WATERBLOMMETJIES (APONOGETON DISTACHYOS)

Photographer Zam finds his inner Monnet (I love the pic)                                                                                                    Zam

If you are chomping waterblommetjiebredie, it’s likely that you’re in the Boland (south western Cape) and the optimism of spring is all around. Cape pond weed, the English name for these flowers, just doesn’t do them any good at all. I think the direct translation from the Afrikaans word ‘water flowers’ suits their romance better, but nothing beats ‘waterblommtjies’, which everybody calls them anyway, even English speakers.  These fantastic plants make their cheerful appearance in early spring and float about for a couple of months before they disappear with the diminishing water levels during early summer, so you had better make use of the brief window of opportunity and get your hands on a few these delicious blooms.

Commercial pickers oblige with delightful poses                                                                                                     UHG

How very Japanese, I feel                                                                                                 UHG

In Cape Town, most of the supermarket chain stores will have them on their shelves during spring, or you might be fortunate to come across some lads selling them on the side of Boland roads. Best of all is to luck upon a floral pond, strip down to your underpants and start picking; to avoid wet seats and undie-chafe on the drive home, it’s best to get naked…

Waterblommetjies pronouncing spring time in the Boland                                                                                      UHG

Now for a jolly good rinse...                                                                                                                                              UHG
                                                                                                           

Chef Stef conjuring up a little waterblommetjiebedie                                                                                                UHG

Stef's finished product, YUM                                                                                                                                                  UHG

When you think of waterblommetjies, the classic Cape dish, waterblommetjiebredie (stew), is what usually springs to mind. Being a ‘classic’ suggests that this traditional recipe has been around for eons and has thus stood the test of time. The dish is also classic in its simplicity: only four ingredients (lamb, waterblommetjies, Cape sorrel/lemon, onions, potatoes – salt & pepper) are traditionally used. But, as is the case with many traditional recipes, there are many yummy variations. If you want to bring out the traditionalist and forager in you, then substitute the lemon juice with the abundant springtime weed Cape Sorrel (oxalis/suurings/sour sucks).

Simply steamed, they are delicious                                                                                                                                  UHG

Steamed, seasoned and tossed in lemon juice and olive oil; complete with the obligatory Cape sorrel        UHG

Preserved they are similar to artichokes                                                                                                                        UHG

Leek, potato, waterblommetjie curry, Cape Malay style                                                                                                  UHG

Now that you have satisfied your inner traditionalist, you might consider a few alternatives such as a simple side dish of steamed or boiled waterblommetjies seasoned and tossed in olive oil, lemon juice and scattered with the obligatory sour sucks. Waterblommetjies are so similar in texture to artichokes that it would almost be rude not pickle and preserve them in the same way… perfect as an antipasti. If you want to bridge the gap between tradition and the eclectic then try a curried potato, leek and waterblommetjie soup done Cape Malay style. I dare you to be fabulous and come up with your own waterblommetjie amazingness…

A final note – before you cook your waterblommetjies, take time to give them a jolly good wash… lest you want them to taste like the chilly Boland pond from whence they came.

Making the most of a lucky find                                                                                                                                            UHG

PIZZA

Isn't that a happy and comforting sight?                                                                                                                       Mans

For me, pizza should be a simple no-nonsense affair; as soon as it gets complicated you have lost the plot.  It’s a true case of, ‘less is more’. Too many goodies will make the base floppy and it’s all about the base… isn’t it?

A quick scrounge around for some toppings                                      Mans

A few unexpected field mushrooms                                                  Mans

I haven’t always felt this way though. When I was a student my friend Robin and I worked as waiters at a pizza restaurant, at the end of a shift we were allowed to take a pizza home with us. We would pile loads of everything on and then smother it with a mountain of cheese. Back then it was all about quantity and making the most of a free meal to fuel our naughty and uncontainable energy. A big soggy mess was preferred over a minimalist crispy delight.

With age has come some refinement, even if only in the pizza department.

'Bokoms' (salted and dried fish) marinaded in lemon and olive oil in place of anchovies     Mans

A perfect pizza according to The Urban Hunter Gatherer must have…

a blistered and crispy base.

only a few added ingredients.

a restrained amount of cheese and tomato sauce.

a spot or two that has been burnt black.

certain goodies only added after it has come out of the oven; e.g. avo, rocket.

Added note – It should be compulsory to eat it with your hands, unless you are young and uncouth and prefer that soggy-cheesy mess, only then is a knife and fork is acceptable. Chopped garlic and chilly on the side is a happy thing.

I love kneading dough                                                                                                                                                         Mans

This exhibitionist manoeuvre achieved nothing other than creating a hole or two in the base; it was worth it     Mans

Feta and foraged spinach                                                                                                                                                      Mans

Foraged olives, nasturtium 'capers' and bokoms. A Cape rendition of a 'Napoletana'                                               Mans

Blistered and buckled, just the way I like it                                                                                                                      Mans      

Simple and rustic. What more do you want in a pizza?                                                                                                        Mans

Leftover pizza

Any leftover pizza slices residing in the fridge are never mine, coz I would have certainly devoured the whole thing at the first sitting. Should I however steal/luck upon any, they will not end up in the microwave, as most do. I prefer mine cold straight from the box in the fridge, not a limp microwaved wedge. Best of all though, is to turn your toaster on its side and heat it up that way. It’ll give you that appropriate breakfast feeling too.

For me, next day pizza is best out the box or heated in the toaster, NOT microwaved      UHG

I've been thinking it would be rather fun to have a once-a-week, pizza take out night right here in our neighbourhood… foraged toppings of course.
What do you think????

SMOKED MUSSELS (DEEP MAGIC STYLE)

A little bowl of happiness after an ocean of work                                                                                                               Mans

It is remarkable what lengths some people will go to, just so they can tell a good story. I hope this smoked mussel blog is no exception.

Sometime ago I wrote a blog on ‘Snoek’ (http://theurbanhuntergatherer.blogspot.com/search/label/SNOEK), which all took place aboard my friend Mark Mark’s yacht, Deep Magic. After many moons of good service (mostly irresponsible adventures and parties aboard) she was laid to rest in Hout Bay yacht basin. For years she remained untouched and decaying, until Mans and I struck up a rather informal deal with Mark Mark. Our part is to fix her up so we can continue having the adventures aboard that we love so dearly.

Under all that marine life is a boat                                                                                                                                         UHG

Cold and hungry making work                                                                                                                                              Mans

Apart from having to haul out a very corroded motor (which has now been left in the capable hands of Zaan, our resourceful roadside mechanic), we had to scrape the hull, which had developed its own marine ecosystem. It was a shame to watch the clumps of dislodged mussels slowly disappear into the murky depths of the harbour. It seemed obvious that a ‘little something’ should be prepared from all the delicious protein that was otherwise going to waste.

If it's mussels or mushrooms, I like to clean them out in nature rather than in the kitchen                                           Mans

  These mussels needed a really good purge                                                                                                                          UHG

Cleaned, purged and ready for the pot                                                                                                                                    UHG

A while back a happy little crew created our first video blog using mussels as the key foraged ingredient (http://theurbanhuntergatherer.blogspot.com/search/label/MAGIC%20MUSSELS). In the spur of the moment we called that dish ‘Magic Mussels’, which I always thought was a bit unimaginative, but things often seem to have a delightful way of turning out. May we now present to you ‘Deep Magic Mussels’!

Cook them until they just open and no more                                                                                                                          UHG

WHAT YOU NEED

A bucket of mussels

A couple of glugs of white wine

A smoker of some sort

Saw dust (oak wine barrel in this case)

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

Shelled and ready for a an overnight soaking to insure plumpness                                                                                  UHG

WHAT TO DO

Find a yacht hull that desperately needs attention and get down to some chilly breath-holding work… or simply buy some mussels at your local fishmonger. Clean them of any barnacles and other growth. Now purge them of their impurities by soaking them in clean seawater overnight. Because of the dubious quality of the harbour water I collected fresh seawater from a purer source and soaked them for three days in my fridge, changing the water every day. Remove any that are not now closed.

In a large pot, bring the wine to a furious boil then toss in the mussels and cover until they gape open. Remove the mussels (discarding those that didn’t open) and allow to cool. Strain the ‘broth’ though some muslin cloth and reserve for later. Pick the mussels from their shells, pull off their beards and soak overnight in the reserved broth, so they can get nice and plump.

Nice and swollen, now for a good old smoking                                                                                                                    UHG

Now they are ready for some ‘smokin’. I have a lovely old smoker that my dad left me, but you can fashion one from a pot. You need to line the base of the pot with foil (makes cleaning easier), then cover generously with ‘smoking sawdust’, place a round baking rack over the sawdust and stack your mussels on it. Overlap a sheet of foil on top of the pot and cover with the lid so it forms a tight seal. Smoke on a low heat for about 40 minutes until the mussels are rich and golden, yet still plump. Pop them into a bowl and toss them about in a little olive oil. Like this they’ll keep for about ten days in the fridge, or you can tightly pack them in a glass jar and cover with olive oil, this way they’ll keep for months.

This kind of shit makes me very very happy                                                                                                                         Mans

Racked and ready to receive some smokiness                                                                                                                  Mans

After days and days of harvesting, cleaning, purging, cooking, straining, soaking, smoking and tossing, these golden nuggets were gobbled in no time. Yes, it is remarkable what some 'show-offs' will do in search of an interesting story.

These little fellows were scrumptious                                                                                                                                      Mans

ONE CRAYFISH

I love the challenge                                                                                                                                                         Moose

‘Relax’, I tell myself as I force out the last bit of air at the very bottom of my lungs. I take my last gulp of precious gas, then using a slender strand of kelp I pull myself downwards, ever downwards... ‘Slow and precise movements’, I assure myself. I have spotted two very long red feelers, their tips waving with the surges. It’s a monster, maybe my biggest ever. The bag limit is four, I just need one more. I choose my moment and go for it, but I miss. Now I won’t get air as soon as I hoped. By feel alone I chase the lively brute a full arm’s length to the back of its cave. It’s trapped. I have the base of a feeler pinched between my fingers and thumb. I’m afraid a swell might wash me from my delicate purchase. I don’t have enough grip to allow me to tug, so I have to jiggle it out, which takes time. I want air so badly that it hurts. I think of abandoning… but then a good jiggle allows me to go for a better hold, I’m quick to establish firmer clasp and things become easier, but there is still work to do. I feel lightheaded and my whole body shudders with each heartbeat as I thrash towards the surface, ignoring any notion of slow precise movements. It’s big, too big for my goodie-bag. I turn on my back, which allows me both hands to secure the gyrating giant, while I slowly fin my way though the turbulent waters towards the shore, knowing that we will feast like kings…

Lacerated fingers normally accompanies one of these. Never nice when it's lemon squeezing time.                       UHG

'Just the one then', thought Stef; a frown furrowed into his brow.                                                                             UHG

So my mother was right after all. It seems I do suffer from delusions of grandeur.

What really happened was that after an hour of coughing and spluttering in the cold water I managed to emerge with a single crayfish. I sneaked discreetly around the back of a large boulder to avoid the divers on the other-side, who were of manly cheer and rightly so, because their bags were hanging. I still had to face my expectant friend Stef and I know he really likes to cook a crayfish.

They are fantastic creatures, 'All hail the Jasus Lalandii'.                                                                                                  UHG

Keep the shells for a bisque or stock                                                                                                                                     UHG

About 6 years ago the West Coast Rock Lobster (crayfish) season extended from November until after the Easter weekend, making a total of more than 150 fishing days. This season, we had a measly 21 days. Surely the radical depletion of stocks is not due to excessive hauls by weekend fisherman, but by the commercial companies. All you have to do is go down to your local fish outlet and see what see what the commercial size limit is: not much bigger than a shrimp, I tell you. This indicates that commercial quotas have probably been increased at the expense of small-scale fishing. But the ones who feel it the most are the artisanal fishermen who have relied on so-called ‘sustainable quotas’ to feed their family through generations. They are now forced to poach so their communities can eat, while the corporates rape our shores and line their pockets. This is not right.

Pop- in-your-mouth-in-one-go-crayfish-cocktail with foraged fennel                                                                           UHG

On the warm and lazy drive home Stef and I decided it would be rather fun to see how far one West Coast Rock Lobster could stretch. Lo and behold it made four good portions of bisque and four generous starters of crayfish cocktail. We dined like dignified princes as apposed to feasting like kings, but we were well pleased with that.

Stef's scrumptious crayfish bisque. 'More please?'                                                                                                               UHG

A big thanks to my mischievous friend Stef for all the laughs on a fine day out.

Only about 20 minutes ago I hoovered up the last of his delicious bisque. I am smiling right now :D

'CHICKEN OR BEEF'

Chicken of the Wood with agave pickles and garden greens for a complete foraged burger                                        Mans

When searching for Chicken of the Wood it seems the harder you look the less likely you are to find any. It’s when you are absent-mindedly driving home, that a dash of color and texture will catch your eye and THERE it’ll be, an orangey-yellow cluster of happiness stuck to a rotting tree. How could everybody have missed it???

It's like somebody has stuck a chunk of corral reef to a tree                                           UHG

There it was, right on the road home from foraging at the my local supermarket             Dave Glass

Polyporus Sulphureus or Chicken of the Wood is a saprophyte, as the name suggests it gets its nutrients from the sap-wood (heart wood) of trees. When you see a tree with ‘brown cube rot’ (you’ll know what I mean when you see it) keep an eye out for this delicious parasite that is slowly killing many of our trees, leaving their trunks hollow.

A generous basting of olive oil, some seasoning and quick once over on the griddle                                                    UHG        

A splendid things about this fungi, is that it makes its glorious annual appearance when all the other mushrooms are hiding from the heat, ‘They can smell the coming rain,’ says my friend Gary Goldman, The Mushroom Guru.

Add bit of home-made mayo for large amounts of happiness                                                                                              UHG

As they get older, their lively colors fade to white and they become too dry and tough to eat, so it’s the vibrant ones that are juicy. It’s uncanny how much like chicken in taste and texture they are. Remarkably, there is another bracket fungi called Beefsteak of the Woods; there are no prizes for guessing their taste and texture. True gifts of nature… except if you are a tree, especially an oak tree.

Beefsteak of the Wood                                                                                                          UHG

It is hard to believe that these aren't cuts of beef                                                                                                                    UHG

 It looks like chicken, it taste chicken, but it's no chicken...                                                                                               Mans