Chicken Soup

For the soul on a moody Monday as autumn bombards us in earnest.

Mondays are quiet days in our house. The usual chores bring me down to earth, especially after an eventful weekend. I enjoy the slow rumble of the old washing machine and the warmth as our linens spin in the tumble dryer, until Eskom puts a spanner in the works, as it did today.

My Granny’s simple chicken soup is bubbling away on the gas hob. Just a braised chicken, chicken stock, a bunch of diced leeks, garlic, chilli and mixed soup vegetables. A bay leaf, a few cloves, a fresh bouquet garni and a good grinding of pepper. Simple, wholesome kitchen grub. 

This nostalgia must be a continuation of yesterday’s long table kitchen lunch.  Family, boisterous children, and casual camping friends gathered around an old Oregon pine kitchen table, groaning under brimming platters of roast chicken, garden greens, roast potatoes, and salads, evoke a deep longing for bygone days and for Monday’s chicken soup, prepared from the carcass of Sunday’s roast.

Extraordinary meals, visits and celebrations marked this weekend. On Friday, we caught up with friends at a local restaurant and enjoyed an excellent steak. Our competent, friendly server at Hussars Grill in Worcester prepared and served it beautifully.

On Saturday, we unpacked our best dresses and high heels to celebrate new beginnings on the water’s edge at a friend’s farm. While the five-piece jazz band kept us swinging, we enjoyed scrumptiously creative dishes from The Slippery Spoon Kitchen, an outstanding bespoke catering company in Stellenbosch. I could make vows to have their catering. I wholeheartedly recommend this vibrant duo.

Our enjoyment of travelling to new destinations starts in the planning stages. Our friends in Swellendam have returned to the Caprivi on numerous trips. We set off with a laptop and Google Maps to pick their brains. As Tracks for Africa maps were unfurled, the country kitchen was bubbling as every oven, air fryer, and casserole was set up to prepare lunch. While we chatted, Carolyn, a caterer specialising in Kosher cuisine, chopped and diced, unperturbed by us. Her cooking classes are all the rage and are booked out well in advance.

But never missing a road trip and a coffee along the way, we stopped at the newly renovated and sumptuously refurbished The Big Red Chair Bistro and Deli at the Rooiberg Winery just before the village. Unable to decide, I settled on a crispy focaccia and a green fig preserve from the Deli to gift our hostess, from a wide selection of jams, preserves, oils, salts, and bottles of vinegar. The Bistro menu is concise and interesting, with many guests having jaffles, traditional breakfasts, cakes, and toasties. We only had coffee and could even have enjoyed takeaway if we’d known. We will return for Sunday lunch one of these days.

I tip my hat to Robertson, a small country village with spunk.  Driving through, we noticed a bustling town that had reinvented itself during hard times.  Now they're reaping the benefits as restaurants fill up.  Weekenders escaping the city yearn for fresh country air.  Small but not sleepy, that’s Robertson.

The power's back on, and my soup’s bubbling away, warming the house with fragrant, familiar smells. Now, to the wardrobe with me. Winter needs unpacking.