Beyond biltong, boerewors and malva pud — a new publication lists 100 flavours that make up SA's food heritage

You're a food anthropologist, chef and cookbook author. What inspired your career choice? How does the combination work together,  and is there a part you enjoy more? I kind of fell into what I do (a jumble of the things I am trained to do). I have academic qualifications in social and biological anthropology and epidemiology. I trained at the Prue Leith Culinary Institute and my dad was a historian. All of these disciplines macerate in my brain, which basically means I like to look into pots and ask: if we are what we eat/cook/farm/share, who are we? Who were we? And who are we becoming? And then I like to help the cook to make supper.

In your work you have highlighted many of South Africa’s humbler ingredients. What inspires you to sniff them out and how do you do it? Good cooking knows no class, race or geographical location. Some people can do it and others can’t. I am equal opportunity greedy. Good cooking makes me happy so I look out for it. Most of the things I ‘highlighted’ were known to most South Africans already. Maybe they weren’t known to the sort of people who read food magazines. For instance, I put xigugu (Tsonga peanut and maize melange) into a media space but it was always on sale at taxi ranks.

Your report, 100+ Flavours, comes after the exhibition at Makers Landing at the V&A Waterfront in Cape Town. The site is significant to South Africa’s food history. Please share more details. The site falls within the area that Khoi people historically referred to as ‘Camissa’ (which roughly translates as ‘sweet drinking waters’). Long before 1652, Khoi communities were trading from the banks of the main Camissa river on the shore of Table Bay with passing Dutch, Portuguese and British ships. Fresh water, meat, fruit, vegetables and even postal services (letters could be left and passed on) were traded.

The project was a huge undertaking. How long did it take to put together? Hannerie Visser, founder and creative director of Studio H, came up with the concept for the report. The studio managed the production and publishing, including the food styling, photography, videography, design and editing. I did most of the writing. Writing up and collecting the food items for display and photographs was hard work but happened relatively quickly (about five months). Consultation with stakeholders as to what should be put into the exhibition took about 18 months. Even with the extensive consultation we were always aware that the document could only ever be a taster of all the deliciousness in South Africa. It is intended as a tool rather than a definitive statement.

What is Studio H? What work do they do? Studio H is a culinary-minded design studio that mainly works with brands in the food and drinks space, designing creative strategies through trend forecasting, new product development and sensory design. In addition to their day-to-day agency work, Studio H founded FOOD XX Africa, a support network with annual awards for women in food. Hannerie is also the founding lead curator and tenant mentor at Makers Landing, the V&A Waterfront’s Food Incubator.

In compiling a list of 100 ingredients there must have been some you had to leave out?  We ended up with more than 100 entries (131 to be exact) because there were so many delicious things. Even with that overflow, there were lots more. It helps to say it was a tool inspiring others to add on and make their own lists.

For years you have highlighted many humble ingredients that make up South Africa’s culinary anthology. Tell us about three you have stumbled on that particularly piqued your interest. I genuinely like everything in the 100+ Flavours report but if I had to pick my three favourites, I would say marula nuts, thungulifha (edible stinkbugs) and xigugu. But if you ask me tomorrow, I will say three different things. I am very partial to Nik Naks. 

You wrote the best-selling publication Hunger For Freedom, The Story of Food in the Life of Nelson Mandela. Can you share three indigenous foods Mandela considered his favourites. Madiba’s favourite tastes were rooted in his Eastern Cape childhood. A lot of the things he loved most involved maize — which comes from the Americas and isn’t indigenous but has been in South Africa for so long that it is part of the culinary heritage. He loved umvubo (amasi and crumbly pap). He liked umhluzi gravy to be served in a little mug with his umleqwa (hard body) chicken. He adored Durban-style curries — which like maize originated somewhere else but evolved into something uniquely South African.

You say that for too long certain local foods have hogged the limelight and keep popping up as the definition of South Africa’s heritage foods. What are these foods? We all love boerewors and biltong and malva pudding, so it isn’t about excluding those — it is just about making more room on the table for other recipes and ingredients.

How can this resource become widely accessible? Our pricing system has different tiers, ranging from individuals to large companies. We have previously sponsored reports for tertiary institutions on evaluation and are open to continuing this practice.

For copies of 100+ Flavours, visit the Studio H website.

Durban curry: This South African Indian diaspora curry genre burns brighter and hotter than those of other lands, reflecting the super-hot African landrace chilli varieties in the ruby red, Durban-specific Mother-in-Law masala. Not only are Durban curries hotter and redder, they are also often made with oil not ghee. For economic and religious reasons many are bean-based. Amasi, soured maize drinks, and indigenous wild leaves (aka cane herbs) are consumed alongside the curry. The food genre owes its existence to the life experiences of those who originally created it and the conditions in which they lived. The majority of Indian South Africans are the descendants of indentured workers brought to the sugar cane plantations of what was the Natal Colony between 1860 and 1911. Conditions were harsh, poverty was endemic and access to Indian ingredients was limited, but out of this came an Afro-Indian fusion food form.

Jugo beans: This drought-tolerant regional variation of the Bamabara nut is packed with protein, calcium and vitamin B. Variously known as Vigna subterranean, jugoboon (Afrikaans), jugo beans (English), ditloo-marapo (Sesotho), izidlubu (isiZulu and isiXhosa) and phonda (Tshivenda), these young fresh legumes can be boiled in the pod (such as the Vha Venda post-harvest snack called phonda dzo vhiliswaho). Later in the year, older dried beans are boiled with peanuts, sorghum and/or maize into a rich tshidzimba mélange. In AmaZulu households they are mixed with maize meal as isithwalaphishi. In 1593, when the Portuguese cargo ship Santo Alberto was wrecked off the coast of Pondoland, 25 Portuguese sailors and 160 enslaved Angolans reached the shore safely. During their long journey to Delagoa Bay they established contact with local people and bartered iron items rescued from the ship for food, which included izidlubu beans.

Kalahari truffle: This desert truffle — variously known as Kalaharituber pfeilii, hakan (Khoe), n’xaba (Nama), magupu/mosasawe (Kgalagadi) and mahupu (Setswana) — has a rich, nutty flavour. They are less pungent than their European relatives and less expensive. Their partner plant is not the oak of the northern-hemisphere truffle but the wild desert melon (Citrullus vulgaris). In San mythology, Kalahari truffles are described as “the eggs of the lightning bird” because these egg-shaped fungi only appear after the thunderstorms that accompany good rainfall. The trained eye of a Kalahari truffle collector can identify the target by way of cracks and protuberances in the soil, caused by the expansion of the growing truffles. Once identified, Kalahari truffles are extracted by hand or using digging sticks. The truffles are traditionally eaten raw or roasted, buried in hot ash or coals then left to cool overnight, which intensifies their delicious, earthy flavour. It is said that excessive harvesting, climate change and soil erosion are responsible for the recent declines in Kalahari truffle yields.

Mebos: Salt, not sugar, was the first fruit preservative used at the Cape. This is not only reflected in the high price of 17th-century sugar but also the earlier epicurean experiences of enslaved Cape Malay cooks. The word mebos probably derives from the East Asian pickled plums known as umeboshi. These plums were used medicinally at the Cape as a cure for morning sickness during pregnancy. How plums became apricots is not clear but Afrikaans doctor, poet and food writer C Louis Leipoldt (1880-1947) observed that early Cape colonists were “so fond of the contrasting flavour of salt and sweet they served powdered salt with oranges, apricots, peaches and melons”. Certainly, the modern understanding of mebos as a salty-sweet, brined then sugared apricot confectionery treat, rather than a medical cure, was present from the mid-18th century.

Millets: South Africa is blessed with two traditional millets. The finger millet (Eleusine coracana) form is known as mvohoho (Tshivenda), uphoko (isiZulu), osgras (Afrikaans), mpogo (Sepedi) and majolothi (isiNdebele). Pearl millet (Pennisetum glaucum) is referred to as manna (Afrikaans), leotsa (Sepedi), inyouti (isiNdebele), luvhele (Tshivenda) and unyawothi (isiZulu). Traditionally ground into flour for porridges or fermented, both are high in fibre, phytochemicals, minerals and vitamins and can be cultivated in areas with low rainfall, high temperatures and shallow, sandy soils. Plus, their teeny-tiny grains make for great gourmet snack talk. In 1878, Zulu King Cetshwayo KaMpande (who led the Zulu nation to its 1879 victory against the British at Isandlwana) sent a message and a bag of finger millet to Natal’s secretary for native affairs, Theophilus Shepstone. The king’s message stated, “If you can count the number of uphoko grains in this sack then you may also be able to count the number of my warriors.” It is impossible to list all the millet recipes but a few common favourites are thick millet meal porridge (in Sepedi, bogobe bjabupi bja leotsa; in Tshivenda, Bogobe jwa lebelebele; and in isiZulu, igqiza) and thin millet meal porridge (in Sepedi, motepa wa bupi bjaleotsa; in isiZulu, tncimbi/umcindo; in isiXhosa, isidudu; and in Setswana, motogo wa lebelebele).

Oblietjie: These paper thin, round, sweet-wine-and-dried-naartjie-peel-flavoured wafers are traditionally baked in an iron pan called an oblie-yster. Vintage pans are engraved with flower or leaf patterns, which decorate the oblietjies. Because the oblie-yster was used on an open fire, it has a long handle. In recent years this pretty but cumbersome pan has fallen into disuse, and they are now generally baked like brandy snaps, in the oven, but no iron mould means no pretty patterns. With or without, the wafers are pressed into horn or cylinder shapes while warm and filled with cream. Foodie folk history has long held that oblietjies came to the Cape with 17th-century French Huguenots — legend has it that the biscuits are so named because the waffle iron resembles the Oubliette (forgotten room) circular prison pits in which Huguenots were incarcerated before they fled to the Cape. As is the case with many legends, this tragic tale is contradicted by historical fact. There are many Dutch recipes for oblietjies (in Holland and at the Cape) that predate the arrival of Huguenots in South Africa.

Umngqusho: This classic, slow-cooked amaXhosa combo of rough broken, dried corn kernels (aka samp) and beans is traditionally eaten on a Wednesday. No-one seems to know why — it is equally delicious on all other days of the week.

Xigugu: This Tsonga roasted corn and peanut delicacy is a labour of love to prepare. Pounding and sieving must be undertaken multiple times over many hours until a glossy, fudge-textured treat is formed. It is traditional for a Mutsonga bride to give her groom a bucket of xigugu at the conclusion of the lobola negotiations. It is said to include a potion that will ensure undying love, which we totally get — it would be impossible not to love anyone who gave you a bucket of xigugu.