Vreet of vrek
Baie in my skik met myself het ek ‘n tyd gelede ‘n baie gesonde sop gekook met hoender, seldery, wortels, en sulke dinge. My tienerseun vra toe aan tafel: “Gaan ons regtig vanaand hierdie dinosourusopgooi eet?”
“Ja-a-a-a,” beaam kleinboet. “Dit lyk gross.”
My reaksie? Dieselfde as wat my ma vir ons gesê het. “Vreet of vrek.” 😊
Nou weet julle hoe dit eintlik in die Barnards se huis gaan. (Die kinders het al selfs uit die huis uit gepraat oor die ‘vreet of vrek’ dus kan ek dit nou maar netsowel deel.)
Die verskil tussen kremetart en wynsteensuur
Ek moet bieg dat ek nie graag (of dikwels) bak nie. So vergeet ek dat daar twee tipes kremetart is: cream of tartar en tartaric acid. Glo my, dit maak nogal ‘n verskil!
Oudste (ons tienerseun) besluit tydens fase 5 van grendeltyd/inperking om koekies te bak. Een van die bestanddele is kremetart. Ek krap in die koskas en kom op ‘n pakkie ‘tartaric acid’ af (die Afrikaans is mos wynsteensuur, maar dit het ek later eers onthou). Ewe in my noppies gee ek hom die pakkie.
“Is jy seker dis die regte goed?” Hy frons.
“Vir wat sal ek nou vir jou verkeerde bestanddele gee?” My ego voel effe broos omdat my eie kind my so vlak kyk.
Hy bak toe die koekies. Pragtig. Dit bly sag. Ons bak dit in totaal amper 2 ure lank. Ek proe een en besluit net daar dat ons bietjie versiersuiker oor die warm koekies moet strooi, want dan lyk dit mooi. Toe verander die smaak van ‘gross’ na ‘totally disgusting’, reken die seuns.
“Puke-alicious”, reken die een.
Ek kon nie eintlik stry nie.
Nee, hierdie keer was my antwoord nie ‘vreet of vrek’ nie. Die koekies was oneetbaar. Suur.
Ek bel ‘n verlangse familielid (‘n uitstekende kok, terloops) en vra of ek die koekies op ‘n manier kan red. Hy giggel hoflik. Aanvanklik. “Ek is jammer,” kom dit later proesend en toe verloor hy alle hoflikheid. “Ek wou nie vir jou lag nie, maar ek het nog nooit gehoor dat iemand die twee verwar nie.”
Grendelkoek
Ek en Gade besluit om ‘n fase 5-grendelkoek te bak. Gade maak ewe fluks die versiersuiker aan. Wit versiersuiker.
Probleem: die versiersuiker pryk goudgeel op ‘n vanillakoek.
Ek is nie eintlik gepla nie, maar Gade wil wit versiersuiker hê en nie ‘n gifappeltjie-konkoksie nie.
Ek bel bogenoemde familielid en verduidelik my probleem met die versiersuiker. En toe hoor ek vir die eerste keer in my lewe dat Wooden Spoon ‘n wit margarien maak. Bietjie laat vir die koek, maar soos my pa sou sê: “Algaande leer mens.”
Haas of duif?
My tieners en hulle maats kook graag en dan dring hulle daarop aan dat ek moet proe.
‘n Wyle gelede koop Oudste en sy maat deeg — vir duifpastei, sê hulle. (Maar hy noem mý sop dinosourusopgooi?) Nee, daar is geen manier dat ek aan duifpastei sal proe nie. Ek het wel al by ‘n braai ‘n stukkie haas (vleishaas) geproe. Dit was eintlik heel lekker, maar ek dink een keer was voldoende, dankie. My verbeelding is baie aktief en ek dink in prentjies. Hierdie prentjie is iets wat ek sukkel om te sluk.
Ek het oor my ma se kos gekla, nou kla my kinders so wrintie oor myne. Die verskil is, my ma het alles in soutwater gekook: hoender, maalvleis, skaaptjops, die werke. (Sy eet nie vleis nie en het dus geen idee gehad hoe drillerige, opgekookte hoender proe nie. En die skaaptjops? My pa het amper ‘n toeval gehad.)
Kla julle kinders ook oor julle kos?
Moms, do you also dish up dinosaur puke to your kids?
I cooked a healthy soup: chicken, celery, carrots. Everything wholesome. Very impressed with myself I dished up supper. “What are we having for supper? Really? Dinosaur puke?” our teen asked.
Whatever!
During phase 5 of lockdown, Teen decided that he wanted to bake biscuits. However, I got my ingredients mixed up and gave him tartaric acid instead of cream of tartar. How that is possible? Don’t ask! (In my defence, I hardly ever bake.)
The biscuits looked divine. And that’s it. They remained soft – even after two hours in the oven. When I took the first bite, I suggested that we sprinkle a bit of icing sugar over to make it look pretty and professional (read: to camouflage the taste). My ‘oh so subtle’ children reckoned it went from ‘gross to totally disgusting’. My feelings? Of course they were concerned about my feelings. The youngest reckoned the biscuits were absolutely puke-alicious.
I called a relative who is really good at baking. He did his best at being tactful and then started coughing — and then was in stitches. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to laugh at you but this is the first time ever.” Yeah, well, I couldn’t really blame him. I was in stitches myself. You should have seen the boys’ faces. They were so looking forward to these biscuits.
During phase 5 of lockdown, my hubby decided that he was going to bake a cake. The caked looked great. He mixed the icing according to my instructions (which I got from a cook book). White icing on a vanilla cake. The only problem was that the icing was sunflower yellow. It really didn’t bother me much but hubby wanted white icing. So I called my kind relative again. And he then revealed Wooden Spoon white margarine to me. One definitely can teach an old dog new tricks!
My sons and their friends are trigger happy outdoors kids. However, they need to eat whatever they shoot. So they bought dough for pigeon pie/dove pie/whatever pie. (It flew and had wings. Feathers too.) Nope, the dough is still in the freezer. I think chicken pie definitely is preferable.
Once, at a braai, I tasted a small portion of rabbit. My sons really took a liking in rabbit and would eat it frequently if they could but I am a picture person and this picture doesn’t do it for me, I must admit. It really doesn’t go down all that well.
The irony is: I complained about my mom’s cooking and now my kids complain about mine. The difference is, my mom really wasn’t a good cook. Can’t be that bad, you reckon? So how does cooked chicken sound to you? And by cooked, I mean in salt water only. Yep, I thought that would get you thinking. Wait, wait! Did I mention the time when she cooked lamb chops? Also in salt water. My dad almost got a heart attack. (In her defence, she doesn’t eat meat and has no idea what it tastes like.)
Do your kids also complain about your cooking?