amongst all the other wonderful traces and memories): their recipe for Amazing-Naise. Somehow we weren’t able to breathe their version into existence; it seems to be asking to be made by them, and them alone. Preferably here, in Hopefield. So instead we searched for and adapted another recipe, which we’ll be calling ‘La Mayo des Oliviers’. Or rather, for those of you that understand Afrikaans: “Die Oliviers se Mayonnaise”.
Finally, our Angle Grinder aka Smoother of Edges and Creator of Beautiful Things. A woman that really knows how to wield her power tools. Literally. But her tools are not only of the electrical kind, although she’s a force to be reckoned with in that department. When everything else seems to be at its most frenetic, she swoops in and does what needs to be done. And whatever she does, it seems to be the right thing. When I mentioned this to Connecter-of-Dots recently, she reflected thoughtfully: “Hmm…. So I see you’ve finally experienced the powerhouse”.
If these people were dealt by life as cards in your hand, you’ll be clearing the table with a full house, for sure. So this is my thank you to them. I hope we’ll having as much fun in many more months and years to come.
The night before we received these via Sparrow Mail all the way from France – on overtime shifts worked by our Itinerant Postmaster. An impossibly beautiful bunch of flowers: White St. Joseph’s and blue irises. I didn’t tell you in my last post that irises were also my favourite flowers.
At the moment, we have pesto, hummus, olives and olive tapenade, homemade peanut butter, fudge, honeycomb, hanepoot raisins, as well as artisanal bread…
Old-fashioned Soda Pops from Bashews….
And real free-range eggs…
You know they’re really free-range when the woman who supplies them has to run around her farm trying to hunt for them. For her, every day is Easter.
There is only one word for these eggs. Precious. Absolutely and unreservedly precious. When you hold them in your hand, they are smooth and perfect, and at just the right weight – there’s no hollowness to them. Their shells are a healthy, unpolished porcelain – and their yolks are of the deepest yellow, almost orange. We’ll be getting duck eggs in from the same supplier, too.
So pop in for some Chocolate-Chilli cake and coffee under the trees next time you’re on the West Coast. I’ll post a map for you to find us soon.
Posted in River Cottage, The Trading Post, West Coast Life
Tags: Decor, Deli, eggs, free range, hopefield, River Cottage, Shop, The Trading Post, West Coast
Hello, I’ve missed you. And, of course, I’ve missed this little notebook, too. There’s been a highly satisfying rhythm here at River Cottage: cleaning, painting, making and guests and then some more cleaning, painting, making and guests. Oh, and some planting. And then some more making pretty. Just the way things should be.
Hopefield’s annual Fynbos Show is running from the 25th to the 28th and the West Coast is looking so beautiful with all the wildflowers in bloom. We’re having The Trading Post’s opening exhibition on Saturday, 27 August, for our new Deli and Decor Shop.
There’ll be activities all around town for the fynbos show, including at the newly revamped hotel, the Mill Country Fair, as well as at the sporting fields. Then all the regular gems, such as Die Bou Smous and Iets van Als – for second-hand and vintage finds, as well as reclaimed building supplies. Hope to see some of you here – that’s not this weekend, but the next.
Here’s a little teaser for The Trading Post, but there’s still much work to be done, arranging the day and liaising with suppliers. As well as finishing up with the renovations of the deli area, which I’ll be able to show you soon. Or maybe you could just come and see for yourself? We’d love to see you.
If you look carefully, you’ll see some new birds and napkin designs, vintage-fabric baby bloomers, baby comforters and the ‘First Aid’ wine totes. In one of the images you can also see the hand-printed sign that I made for The Trading Post. I’ll be making some more, although they’ll be bigger and with more information. I could have made them earlier, but doing them is quite a commitment: one had better be sure of what you’d like to say before cutting the stencils. Maybe I’ll put together a short ‘how-to’ in case you’d ever like to make one yourself. You can start thinking about what you’d like on yours. No, really. Make good use of your time, there’s no turning back.
And of course, my almost favourite flowers: St. Joseph’s Lily’s. I think they’re right up there with roses. The whole shop is now filled with their slightly intoxicating scent. I think they need to become our official Trading Post Flowers. Next to roses, that is.
Posted in River Cottage, The Trading Post, West Coast Life
Tags: baby bloomers, Flower Show, Fynbos Show, hand-printed signage, hopefield, River Cottage, roses, St. Joseph's Lily's, The Trading Post, vintage, West Coast
It is said that the Universe (and the stars and the galaxies and Life-as-We-Know-it), was created in seven days. This is astounding.
So astounding, in fact, that I don’t know whether I should dance in jubilation or cry in despair. Because that’s exactly how long it took us to renovate an 8 by 4.
And whilst I feel it may be a little too soon to post about this, I’m also excited to say that Wild Roses Grow is expanding. We’ve renovated a perfectly-situated old workshed on the property and will be opening ‘ The Trading Post’ in Hopefield.
There were times that I would have happily traded in my Crack Filler for a Crack Dealer, but it all started to take shape … just before I was about to run away and become a Wanton Woman in the Inner City:
As I mentioned in my previous post, my camera is dying a slow death, so I’m doing flick-flacks as I try to take pretty pictures, but I hope you can see where this is all going.
As of yet, I’ve only started to add display items, like the old, glass bottles ( a gift from a special friend), the wrought-iron bed, and the wicker pram. None of these are for sale, there are too many memories and emotions attached – I used to whizz around on the stoep in roller skates with that old pram (Our dog may, or may not, have been inside it at the time…)
Also, there are two sections that have yet to be renovated at the back of the shed, so I’ve had to use some trickery. Unfortunately this also means that I haven’t been able to give you the full picture. I’ll be sure to update as we go. I’m hoping to officially open in ten days or so, so if you’re planning on visiting the West Coast in the near future, please do pop in.
And as the temperature cools, which has all been rather uncivilized, bar the convenient (for renovation-purposes) solar flare over the past four days or so, I’m off to soak the day away and get ready for another morning of breathing new life into old things.
So, in the words of Arnie: I’ll be back…
It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of The Merry Widow Country Inn in Hopefield.
Recently, they’ve added another feather to their cap: theMill Country Fair – a rather colourful plume to their ever-stylish panama. And whilst I might be biaised (I feel lucky to count them as friends and fellow travellers in this West Coast adventure of ours), I also like to think I have good taste. And theMill Market is, indeed, in good taste.
With ‘Old World Heart, New World Art’ as the connective thread running through their portfolio of activities held at The Mill Art Initiative, The Merry Widow really knows how to celebrate life.
Walking into the market on Church Street feels like stepping through The Looking Glass; the colours are bold and the sky is expansive. A genteel atmosphere and truly authentic experience that’s only enhanced by the old-fashioned orange tree, so heavy with fruit at the moment.
Of course I was thrilled to be able to participate when they invited me to set up a wild roses grow stall:
Every first Saturday of the month, you’ll find arts and crafts, as well as antique and vintage items, books, homemade preserves, local produce, good food, music and all-round geselligheid (which I’d like to translate into English - exceptionally loosely - as Merriment).
Look out for The Kitchen Witch with her Amazing-Naise and In-a-Jar Brownies, as well as Amanda from Skoonsustersbos serving up homemade bread, sundried tomatoes, pâtés, olives and more.
Then there’s Pêrels en Pampoene, Whimsical Flair, Ani Fourie’s children’s clothing, as well as many other talented artists and local producers, all accompanied by Louis (affectionally known as ‘Babs’ around here) on the guitar…
At the previous market, Aldo Cannone and his accordion lent a certain nostaligia to the affair, and Longridge was the guest winery for the day. I look forward to seeing all the new developments as the market grows and thrives.
Unfortunately, my camera’s been a bit temperamental of late (and no, I wasn’t having a ‘me-me-me’ moment when I left my stall photo in colour. My pictures seem to be turning out quite grainy these days, but The Mill’s gorgeous red wall somehow provided a deliciously distracting backdrop). That said, all is not lost as you can also find photos at The Merry Widow’s Facebook group. Whilst you’re there, consider ’liking’ their page to keep up with news and events. I know they offer exclusive specials to their Facebook friends. You heard it here.
After all was said and done and the stallholders had packed up, I ran into one of The Mill’s co-creators who said, “Isn’t it amazing how The Mill just transforms itself?”
And I burst out laughing.
Because whilst The Mill is magic, this transformation is by no means spontaneous. It requires a special form of alchemy. A blend of love, passion and good humour that the creative minds behind the initiative pour so liberally into everything that they do.
The Mill will once again be transformed this weekend as it’s also the perfect venue for creative and cultural workshops. I start teaching an ‘Intensive French’ course (a natural and exciting extension to The Day Job) on Saturday and we’ll be adding new sessions throughout the year.
For more information on the activities and events at The Mill, take a look at their online calendar or get in touch with them via email or on +27 (0)22 – 723 1528.
Remember to bookmark the following market dates (no need to pencil them in – you’ll want these in ink). And, of course, I’d love for you to stop by and say “hello”:
* 4 June 2011 * 2 July 2011 * 6 August 2011 * 27 August 2011 * 3 September 2011 * 1 October 2011 * 5 November 2011 * 3 December 2011.
Posted in Handmade, West Coast Life
Tags: French Classes, hopefield, Longridge Winery, Market, South Africa, The Kitchen Witch, The Looking Glass, The Merry Widow, The Mill Art Initiative, theMill Country Fair, West Coast
Homemade basil pesto is a staple in this house. It’s incredibly versatile and not just a Pretty-Delicious face. I like to think of it as a culinary ‘app’. There’s pasta sauce, of course, but it can also be used as a fine add-on to open sandwiches topped with roasted veg, decadent inside Mediterranean phyllo parcels, a base for a white sauce (I’ll tell you about that soon), or even in the more pedestrian ‘snackwich’.
With the weather cooling down, the latter is a recent discovery: freshly sliced tomato, coarse salt, black pepper, a generous dollop of pesto and the ensemble supported by a cheeky layer of skordalia* for an extra flavour kick. The whole lot can then be butchered in a snackwich machine for a quick ‘n dirty comfort food. Consider it the gastronomic version of a romp in the hay.
With the warm weather saying its devastating goodbyes, our basil plants are slowly coming to an end. I’ll be making the most of summer’s abundance over the next few weeks by preparing pots of pesto to hopefully carry us through (some) of winter.
Living in a small town has meant foregoing certain conveniences. For example, readily available pine nuts, which can also be quite pricey, wherever you are.
Almonds are a great substitute when you don’t happen to have pine nuts. There’s really no change in consistency, and very little in taste. They’re the go-to ingredient of choice when it comes to pesto without pine nuts. Once I realised this, I tried using different replacements, such as raw peanuts.
The result is a very meaty consistency. Unlike almonds, however, longevity is a bit more limited. Raw peanuts tend to soak up moisture, so it’s best to have this pesto within three days or so – not because it perishes, but because of the texture.
I’ve also heard that you can use pumpkin seeds, and I’ll be trying that soon. Previously, I’ve used sunflower seeds, but they seem to be a harder nut (seed) to crack, so to speak, and it turned out a bit ‘bitty’, although not entirely disastrous, and can be used in a pinch.
Here’s the lowdown on making your own pesto. Please note that I’m not one for exact measurements, but this is something that can easily be figured out with feeling:
A healthy fistful of basil leaves (how many dollar notes can you hold? Really, I mean this.)
½ cup of pine nuts OR almonds OR raw peanuts OR seeds etc.
3 to 4 T olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 to 2 cloves of garlic (to taste)
Put it all in a blender and there we go. If it’s too pungent or oily, add more nuts and seeds. If it’s too dry, add more oil. It’s really to your own taste.
What’s that you say? You don’t have any basil leaves? Not to worry, fresh coriander will also do. It’s not quite basil, but not exactly coriander either. Try it, it’s the kind of recipe where you can’t really go wrong, it’s just that no-one likes to talk about it out loud.
* The Skordalia is a recent re-discovery sent over by mother. I’ll be looking up a recipe to share with you (or maybe I’ll just call her, because hers was divine).
Posted in In the Kitchen, West Coast Life
Tags: almonds, basil, homemade, Mediterranean, olive oil, pasta, pesto, phyllo parcels, pine nuts, pumpkin seeds, raw peanuts, sandwich, sauce, skordalia, snackwich, sunflower seeds
On Sunday I decided to experiment with a new printing technique. A friend of mine is back home from Mauritius on a short visit with her impossibly cute daughter. I’ve never met Stella, but judging from the photos, she’s absolutely gorgeous. And I think her name is just the best! I thought I’d make her a little wrap dress.
I designed a folk art pattern and hand-cut the the stencil, before printing it in slate blue. I love working with the colour, but thought it was perhaps a bit dark for a small child’s dress, so I added the red detail. I also remember that her mother happens to love turquoise, so I added that to the back:
I found the dress pattern online, so I can’t take credit for the cut of the dress. Melissa from Tiny Happy put together a great tutorial and I can’t say thank you enough - it’s the first dress I’ve ever (succesfully) made! Here’s the full version from behind:
I didn’t happen to have a handy toddler around, so I’m not sure if it’ll fit, but the ties can be taken in quite a bit and get nipped in the waist – I’m hoping that with a nappy underneath it’ll give it some volume. I think it could be worn ‘as is’ in summer, and maybe with some leggings and a long-sleeved white t-shirt for winter. It’s printed on my linen base cloth, which I love because it’s beautifully textured. I just hope she won’t find it scratchy.
Here’s a close-up of the broderie anglaise detail:
This is actually the second item I’ve made for Stella, although she never received the first: a baby sleeping bag for when she was little, with a built-in bodice. It was when I was teaching myself how to sew, and her mom was down for a visit. Unfortunately I over-estimated my skills at the time. It was only the second item I’d ever made, and I couldn’t finish it in time and couldn’t make it into town, either. This time around, I can’t make it into town, but I’ll be posting it over-night, so Stella can get her groove on with her new folksy dress.
I need to find a toddler somewhere. Seriously. I’d like to take some proper measurements and experiment with new patterns and designs. I also need to come up with a few things to make for boys. I have two little nephews and one sadly neglected friend that could do with some handmade goodness. Any ideas?
Posted in Handmade, Printing
Tags: broderie anglaise, dress, folk art, folksy, hand-printed, Handmade, linen, Stella, toddler, wrap dress
It’s Saturday* and I’ve been furiously waving my magic wand about the house, preparing for some special friends to join us at River Cottage. These past few months have been an unsteady time; sailing through choppy seas. But tonight there’ll be many hours of breaking bread, sharing friendship and laughter.
I normally find it hard to unwind, but today, I do. I sit down and write, just for me. I’ll tell you the story.
A few weeks ago, John was given a meditation CD to listen to. Now I’m a full-blown, certified hippie. Not so much into the tie-dye, but I wear the patterned dresses over pants; Indian-style. Maybe some ethnic jewellery when I feel like splashing out.
And we’ve done some organic farming, and I don’t eat animal products (you didn’t know that, did you?) and only switch on the geyser when we need to. And yes, maybe I should stop smoking (you didn’t know that either, did you?), but all in all, I try to tread lightly and do things in a way that makes sense to me. So yes, I am what you might consider to be one of those flower people.
But I just don’t get meditation. Or yoga. Or pilates.
In fact, anything that involves having to switch off Monkey Mind has me wanting to scratch my eyes out. I remember once attending a yoga class. The year is 2003 and I’m in France. At the end of the session, we got to the warming-down part. From what exactly, I don’t know, because I never even got the engine started. Except in my head, that is.
So we’re all lying flat on our backs, eyes closed with arms at our sides, being told we’re getting very, very sleepy.
In a meadow.
With a river running through it.
And I’m thinking, “Where is this meadow? Is it like the London Heath? Or more tropical? Can a meadow be tropical? How long is the grass? And the river… is it like a real river, or more like a stream? No, wait! It’s a babbling brook. That’s it, it’s a babbling brook!”
And just as I’m feeling like I should win some kind of prize for guessing, I get jolted out of this highly stimulating mental activity by my friend snoring beside me like a diesel tractor. On speed.
Which means she’s actually sleeping. How this is possible, whilst we don’t even know what kind of grass we’re lying on, is beyond me.
So let’s cut back to the CD. For the first time in many months I’m lying down, trying to relax and being told by the strange voice coming out of the player that, once again, I’m in a meadow. Then, I’m flying down a tunnel, but it’s ok, because the angels are looking after me.
And I’m trying. Man, am I trying. I’m trying for-the-love-of-all-I-hold-dear to just Stop Thinking.
But it’s not working. And, of course, there’s nothing. No message. No harps. No divine choir.
So I get up and stretch and think, “Well that was nice. I feel kind of relaxed.”
And then I hear myself saying, “You know, you really should look after yourself.”
So I thought about this for a while, horrified that it might mean that I should get some proper exercise. Or maybe it just means that I should shave more often, which I’m okay with.
But I could also just be a little kinder to myself. That sometimes good enough is, in fact, Good Enough. And that I don’t need to think so hard and so much and get it right every damn time. Because there is no prize for guessing right.
And for someone that is naturally pre-disposed to noticing the beauty around me, it really shouldn’t be that much of an effort. So I can sit outside on some idle afternoon, scribbling away, maybe with a glass of wine just for me, and just because I can. Smelling the rosé, so to speak.
And as I’m writing this, there’s a woman across the river and I’m listening to Kings of Leon in the background. Over the music, I can hear her. She’s calling her dog. Whooping and calling and running. She twirls around, throwing a stick. He’s some kind of collie – Border, I think. And he jumps. High. Turns mid-air and falls back onto his feet, softly, like a dancer. She laughs and her voice trails off as they continue down the river.
And all is well with the world.
So look after yourself, whatever that may mean to you.
And, also, there are no prizes.
* Of course, today is not Saturday, it’s Wednesday. But I write my blog posts by hand, old-school-style. The postman’s just been a bit tardy.
** Note to Self: So this is what I get for being unsupportive about Eat,Pray,Love. I get Elizabeth Gilbert’s muse whispering tales of over-share and existential angst in my ear. Sorry, Liz. Here we go. You can have your daemon back now.
(Those of you that didn’t watch the TED talk probably won’t know what a daemon is. But it’s not what you think; I’m not going all voodoo on you).
Posted in Miscellaneous, River Cottage, Simplicity
Tags: Elizabeth Gilbert, Good Enough, hippie, Kings of Leon, look after yourself, meditation, Monkey Mind, pilates, River Cottage, TED, Writing, yoga
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