Ouma’s Cookbooks: A Legacy in Recipes
It’s funny how memories sneak up on you.
Sometimes, it’s completely out of the blue, and other times, it’s a place, a smell, a taste. It’s no coincidence that people say, “It smells like my childhood.” It might be the millennial in me (we’re infamously nostalgic), but indulge me.
When I think of my childhood smells and tastes, I think of pannekoek, vetkoek, and Sunday lunch.
Pannekoek (pancakes or crepes) with cinnamon and sugar. Not savoury ones with mince and veg. As a kid, what could be worse? I’m thinking specifically of the very last pannekoek on the plate, at the bottom of the stack. The one that’s absorbed all the heat from the other pannekoeke and has become this sticky, syrupy roll of deliciousness.
Warm vetkoek right out of the oil, stuffed to the brim with mince, veg, and cheese (here, the savouriness is acceptable). Also, am I the only one who pinched off a bit of raw dough to eat after it’s risen?
Finally, Sunday lunch. But get the image of roast chicken and veg out of your head right now. I’m talking about vleis, rys en aartappels here. Meat, rice, and potatoes. And like I said: not roasted. Braised. Every Sunday, lunch was ready at 13h00, no matter how impatient I got, no matter how many times I moaned, “Is it ready yet?”. And when my ouma finally plated up, I was right there, earnestly making sure I wasn’t short-changed on my portion.
And that’s what all of these childhood food memories have in common: my ouma.
Ouma Said So
Ouma Said So
Every kid thinks their ouma is the best. While that’s a dangerous debate to be had, I do know one thing for certain: my ouma thought I was the best.
Without fail, in every birthday and Christmas card, and every time she and my oupa came to a school event, she said: “Jy is ons mooiste, pragtigste, slimste, en oulikste kleinkind.” [You’re our most beautiful, clever, and best grandchild.] My standard reply was, “Maar ek is Oupa en Ouma se enigste kleinkind.” [But I’m your only grandchild.]
As a kid, you kind of get exasperated at this kind of praise, especially when you feel it’s undeserved as you’re the only contender.
Now, I remember it fondly and, of course, would give anything to hear her say it again. She passed away a little over a year ago, and this is where we finally get to the purpose of this blog. By cleaning out her belongings, we came across her cookbooks. And as the amateur food enthusiast of the immediate family, they became mine.
Ouma’s Cookbooks
Ouma’s Cookbooks
Kook en Geniet
Kook en Geniet
Let’s start with the heavyweight: Kook en Geniet (Cook and Enjoy in English). This is South Africa’s answer to home-cooking staples like Mastering the Art of French Cooking and The Joy of Cooking. Originally self-published in 1951, the book is now in its 16th edition and 9th printing of the edition. It’s sold over 1 million copies and has never been out of print.
My ouma’s (now my) copy is the 20th printing. The book’s content naturally holds a lot of appeal because it’s meant to be beginner-friendly, with information and instructions that are easy to grasp. The idea is to master basic recipes and gain the confidence to adapt them according to season and occasion without fuss or stress.
Music to my amateur foodie ears.
However, what makes this edition extra special is all my ouma’s notes. How she figured things out (especially conversions), tips and recipes from others. Even the odd Lotto number sequence.
Kos en Kookkuns: Hersiende Gemetriseerde Uitgawe
Kos en Kookkuns: Hersiende Gemetriseerde Uitgawe
If I’m honest, I mostly remember my mom using this cookbook. Chocolate cakes and mieliekoekies (corn fritters) in particular come to mind. However, originally, this belonged to my ouma.
Unassuming and unpretentious, this book contains reliable, classic Afrikaans dishes that most of us would’ve grown up eating. Although my ouma seems not to have always agreed with the recipes.
Handwritten Cookbook
Handwritten Cookbook
The most treasured of all is my ouma’s handwritten book. It’s not fancy – it’s a basic notebook, warped with age and use. It still has its price sticker on (R1.34 from the OK). Inside, it simply starts with “Bettie Jansen van Vuuren. 13 September 1979”. The content is a compilation of recipes copied from magazines, traded among her sisters, or learnt from her mother.
But that’s what makes it so special. To my ouma, it might just have been a useful way to keep recipes together, but now, especially since she’s gone, it’s a piece of her I get to keep. By trying these recipes, I can almost interact with her again.
Although I don’t think I can ever replicate her pannekoek, because let’s face it, experience often still outlasts knowledge, it brings me immense comfort to see that page with the pannekoek recipe is the most stained and splattered of them all.
Keeping Ouma’s Legacy Going
Keeping Ouma’s Legacy Going
Cooking from my ouma’s books, remembering her in the kitchen, is bittersweet. It would’ve been such a joy to cook with her now, turn back into the moaning kid asking when the food will be ready. Or even better, “Ouma, hoekom werk dit nie as ek dit doen nie?” [“Gran, why doesn’t it work when I do it?”], and have her teach me all the tricks that only an ouma would know.
I’m trying to keep the practice going by documenting recipes and experiments in my own notebook. While not ready to share with the world, I hope it might impart some memories and knowledge to someone one day.
Because it’s funny how memories sneak up on you.
Sometimes, it’s completely out of the blue, and other times, it’s a place, a smell, a taste.
