Barnes - The Culinary Adventures of a Travelling Cook

I wish to thank Peta Lamb from Parys, as well as my dear friend Delyse Fell from Amanzimtoti for their relentless nagging to write this book. My heartfelt thanks goes to my friend Hettie Saaiman, who so gracefully put up with me for a whole month in Mauritius, and allowed me to run amok in her kitchen while I finished this book. Thank you to Joyce who cleaned up week after week with a smile. I also cannot go without saying thank you to my parents, Moira and William Barnes, who have always supported me in everything I have ever wanted to do, and for never saying theres no money in Art, get a degree.

And a huge thank you to Graham for supporting me in every step of this journey called life dankie Boet.

Thank you, too, to Anne McLeod, my advanced cake-decorating teacher, for her proofreading, guidance and assistance with my fruitcake recipes. Her vast experience was invaluable.

I wish to thank the following people for contributing some of the photographs: Leonie ODonelle, Richard Heeps, Nadine Oliver, Alida Coetzee, Barry Lawson, Graham Barnes and Sue Wiper.

To the publishing team Linda de Villiers (publisher), Joy Clack (editor), Beverley Dodd (designer) thank you from the bottom of my heart. This book would never have become a reality without your assistance and professional guidance. It really is a dream come true for me and I could not have done anything as spectacular or visual without your input.

Published in 2014 by Struik Lifestyle
(an imprint of Random House Struik (Pty) Ltd)
Company Reg. No 1966/003153/07
Estuaries No 4, Century Avenue (Oxbow Crescent), Century City 7441
PO Box 1144 Cape Town 8000 South Africa
www.randomstruik.co.za

Copyright in published edition:
Random House Struik (Pty) Ltd 2014
Copyright in text: Natasha Barnes 2014
Copyright in photographs: Natasha Barnes 2014, except as credited alongside

ISBN 978-1-43230-183-5

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, digital, mechanical, photo-copying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and the copyright owner(s).

PUBLISHER: Linda de Villiers
MANAGING EDITOR: Cecilia Barfield
DESIGNER: Beverley Dodd
EDITOR & INDEXER: Joy Clack (Bushbaby Editorial Services)
FOOD PHOTOGRAPHER: Patrick Royal
FOOD STYLIST: Natasha Barnes
PROOFREADER: Samantha Fick (Bushbaby Editorial Services)

Reproduction by Hirt & Carter Cape (Pty) Ltd
Printing and binding by 1010 Printing International Ltd, China

Photographic Credits

Andre ).

Life takes its own turns, makes its own demands, writes its own story; and along the way, we start to realize we are not the author.

George W. Bush

The journey of this book began with an aerogram. A simple, folded sheet of paper from Sri Lanka that ultimately shaped a chapter of my life. At the time I did not realise the significance. I was, in all respects, happily employed as a cookery editor, and had a life plan mapped out. But, as John Lennon said: Life is what happens while youre busy making other plans and I soon found myself in a completely different direction in a short space of time.

I unintentionally swapped my apron for a paintbrush and rapidly became one of South Africas most published international artists. A journey as long and hard as the gold with which it is paved. My talent has taken me all over the world, affording me a whirlwind of success, and notability in my field. While nothing prepared me for this experience, I soon found myself reliving my adventures through food, instinctively collecting recipes and information along the way, knowing that, someday, I would share this knowledge.

During my numerous trips abroad, I have not remained idle. To complement my Grande Diplome from Silwood School of Cookery, I attended cooking schools in Sri Lanka, Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand, undertook an advanced cake decorating course, obtained a National Qualification in Training and Development from the hospitality industry, and opened two cooking schools at a maximum security prison in KwaZulu-Natal where I trained prisoners in conjunction with the Department of Labour. This enabled me to uplift the skills of the often forgotten and downtrodden souls from our society. In the early days of my career, it was not unheard of to cook with the prisoners in the mornings, paint in the afternoons and fly to New York over the weekends!

One afternoon not that long ago, I found a little tin box with all sorts of bits and pieces, the type of stuff we keep for no reason at all. Amongst all that junk I found my blue aerogram, with a recipe lovingly scribbled in ink and post marked Senkada Gala Sri Lanka 1997. The aerogram sparked my memory and brought back the promise I had made to myself to one day write my story. At the time, of course, I was not sure of how it would play out. The aerogram was the first correspondence I had received from abroad and the first of many I had collected. The letter included a recipe and also the story behind it, and came from the Sri Lankan Minister of Defence.

Instinctively I knew the time had come to tell my story. This book is the canvas of how it all played out.

My brother and I had the most wonderful childhood in the Free State town of Parys. When I think of our early years, I see us riding our bikes through the streets of the old, sleepy town, in tune with the rhythm of the mighty Vaal River. We spent a great deal of time swimming in its cool waters, catching tadpoles and playing along its banks.

Life was slow and easy, and mostly revolved around food. Before the days of television or video, we had to entertain ourselves. Weekends were filled with parties, drinking, Sunday luncheons, church bazaars and school sports events.

My mother was always involved somehow. If it was not the sports day or police club dance, then the local high school would ask her to help out with the desserts for the matric dance. She would spend all week making ice creams and fridge tarts and then on the morning of the dance she would get a couple of strong men to load the chest freezer and generator onto the back of the bakkie. Mita, our domestic worker, would spend the morning running from the kitchen to the garage to fill the freezer as the ice creams came off the production line.

As evening approached, my mom and dad would sit on the stoep, sipping on a few whiskeys, waiting for the school to call. When the last roast beef and Yorkshire pudding was served, the telephone would ring, signalling that it was time for my mom to depart. The blue Nissan bakkie would make its way up to the school and then pull up beside the school hall where throngs of waiting standard nines would line up to collect their tables desserts.