Number one Culprit. The Braai Fork.

When I was about 5 or 6 years old, my family quite often used to go down to a friend of my parents farm on the Crocodile River in Gauteng. About an hour or so's drive from Johannesburg where we lived. 

The lunch was usually lovely lamb loin chops cooked on the braai and I have fond memories of this. Now, let me explain. My mother was a Cordon Bleu cook and this is where I got my love of good food and cooking. 

Needless to say, she did the braaing and would brook no interference from the manne, I remember her first lesson to me. This was before the days of braai tongs and the only way to turn meat was with a fork. She stressed that the only way to turn a lamb chop was to only stick the fork into the fat and NOT into the meat. She explained that if the meat got pierced, all the juice would run out. 

Now even at that age a had a questioning mind and I decided to put it to the test. I was allocated 2 lamb chops to cook. One I only turned by piercing the fat section and the other I speared it full on in the middle. When I ate my meal, the results were easy to determine which was which. The pierced chop was dry and the fat only pierced one was juicy and succulent.

I have passed the little bit of advice to many friends over the years. Some have listened and others ignore my foolish rant.

Here we go

O.K. What prompted me to start this blog is the average South Africans obsession with one of our national pastime known as the "Braai". (Barbeque for non South Africans).

To me this has usually signifies tasteless overcooked meat. The cooking is usually done by the men in the family/group/tribe accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol ending up in less than a gourmet experience.

I have a friend, Dion, from my windsurfing and cycling days who used to invite us around for a braai at the drop of a hat. He had just built a Braai Lapa with its own bar on to his house and was justifiably proud of it. The problem was that we used to arrive at about 7.00pm expecting a roaring fire and smells of garlic bread. When one arrived, nothing was happening except an invitation for a dop. Now I am usually ravenously hungry by this time of day and would suggest we get the fire started. "Lots of time for that" was Dions reply. About 8.00pm he would start the fire and by 9.00pm it had burned down to a lovely bed of coals. "A bit too early" Dion would say and add a lot more wood to the fire. About 10.30pm the fire would be "reg" again and the meat would go on. After cremating it for about an hour he would then announce that it looked ready and this dried tough and taseless mess would go into the "Braai Bak" to keep warm while we had another drink. (There will be a whole separate chapter on the "Braai Bak").

After a while I got wise and would arrive at 7.00. Light the fire myself,  cook my meal as soon as it was ready and then eat it. Dion could then add more wood to the fire and do his thing.