Last words from Riana Scheepers

What makes us remember a dish – is it the quality of the food or how much it cost? No, says Riana Scheepers, it’s who you were with, where you had it and how hungry you were at the time.

rRadio talk shows are not my favourite. But, recently, I ended up listening to one, first in amazement and then with much enjoyment.

It usually takes three or four minutes before callers to these shows exercise their democratic right to publicly show how ignorant, racist or completely crazy they are. I usually get so annoyed at the blunders people make that I simply turn off the radio. Silence is much better for my state of mind than the remote possibility that I will hear a few pearls of wisdom. But this programme managed to grab my attention. The subject matter? The best meal you’ve ever had.

I was about to switch off the radio when I heard what they were discussing, but then I was pleasantly surprised.

At first, I thought people would call in about the most expensive meals they’d had in some or other top restaurant. But in actual fact, not one person said that the best meal they’d ever had was in a restaurant.

What did they share, with a hint of nostalgia in their voices? They called in about the simplest food you could imagine. Mealie pap topped with relish on a cold winter’s morning in Ouma’s kitchen. Two youngsters who had shot a dove with a slingshot and cooked it over the coals right there in the veld. Today, as an adult, said Koos, he fondly remembers that dove they braaied without any salt, and how much he and his buddy Thabo enjoyed it.

Someone else called in and said, “There is nothing better than green bean stew on a slice of bread. The way his mom served it. Another woman said, “Nothing beats a pudding from a platteland church fête; the greener and redder and wobblier, the better.”

The callers all confirmed what I already knew: that it is not so much about the quality of the food but rather about where it was eaten. And the circumstances. And who you were with. And, of course, how hungry you were. It might be a cliché but it’s true – hunger is the best sauce. Everything tastes especially good when you are hungry. And you’re not fussy.

I’m not fussy about food – I love it all. And if it’s made by a friend and the company is good, then a cheese sandwich can be a feast.

If I had to call the radio station, what would I tell them?

I remembered one of my own culinary highlights but I was certainly not planning to phone in and share it. Chances were that someone listening would immediately switch off the radio!

My husband and I were once in Namibia. As always, when we are there we try to spend at least one night in the veld. After dinner, with the kids and our friends who were with us fed and cared for, we grabbed a mattress and a sleeping bag and jumped into the bakkie. We headed for the dunes. My adventurous husband also grabbed a bottle of port and two glasses. As the moon rose that night, we sat against the dune, drinking our port from elegant glasses. We saw a lone gemsbok on the crest of the dune, its horns silhouetted against the moon. We slept enfolded in the arms of the night; a deep, sweet slumber.

When the sun rose the next morning, we sat, shivering somewhat, in its bleak rays. We were dying for a cup of coffee and some rusks but in our haste to get away the previous night, we’d forgotten them.

What could we have as a breakfast substitute? Half a bottle of good port. My husband also discovered a packet of sweets – those awful balls that turn your mouth black and change colour the longer you suck them. Left behind by the kids who’d driven the bakkie the day before.

So, what is the best breakfast in the world? Port and black balls. That morning, the folk at home had to cook their own breakfast.

My husband and I were savouring the best breakfast in the world. And celebrating life.