cleaning | Searching for Ironman
Kerskoekies (Christmas cookies)
December 24, 2015 January 4, 2016 / Christina B	/ 9 Comments
My suster bak elke jaar die heerlikste Duitste kerskoekies. Lebkuchen (gemmerkoekies), pfeffernüsse (peperkoekies) en allerhande enes. Ek het dit nog nooit gemaak nie maar eendag jare gelede terwyl ons by my suster en swaer gekuier het op hulle plaas, het my man besluit om self te probeer om dit te bak. Met Duitste herkoms het hy grootgeword met baie van hierdie koekies vir Kersfees. Nadat hy met hierdie boeremeisie getrou het (wat nog nie eens op daai stadium probeer het om haar Hollandse ouma se botterkoek of spekulaaskoekies of Afrikaanse ouma se suurdeegbrood te bak nie), het hy besluit om dit doodeenvoudig self te doen.
Hy stap toe een oggend in my suster se plaaskombuis in en kondig vol brawade aan dat hy zerubskuchen (stroopkoekies) gaan maak. Die snaakse ding was dat hy nog nooit by ons eie huis geïnspireerd gevoel het om dit te maak nie maar uit die bloute daai oggend besluit het dat hy dit in haar kombuis gaan waag. Sy aankondiging het ‘n huiwerige en effens skeptiese ontvangs gekry want die kombuis was pas skoongemaak en die vloere gewas. Dis nie maklik om ‘n plaaskombuis in die Kalahari skoon te hou nie. Sand word voortdurend ingeloop en plaasbehoeftes kry voorkeur bo ander maar die kombuis was silwerskoon toe my man besluit het dis tyd om te begin bak en brou.
Hy het in sy lewe tevore nog nooit iets gebak nie maar vra toe my suster vir die resep en maak reg om te begin. Hy is ook nooit tevore geleer om die gemors wat hy maak te beperk tot ‘n hanteerbare area nie. Hy het al die bestanddele op die kombuistafel gerangskik en begin. Ek het saggies weggesluip, sodanig om na die kinders te gaan kyk, en weggebly van die kombuis af. Toe ek dink dis veilig om terug te gaan is ek begroet deur ‘n gesig wat ek nooit sal vergeet nie. Dit het gelyk asof vyf sakke meel op en rondom die tafel ontplof het. In die pas skoongemaakte kombuis nogal. Te midde van dit alles het my man gestaan met ‘n brëe glimlag om sy mond – baie trots op die koekies wat hy besig was om te bak. Die ergste was dat die meel nie net oor die tafel gestrooi was nie. Dit het deur die gapings van die houttafel op die vloer geval. Orals.
My arme suster het net agter my ingeloop, die gemors een kyk gegee, daarin geslaag om darem nie haar sin vir humor heeltemal te verloor nie en met haar onwrikbare diplomasie hom mooi gevra om skoon te maak. Sy entoesiasme was geensins gedemp nie. Dit was amper asof hy nie die gemors kon raaksien nie. Hy’t klaargemaak en begin opruim maar selfs met sy altyd teenwoordige optimisme het hy hulp nodig gehad in hierdie department. Hy sou dit net nie op dieselfde standaard kon skoon kry as wat dit voor die tyd was nie.
Sedertdien het hy nog nie weer probeer om kerskoekies te bak nie maar maak wel sy ma se mieliebrood – ‘n soet weergawe wat nie my gunsteling is nie – maar hy is mal daaroor en maak dit nou self. Ek is net verlig dat dit nie nodig is om ‘n klomp meel oor die kombuistafel of –toonbank uit te sprei om mieliebrood te maak nie want dit blyk na die jare steeds dat die skoonmaakdeel van die proses nog onder opleiding is.
Ek het toe die ander dag my suster se lebkuchen en pfeffernüsse gemaak (maar ek sou nie sê hulle is so lekker soos hare nie) – die pfeffernüsse (wat so klein soos neute moet wees) het ek reggekry om amper so groot soos golfballe te maak. Ten minste proe hulle darem beter as iets wat ‘n mens in die winkel sou koop. Hopelik sal my man nie voel dis nodig om hulle te maak as ek aanhou om hulle te bak nie…
Kerskoekies of te not, ek wens almal ‘n baie Gesëende Kersfees toe gevul met vreugde en liefde.
Lebkuchen and oversized Pfeffernüsse I baked the other day
My sister bakes the most divine Christmas cookies every year. German ones. Lebkuchen (ginger bread cookies), pfeffernüsse (pepper nuts) and all sorts. I’ve never made them but years ago once while visiting my sister and brother-in-law on their farm, my husband decided the time was right for him to try his hand at it. Being of German descent, there used to be lots of these Christmas cookies around every Christmas when he was growing up. After marrying this Afrikaans girl (who hadn’t even tried to make any of her Dutch grandmother’s butter cake or speculaas cookies or her Afrikaans grandmother’s sour dough bread at that stage), he was just going to do it himself.
He walked into my sister’s farm kitchen one morning and declared that he was going to make zerubskuchen (syrup cookies). The funny thing is that he’d never been inspired to do it at our own home but decided out of the blue on that day that he was going to make it in her kitchen. His announcement was greeted a little skeptically as the kitchen had just been cleaned and the floors washed. It’s not easy to keep a farm kitchen in the Kalahari clean. Sand keeps getting trodden into the house and farm needs take precedence over others but the kitchen was sparkling clean when my husband decided it was time for him to try his hand at baking.
He’d never before baked anything in his life but asked my sister for the recipe and got started. Neither had he ever been trained to contain the mess he makes to a certain limited area. It was just always done by someone else. He arranged all the ingredients out on the kitchen table and got stuck in. I slunk away on the premise of having to look after the kids and kept clear of the area. When I deemed it safe to venture inside again I was greeted by a sight to behold. It looked like five bags of flour had exploded on and around the kitchen table. In the middle of it all stood my smiling husband. Quite proud of the cookies he was making. To make matters worse, the flour wasn’t contained to the table. It had fallen through the gaps in the wood on the table and was all over the floor as well. Everywhere.
My poor sister walked in after me, took one look at the mess, managed to hold back her sense of humour failure and with her unwavering diplomacy asked him nicely to clean up. His enthusiasm wasn’t diminished at all. It’s almost like the mess was invisible to him. He finished up and started to clean up but despite his ever present optimism he needed help in this department. He wasn’t going to manage to clean it to the same standard that it had been done earlier.
He hasn’t attempted to bake Christmas cookies since, but he has been making his mom’s mealie (corn) bread. It’s quite sweet and not really my favourite but he loves it and now makes it himself. I’m just relieved that mealie bread doesn’t require a lot of flour to be spread out over the kitchen bench or table because the cleaning part of the process seems to still be in training.
I tried my hand at my sister’s lebkuchen and pfeffernüsse recipes the other day and (though I don’t think it’s to her standard – the pfeffernüsse which are supposed to be the size of nuts turned out more like golf balls) but at least they taste better than something you can buy in a shop. Hopefully if I continue to bake them my husband won’t feel the need to do it…
With or without Christmas cookies, I wish you all a Merry and Blessed Christmas filled with joy and love.
Playing Hide-And-Seek With The Floor Fairy
August 21, 2015 February 8, 2016 / Christina B	/ 4 Comments
I came home from work yesterday to find our robotic vacuum cleaner missing in action. Again. My husband bought it for me a few years ago as a surprise gift with the best of intentions to lessen my workload in the cleaning department. It was such a great gift because it was a no-event-or-particular-reason out of the blue surprise, not like a birthday or Christmas present when you’ve actually been hoping for something else. Just a thoughtful gift.
Great was my excitement at this machine which was going to quietly and on its own, without any input of mine required, put a couple of hours back into my schedule every week. It sat there perched on its little station with all the promise of something which was about to change my life. It was never going to replace vacuum cleaning the traditional and labour-intensive way, it was just going to be great to have that extra vacuum done completely automatically once a week. The fantastic part about it is that you can program it to start at a time convenient to you. Imagine that: it quietly starts at one end of the house while you’re free to do something else and works its way through your house and you don’t even have to lift a finger. If it’s full before it’s finished it will make its way back to its station, do a “dust empty” and away we go again. This was too good to be true! Literally.
My first inclination that things might not quite turn out to be as simple as that was when I discovered that some prepping would be required. It wouldn’t just be a matter of getting up and going to work without a backward glance while this magical floor fairy goes about her day cleaning up. I did actually have to lift a finger. We had to move furniture out the way in case it got itself stuck between the legs of the kitchen chairs and set up a virtual wall in front of the TV unit so it doesn’t get stuck on the electrical cords lying underneath it (the vacuum cleaner unit comes complete with this virtual wall).
Prepping isn’t a big ask though (it has to be done anyway when you do a proper vacuum) so we prepped away, moved furniture, picked up kitchen chairs and put them on the table upside down, set up the virtual wall and after about fifteen minutes of getting everything ready for our magical machine to do its job the house looked ready for the onslaught of a litter of boisterous puppies that might come barging through with the floor space just about completely cleared bar for the couches and tables.
The next hint that all might not be as simple as that was when this floor fairy ventured onto one of the carpets and never made its way back again. On the hard floors it was doing brilliantly, found its way around the house and knew the way back to its little station. But introduce carpets and it was like soft sand to a sedan car where the wheels dug themselves in and it was up to its chassis in a deep bog that it couldn’t get out of without outside intervention. A bit like the Martin Luther steam locomotive abandoned about 4km outside Swakopmund in Namibia in the desert sand: Here I stand, I can do no other. (Tot hiertoe en nie verder nie, as we say in Afrikaans.) Of course we only realised this after we got home one day and the fairy wasn’t at her station so we had to search the house only to find it had got itself bogged on one of the carpets.
Then one day we’d done all the preparations and left home expecting to find clean floors and a full dust container when we came home only to discover that the precious princess hadn’t left her throne at all. She had sat there all day, plotting her next move. Next thing it randomly went with much enthusiasm, but on the wrong day, so the way hadn’t been cleared for it and so it naturally got itself stuck somewhere. We went in search of this rogue robot, untangled it from wherever it was stuck and carried it back to its cradle like a baby. I had no idea we occupied such a hazardous space! It became like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates: you never knew what you were going to get when you came home – it might be hiding somewhere (most likely scenario), back on its throne after doing its rounds (least likely scenario) or still on its throne after never leaving it in the first place (fairly likely scenario).
Likely scenarios of the whereabouts of the roving robot
It has now got to the point where we organise our lives around this balky mule of a fairy. Not only do we have to move furniture, we also have to build blockades in other areas. It is downright needy! And as if this wasn’t enough I’d come home on the day of our fairy’s scheduled run and start looking for it since it was hiding (again) and twice now found it in the darkest corners underneath the couches, like it’s too traumatised to come out of there and face its job, and I’d have to coax it out gently. It’s probably begging us to just leave it in peace, but no such luck. Until it grows itself a little wand that will magically turn the house into a vacuumed one, I’m not letting it off the hook. I’ll be the master of this fairy yet, no matter how many times I have to play hide-and-seek with it!
The throne, sans floor fairy who is once again missing in action
Project “Being Domesticated”
February 20, 2015 February 20, 2015 / Christina B	/ 2 Comments
A friend of mine complimented me the other day on being quite domesticated and I had to be truthful in that yes, I do enjoy being in my own space and being domesticated but only up to a point and that I sometimes find myself a project (such as creating a new flower bed where previously there was just paving or making our own biltong) rather than clean the house. These projects are always for the benefit of the family – it’s not like I go on a read-as-many-books-as-I can-in-a-day project or something like that – but it usually takes up more time than the task I was putting off doing would have taken, which I eventually have to do anyway, I’ve just delayed the inevitable and created more work for myself so I end up running around like a road runner bird. Hygiene is paramount to me though, and the essential areas such as kitchen and bathrooms are cleaned regularly, the house gets vacuumed and so on and I do love it when the house is clean and tidy, sometimes I just struggle with some motivational issues in this area.
Take doing the laundry for instance. This is actually one department that I don’t have a problem staying on top of and with a family of five there is always washing to be done. Add some exercise clothes to that and at least one daily load is required to stay ahead. Which brings me to another point – our laundry hamper is labelled “65l Laundry Hamper” – how do you measure your laundry or washing in litres? It’s either empty, full, or somewhere in between and hopefully not overflowing but what would be the point in the kids ever saying to me that “The laundry hamper has 20l capacity left” if they need me to wash their school sport uniform for instance? I admit to over-thinking and over-analysing things sometimes but that’s just me and while I’m at it, the part that really gets me is folding and putting away the clean, dry washing. Up to that point I feel like I’ve added value to the process (got it clean, got it dry) but from there on it just feels like I’m moving it from one place to another which feels like such a waste of valuable time.
Sewing is another department that I’m seriously lacking in. One of my grandmothers used to be a seamstress, my mum is good at sewing, knitting, crotchet and all things related, my sister is good at it and so are her daughters but I’ve never had any interest whatsoever. I’ve never had the patience or perseverance required to work on something for hours on end and only have my imagination (or even a pattern) of the promised finished product to motivate me to keep going. I’d much rather do a jigsaw puzzle where my progress is more visual and my chances of success are better. Or plant something in the garden. In year 8 I had to knit a toilet roll holder as part of the compulsory home economics course and I procrastinated until the day before it was due to be handed in because I couldn’t face doing it but then I had to stay up most of the night to finish it. And the wool was yellow. A yellow amateur looking toilet roll holder knitted with a bad attitude. It was torture and enough to put me off knitting for life. When I saw some funky, colourful crotched cushions in a magazine a few years ago I decided that I’d love to be able to do that, they looked so gorgeous. But when I tried to crotchet it felt like I had five thumbs on each hand. This was not going to work. I would still like to be able to do it but I’ll need a Mount Everest load of patience and by that time the house will need cleaning again.
Baking cakes is something else I’ve never been confident doing, but when we bought a bread machine about 10 years ago and I discovered that our local bread mix shop sells the most amazing range of pre-mixes that are fool proof and even I could do it, I branched out and started baking all sorts of interesting breads. My family loves home baked Turkish bread and fresh, warm Lebanese flat breads go so well with Lamb Souvlaki or other dishes that you eat in a wrap and the kids will come home today to freshly baked hot cross buns. I enjoy cooking as well, given that I have the time not to just put a quick rushed meal on the table.
My garden is my haven and I spend hours keeping it trimmed, watered, fed, fertilised and weeded. With my husband usually training for an endurance event of some sorts he quite often doesn’t have time to mow the lawn and I’ll happily do it rather than scrub the shower. I planted some Kalamata olive trees a few years ago and the crop has been such in the past that we had enough bottled olives to last us more than a year, and I love being able to pick fresh herbs from my garden. I’ve recently launched project “Expand And Plant More Edible Crops” and added some berry bushes and it’s great going outside, picking a fresh gooseberry and eating it right there.
Part of my herb/berry garden
I’ve taken on some other “projects” as well, such as making our own Dukkah (to eat with the Turkish bread) and biltong, both of which aren’t hard to do but take up a bit of time and as it is I’m already planning to make the next batch of biltong on my next day off work. Our house will never look like it’s from a photo in a home décor magazine, it looks too well lived in and it’s impossible to keep it perfectly tidy all the time unless I keep moving around and picking things up and putting them away when they’d been left by others as some in the family aren’t very good at putting things away. I would love it to always be tidy but time is limited and one has to make choices about where best to spend it and then I usually remember that our Dukkah is nearly finished and I need to make some more or a swim with the kids sounds like a better idea. As I sit here I know the filing needs to be done but I’ve just remembered I noticed yesterday that some of the new season’s olives looked ripe. I’d better go check on them before the birds get to them. They might need to be picked, and then the preparation process starts soaking them in water for a couple of weeks, rinsing them daily and then bottling them…
May 18, 2014 December 31, 2017 / Christina B	/ 5 Comments