South African food is a misunderstood living archive that holds potent stories, past and present.
I’ve sat at so many tables where this question pops up with a dismissive tone: “But what is South African food?”
I think our cuisine is a perfect metaphor to understand how far we have come from apartheid, colonisation, white supremacy and segregation. Look around our prestigious restaurant hubs and it is apparent ideologically we have not travelled very far at all.
Our most exclusive supermarket chain Woolworths was celebrated in late 2023 when it launched its heritage food range adding dombolo (steamed bread), amagwinya (fat cakes) and later koesisters (sweetly spiced fried bread, dipped and rolled in a naartjie sugar syrup and coconut) and roosterkoek (griddle-roasted farm bread) to their vast repertoire of breads and sweet treats.
However, 2023 was almost three decades into “freedom and equality” when the offering emerged. The move to include a few heritage foods in national supermarkets was hardly revolutionary. It was about time heritage foods become as easily accessible as other convenience foods.
If you look at the four race groups the population was divided into during apartheid — black, coloured, Indian and white — and then reduce “black food” to pap, kota, a seven-colours plate, chakalaka, samp and beans, amagwinya and dombolo; “coloured food” to Gatsbys, koesisters, bredies, bobotie and peppermint crisp tart; “Indian food” to bunny chows, Durban curries, samosas and rotis; and “white food” to potjiekos, boerewors, English breakfasts, apple crumble and milk tart, you quickly realise to create a South African table even with this limited selection you would need to travel to many different outlets in different areas to find them ready-made, or you will have to make them yourself. (Disclaimer: there is more heritage food than the above and more to it all than I can explain.)
I wanted to illustrate that there’s no one-stop shop to obtain an array of South African heritage foods. Convenience is lacking to facilitate the consumer’s desire for a simple South African spread representative of the nation’s cultural vastness. In all ways, we are more layered and nuanced, unable to fit neatly into apartheid’s four racial groups. We’ve spilled into each other and influence one another — and share the country with people from around the continent and the world.
Here’s a chakalaka recipe to kickstart your month-end weekend vibes
It’s a flavour collaboration of African, Asian and European influences, like the country it represents — and it sounds as fun as it is delicious
Image: Gallo Images/ER Lombard
South African food is a misunderstood living archive that holds potent stories, past and present.
I’ve sat at so many tables where this question pops up with a dismissive tone: “But what is South African food?”
I think our cuisine is a perfect metaphor to understand how far we have come from apartheid, colonisation, white supremacy and segregation. Look around our prestigious restaurant hubs and it is apparent ideologically we have not travelled very far at all.
Our most exclusive supermarket chain Woolworths was celebrated in late 2023 when it launched its heritage food range adding dombolo (steamed bread), amagwinya (fat cakes) and later koesisters (sweetly spiced fried bread, dipped and rolled in a naartjie sugar syrup and coconut) and roosterkoek (griddle-roasted farm bread) to their vast repertoire of breads and sweet treats.
However, 2023 was almost three decades into “freedom and equality” when the offering emerged. The move to include a few heritage foods in national supermarkets was hardly revolutionary. It was about time heritage foods become as easily accessible as other convenience foods.
If you look at the four race groups the population was divided into during apartheid — black, coloured, Indian and white — and then reduce “black food” to pap, kota, a seven-colours plate, chakalaka, samp and beans, amagwinya and dombolo; “coloured food” to Gatsbys, koesisters, bredies, bobotie and peppermint crisp tart; “Indian food” to bunny chows, Durban curries, samosas and rotis; and “white food” to potjiekos, boerewors, English breakfasts, apple crumble and milk tart, you quickly realise to create a South African table even with this limited selection you would need to travel to many different outlets in different areas to find them ready-made, or you will have to make them yourself. (Disclaimer: there is more heritage food than the above and more to it all than I can explain.)
I wanted to illustrate that there’s no one-stop shop to obtain an array of South African heritage foods. Convenience is lacking to facilitate the consumer’s desire for a simple South African spread representative of the nation’s cultural vastness. In all ways, we are more layered and nuanced, unable to fit neatly into apartheid’s four racial groups. We’ve spilled into each other and influence one another — and share the country with people from around the continent and the world.
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However, our food scene doesn’t reflect our progress. In affluent areas of the two cities where I spend most of my time (Cape Town and Johannesburg), it’s very easy to find European food — pork bangers and eggs benedict on all menus, grilled and roasted meats or fish with lemon butter and white garlic sauces, pain au chocolate, croissants, sourdough, pastel de nata, pizza, pasta, high tea and scones, and so on.
Yet most of us haven’t eaten Somali food, though Somalians are one of the largest African populations in South Africa. Ingredients such as plantain, cassava and okra, ubiquitous in west African cuisines, are found exclusively at specialist “African” and “Asian” outlets, not at our main supermarket franchises.
We are overtly Eurocentric while simultaneously Afrophobic. Apartheid intended for us to hate ourselves and each other. Knowing everything about Italian cuisine, for example, and nothing about our neighbours, or being disparaging of them, is a way to read how the past continues to live in the present.
Our infinite list of local dishes — and the lack of us, as a nation, knowing them all, and not knowing enough about each other’s foods or cultures — is symbolic. Our ignorance is by design, as is the value our restaurants and supermarkets hold for certain foods.
I nominate chakalaka as a South African food of national unity. It gives the braai a sense of place. Chakalaka can be eaten as a meal or accompaniment. Comprising onions, tomatoes, spices, canned baked beans and chillies, it’s said to have originated in the townships in Johannesburg. It’s a flavour collaboration of African, Asian and European influences, like the country it represents — plus it sounds as fun as it is delicious.
Image: Parusha Naidoo
Chakalaka
Ingredients
Method
Heat the oil in a pan and caramelise the onion and red pepper.
Add the ginger, garlic and spices and stir until browned.
Add the carrots and sweat until soft.
Add the tomato, sugar, salt and pepper.
Once you have a nice chutney, add the baked beans
Leave to cook for 10 mins. Cool and serve.
Tip: Use original baked beans. There is no bean substitute.
• Parusha Naidoo is an artist, cookbook author and Wanted's food columnist.
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