Kitchen Vixen

My mom’s side of the family are all mohair farmers in the big old Karoo. In the early fifties my grandfather bought a stretch of land a couple of kilometers outside of Oyster Bay. In those days they used to cart the women, children, Christmas tree, food, generator, the works along the beach in an old land cruiser and an ox wagon. Of course. How else? My grandfather built a very simple structure with portholes for windows and a donkey to heat shower water. And a big fireplace on the stoep. In the sixty years since it was built precious little has changed at Oyster Bay. A couple of years ago a brave family friend dared suggest that the place was falling apart, and it was renovated…. to look almost exactly the same! Dodgy pipes and wiring were fixed, a few strategic tiles here and there, but in essence Oyster Bay is still the same. Much to the delight of anyone lucky enough to make it across the sand at low tide and visit the clan. The most down to earth place I know….

With 4×4’s abounding, a trip to the kafee in Oyster Bay is no longer a half day excursion. Yet, why interrupt a good card game to sweat in the kitchen when there’s a fireplace next to the table… set mealtimes made way for a constant flow of goodies, like Phil’s seared beef carpaccio, Juliana’s roosterkoek and good old grated cheddar. Golden syrup and apricot jam if you please.

My decision to go on a road trip was super last minute. In each town I’d call ahead to friends and family to see where Milly and I could squeeze in. Time at Oyster Bay is always dependent on whether someone’s there and how full the house is, so a weekend with some of my absolute favourite people at probably my favourite place in the world… well… how lucky can a girl get. 2011 was off to a great start.

Hasta la vista, Oyster Bay.