Die Paleis van Fontainebleau: Die Tuiste van Konings

"La vraie demeure des rois, la maison des siècles"

"Die ware tuiste van konings, die huis van die eeue"

Napolean I,

Keiser van Frankryk

 

Ek was nou al in verskeie Europese koninklike residensies, forte wat omgeskakel is in koninklike paleise en wat deur die eeue verder verander is om vandag as museums te dien, landelike kastele, jaghuise van die getitelde klas en ander over-the-top speelplekke van die aristokrate, maar om een of ander rede het ek nog altyd gevoel ek het nog nie die maatstafpaleis gesien nie.

As ‘n mens dink aan classic rock and roll musiek en jouself afvra wie is of was die groot geeste dan dink ‘n mens tog nie aan one hit wonders soos Scott McKenzie, Warren Zevon of Joan Jett nie. Nee, ek glo meeste mense dink soos ek onwillekeurig aan die Rolling Stones, Bruce Springsteen, The Beatles, Elton John, Bob Dylan, ensovoorts. Kunstenaars met hul eie brand, oorspronklik  en hulle kuns het die tyd deurstaan. Kunstenaars wie se musiek ander beïnvloed het of wie se musiek heropgeneem en deur ander geknie, geskaaf en ge-polish is.

As dit kom by koninklike geboue soos kastele en veral paleise dan geld dieselfde maatstawe; Innoverende en/of skouspelagtige ontwerp en kwaliteit vakmanskap. Dit en wie daar in gewoon het dra by tot ‘n gebou se langslewendheid and legendariese status. En langslewendheid het eeu na eeu die konings van Frankryk geinspireer om ‘n kasteel om te skep in ‘n legendariese paleis, instand te hou, aan te las, gedeeltelik te herbou en totaal en al te hermeubileer na die Franse Revolusie.

Nog voor die Paleis van Louvre sy glans gekry en weer verloor het as ‘n setel van koninklike mag, nog voor die Paleis van Versailles omskep is van ‘n muskietbesmette swamp na die ultimate voorbeeld van Franse swier en invloed in Europa, het die Paleis van Fontainebleau reeds bestaan.

Miskien was die drang om dié spesifieke paleis ook te sien histories aangewakker, want direk of indirek het Fontainebleau te same met die 30-Jaar Oorlog in Europa (1618-1648) bygedra dat ek is wie ek is. Want as dit nie was vir die Edik van Fontainebleau nie (onderteken op 22 October 1685 deur Louis XIV), ook bekend as die Herroeping of Terugroeping van die Edik van Nantes, sou van my ma se voorsate (Malherbe) sekerlik nie die lang pad vanaf Normandie na Holland na Suid-Afrika “geloop” het nie. (Daar is ook ‘n baie sterk moontlikheid dat die 30-Jaar Oorlog veroorsaak het dat voorsate aan my pa se kant (Hanekom) vanaf Saxony na Holland gegaan het om werk te soek en om die nagevolge van die oorlog te ontsnap en daarna na Suid-Afrika geimigreer het. Saxony was grootliks ‘n wasteland; verniel, verbrand en op ‘n konstante basis geplunder deur rowers na nog ‘n sinnelose godsdienstige oorlog.)

Die ondertekening van die Edik van Fontainebleau deur Louis XIV in 1685.

Die Edik van Fontainebleau, wat niks anders was as ‘n amptelike en koninklike stempel van goedkeuring om ‘n meer as honderd jaar se ondergrondse vervolging en uitmoordery van Franse Protestante voort te sit, het onder andere beveel dat Hugenote (Franse Protestante) kerke vernietig moet word en Protestantse skole gesluit moet word.  

Hier is ‘n klein uittreksel vanaf die edik:

“. . . we forbid our subjects of the Reform to meet any more for the exercise of the said religion in any place or private house, under any pretext whatever . . .”

“. . . and in consequence we desire, and it is our pleasure, that all the temples of those of the said Reformers situate in our kingdom, countries, territories, and the lordships under our crown, shall be demolished without delay.”

 
[…and it is our pleasure…as of dit ‘n tipe van vermaak was!]

Donderdagoggend en die weer was heelwat warmer as wat ons die afgelope paar dae in Boergondië gehad het. Na ons die Boergondiese heuwels nagelaat het en die vervelige A6 Autoroute du Soleil (Pad van die Son) naby Montcourt-Fromonville verruil het vir ‘n landelike roete, het ons kort daarna die Fontainebleauwoud ingery. Die paleis is geleë binne ‘n enorme woud. Dit het seker soos die meeste ander Middeleeuse paleise as ‘n jaghut sy oorsponklike ontstaan gehad.  
 

Die Sentrale Toring (The Keep).

Die vroegste geskrewe wat verwys na ‘n kasteel by Fountainebleau dateer uit 1137 AD. Die Sentrale Toring dateer uit 1169 en is die enigste gedeelte (wat maklik gesien kan word) wat vandag nog oorgebly het vanaf die Middeleeuse tydperk. Toe ons daar was was die gedeelte nie oop vir die publiek nie so ek het maar ‘n foto deur ‘n indrukwekkende hek geneem.  

Die ingang na die ou oorsponklike gedeelte van die paleis.

Maar die paleis sou totaal en al verander en sommer baie uitgebrei word vanaf 1528 deur François I, die eerste Franse Renaissance koning en liefhebber van onderandere paleise bou. Ek het al voorheen oor hom en een van sy ander meesterstukke, Chambord, geskryf.  Hy was ook ‘n groot liefhebber van vroue en het eenkeer gesê: “Une cour sans femmes est comme un jardin sans fleurs” (’n Hof sonder dames is soos ‘n tuin sonder blomme.)

Die François I Gallery. Die gallery was ‘n innoverende skepping vir die tydperk en is ryklik versier deur frescoes en kunswerke met pleisterwerk rame. Een van vandag se bekendste kunswerke, Leonardo Da Vinci se Mona Lisa het 200 jaar voordat dit na die Louvre Museum verskuif is in dié gallery gehang.

 

Die Trinity Chapel wat oor ‘n tydperk van meer as 50 jaar gebou is. Dit is begin deur François I (1494-1547), voortgesit deur sy opvolger Henry II (1519-1559) en die plafon is voltooi deur Henry IV (1553-1610). Die paleis met sy 1500 plus kamers is waarlik ‘n reis deur tyd en style. Nie dat ‘n mens al die kamers kan besoek nie, maar dit is 'n enorme plek. Sekere gedeeltes van die paleis kan vrylik deur geloop word en oor gekwyl word, byvoorbeeld die Napoleon Museum, die pous se kamers, die balsaal en die François I gallery, terwyl ander gedeeltes soos die Empress’ Chinese Museum en die Diana Gallery slegs met begeleide toere besoek kan word. 

Beeldhouwerk

Plafonne en kandelare.

Die plafonne is uitsonderlik, vertrek na vertrek, en seker van die beste wat ek nog gesien het. 

 

34 Franse konings oor ‘n tydperk van 800 jaar het die Paleis van Fontainebleau op een of ander tyd deur hul bewind hul tuiste gemaak. Sommige net vir ‘n vlietende oomblik terwyl ander soos François I en Henry IV baie tyd hier gespandeer het. Napolean I het seker die meeste gedoen om die paleis te restoreer en het dit totaal gehermeubileer nadat al die meubels tydens die Franse Revolusie verwyder is.

Not your mamma’s sideboards

 

Die ikoniese foto van Fontainebleau. Op die beroemde hoefyster trappe, nadat hy so baie gedoen het om die paleis te restoureer, het Napoleon I in 1814 geabdikeer.

 

Laat middag nadat ons ‘n laaste draai gemaak het deur die Diana Tuin en die paleis kompleks verlaat het het ons vir ‘n wyle deur die dorpie van Fontainebleau gedrentel, op ‘n bankie gaan sit en ‘n roomys geniet en sommer net die ou geboue rondom ons betraag en people watching gedoen. Ag, die luilekker dae van vakansies.

 

Is die Paleis van Fontainbleau die maatstafpaleis? Die moeder van alle Franse paleise? Moeilik om te sê. Die feit dat so baie konings, argitekte en kunstenaars oor so ‘n lang tydperk bygedra het tot die paleis soos hy vandag daarna uitsien en sy groot verskeidenheid van style maak van dit 'n meer interessante paleis as Versailles. Persoonlik het ek Fontainebleau meer geniet as Versailles of Amboise of Chambord. Vanuit ‘n geskiedkundige oogpunt dink ek staan dit kop en skouers uit bo alle ander France kastele en paleise.

Chateau d’Esclimont

Ongelukkig was Fontainebleau nie ons finale bestemming vir die dag nie.  Ons het nog so ‘n uur of wat se ry oorgehad deur die goudbedekte vlaktes van die Ile-de-France area suid van Parys, oortrek van raapsaad landerye. Ons bestemming and blyplek vir die volgende twee dae was Chateau d’Esclimont,  in die klein dorpie van Bleury-Saint Symphorien.

Frescoes in die slaapkamer van die Hertogin van Etampes, François I se minnares.

 

Napoleon I se troonkamer. Dit het nog steeds al die oorpronklike meubels sedert 1804. 

Burgundy: Rugged and Refined

 

The next morning after another sumptuous breakfast at the Chateau de Gilly our first stop was at one of Burgundy’s most famous and celebrated grand cru wine estates before we went to Beaune, wine capital of the Côte D’Or. The afternoon was left open for some castle hunting. After the previous day’s extensive walking in marvelous Dijon we promised ourselves to take it a bit slower today. After all, we are on vacation.

 Château du Clos de Vougeot

A stone’s throw away from our hotel was one of the most historic and celebrated Burgundian wine estates, the Château du Clos de Vougeot. In the year 1089 an abbot, Robert of Molesme, left his Cluniac monastery to start the Abbey of Citeaux, south of Dijon. At first, farming and planting of grapes were on only a few small patches of land donated to the Abbey. After 1108 when Stephen Harding became the 3^rd Abbot of Citeaux, he acquired Clos Vougeot and several other pieces of undeveloped land. Over the next 250 years, through skillful diplomacy, the Abbey would continue to purchase more parcels of adjoining land until it eventually own a large stretch of land between Echézeaux and Musigny. From the earliest time they enclosed the land with stone walls, hence the word clos, meaning closed or enclosed in French. Here the austere-living monks perfected winemaking. Today the domaine, wine estate, is the largest enclosed vineyard in Burgundy and measure 50 hectares and is partitioned into many small lots, owned by 80 different owners. Some of Burgundy’s most famous labels own a lot or two of the chateau’s appellation.

M exploring the old cellar. The floor is cleverly contoured to make it easy to roll wine barrels in and out of the cellar.

 

After 700 years the monks were kicked of the land during the French Revolution and the state annexed the chateau. It was sold and resold through the 1800’s and in 1944 the last private owner sold it to the Confrérie des Chevaliers du Tastevin, directly translated, the Brotherhood of the Knights of the Wine-Tasting Cup, an exclusive club of wine lovers, but whose main objectives are to promotes Burgundy wine, cuisine and to some extent, Burgundian culture. They are basically a tourist office. A very exclusive one that is, which is only opened to selective members.  The Brotherhood does not farm any of the land nor does it sell any wine. Each of the 80 owners makes and sells their own wine.  

 The vat room at Chateau du Clos de Vougeot

The place is a step back in time in the art of wine-making. With an English guidebook in hand we tour the premises by ourselves. Although the cellar and vat house are from the 12^th century, the chateau was added much later in 1551 by Dom Jean Loisier, the 48^th abbot of Citeaux. The small museum and huge old wine presses and vats were impressive and the old cellar is today used for gala banquets, weddings and business seminars. In one corner of the complex is a kitchen and we had a tiny glimpse of white capped chefs stirring and cooking in large copper pots. After about an hour or so and some shopping in the chateau’s visitor center we headed towards Beaune.

I was not that impressed with Beaune. It doesn’t have the charm of Dijon. On the other hand, it would be unfair of me to judge it harshly after only seeing a small part of the town. We entered this medieval city from the north via the Porta St. Nicolas and lazily made our way towards the Hôtel-Dieu de Beaune, a hospice found in 1443 and our main attraction in Beaune. In a square nearby the hospice we came across a daily market and M bought a lovely Provençal yellow tablecloth. 

We spent about an hour or more in the Hôtel-Dieu de Beaune. Although interesting, I think M enjoyed the hospice and its history far more than I did.

Our walking tour continued to the Collegiale Basilica of Notre-Dame de Beaune. Started in the middle of the 1100’s and completed in the early part of the 1200’s this Romanesque church has some of the cleanest, clearest and most magnificent stained glass windows I have seen in recent years. Especially rare was the grey and yellow colors of some of the windows.  The current windows are Gothic. The original Romanesque windows were replaced after a fire in 1272.

 

Beaune's Notre-Dame Basilica

By mid-afternoon we left Beaune and drove towards Chalon-sur-Saône, southwards through the famous Pommard wine region. We skirted the villages of Pommard, Volnay and Meursault, drove through the tiny hamlet of Chagny until we reached the Chateau de Germolles. Although not a ruin, it was not in a condition what we came to expect from French castles. When we arrived at Germolles we thought it was nothing more than a ruin. From the outside it certainly looked that way. We started to “trespass” and walked around on the property, looking for an entrance or an office, found none, but then a gentleman came from one of the out buildings and asks if we wanted a tour. We said we would like to but it seemed the place was locked up for the winter like most of Burgundy’s castles.
 

 Chateau de Germolles

It turned out the gentleman was one of the castle’s current owners and the one staying on the property and he then personally took us on a tour through various rooms of the castle, a chapel that was being restored and the empty wine cellar. He gave us the whole history of the place since it was mostly rebuilt under the guidance of Margaret III of Flanders, who, interestingly enough, was the wife of two different 14th century dukes of Burgundy. She was first married to Philip of Rouvres who was the Duke of Burgundy from 1350 to 1361. In 1369 she married her first husband’s step-brother, Philip the Bold, who ruled Burgundy from 1363 to 1404.

Chateau de Germolles

The owner, very well informed on historical matter, particularly  about the castle’s and Burgundy’s and French history in general, told us how his family acquired the castle 100 years after the French Revolution. Now five generations later it is still in the family's possession albeit in a semi rundown condition. Based on what he told us how long they have been restoring the place my guess is it will take several more generations to complete the restoration, except if they win a lottery soon. But it was interesting to get a personal tour and perspective and being able to ask questions you don’t usually get to ask when visiting castles. 

Nevertheless, dump or not (my view only), the Chateau de Germolles is a rare “beauty.” There are only two preserved residences left in Burgundy that dates from the 14^th Century and belonged to Philip the Bold, a portion of the Palace of the Dukes in Dijon and the Chateau de Germolles, of which Germolles is quite well preserved.

 

The evening’s dinner at Le Clos de la Vouge in Vougeot was a case of going to food heaven and back. It was no doubt one of the best meals we have had in France. We chose a five course meal on our last evening in Burgundy and the star of the evening’s meal was M's hors d’oeuvres, a cheese and mustard quiche, which was absolutely magnifique. The best way to describe it is to say it was somewhat like a quiche Lorraine, but minus the ham, slightly darker yellow in color, much sharper in taste and softer in texture. (Upon our return to the US I have search the internet inside out and upside down for a similar recipe and so far found none. It must have been a unique creation from the resident chef. In any case, I know, even if I find a recipe I can probably never replicate it because the specific bourguignon cheese will not be available in my tiny village.)  M had beouf bourguignon and I poulet supreme, chicken in a cream sauce, for our plat principal, main course. A splendid cheese plate and dessert of poached pears in a red wine reduction sauce rounded off a special foody evening. Sometimes it seemed we spent all our time “rolling” from one fabulous meal to the next.

Beaune Street Scene

Too soon our time in Burgundy came to an end. Burgundy is rugged in country and architecture, refined in cuisine and wine, with people friendly in nature. I loved our time there. On the Thursday morning after breakfast we headed northwest to the Île-de-France region with a stopover at Chateau Fontainebleau, the playground of so many kings of France before we continued to our destination for the next two nights at Chateau D'esclimont.
 



After 3 days in Burgundy we took to the hills again, into the Burgundian hinterland, north towards Paris. But not before a last look back through the hazy morning sky at the Cote d’Or.

 

Hôtel-Dieu de Beaune

 

 



Crisscrossing the Côte d’Or

No view,

no landscape,

however varied,

 picturesque or grandiose

can make me forget

 my little valley in Burgundy.

- Alexandre Dumas.

French author.

Village upon village and valley upon valley drifted past as we crisscrossed the Burgundian backroads from Quemigny-Poisot to Vougeot, from Gevrey-Chambertin to Dijon, from Nuits-Saint-Georges to Beaune and beyond, to Chalon-sur-Saône and then back again along the “Grand Cru Highway” to Gilly-lès-Citreaux.

It was the end of March. Spring was still loosening itself from winter’s claws and the valleys and rolling hills were an ugly dark greyish brown. This is not how I would have liked to see the Côte d’Or or any wine country for that matter! The famous grapes were nothing more than possible reborns. Just hope! Hope for a good harvest year.

It was cleanup time in the vineyards. It was the start of the new production year. Everywhere small white or blue Peugeot industrial vans could be seen, parked on narrow gravel roads between the domaines, the estates. These little vans are the transport of choice for the capped, coated and gloved “vine crafters” who methodically worked up and down along the miles and miles of strung wire and among the thousands upon thousands of gnarled grape vine stumps, some already skillfully pruned by these pruning artists, some not…yet. Here and there smoke from small fires rose in thin columns into the still air, fueled by vine offcuts. Occasionally one would see a farmer in one of those tiny, narrow, strange looking, stilted vineyard tractors tilling between the vines.

 

I was quite surprised when we saw a farmer using horses to till the narrow stretch of land between the vines. We stopped and I took some pictures. As I was watching the horses in action and as an aspiring farmer myself, I wondered about his choice of tilling power; was it because he couldn’t afford a tractor, or was it because his soil management policy is based on natural production methods and that he believed the lighter horse does less soil compacting than the heavier tractors.

I'm drifting off...

My dominant memories of Burgundy are of its friendly helpful people, the historic splendor of old town Dijon, and the region’s incredible food and wine. My only regret is going to Burgundy at the “wrong” time. It was really still winter, granted, at the very end of winter, but still, late spring would have been a better time to visit. Summers can be hot, fall you will have nice colors but it is the busy harvest season. But in mid to late spring, I can imagine a quilted, and ever changing landscape as grape leaves sprout and transform from patches of yellow and lime to darker shades of green depending on the season’s progression.  

 Place des Cordeliers dated 1642

 

Dijon, famous for arguable the best mustard in the world, is not only the capital of Burgundy, but also an architectural marvel. Both M and I were pleasantly surprised after only a few minutes of walking through the old center of town.

I parked our car on the western end of the historic district behind the Eglise St-Michel, a flamboyant Gothic church from the 16^th century. I had no map of the city so we followed the tourists’ information signs that you see in most French cities, to the Palace of the Dukes of Burgundy and the Place de la Libération, a semicircular square in front of the Duke’s Palace. Dijon’s “Trafalgar Square”. Unfortunately it was a Monday and the palace which now houses the Musée des Beaux Arts, the Fine Arts Museum, was closed.  Many museums in France are closed on Mondays. If I wasn’t so free and easy and looked at or even just brought our guidebook, I would have known about the closure. On the other hand, an open museum would have meant several hours of missing countless other architectural wonders we discovered on our walkabouts.

 

Dijon is a maze and we soon realized we do need a map or else we will be walking in circles all day. We found a tourist office in a street behind the palace where we picked up a map and a booklet about Dijon, called The Owl’s Trail. The booklet had an easy to read map and was stuffed with interesting facts about the buildings, churches, squares and streets of Dijon. A booklet worth its weight on gold.   

Dijon's Notre Dame church 

From the information center we walked around to the Dijon Notre Dame where we lingered for a moment. The façade struck me as something I would expect in Venice. The thin upper arches caught my eye first (is it Byzantine? I wondered, wrongly) and on closer inspection fifty one gargoyles in three rows of seventeen, is supported by three very tall Gothic arches.  Inside a service was in progress so we stay for only a minute or two. The natural light inside was quite amazing.  Colored stained glass windows, mostly blue, keeps the bottom portion of the church darkish while the upper windows are clear glass and this play of light gives the roof a floating effect.    

 Dijon Notre Dame Church façade with its 51 false gargoyles. The real gargoyles from the 13th Century did not stood the test of time except for a few at the back of the church..

We switched back and crossed the Place de la Libération again and came upon the Palace of Justice, construction started in 1518, the Burgundian Parliament building during part of the 16^th century. Its carved front door and its Hall of St. Louis evoked a lively and noisy vision of scattering parliamentary delegates and shopkeepers talking to visiting ladies in vertugadin en bourrelet dresses, billowy at the hips with puffed up arms, wearing 1580’s version of the Jackie Kennedy pillbox hats, who came to listen to a public hearing or to their husbands or fathers speak in parliament and shop at the same time. This place was a beehive during the early 17^th century. Upon entering the empty St. Louis Hall, the front door was slightly open and I, inquisitive as always to explore nooks and crannies, but also hesitantly walked in with M on my heels. Two policemen at the end of the long hall gave us a beady-eye look as they guard the entrance to modern day Dijon’s Court of Appeals. Once they saw I was just shooting pictures with my camera and no threat to them or the guarded justices they ignored us and we continue gawking at the arched wooden ceiling and intricately carved crossbeams of the hall.

 

The Palace of Justice

It was easy to mentally drift off while walking down the narrow streets with their many timber-framed houses and dreamingly imagine all the dramas of life that played out on these alleys and passages through the centuries.  

 Dijon Street Scenes

Besides Paris, M feels Dijon is the second most beautiful town in France after Les Baux-de-Provence. Dijon has beautiful and delicately carved door entrances, many 15^th century timber-framed houses that somehow survived time and weather’s onslaught over the centuries, and numerous architectural styles from different periods and they all appear to blend seamlessly together as if a single architect designed and built the historic town in one lifetime. 

 

 

Returning from Dijon we drove to Nuits-Saint-Georges, only about 10 minutes’ drive from our hotel, for a walk through a restored part of town, some shopping (and dealing with a store clerk whose English was as non-existent as my French) and dinner at Restaurant des Cultivateurs.

The dinner was good traditional Burgundian food and so much better than what we had the night before at Le Clos Prieur. We looked at two other restaurants before we stumbled upon des Caltivateurs. The display menu outside the front door looked decent and the many pieces of porcelain roosters and other chicken related artwork inside looked inviting. M loves chicken art. The restaurant had a cozy country feeling to it, created by wood-beamed ceilings, exposed brick walls and tables covered in checkered red and white tablecloths; simple, typical, no-frills! The wine list was all local. The Domaine Philippe Gavignet, Bourgogne Hautes-Cotes du Nuits, “Clos des Dames Huguettes”, a 2014 gold medal winner at a Paris wine show, was enjoyable.

 Nuits-Saint-Georges street scene

During dinner we had another rather amusing “lost in translation” moment (the second for the night after the store clerk). We had a few of them on this trip, which is not surprising at all seeing that we hugged the French countryside for most of the vacation. It always amazes me on business travel trips when I hear some people complain about the lack of English among the local people. OMG…while back home they are the same crowd that complains if a foreigner, English-abled, visiting their backyard can’t understand their local accent…

M wanted to find out more about some of the desserts on the menu and asked the waiter for a translation of one of the dishes. He couldn’t help so he asked another diner, who couldn’t translate the dish to English either. He went to another table for help and the whole issue snowballed. Eventually several of the diners tried to help with the translation until one of the waiters disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of honey and a loaf of gingerbread to explain what was in the specific dessert.

Friezes in Dijon

“Ah! Merci” M exclaimed to great applause and laughter from the whole restaurant. We were somewhat embarrassed being the center of the attention, but only for a fraction of a second, because the spirit of friendliness and the desire of Burgundians to help a non-French speaking person were very touching. 

She decided against the gingerbread and honey dessert and asked what the next dessert item was and I thought, oh no, here we go again, but luckily a woman at a table close by could translate the rest of the menu items and M eventually settled on a cherry or berry pie. However, she ended the evening by ordering coffee for us in perfect French: “Deux grands cafés s'il vous plaît”.

It was incidents like these and a general sense of spontaneity and freedom throughout the whole trip that made this vacation in France one of our most memorable vacations.  

 

 Dijon

‘n Kaaps-Italiaanse Gemoedstoestand - Penne met Boerewors, Pinotage en Basiliekruid

Dis nou al weke dat ek lus is vir boerewors. So uit die bloute uit. Sedert ek laas in 2010 in Suid-Afrika was het ek boerewors geëet, maar dis so lank gelede ek kan nie eens meer onthou wanneer laas nie. Dit moet jare wees. Ek skat 2011 laas. Ek het nou selfs so ver gegaan en geprobeer om boerewors speserye oor die Internet gekoop by African Hut in California en Out of Africa Trading in Vancouver, maar beide het nie Freddy Hirsch se Grabouw Boerewors speserye in voorraad gehad nie. Die goed moet gewild wees. Terloops, wat ‘n verrassing was dit nie toe ek ontdek het dat Grabouw boerewors speserye en vele ander nou beskikbaar is op die Internet. Ek wag nou vir die volgende aflewering daarvan by African Hut.

  

Hoekom dan net Grabouw speserye? Dis waaraan ek gewoond was, mee opgegroei het en waarna ek nou smag. Die perfekte balans tussen vleis, vet, koljander, neutmuskaat en naeltjies. Ek sê nie dis die beste boerewors nie; die “beste” bestaan net in elke fynproewer se palaat. Boerewors is mos ‘n tradisionele lekkerny en soos dit maar is met elke land se eie tradisionele geregte, is daar soveel “die beste” soos elkeen se eie resep of die resep waarmee hy/sy grootgeword het.

 

Toe ek laas in Suid-Afrika was het ek spesiaal ‘n ompad gery om by Grabouw te stop en wors speserye te koop. Ek het voorheen hieroor geskryf in 2011. Ek het destyds met die terugkoms boerewors te maak en die speserye gebruik, maar myne was glad nie so ‘n sukses soos die ware Jakob wat ek in Suid-Afrika geëet het nie.

Laas Vrydag moes ek in Lexington, KY, wees en toe maar my moed laat begewe en by Critchfield Meats gaan stop en ‘n pak “Karpse Boerewors”, soos die etiket gelees het, gekoop. Jare gelede het ek al besluit Critchfield Meats mag dalk hul boerewors boerewors noem, maar dit was nog altyd net so ‘n verre smaak afwyking soos die verkragting van die woord “Kaapse” op hul etikette. Ek het doerie tyd al besluit om nie meer van hul boerewors te koop nie. Nie dat my probeerslae enigsins beter is nie! Maar dis sooibrandpillewors. Want die geëet van hulle weergawe van boerewors en sooibrand loop hand-aan-hand soos lovers op ‘n evening stroll na ete. Gewoonlik het hulle wors te veel asyn en te min koljander in.    

 

Maar dit was nogtans met afwagting dat ek Saterdagaand die helfte van die pak wors saam met ‘n skaaptjoppie of twee op die kole gegooi het. Soos altyd het ek ekstra koljander fyngemaal en bo-op die wors  geskrooi voor braaityd. Maar groot was my teleurstelling, wat het ek regtig verwag, maar ook verbasing om ‘n soetigheid in die wors te proe in plaas van die gewone suurigheid van “te veel asyn.” Nou nie cheesecake soet nie, maar ‘n duidelike suggestie van ietsie soet. Het die slagter nou gaan staan en bruinsuiker by die wors gooi? Ek weet van sekere, rare boerewors resepte wat vra vir bruinsuiker, (‘n onding na my mening) maar net ‘n titsel om van die asyn te neutraliseer. ‘n Mens is nooit veronderstel om dit te proe nie. Of as ‘n mens Karoo Boerewors maak en brandewyn gebruik het ek al gesien die resep vra vir ‘n bietjie soetwyn. Miskien het die slagter se suikerhand geglip? Of…hy kon tog nie perdevleis gebruik het nie. Hulle sê mos dit het so ‘n soeterige smaak en Kentucky is mos perde wêreld. No, no…no benefit of the doubt! Hulle wors was nog altyd en bly kak.

Maar wat gemaak met die ander helfte van die gekoopte pak wors?  Kom Sondagaand en ek wou eers ‘n Lancashire Sausage Hotpot maak met gekapte aartapels en jong wortels op ‘n uie, knoffel en bietjie tamatie fondasie, maar hoe meer ek dink aan die soetigheid hoe meer het ek geneig na ‘n tamatie pasta sous. Die soetigheid gaan mos beter saamsmelt met die delikate soetigheid van ‘n goeie tamatiesous. Dit laat my mos ook ruimte om die smaak te beheer afhangende van hoe sterk die neutmuskaat en naeltjies smaak na vore gaan kom. Ek besluit toe maar om innoverend te wees en my eie resep te skep Penne con contadino salsiccia e vino rosso e basilico, Penne met Boerewors, rooiwyn en basiliekruid, te maak. Nie dat ‘n mens regtig boerewors kan vertaaal na farmer or peasant wors nie. Boerewors is boerewors! Maar dan weer, dié wors is ‘n kama-boerewors, so ‘n Italiaanse vertaling is aan die orde van die dag.   

 

Ek begin toe maar. Of as ek Esmé Euvrard en Jan Cronje mag aanhaal: Só maak mens…

Kap ‘n groot Spaanse geel ui, ‘n handvol jong worteltjies en 3 knoffelhuisies fyn. Intussen verhit ‘n bietjie olyfolie in ‘n pan, voeg die uie en wortels by en laat dit soteer vir 6 tot 8 minute. Die uie moet begin karameliseer. Voeg dan die knoffel by vir so ‘n minuut en skep dan alles uit en hou eenkant. Terwyl die uie en wortels elk hul sagter sy ontdek en mekaar beter leer ken deur die geprut, sny solank die wors op in 1 duim dwergworsies, happie grote.  Gooi die wors in die pan en braai liggies. Hoekom gooi ek nie net sommer die wors by die uie nie? Ek wou eers probeer agterkom hoe sterk die reuk van speserye en asyn na vore kom om te bepaal hoeveel en watter ander speserye en kruie ek moet byvoeg. Gewoonlik as gegeurde vleis begin opwarm, binne die eerste 2 of 3 minute, is die ontlading van die verskillende reuke van die speserye die sterkste. Dis toe dat ek sal agterkom wat die soetheid in die wors veroorsaak. Of wel ek dink so. Dit was die asyn. In plaas van ‘n tipiese suurige reuk van bruin asyn het ek ‘n soetige asyn reuk in die stoom vanaf die pan bespeur.

 Selfs 'n wildsbokkie het nader gestaan en kom kyk wat maak ek op die stoep.

Braai die worsies vir ‘n paar minute net tot alle kante begin vaal-bruin word. Voeg dan ‘n glas rooiwyn by, laat die alkohol verdamp, skep die uie-en-wortel mengsel terug in die pan en gooi ‘n 14 oz. bottel gekoopte tamatie pasta sous by. In my geval was dit ‘n bottel ingevoerde Gia Russa Marinara sous van Italië, maar enige goeie spaghetti-sous sal werk. Om so ‘n bietjie extra woema te gee het ek 1 teelepel gedroogte Siciliaanse kruie, 2 teelepels gedroogte Italiaanse kruie, sout en swartpeper by gevoeg.  Sit ‘n deksel op die pan en laat dit saggies stowe vir omtrent ‘n uur.

Sienende dat ek dan nou ‘n amperse Suid-Afrikaanse atmosfeer geskep het met die kama-boerewors en die reuke van ‘n Italiaanse plaaskombuis die huis deurweek, let’s go all the way, en ek maak toe maar ‘n bottel Bolandse voggies oop om ‘n volledige Kaaps-Italiaanse  gemoedstoestand daar te stel. Hoe dan anders? Pinotage is mos eg Suid-Afrikaans, gebore en getoë in Stellenbosch, en Nederburg is ‘n Kaapse ikoon soos Paarlberg se Taalmonument, net oor die bult vanaf die bekende wynmaker.      
 

So terwyl die boerewors sy unieke vleis en spesery geure laat uitsypel en saamsmelt met die roomerige tamatiesous, vat ek ‘n ruskansie in ‘n skommelstoel op die agterstoep, staar uit oor die weiveld, nog sonder skapies, geniet ‘n sigaret en sip aan die rooi voggies. Ek het ook ‘n draai gaan maak in die tuin en ‘n handvol basiliekruid blare en vine ripened tamaties gaan pluk.

Die wyn, 'n 2010 Nederburg Pinotage, Winemaker's Reserve, was 'n uitstekende voorbeeld van hoe 'n Pinotage moet proe en lyk. In die glas was dit diep robyn rooi met baie min purper op die rante en die neus was vol pruime en 'n bietjie eikehout. Op die palaat was dit 'n vet, sagte, mondvol vrugte sonder die kenmerkende aardse smaak wat in baie Suid-Afrikaanse wyne voorkom. Min tanniene te bespeur. Die nasmaak was lank, peperig met fluisterende gerugte van bitter swart koffie. In die algemeen 'n hoogs verfijnde wyn. Wilhelm Pienaar, die wynmaker het hom uitstekend van sy taak gekwyt.

 

Terug in die kombuis, kook so veel penne pasta soos benodig in soutwater tot al dente. Indien te veel van die tamatiesous weggekook is kan van die verrykte pastawater by die sous gevoeg word. Of nog  rooiwyn. Take no prisoners. Ek het van beide bygevoeg. Dreineer die pasta en voeg dit by die boerewors-en-tamatie mengsel, gooi driekwart van die gekapte basiliekruid by en meng liggies.

Now for the crowning glory. Strooi ‘n laag, so ‘n opgehoopte handvol, gesnipperde Mozzarella kaas, ‘n goeie laag gerasperde Parmigiano-Reggiano kaas en nog 'n handvol gesnipperde Cheddar kaas bo oor die kosmengsel, sit die deksel terug, sit die stoof af, en vat nog ‘n ruskansie op die stoep, neem 'n foto of twee van 'n wildsbok wat nuuskierig nader staan, terwyl die kaas smelt en hul romerigheid die pasta mengsel beseën en bevrug. Koskook is mos harde werk!  

Net voor opskeptyd strooi twee klein, gekapte tamaties en die laaste van die basiliekruid oor die kos as garneering.
 

M se kommentaar oor hierdie Boere-Italiaanse kooksel: OMG!!! Die gereg het 'n sagte robuuste smaak gehad vanwee die boerewors se skerp speserye en Siciliaanse kruie maar was tog ook romerig vanwee die topgehalte tamatiesous en handevol kaas. Definitely a keeper, as ek net boerewors in die hande kan kry.

  
Na 'n stukkie aarbeie kaaskoek vir nagereg het ek die naderende sonsondergang met 'n beker koffie vanaf die agterstoep gesit en besigtig. Hoogs tevrede met die resultaat van my Penne con contadino salsiccia e vino rosso e basilico, Penne met Boerewors, Pinotage rooiwyn en basiliekruid,