I don’t eat that!
Ma Dolla thinks boerekos is boring (or scary perhaps), she loves food foreign and all foreign food. Since before memory, she researches the dishes of faraway folk, serving it to her squeamish eldest Dolla and the rest. I can’t recall doing this, but having heard the story multiple times, I have a carefully constructed and routinely maintained the memory of peering over the dining room chair at some foreign dish and saying: Ek eet nie dit nie.
Trippe Trappe trone varkies in die bone…
Many a night, many a supper and plenty a dish. Ma Dolla tried something new when all I wanted was two-minute noodles. Pa Dollas thinks I nearly broke her adventurous spirit, while Ma Dolla states it plainly. Yet here we are, vegan of all things.
Koeitjies in the klawer…
When I was seventeen my brain started working. I realized if I want to eat boerekos, I will have to make it myself. I tried Bobotie, ordentlike Bobotie. You know the kind with yellow rice and raisins every other bite, regte begrafnis kos. It wasn’t too bad if I say so myself. Next, I was going to try something more boeragtig, maybe melkkos. But Ma Dolla told me horror stories about it. She was born and raised on a melkboerdery, the poor thing fell into the milk cauldron, so to speak. Oddly enough Ma Dolla has no love for milk, never had. And melkkos, sy eet dit nie.
Perdjies in die hawer…
Melkkos is the source of wonderous tales filled with hardship and suffering for my Mom and joy for all her cousins. Great Grandma made melkkos to die for…or die of, not sure. When I hear the stories I picture my grandmother stirring a driepoot pot full of melkkos and chanting trippe-trappe-trone. And because my Mom would not eat of this enchanted boerekos her descendants have turned vegan.
Gansies op die groene gras…
I never made melkkos, my path deviated in the French Food section. I made us Coq Au Vin and all kinds of dessert, their names unpronounceable. Some of these foods, we still make. The recipes changed and adopted for Dollas Vegan Meal Club. And while we chop the veg and stir the beans we chant: trippe-trappe-trone.
Dollas To-do list for the day:
□ Cook a batch of whitebeans
□ Chop firewood for coming cold (can anybody remember what summer smells like?)
□ Find a rhyme to chant that will bring back summer