Half-baked question about the ‘point’ of rusks

IMUST confess I was quite shocked when a friend from France declared that she “couldn’t really see the point of rusks”. Not see the point? Goodness me, rusks are an essential part of South Africa’s national diet. Babies cut their first teeth on rusks, grandparents dunk rusks in their coffee, married people irritate their spouses by leaving rusk crumbs in the bed.

Rusks, in one form or another, are made all over the world, according to Wikipedia. Basically they are twice-baked bread. In Germany they are Zwiebacks, in France they are biscotte and in Greece they are dakos, all of which simply mean “twice baked”.

Like all dictionary definitions, however, this tells only a small part of the story.

A Zwieback and a biscotte are nothing like a South African rusk.

That would be like saying a dassie and a beaver are the same because they both have four legs and fur. A rusk is as much a part of our heritage as biltong. They speak of an age of pioneers exploring the continent, travelling long distances on horseback and in wagons that had no form of refrigeration for keeping food fresh.

A stick of biltong and a bag of rusks were security; insurance against hunger.

They could be tucked into a saddle bag or stowed in the wakis – light and compact.

Most of us who grew up in this country can tell of our own experiences of rusks.

My grandmother baked superb buttermilk rusks, using real buttermilk from the churn where the farm butter was made.

I was allowed, as a small boy, to have “just one” of the sweet buns as a treat before they were put into the oven for the second baking.

Probably the best known brand of commercially made rusks is Ouma’s, originally known as Outspan Rusks.

They are still made in the little Karoo town of Molteno where Granny Greyvensteyn made the first batch to raise money for her church’s missionary work back in the depression years of the 1930s.

Maybe the story of Granny’s rusks is what endears them to me. I imagine there is a tiny waft of genuine Karoo air encapsulated in every one of those rusks.

Regular readers will know I am an enthusiastic supporter of anything from the Karoo. Don’t try to feed me machine-made city stuff. My French friend might dismiss rusks as pointless, but to me they are nothing less than history in a box.

Of course, rusks need to be dunked in strong coffee to get the best from them.

Don’t get me going about the best way to make good coffee. We’d be here all night.

Last Laugh

Little Johnny’s class of eight-year-olds were taken on an outing to visit the local fire station. One of the firemen was demonstrating the many items of firefighting equipment.

He held up a strangely shaped device and said: “This is a smoke detector alarm sensor. Can anybody tell me what it is used for?” Immediately little Johnny’s hand shot up. “Yes Johnny, what is it for?” “Well my mom uses it to let her know when her rusks are cooked,” he said.