The Pie Crown

Xperience 82

My dad used to call a pie & coke a shortcut to heartburn, let’s face it, he’s right. Every now and again I used to ignore his advise, threw a Gaviscon pouch in my bag and went for it. The worst part though, like McDonald’s, it’s never as good as you imagined it to be.

When I discovered the Kickasspies (fondly known as Chickenasspies in my office) at Jardine, now Jason, I had a good feeling about the future of pies. These pies had more filling than pastry, more taste than a hundred of those flatties you buy at the supermarket (and that other pie place) and everyday there is a different mouthwatering filling. Oooh, did I mention, no heartburn? Might be the fact that for a change someone out there realised pies are worthy of good ingredients? Nah, can’t be that, maybe because it isn’t mass produced? Whatever your political view regarding pies, for a change they are better than you hoped or imagined.

Just a quick note to Jason and any pie baker out there. Veg & Lentil is not a suitable filling for a Friday. That’s the kind of filling you do on a Monday or Tuesday, when you are still under the delusion that you’re keeping to whatever diet or life plan you’ve chosen. On Fridays you do the Morrocan pie or the braised Impala shoulder, you know something worthy…

It’s because of this very unfortunate choice of filling on Friday, that I decided to give the place on Long Street a try. I’ve read about the Down South Food bar and their new pie shop and saw them a while ago when making new keys. A small little hole, with friendly honest service, find them.
I did feel a bit like a traitor, walking back past my favourite bakery with a new pie in my hand…but hey, who eats veg on a friday??? (Ya knaaaaauuuuw!)

I had the pork belly & apple (stuffed to the brim) pie. It was good. As good as Jason’s pies? Hhmmmm….., almost. But it was only one pie…and how long will Jason be able to hold on to the Pie Crown? I think it’s time to start a pie war, what do you think?

 

Creating Monsters

Xperinece 81

I have a slight obsession with Giovanni’s and their espressos. Most of my friends and I suppose anyone reading this blog knows it (if you didn’t, now you know something new). The girls in the office are convinced I have a problem and made me a bit self-conscious of my apparent problem. So I have abstained for a while (the longest 40 days ever!).

Ronel then asked me to join her for a coffee at Giovanni’s, I rushed as quick as I could to my favourite deli. Like a true junkie, I had a quick one before Ronel arrived for her new xperience and Pandora’s Box is now wide open again.

I ordered for us, mostly by catching the barista’s eye and holding 2 fingers up in the air. In this bar, they know my poison. With a flourish I presented Cape Town’s best espresso to Ronel and was rewarded with a worthy reaction. Like a connoisseur she commented on the smell, colour amount of foam and lastly the taste, by this time I was zoned out and enjoying all this in my own little private coffee paradise (jeez, maybe I do have a problem?). As espressos go, they don’t last long. After the last sip Ronel gravely announced that Jason’s coffee just won’t do anymore and her eyes wandered again to the counter. At that moment I it came to me, I might have created a monster.

Her newly created monster status was confirmed when she ordered a cappuccino and I went for my 3rd (40 days people, 40 days), I decided to poke the monster and suggest we take a walk inside the deli when done with our coffees… I succeeded right there in making Ronel Main Monster (insert wicked laugh here).

The next day while I was enjoying my new book and espresso in the corner of Giovanni’s, I wondered if I should phone Ronel, to join me. I didn’t, thinking maybe I need to give her some time, for the poison to do its work. It turns out I didn’t have to worry, she was sitting in her apartment trying very hard to ignore the call of the perfect espresso.

My work is done here, let one of them point a finger again at my little habit…

 

Mama Mia I would rather do my washing by hand

Xperience 79

Now I know this may sound a bit colonialist and bratty, but I’ve always had my own washing machine.

Living with my parents we were blessed enough to have a washing machine and a tumble dryer, something my mom said was a necessity when raising babies in the area of cloth nappies. Later when my sister and I moved out my parents bought us a washing machine and fridge. Though apparently when my parents went shopping for a washing machine, they told the sales person they need something for a severely domestically handicapped person (me and this is politically correct for “she’s got no freaking idea how to do washing’). A machine, where their daughter could chuck (their words) her clothes and detergent in and the machine does the rest. I got it, LG is wonderful. I “chuck” my stuff and detergent in the machine, press the power button and collect it again after it sings (honestly, this is not an ad). For a few years our apartment looked like a Chinese Wash house, as things can take up to 4 days to dry in winter here, until my dad gave us a second-hand tumble-dryer (have I mentioned my dad is the best??). By this time my sister moved to Johannesburg and it was just me…. bliss.

My friend mentioned the other day how much she enjoys doing her washing at a laundromat. The main thing here is to first realise, this laundromat is not any laundromat, but one located conveniently next to Rafiki’s, one of Cape Town’s most renowned restaurants and bars. I couldn’t help to mention I’ve never done mine in a public space and right there a new xperience was born.

In the morning I gathered all my washing in my baskets, grabbed my detergent and softener and threw it in my car’s boot. The whole day I prayed no-one breaks into my car and steal all my clothes except for the set I’m wearing.

Ronel and I went of to the laundromat and boy-oh-boy, what a warm, friendly, nice smelling place with some seriously handsome guys right next to a bar! Forget dating sites, bars, clubs and speed dating, ladies, do your washing here!

To avoid throwing my name away and looking like a complete blond-under-cover, I copied Ronel’s every move, until I ran out of cash, dammit, my machines work on love…and off we went hunting for a FNB machine (an extinct species of bank in Kloofnek and surrounds by the way).

After a cider, while waiting for our stuff to dry, and folding (yeah mom, folded) my intimates and scores of scarves in public (by the way, most of my socks kept on making a run for it…trues bob, ask Ronel), I see why people do this every week. You get to drink, ogle some handsome guys and if you take a friend, can have a fabulous time. Yeah, sign me up again.

Xperience 80

Normally this wouldn’t count as an xperience, but this is just too bizarre not to talk about.

Firstly, to every critic out there who gave a thumbs-up, half a thumbs-up or even an affirmative shrug in the direction of this movie, may the rest of your movie experiences be plagued with ill-timed advertisements.

I have for years quite successfully avoided watching Mama Mia. Come on, Meryl Streep and Pierce Brosnan singing and dancing to ABBA? So I spent some money (I would’ve given that to charity) and rented the damn movie.

Please put this on record. This movie is utter Sh…t. I could not finish it, Pierce Brosnan should not sing…ever. And Meryl’s Oscar should be taken from her, melt down and made coasters of. Thank goodness I had the clarity of mind to also rent Moulin Rouge, a real musical.

Quite honestly, I would rather do all my washing by hand in cold water, than to sit through another Mama Mia (who the hell did the sound?).

 

To be a friend…

Xperience 77 & 78

Some of my most memorable xperiences have been with my girlfriends. They have been around for the fun parts, the parts where we were up to no good and then they have also been the women who carried me through some of the toughest xperiences.
They were the kind soft hands carrying tissues, handing glasses of wine and sometimes also (when needed) the firm voice of reason. There are no words in the world that would be anywhere close enough to explain my gratitude.

When this started I joked with my friend, saying this would make a brilliant new xperience, to which she agreed, seeing it would fit perfectly into “Friendz Xperiences”. We stopped joking when the “routine” thing turned out to be a Thing.

I am blessed to be surrounded with strong wise women in my life. I’m even more blessed that one of those women confided in me to laugh and help with a routine thing which takes some guts and big girls panties. But I’m humbled that she wanted me to be there with her for the really hairy stuff.

Through this I’ve realised and learned one of the biggest truths about life.
I am blessed with amazing friends to whom I owe the world, but to be a friend ( and one when needed) is an even bigger honour…