Caro Alberts will manage the kitchen for Tafelpraatjies, giving her the opportunity to showcase her flair by taking traditional Afrikaans cuisine and re-inventing it with ‘nuwe maniere en idees’. From humble pumpkin fritters with salted caramel sauce to delicacies such as koeksisters with lemongrass and ginger syrup, Soutribbetjie, Waterblommetjiebredie and biltong – it’s all about ‘wat ís nuut op die rak’. (What’s new on the shelf)

The presenters will be personalities from the recently established Smile90.4FM radio station.

Tickets to the Show cost R110 for adults for R55 for children. This includes entrance to many free theatre events and visitors will also receive a coupon book that will allow for substantial savings and special offers.

26/04/2013: Modern packaging plays an enormously important role in the marketing of our products. It’s the silent salesman that beckons to the customer from the shelf of the store. This is why the labels of wines are so vitally important. They have to convey so many messages in such a short time. As the prospective customer walks past, the label must tell whether the wine is a serious one or a frivolous “braai”  or “poolside” wine. It must indicate whether the wine is sweet or dry, expensive or cheap.
No wonder wine producers spend thousand of rands hiring professional label designers.
The same goers for everything from potato crisps to cameras and cellphones. They’re swathed in packets, foam padding, cardboard fillers, promotion leaflets, written guarantees and plastic seals.
Are we drowning the world in packaging material? Is it really a blessing or a curse?
Every day thousands of tons of packaging material are added to every city’s garbage mountain. Aluminium foil, styrofoam, glass, many kinds of plastic, cardboard and metal finds its way on to the dump.
Much of it could be recycled, but people are lazy. When provision is made for the collection of recyclable material people go for it in a big way. In Fish Hoek, where I live, the recycling bags are collected every week and are usually packed to the brim. Our wheelie bins are relatively empty.
But ask us to take our recycling to a collection point on the other side of town and it’s just too much effort. Into the garbage bin it goes.
While we’re drowning our planet in packaging, we have to admit that modern packaging has contributed a great deal to the general standard of health. In the old days when groceries came in bulk bags and barrels and were weighed out for customers there were always flies buzzing round the sugar bags and nothing to stop a passing dog peeing on the sacks of flour stacked on the floor. You never knew who had fingered the food you selected.
Today the food is not only hygienically sealed, but every package is printed with details of the contents.
We know what we’re buying (or we should) and how long it will remain fresh. The packaging is part of the deal.
Somewhere in this mad commercial world there has to be a compromise. We all need to spend time deciding how to reduce the amount of garbage we add to the city’s trash mountain.
Modern packaging has saved lives. It could also destroy our environment unless we use it responsibly.

Waiting on tables is a real job

One of the things that impressed me during my recent brief visit to Italy was the professionalism of waiters and sommeliers.

Here in South Africa waiting at tables if often regarded as a ” stop-gap” occupation while the waiter looks for a ” real ” job. As for sommeliers, there are not many around. Most restaurant just leave it to the waiter to serve the wine. Sometimes their wine knowledge consists of “red or white?”

At local wine events they often employ students to pour the wine. It’s obviously a way for them to earn a few rands of pocket money, and I guess that’s a good thing.

At the judging of the Vinitaly competition all the wines were poured by professional and highly trained sommeliers. They’re wore the uniform of professionals – black jackets and aprons, white shirts and black bow-ties. They all wore the silver tastevin on a chain around their necks with pride.

The sommelier who poured wines for our panel was an elegant woman called Dorina, owner if the Gucci Cafe in Florence. She probably knew as much about wine as many of the judges. She was proud to be a member of the Vinitaly pouring team. There was certainly nothing part-time about it.

In the restaurants I visited I was served by obviously professional waiters who could discuss each dish and make well considered recommendations. Sommeliers asked what dishes you had ordered and made wine suggestions to match them.

I’m not suggesting our waiters and sommeliers should be quite as formal as those in European countries, but maybe a little more formality would not be amiss.

When your waiter and sommelier obviously regard the food and wine as important, you tend to value it a little more too.

And maybe you feel less resentful about paying the bill if you know everything on it has been prepared and presented by a professional who obviously cares about your dining experience.

Dine on the healthy weed

You may think Babotie or biltong is the Cape’s favourite food, but waterblommetjie bredie was around way before that.

Waterblommetjies, or Cape Pondweed, was one of the favourite items in the diet of the old Khoi people who were here long before any of the present settlers arrived. I am told it is very healthy and full of essential nutrients, although it does need a good helping of mutton to bring out the full flavour.

They’re holding a Waterblommetjie Festival in Agter Paarl on October 6 and it might be great fun to attend.

The local chefs at Rhebokskloof Estate and Windmeul Winery will cooking up a waterblommetjie-based storm, DIY chefs are invited to submit their favourite pondweed recipes and there will, of course, be a potjie competition among the devotees of this form of culinary art.

For city folk these country events are an ideal way to get a feel for the simple cameraderie of rural communities. There’s always music and fragrant smoke and chatter and the smell of good, diet-free food.

And of course as the event takes place at two wineries, there will be plenty of the product of the grape to enjoy.

For more details and information you can contact windmeul@iafrica.com or call 021 869 8100, or alternatively info@rhebokskloof.co.za, or call 021 869 8386.

I often wonder whether there’s really much value in blind tastings, even though I participate in them regularly.
It’s a completely unnatural way to taste wine. You’re simply confronted with a glass of something red, or something white, and asked to evaluate it.
Life’s not like that.
Wine’s not like that.
Wine is supposed to part of a whole experience. We share it with friends, we drink it to celebrate or to mourn or to mark a special occasion. We even drink it as a religious symbol.
Take away the company and the setting and the occasion and we might as well drink Coke.
Or water.
So when a wine judge allocates an 18 out of 20 score, or declares a wine to be a gold medal or five-star winner, what does it mean?
Is this a wine to be enjoyed while wearing a white coat and sitting alone in a tiled tasting booth? If so, it’s of no interest to 99% of wine drinkers. We don’t live like that.
If your host at a dinner party produces a special bottle of 1979 Pinotage to drink with his wife’s perfectly prepared leg of Karoo lamb, you know you’re in for a treat. The whole event becomes special. You take time to sniff the wine appreciatively, look at its deep garnet colour and sip its matured elegance. You expect it to be fine, so it is.
You’ll remember that wine forever. He wouldn’t dream of making you drink the wine without giving you a clue what it is. Expectation is part of the magic.
But line it up with 30 other Pinotages and spend two minutes with it and it’s just another wine.
Tastings and ratings are all very well for those who make wine, but maybe they’re irrelevant for those who just love drinking the stuff.
In real life a bottle of Chateau Libertas shared with friends around the braai on a warm summer evening is more memorable – and probably more enjoyable – than a bottle of Chateau Petrus sipped in a laboratory booth.
We seem to be bombarded with wine competitions, shows and challenges. Every day brings another batch of medal winners and class champions.
I suspect these may be of interest only because so many wine drinkers are afraid to be seen drinking something unfashionable.
“I’ll buy this one because it won a gold medal so it must be good.”
I know several people who keep a box of cheap wine on the kitchen counter for everyday drinking. They all apologise if you notice it. Why?
Because somebody else thinks it’s not good?
Many people actually enjoy eating rocket, or coriander. I think they’re horrible foods.
But I don’t force myself to eat them because they’re “fashionable” or because the sainted Jamie Oliver thinks they’re good.
So why should I care a jot what the great Robert Parker thinks of the wine I enjoy?

Photograph: seattleuncorked.com

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Generally believed to be the oldest surviving wine brand in South Africa, the iconic Chateau Libertas celebrated it’s 80^th anniversary this month.
It’s a wine surrounded by history and wonderful stories – some of them true.
Back in the early 1900s there were no big commercial wineries in South Africa. The strange thing is that Johannesburg was one of the world’s biggest consumers of French wine, and Champagne in particular. Wealthy mining magnates sopped the stuff up by the mega-gallon.
Enter a very flamboyant character by the name of Dr William Charles Winshaw.
Born in Kentucky, USA, he was a medical doctor, also a Texas ranger at one stage and an explorer who paddled down the Tennessee River in a canoe, accompanied by a hobo.
In 1900 he met a man who was supplying horses and mules to the British Army in South Africa and took on the job of accompanying a consignment of 4000 mules to the Cape.
Once here, Winshaw fell in love with the Cape and decided to settle here.
After a failed attempt at launching a grape-juice company, he decided there was a desperate need for an easy-drinking red wine to accompany good food. His first attempts were made in his kitchen, then he bought the Stellenbosch farm Oude Libertas, and established the Stellenbosch Farmers’ Winery, which was to produce many of the wine brands that are household names today.
His home, La Gratitude, in Stellenbosch’s Dorp Street, is now  the site of the Big Easy restaurant and was the settling forbthe wine’s 80^th anniversary celebration. Winshaw’s grandson, John, and great grandson, JP, were present at the event.
The first Chateau Libertas was marketed in 1932 and the brand has been produced every year since then.
A very privileged group of tasters was treated to a selection of old Chateau Lib from across the years. Undoubted star of the day was the 1940 vintage, still full of flavour and freshness after all that time.
Tradition has it that wine lovers should stand up, out of respect, when they drink a wine older than themselves.
Only a small handful of tasters (myself included) remained seated for this historic gem.
The rest of the tasting consisted of one wine from each subsequent decade – 1857 (not as good as the ’40), 1962 –still alive and pleasing, 1978 (fresh and light and easy-drinking still), 1982 (a good year that garnered many gold medals for Chateau Lib) and finally 1994 (packed with vibrant red berry flavours and still young.).
It was interesting to hear those early vintage that had kept so well contained a good proportion of Cinsaut, a grape that has largely fallen into disuse. Former winemakers explained that the Cinsaut, which is rather light in body and colour, was usually crushed and some of the free-run juice tapped off, leaving a more concentrated must for use in the Chateau blend.
Today’s Chateau Lib is still Cabernet Sauvignon based, but with the addition of Merlot and other varieties, as the blenders see fit. Cinsaut is no longer part of it, alas.
It’s still one of the most underrated and under-priced red wines on the South African market.

Photograph: Chateau Libertas

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At the risk of repeating myself, I am constantly amazed at the apparent lack of enthusiasm for our wonderful South African fortified sweet wines.
Somehow wine “connoisseurs” seem to think anything sweet isn’t serious. It must be a “dray whaite” or a noble red. The snobs claim to prefer a good wooded Chardonnay or a well-aged Cabernet Sauvignon.
These are all very well, of course, and have an important place in our wine enjoyment.
But so do our muscadels and jerepigos.
Whenever I have introduced overseas wine lovers to our sweet wines they’ve been totally blown away by them
“Why don’t we get these great wines in England?” is a standard reaction.
The truth is that the EU has loaded the dice so heavily against us that they are simply too costly for most British wine buyers. EU customs rules make us pay a heavy import premium on wines with a high alcohol content, while the Europeans can sell high alcohol wines without penalty.
With winter now upon us it’s time to take a look at some of the sweet gems on offer and stock up on some winter warmers. The good news is there are many of them at real budget prices.
Watch out for the De Wet Cellar red Muscadel from the Worcester region. It’s been named the Best Value Muscadel for 2012.
Muscadels from Nuy, near Robertson have a long history of superb quality. The wonderful thing about these sweet delights is that they last for decades, growing more and more elegant with each passing year. I recently tasted an 80-year-old muscadel that was warm and rich and wonderful. Of course, I had to stand to drink it. Wine tradition holds that a drinker should always stand respectfully whenever you drink a wine older than yourself.
I recently enjoyed an excellent White Muscadel 2010 from Namaqua Wines on the West Coast. There’s far more to a wine like this than simple sweetness. You’ll find nuances of fresh citrus, chocolate and sun-warmed honey in it.
They’re versatile, too. Try a “muscatini” as a cocktail  — white muscadel with a splash of vodka and a twist of lemon zest, the invention of that great champion of sweet wines, Swepie le Roux.
Or serve muscadel in a tall glass, filled with crushed ice as a delicious summer cooler.
Some friends have asked me: “But when do you actually drink muscadel? As an aperitif, as a digestif with the pudding?”
My answer is that I enjoy it anytime, sometimes just on its own as a warming sipper while watching TV.
It also goes well with spicy Indian curries. Try it next time, with a couple of cubes of ice in the glass.
Like Winnie-the-Pooh with his jars of honey, I count my bottles of muscadel lovingly at the beginning of winter and get that smug feeling.
I’m ready for anything the weather throws at me.

Photograph:thelowdownskinny.com

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