Healthy Peanut Butter – A Review

Peanut butter has long been a rather guilty pleasure with me. I discovered the allure of toast with peanut butter and jam (or jelly) in the sixth form of school. On cold winter afternoons after the ritual torture of hockey in the mud and rain, we’d huddle round the countertop grill, making and burning endless rounds of sliced bread toast, which were then thickly spread with peanut butter and blackcurrant jam. As the grill and tea and coffee making area was immediately outside the door of our study it was impossible to resist the smell of slightly singed toast and join in the feasting.

In the interests of strict historical accuracy, I should add that I more often than not skipped hockey and elected to play squash instead, which had the advantage of being played inside in the dry and was unsupervised, perfect for the games slacker that I was... and still am if truth be told.

Ever since it has been an occasional comfort food and I recently discovered that it is great with marmalade too. But standard peanut butters are loaded with refined sugars, hydrogenated fats and salt, so despite all the useful protein from the nuts I’ve never been able to pretend it was healthy, and as my kids never really took to it I often leave it out of the shopping trolley altogether.

So I was quite excited when Crede, the natural oil company, offered to send me their new healthy peanut butter to try. It’s called Oh Mega because of the omega 3 rich flaxseed oil used in it. Honey replaces sugar, egg white powder stops the oils separating and vitamin E is a natural preservative.
So all the ingredients are healthy enough for guilt-free peanut butter indulgence, but what about the taste? Is it a patch on the old unhealthy stuff?

Well yes, I liked it. The flavour is all peanut as you’d expect, just sweet enough to appeal to the kids too (to my surprise my non-peanut butter eating children tried this and liked it). The taste is slightly milder than regular peanut butter (that would be the absence of salt), but has just enough oomph to take a layer of jam on top. Any salt fiends out there might want to add a sprinkling of their own to their pbj sandwich, but the lack of salt will be a major plus point for a lot of healthy eaters out there who are trying to reduce consumption.

The honey and flaxseed oil gives it a slightly runnier consistency than usual, which doesn’t actually matter to me, as I spread it fairly thinly anyway, but might bother you if you like to spread mouth-cloggingly thick layers of peanut butter on your bread!

One thing to remember is that flaxseed oil shouldn’t be heated to high temperatures, meaning that this peanut butter isn’t going to be ideal for peanut butter cookies, so I’m going to be looking out for some non-bake peanut butter recipes to try with this – anyone got any ideas?

All in all I’d definitely get this in future instead of the old, less healthy brand. Apparently it is being stocked by some of the Spars, so I’ll have to work on our local branch to get it in for me!

Disclaimer: The Oh Mega peanut butter was sent to me as a free sample to review, the opinions are however unbiased by this generosity!

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Winter School Run

Car keys jingle, dogs bark excitedly, scenting a car to serenade. It’s still dark outside but a rim of light over the eastern mountains promises dawn. Heavy school bag is slung into car, headlights switched on, reversing out into grey half light. The sky holds the only colour to be seen, the land undressed in dull shades waiting to be woken. Hares switchback from restio clumps startled by the headlights, cunningly escaping as we turn down towards the gate. No talking, it’s too early, son reads book by the light of his phone.

Bumping along the long dirt road, eyes are constantly drawn left to the horizon: purple line of mountains etched against a lightening sky, like an amateur watercolour painting, but one that could never be captured, the panorama too long, thin and never-ending to be pinned on paper.

Wisps of mist float suspended at head height as we reach the tar road, swallowing colour even more, till all is headlights and wipers, fan blowing air on the windscreen to disperse the blur of moisture that grabs at the car.

School children rub hands together at the side of the road keeping warm, clustered in huddles until the school bus comes. Early morning traffic isn’t heavy here: some unhurried holding back others rushing, whisking past in an impatient flurry.

Dropping son to catch his onward lift, the sky is brighter now, horses are breakfasting on straw and hay, sleep-silent children lugging too-heavy bags into the car, son still reading, leaning against garage wall.

I retrace my path, long straight road bordered by blue gums, watching the achingly slow transformation of dawn into sunrise, as a tinge of pink warms the blank sky. Then mist wraps grey fingers, shutting out the sky entirely, creating a silver grey world with the gum trees its furthest walls. Down into the dip the wall of fog thickens, a tunnel broken only by lights of cars driving just too fast for safety.

Then back up our dirt road where fog dwindles to a fairy mist, the outline of the hill behind us floating delicately above and a rosy gold sky hovering over all. Now a bright spot on the horizon shows where the sun has chosen to rise today and, turning onto our farm, the hill has already lost its silver hue, instead washed the pinkish green of an old colour photo in the family album, its colour skewed by age.

Then a blinding flash reflected in the house windows shows that the sun has at last crested the mountains, bringing colour to the world, banishing the grey mist and promising a day fine enough to dry a load of washing. 

Kids will have arrived at school by now – will they see the sunrise or be already shut away in classrooms under yellow electric light?

A lyrical sunrise is an everyday happening in a South African winter, only remarkable to me because I don’t usually do the morning school run, so the wonder is still fresh. My sunrises are usually seen from our stoep, in between clearing breakfast and vacuuming, emails and a cup of tea. It’s nice to be out in the midst of one, noticing the progress one mile at a time without household chores cluttering the brain.

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Ryan's Kitchen, Franschhoek

Wandering down Franschhoek’s main street, I am stunned by the number of restaurants that line both sides of the street, clamouring for attention and elbow to elbow with craft shops, gift shops, art galleries, and the very occasional useful port of call like the post office and a supermarket. In the fifteen years since I last visited, the village has polished, preened and laid  on as many tourist attractions as it possibly can, taking advantage of its picturesque setting and strategic position in the Cape Winelands.

Luckily I don’t have to choose a place for lunch, as I am meeting up with blog friends Jeanne and Johanna and their families. Jeanne has done the research and booked a table at Ryan’s Kitchen, so after a quick dip into two of the tempting chocolate shops,  I head back to the leafy end of the street, where oak trees bombard us with autumn leaves and acorns, and an unseasonably hot and sunny day has us sitting outside on the terrace under the shade of big red umbrellas.

Much as I’d love to be a lady who lunches, it’s an extremely rare occasion that sees me anywhere but at the kitchen table, so I feel like a kid skipping off school as we finally tear our attention to the lunch menu. It’s succinct, with three choices per course, dinner being the main event here, but they are all tempting.

But before our starters arrived, the chef’s appetiser from the lab was brought (in the picture above) – a complementary selection of light as air wisps of flavour dramatically presented in test tubes. The green one bubbled frantically with ‘dry ice’ smoke pouring forth. We left that one till last... when it turned out to be a basil essence with a salty tang. The butternut and ginger soup was one slurp of intense flavour and the tomato foam had plenty of chilli heat. That just left a slightly more substantial cheese puff with a dab of tomato sauce for emphasis.

Palates tickled into action now, the starters arrived to start dealing with the serious issue of hunger. Mine was a generously portioned tuna carpaccio served with a mixture of variously textured salads and vegetables. There was plenty of crunch and bit of horseradish heat  contrasting nicely with  the tenderness of the thinly sliced tuna and the delicate roulade of leek and apple on the side.

Fish again for the next course, as it was unseasonably hot and red meat seemed too heavy... until the springbok shank arrived further down the table to a pang of menu envy from us all! However our sea bass with smoked mash, pancetta and fennel arrived in theatrical style once more, whisky barrel smoke swirling under a glass dome which, when released, engages the sense immediately with warm mellow sweetly perfumed bonfire aroma. Sadly the smokiness was only a background flavour in the mash, but perhaps just as well or it could have overwhelmed the deliciously moist and tender fish. I raved over the fennel too, stewed to tender perfection.

After all this I declined dessert, slightly regretfully as the beautifully plated compositions arrived. But then my restraint was rewarded by a complimentary platter of little mini desserts that came with coffee. A loaf of malva pudding with a beetroot caramel topping, a rooibos jelly with lavender custard ( I ate two) and a square of carrot Turkish delight (take it or leave it).

I loved the touches of theatre that had a certain tongue in cheek grandeur about them, but which were carried off beautifully. I may be too easily impressed these days, (poor little farm-girl that I am!!) but Jeanne and Johanna, as non-jaded veterans of a gourmet whirl around the best of the Western Cape were equally wowed, so I can safely wax lyrical!

Edited to add: Jeanne has posted her review of our lunch at Ryan's Kitchen with wonderful pictures and descriptions of the whole meal, so go there for more drooling!

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Foodie Bliss

Living out on a farm as we do, I occasionally suffer from foodie pangs of blog envy. So many gourmet delights are within easy reach of city gourmets -  the latest chic eaterie, Parisian patisserie or artisan chocolatier. Cape Town is close enough that I could theoretically nip in and indulge myself on gourmet delights once in a while, but life is busy, times are tight and it rarely happens.

So this weekend I was in foodie heaven when not one but two treats I’ve drooled over virtually winged their way in real life out to our farm.

The first was some small but perfectly formed bars of artisan chocolate from Honest chocolate that my lovely sister-in-law brought me from Cape Town. I’d discovered them online and written about them but never actually tasted it.

Their ethos is totally ethical – pure organic raw chocolate hand-crafted without any additives, dairy or processed sugar – single origin Aribba Nacional beans from Ecuador sweetened with agave. I was sure just looking at the website that this would result in chocoholic heaven and I wasn’t disappointed when I broached the first bar: a 72% bittersweet orange.

The chocolate had an amazing creamy texture that melted in the mouth like a truffle, smooth very chocolatey and rich – the orange wasn’t overpowering but just gave citrussey overtones that lasted and left a pleasant aftertaste. I’m looking forward to opening the 88% dark bar but am going to hide in a dark corner so I don’t have to share this one!! I also love their wrappings.

The second treat was a beautiful box of macaroons from Cassis, Cape Town's own touch of Paris. I can’t count the times I’ve seen gorgeous looking macarons on other blogs and read the ecstatic ravings without really knowing what all the fuss was about. Now I know...! These were perfectly moist and chewy inside and the fillings raised them to a level of decadent gorgeousness that I hadn’t expected. They were brought by a friend for a family gathering so they disappeared before I could photograph them, but I luckily did manage to taste several different flavours by scooping up and sampling any halves discarded by unappreciative children. The chocolate caramel one pictured was stunning but I was even more wowed by the raspberry, which surprised me as I don’t usually go for pink! However they got just the right level of sweet/tart balance. I am now an official macaroon fan!

And here is a last foodie discovery, that I failed to notice was posted on April 1st on the Fairview blog Inspired by the Indonesian Kopi Luwak, Fairview proclaimed that they have produced a new coffee made from coffee berries that have been eaten and partially digested by their goats, I was getting all excited by this possibly new taste sensation and even composing a whole post in its honour when at last I noticed the tag at the bottom. April Fools... aaagh!

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Easy Peasy Pear Cake

Easy peasy lemon squeezy just about sums up this pear cake recipe. It comes from my favourite Jane Grigson's Fruit Book (At Table) and she collected the recipe in France.

Youngest was looking for something new to bake and since my sister-in-law had just harvested an abundance of pears from her tree, all of which were begging to be used up quickly, I turned to the pear section of the book. Two recipes for pear cakes sat side-by-side, both French, both very similar. Youngest chose this one because the pears were mixed into the batter rather than placed on top.

There is no creaming or rubbing in. The dry ingredients are stirred together, the butter melted and mixed in along with the eggs, then the pears and lemon juice folded in and that’s it. Perfect for a child just beginning to bake all by herself.

It’s not the lightest of sponges, perhaps best served warm with cream as a dessert, but the pears are cooked in it to meltingly soft perfection, the lemon juice adding just enough spritz, and the cake disappeared very rapidly both warm and cold the next day.

Jane Grigson’s Anjou Pear Cake Recipe
500g / 1lb firm ripe pears (we used one that was still very crunchy and it turned out still crunchy in the cake!)
Juice of 1 lemon
½ cups flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
Pinch salt
75g / 1/3 cup castor sugar
2 large eggs
60g / 2oz / ¼ cup melted butter
1 tablespoon water

Preheat the oven to180C / 350F
Prepare a greased and lined 20cm/8inch cake tin.
Squeeze the lemon into a bowl.
Peel, core and chop the pears into chunks, then turn them in the lemon juice to keep them from going brown.
Stir together the dry ingredients.
Beat the eggs then add to the dry ingredients, followed by the melted butter and the water.
At this stage the mixture will still feel rather thick and lumpy.
Add the pears with all the lemon juice and it should adjust to the right soft consistency.
Pour the mixture into the lined tin, level it off and bake for about an hour until a skewer comes out clean.
The cake can be glazed with an apricot jam glaze, but we ate it just as it was.

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Just When You Thought Everything Had Been Harvested...

I guess it's leek and potato soup for our Autumn festival this weekend!

Just hoping that this little guy, who hangs out in my herb garden, won't eat all those little parsley seedlings before they get established. The beautiful row of healthy plants that I had last year all went to seed at the same time, so I'm really looking forward to an abundant supply of plants again, as long as there is enough time for them to grow before we run out of sunny weather!

In the meantime, I'm all out of parsley which is a terrible fix for a herb garden to be in. it will have to be marjoram and thyme in the soup this weekend instead!

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Beach Art

When summer makes a come-back and a Sunday afternoon is too hot to handle, heading for the beach seems a good idea. There the breeze is cool, the water numbingly chilly, sun warm but not uncomfortable. This time we hear the surf rumbling from the dunes before we even reach the beach. The tranquil mood of our birthday beach party is forgotten, an edgy restlessness takes its place. The waves are frothy and hurry in on each others' heels, pushing each other at an angle down the beach, with a fierce rip.

The kids play in the water for a while and then get creative on the sand... with a horse theme of course.

His name is of course Blaze.

And then a sneaky wave rushes in, blurring sharp edges.

A circle in the sand defining a territory. The power of a line on the sand is enough to deflect walkers –  two ladies power walking headed directly for the centre on their line down the beach, but took not one step into the circle, slowing and stepping around the perimeter, as if a magic wall repels all invaders.

The girls retire up the beach to begin another horse artwork.

And then it’s home again to find the heat still engulfing our farm, the early promise of Autumn beaten back by a summer that still has some reserves up its sleeve.

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