The Lore Of Sailing

Ever wondered why so many people fall in love with sailing?

I think it is the images of idyllic beach scenes, blue water and flat seas. Wonderful sunsets, some white clouds and an image of a sail boat sailing off into the distance. Or anchored a short distance from the shore. Adorned with athletic, sun-tanned bodies. Scrumptious food on the aft deck.

Get the idea?


The last two weeks were yet again taken up with sailing along with students. Not too much coach­ ing though, mostly due to extreme weather conditions. It is the Cape of Storms, after all.


The scheduled booking allowed shuffling of the timetables and we took advantage of this. Which saw me in Saldanha Bay and Langebaan area for two days, then the voyage back to Cape Town.

Having said that we live at the Cape of Storms, we don't have storms all the time. And when the storms abate, there is magnificent weather with the associated beauty of nature around us.

This was yet again brought home to me on the voyage from Saldanha Bay to Cape Town, a distance of some sixty nautical miles. On this occasion we had no wind, open skies and blue seas. We saw seagulls, Cape gannets and some cormorants. Jackass penguins diving and scurrying as we ap­ proached. A whole flock of seals.

Is that the right word? 'Shoal' doesn't sound right, 'bob' sounds too small and 'herd' sounds like cattle. There were probably more than fifty of these animals. It appeared that they may have been hunting as a group. They were jumping out of the water making belly flops, unlike their normal por­ poising for breath. And of course the sea birds took advantage of this. They joined in the glut, diving into the water for a morsel.

We also saw a dolphin or two, surfing the slipstream of the rudder and the boat's bow wave. These animals will jump out of the water to attract your attention, then they will frolic in the bow wave and the slipstream of the rudder. Performing a dance that is indescribable in it's intricacy. Then they would disappear suddenly.  Almost as if to say that our company is too boring and they are now done with the visit. It must be wonderful to have the freedom of choice that they have in terms of association.

The cherry on top was the whales. I have always seen whales along this section of the coast. These huge animals don't dance, they just come alongside the boat, look at you with a beady eye, then they sound and disappear. An immensely satisfying experience, until you realize that these animals are at least twice the size of the boat. Then you get scared. Normally too late, as the whales will have dis­ appeared by that time. Luckily these giants of the ocean are not really aggressive.

The views of the land seen from the boat of course are just something else. This is not something that one sees every day. And normally you would be driving by in a car, speeding along and having a very quick impression of what the countryside looks like. Things are different in a boat. A sail boat goes along at more or less six knots, depending on the wind. Therefore a journey of two hours by car for the hundred and eighty kilometres from Saldanha to Cape Town will take about twelve hours by boat.

You have lots of time to see the sights and contemplate the beauty of Nature. We travelled on the day of the full moon. We saw the moon rising over the mountains of the Boland region, making a light path on the glassy smooth seas. In fact, the moon is so bright that it obscures all but the bright­ est stars. Combine this with the city lights along the shore and you sit with an idyllic environment, albeit quite cold. The water temperature around this neck of the woods, so to speak, is around thirteen degrees C. This cools the air too. But a jersey and a proper wind jacket does wonders.

The four of  us on board were silenced by this wonderful sight. We just sat there and drank it all in.  Two of the crew were on competent crew course, so they got a chance to steer by the stars. Get a course to steer from the skipper, turn the boat in that direction, then look for a star straight ahead. Keep the boat pointing in that direction, aiming for the star.


Yes, the star will move in the sky as the earth rotates. But it is good enough for the next hour or so. A wonderful adventure, sailing at night.

The whole experience is just overwhelming. To me it is akin to having a very long meditation exercise. Your whole being and senses are enveloped in this cocoon of peace.

At the end of the voyage you are quite rested emotionally, if a bit tired physically. It is times like these that one just sit and enjoy the experience.

And give thanks to your Creator for the ability to enjoy this.



Authored by Johan Zietsman.

Last updated on 2014-05-18.

Exploring Stews In A Wintry Cape Town: Moroccan Lamb And Lentils

I have not really had a real chance of cooking at home for a while as I was mostly occupied with sailing instruction. This led to some severe withdrawal symptoms for a decent slow cooked dish on a cold winter's evening.

Well, such an opportunity came about this weekend, with a cold front passing Cape Town towards the end of the week, bringing with it some real winter. The weather outside is quite cold now, with the tail end of the cold front still with us.
Having had some time to consider, I thought it was time to explore the culinary styles of North Africa. Morocco came to mind, as quite a few fellow bloggers seem to like the flavour and there is a plethora of recipes on the internet. I had a short spell or two of trying to find Moroccan spice mixes, with varied results. Mostly because I got distracted by other things.

Like the sailing thing, for instance.

However, withdrawal symptoms are wonderfully forceful, in this case a positive force. I did some more research on the internet and found that the spice mix is quite easy to assemble from basic spices. All of which we have in the house.

This gave the proper impetus and I went ahead. This was a real exploration, with me not having a clue what Moroccan food tastes like. I have never been there. In addition, the spice mixes that you find in places other than Morocco would probably be adapted to local palates.

Having said that, there is also a mitigating factor in that each local Moroccan Mama cooking for the family probably has her own version of what is right. Hence my version would then be Moroccan lamb and lentils a la The hungry Sailor.

Basic ingredients for this dish consist of lentils, tomatoes, lamb or beef and perhaps a potato or two. Definitely an onion.  Spices are varied, but seem to include a hot chilli, cumin, paprika, ginger, garlic, a little cinnamon, turmeric and some lemon juice.  And of course some salt and pepper to taste. This from my research on the internet.

The process differs between places and cooks, so there I knew I was in my own well-known territory of creative processes. No pun intended.

Most of the standard recipes call for olive oil. However, if you want decently caramelised onions you need to fry them in real butter, which I did. I also used some of my masala paste, as it contains all of the spicy ingredients, i.e. ginger, garlic, chilli and a little turmeric. Or you can use a slice or two of fresh ginger, a fresh chilli and garlic to taste.


Also, I like to brown the meat a little before adding the other ingredients. The caramelised part of the meat adds some flavour to the inherent stock formed by the cooking process.

Speaking of meat, most of the recipes call for boneless cuts. I beg to differ, as I think that the marrow adds some fatty content which adds to the taste and keep the dish from being too dry.

The end result was quite delicious. I shall make it again. It is a differs from the Northern Indian and Pakistani style curries that we usually make at home. This dish is not as spicy, although flavourful.

Containing lots of legumes which needs to be well cooked, this dish lends itself to very slow cooking. Many of the recipes on the internet go for the fast and furious option of a pressure cooker, which I abhor. I also prefer to cook the meat very slowly.

The list of ingredients seems long, but please bear in mind that I am using pure spices, not spice mixes. You may add some honey, golden syrup or sugar if you think that the tomatoes and lemon juice will make the dish too acid. Many of the recipes on the internet include honey.

We had this dish with rice, but it is certainly well worth the effort to make rotis or chappattis as a side dish.

So here goes.

Ingredients

500 g Lamb. We used some lamb knuckles and a leg chop, cut into cubes.
1 cup lentils. We had brown lentils
1 can (400g) whole peeled tomatoes
1 fresh tomato, coarsely chopped
2 small potatoes, coarsely cubed
1 sachet tomato paste
1 large onion, chopped
1 teaspoon masala paste. (Recipe here)
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 generous teaspoon paprika. I used the smoked and hot version
1 generous teaspoon ground cumin
1 clove garlic, mashed
1 tablespoons lemon juice
300 ml vegetable stock. I used 2 generous tablespoons of Ina Paarman's stock in boiling water.
salt and pepper to taste
pinch of ground cinnamon
small sprig of fresh cilantro or coriander leaves for garnish
dollop of real butter
some olive oil for frying

Process

Melt the butter in the pan and add the onions. Fry the onions until they are translucent and getting brown on the edges, then add the mashed garlic and the masala paste.


Fry this for another minute or so, then add the olive oil and the meat.

Fry the meat until it is brown enough to taste, then add the canned tomatoes, the fresh tomato, the tomato paste and all the dry spices. Add the lemon juice and the vegetable stock. Mix through thoroughly and turn the heat right down to let the pot just simmer. Add salt at this stage. I now regularly use Maldon or other flaky sea salt.


Add the lentils after twenty minutes to allow the meat to cook a while. The lentils will cook faster than the meat. Simmer the dish for another half an hour or so, until the meat starts to go tender. Then add the potatoes.

Simmer until the everything in the pot is tender to your taste, then turn the heat off and add the coriander leaves. Allow the dish to rest and develop flavour for at least an hour.  I use an enamelled cast iron pot. They cook a lot better than anything else and this resting of the food works better with their heat retention characteristics.

Now cook the rice. This will force you to let the dish rest! Then dish up.

Bon Appetit!


Authored by Johan Zietsman

Last updated on 2014-05-10

Travelling Through The Mists Of Time

Every voyage by sail boat is a new adventure. I have travelled many miles in our local waters this year and every time there was something new.

You get to understand, perhaps, where some of the seafaring stories of old come from. Like the story of Van Hunks and his pipe challenging the devil himself to a smoking match. And not to forget the story of the Flying Dutchman trying to get into port at Cape Town. Don't take his mail from him, for then you will also be forever doomed to sail the dark and misty waters around Cape Town.

One gets these ideas out on the ocean when there is adverse weather.

South Head Light, Saldanha Bay

On this last voyage it was for real. We travelled through the mists of time and had the most wonderful experiences.

In fact, we experienced all the possible weather conditions imaginable. We left Cape Town in a howling gale, albeit in bright sunshine. Then we had to motor the last bit into Saldanha bay as the wind left us.

We arrived at our destination just in time to dock in the dark. That dark time just after dusk and before the last bright light of the sky has disappeared. When shadows are very dark indeed, especially when docking at a strange place for the first time.

We had good fun along the way though. The swells out of the south west reflect off the coast, then make an interference pattern with the incoming swells. This creates a veritable washing machine effect. You get mostly broken swells and small choppy wavelets as a result of this mixing. This is interspersed with the odd one that actually compounds into something in the order of five meters.

North Head light, Saldanha Bay

The boat mostly corkscrews over these, but you get to surf the big ones. Imagine surfing a four and a half ton boat. We were doing just that when we noticed whales in the swells next to the boat. They also seemed to enjoy the weather, but it was difficult to see whether they were actually surfing or just on their way somewhere.

The surfing story sounds better.

It was somewhere north of Robben Island when the boat did not surf, but just slid sideways down the face of a five meter wave. We hit the bottom of the through with a gut-wrenching lurch, enough to wake up everyone lost in the reverie of the nice sailing conditions. I had a very wide awake crew after that.

Later in the week we travelled to the quaint little town of Paternoster. The weather had settled and the wind subsided by this time, so we had to motor there. Anchored in the little bay, we had the most magnificent view of the both the town and the sunset. I suppose the townsfolk had a magic photo opportunity too, complete with a sail boat in the bay. Not something seen every day.

Saldanha Bay sunrise

That night was magnificent, with the town lights reflecting on the water and hardly any wind. The stars, of course, always look like you could pick them out of the sky. But it was cold, so we cooked dinner and went to bed early.

Just as well. The next morning dawned grey. Very grey indeed. A thick fog enveloped us, with visibility down to around fifty meters. With absolutely no wind the water looked oily smooth. Some time later the sun came up. We knew the sun was up because the grey went a lighter shade.

Eventually the mist thinned a bit and the visibility changed to around one hundred and fifty meters. The sun made a wan appearance for a few minutes, then the mist settled in again. Real blind navigation stuff here. Luckily for us Paternoster is not situated in the most populous place as regards shipping, so we were reasonably safe where we were. However, we had to get back to Saldanha Bay, a distance of some thirty odd nautical miles away.

This meant travelling through this thick stuff with special attention to navigation and all available beady eyes on the lookout.

And here we were, motoring along gently and slowly, keeping a careful lookout for other traffic and navigation hazards. This is where one's eyes and mind start to play games with you. The intense concentration on the environment causes one to see things. A dark shadow here, a white splash there.

In fact, quite a number of white flashes. We were quite worried, until we realised these were seagulls taking off as the boat approached, making a splash in the water. The fog made it seem like the bow wave of a small boat. Some of the dark spots then translated into the dark backs of other sea birds.

In all of this we had quite a scare too. Suddenly we had a big splash just off our port bow. A hurried check on the GPS confirmed we were far away from any rocks. So it must be traffic. Another splash got our hearts stuck in our throats. Then we saw what it was. Traffic, all-right. In the form of a pod of whales. Five of them.

Paternoster sunset

The first one was some distance in front of the others, making the first splash. Our hearts were still stuck in our throats, as these animals are all much bigger than our puny little boat. They crossed our path by diving under the boat. Very scary indeed.

Paternoster night scene

And here is where we had this eerie experience of travelling through time. The last we saw of the land was the previous night before we went to bed. The beautiful lights of the town lining the little bay. The last we saw of the sun was as it set over the ocean the day before. And we were surrounded by a thick grey mist. You lose all sense of movement. Of course, you know that you are moving, but there is no sense of distance.

Only time. You measure distance travelled by time passing. Not even the GPS instruments will give you a sense of having moved along. Yes, it gives a picture with a line on it. But after a few hours you lose sense of direction and where you are. You are enveloped in a grey cocoon, where not even the sun's rays can penetrate. The boat gently bobs and rolls on the sea, which makes it even more difficult to sense your advancing movement.

The mists of time

The first that we saw of the sun or land was after we entered Saldanha Bay itself. Before making the last turn we had to call port control to confirm that the harbour entrance was clear. We don't have radar, so things may get dangerous in the event that there is other traffic in the harbour entrance.

What a wonderful experience to see the sky clear, the sun out and to see land where you expect it to be.  After six or seven hours of this fog, seeing land is indeed a blessing.

And perhaps we did travel through time. Being cut off from modern technology and your senses takes one back several centuries, if you will. There is also the sense of sharing some experiences with the sailors of old.

After this you travel through your own comfort zone with a different view.

And, to top it all, now we all have some more tales to tell...



Authored by Johan Zietsman

Last updated on 2014-04-26

Messing About In Boats

Table mountain and Cape Town at dusk.

"Is it so nice as all that?" asked the mole, shyly...

"Nice? It's the only thing," said the Water Rat Solemnly, as he leaned forward for his stroke. "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats."

A shameless beggar in the V&A Waterfront

"Simply messing...about in boats -- or with boats... In or out of 'em it doesn't matter. Nothing seems to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not."

"Look here! If you've really nothing else on hand this morning, supposing we drop down the river together and have a long day of it.?"

Some people mess around
 in bigger boats...

As far as I am concerned, Kenneth Grahame hit the nail on the head with this passage in his very famous book “The Wind in the Willows.” I have now introduced a number of people to the world of sailing. I have instructed these people in conditions that varied from hardly any wind, a warm sun  and flat water in Table Bay, to something resembling the storm from the film Forrest Gump, sailing at night.

We have made passages to Hout Bay, a little fishing village on the Cape Peninsula. Some times it was dark when we got to Cape Town, entering port in the dark. Other times we had fog and cold weather, even though it was summer here in the Cape.

I remember the time I had five young men on board sailing to Hout Bay. The wind was from the north west, so we were sailing on a broad reach going south. Which means we were sailing diagonally down wind, for my non-sailing readers. Surfing the boat every so often down the swells. I shall forever remember the look of ecstasy on their faces when the boat surfed while they were holding the tiller. On that day I had to force these people into changing places so that everyone could have a go at surfing the boat.

There would be fighting, perhaps. With a large amount of testosterone, an adrenalin overload and bragging rights. How many people can rightly claim that they surfed a boat of around four and a half tons down the swells?

Gordon's Bay Yacht Club marina

We sailed around Robben Island on other occasions, leaving the port of Cape Town late in the afternoon, sailing into dusk. Then, just north of the island we would heave-to and cook dinner as the night settled in. A proper cooked dinner, hot food. And then sail back in the night with a totally different view of Cape Town than when we left.

As the water rat said, there is always something to do. On the last day of all of my courses we do a closing cruise. Then the students can do anything they want, as long as I consider it safe. On some of these days we have done MOB (man overboard) drills until every hand had blisters on them, sailing in winds gusting over thirty knots. But the fun never stops. The crew would then see just how far they can make the boat heel and who can make it go the fastest. We had a GPS switched on just to get a proper speed reading. Of course, there is the limit where I say no and they have to ease somewhat on the sheets. Safety comes first. The boat has to stay afloat and come back to the mooring in one piece. Ditto for the crew.

Strand sunset, seen from False Bay. This is where I live.

But it is tremendous fun. A rich life, even. And it is a life built on experiences, not the possession of goods and things. It is only lately that I have come to the full realisation of the lesson that the Bible, Buddha and various other religious groups try to teach us.

We are but the temporary custodians of the goods that we ostensibly own. I always wanted my own boat. But now, having sailed other people's boats, I have a changed perspective. I treat the school's boat like my own. In fact, it is virtually my own for the week. I have full autonomy of use within the syllabus that I teach. And when it breaks, I fix it myself. Sometimes with the help of the students.

I treat the boat as my own property.

Sunset over False Bay

Somehow, this Karma, if you will, comes back to me in the form of great joy and pleasure in sailing the boat. An angel looking after me. Psalm 23 says I shall not want. Perhaps this is it.

I still would like my own boat to go cruising to wherever into the wild blue yonder. I still have plans and dreams. However, life is what happens to us while we are making other plans, in the words of the late John Lennon.


So, for now, for me, contentment is in sailing and sharing these experiences with other people who also have dreams in their hearts and a glint in the eyes.


Authored by Johan Zietsman

Last updated on 2014-04-08

Sailing Into Maturity

The screen saver image of sailing.

A rite of passage, perhaps.

How do we grow up? We go to school, get some education from the school environment in addition to that from home. Then we perhaps go on to study at a tertiary institution and get some more education.

Education as opposed to training. According to Wikipedia, education in its general sense is a form of learning in which the knowledge, skills, and habits of a group of people are transferred from one generation to the next through teaching, training, or research.

Training, on the other hand, is defined by Wikipedia as follows: Training is the acquisition of knowledge, skills, and competencies as a result of the teaching of vocational or practical skills and knowledge that relate to specific useful competencies.

So, in one case you learn some techniques and a craft, if you will. In the other case you get taught habits and behaviour.

In my younger days we had national service in the armed forces. This forced one to stand on your own feet and understand that the world does not revolve around oneself. A rite of passage in itself, as your parents also got used to the idea that now you are an adult. Letting go of your mother's apron strings, so to speak.

Are you mature enough to take charge of a boat like this?
S/V Georgia, once the largest sloop in the world.

Some of the indigenous people here in South Africa still has the practice of a circumcision ceremony lasting a week or more and a rite of passage before you are regarded as a man. The girls have a similar rite of passage.

But in our modern urbanised society children increasingly live at home until quite an advanced age, sometimes into their late twenties. Well, for me that seems an advanced age. Yes, work is scarce for young people nowadays. But living at home under your parents' guidance seems to be not quite the right idea in terms of reaching maturity and self sufficiency as a useful citizen of your country.

Here in South Africa we have what is generally known as a democratic society. Everybody has a say in government. However, to me it also entails taking responsibility for what one perpetrates as one stumbles along your life's path in the search for happiness and contentment.

Enter the sailing world.

I had this gleam in the eye for sailboats and sailing in general from a very young age, but never had the chance to go sailing until I was a student at university. I remember my first sailing experience with some nostalgia. It was on a racing dingy and we swam more than we sailed on that day. A sobering experience at best.

My next sailing experience came when I made a concious decision to dedicated myself to sailing. A lifestyle change, if you will. I went into keelboat sailing. Sailing boats that can take you across an ocean. And the first, most noticeable impression was that one needs to take responsibility for the boat and those who sail with you. You are dependent on each other. Your very lives may depend on this coherence, if you will.

Are you also lost in the land of nod?

And a sailboat is not a democratic environment. No, it is very autocratic indeed. This idea comes home on every course that I teach. On more than one occasion I had to enforce an instruction in some way.

Sometimes it is simple and quite funny. A student that is scared that the boat will capsize when it heels and then refuses to steer the course as instructed. This person then steered a course that kept the boat upright, but aimed directly for the shore about three hundred meters away. I had to keep my foot on the tiller to keep the boat pointed in the right direction. The student in question quickly overcame his fear of the boat heeling and we all had a bit of a giggle afterwards.

There are more examples of this nature. Overcoming fear and extending one's comfort zone. There is another aspect of personal growth, however. This relates to the educational part of sailing a boat. The part where one learns the habits and gain knowledge of the sailing environment. And this knowledge does not relate to the finer skills and arts of sailing, but more towards the management efforts in and around a boat.

The part where one needs to understand that managing the boat is an autocratic process and that  teamwork is imperative. Aping around when your shipmates are dropping and stowing the main sail is not on. And the skipper's decision is final. There is no arguing on whether to make way against the wind or to have a nice outing instead. Is there enough food, water and fuel on board? Who's responsibility is this? What happens when something breaks? Phone a friend does not help, you are out in the ocean.

There appears to be a lack of understanding authority. Complete with a lack of understanding responsibility and accountability. Coupled to a lack of management skills in terms of basic decision making. A fear of making decisions or simply a lack of interest.

Hanging on to the apron strings, perhaps?

Increasingly, I get the idea that young people entering life after school lack some of this understanding. Is it due to the easy life in an urban environment? An easy life at home? Does the education system fail us?

Where is the natural rite of passage into adulthood? Who knows.

But it is most satisfying to see people grow in their maturity during a skippers course. And emerge as skipper material after some psychological growth during the week.

On a boat you can sail into maturity...



Authored by Johan Zietsman

Last updated on 2014-03-30

Baking As An Artisan: A Whole New Experience

Up to now I have been a dabbler in cooking and baking. With varying results, as can be expected from a dabbler.

On the positive side there were some very successful moments. Successful outcomes of baking and cooking efforts that got highlighted by others too. It keeps one going, knowing that your humble efforts are seen by others in cyberspace after all.

Then things happen. Call it Karma if you will. Or an Angel looking after you. You get noticed by others who may find your skills useful in their world. And so it was for me, being part of the birth of a restaurant. A bistro, actually. Complete with a bakery.

A friend opened a new bistro and bakery. I was asked to help with the bakery. What a privilege! My meager skills were becoming useful!

The start: Multi-grain mix with the sourdough

We had some experimentation with various recipes along the way before the bistro opened. Again with mixed results, as there was no prover yet. But recently the scene changed and a prover appeared next to the oven. Complete with adjustable temperature and humidity.

Time for proper baking.

This time it was for real and we decided on a multi-grain sourdough loaf. I baked this before at home, so we reasoned that the risk of getting it all wrong was low. The original recipe is from Peter Reinhardt's book The Bread Baker's Apprentice. A very useful reference to have on hand. Again, in this case, as you will see shortly. I used a variation of the original recipe for baking at home, about which I wrote a blog post recently.

Of course, doing the same thing on a larger scale is simply not possible. Triple the quantities of ingredients and there will be something not quite in the right ratio. The dough will be too dry or not salt enough. Or some such thing. Luckily we were aware of this and checked every now and then as the work progressed.

A proper mixer

You are now working with industrial quantities, not a cup or two of whatever. The yeast comes in a block of about 150x150x350 mm. Five odd kilograms, I venture. You cut off a piece and weigh it. Not a sachet of 6 grams of instant yeast. And you get to weigh the other ingredients. Volumetric measures simply do not work in this environment.

Enter Peter Reinhardt's book. The book gives quantities in bakers terms. Percentages of the main ingredient. Percentages are scalable, so it was a cinch to get the right ratios.

Or so we thought. You need to read the book very carefully. Peter Reinhardt also says in the book to check every now and then too see if the dough is elastic enough and has the right taste. Which is what saved this batch of bread.

For a start, we deviated from the recipe by using existing sourdough from the refrigerator. No soaker. So we were left with a problem of getting more flavour out of the multigrain part. We got past this by using warm water. The next part of using our own initiative came when the dough was mixed and found too dry and brittle. Which meant too little gluten. So more flour was added, which made the dough much drier. This required more water.

Not your home style bread pans

We carried on by adding flour and water alternatively until the dough was quite elastic, would hold a thin membrane and tasted nice. Of course, this played havoc with our original measured quantities. The next batch of loaves would need an adjustment on quantities.

We also found that the different types of flour had different moisture content. The flour used was stone ground full grain flour. Another difference. This probably had the biggest effect on the water quantities. I get the idea that the full grain flour is heavier and soaks up much more water than other flour. Something to be aware of. Of course, this is South Africa and the flour will differ in cultivar of wheat too. Another major difference.

We found this out with maize flour in Mexico. The coarse maize flour available in South Africa makes the most amazing maize porridge, but is useless for making tortillas. In turn, the maize flour sold in Mexico for making tortillas is useless for making South African style porridge. Believe me, we tried. And failed. Several times, in fact. In the end we just accepted the fact that we shall not be eating the crumbly style mieliepap with our steaks from the braai while in Mexico.

Going into the prover. Garnished and cut

Something to bear in mind. Flours are different across the world. Make an experiment before launching into full production. Baby steps. Take it easy, go slow. I teach this to my sailing students too.

Eventually we decided the dough was ready.  The blob of around 6 kg was left on the table to rest, covered with a plastic sheet against drying out. As can be expected from a sourdough, the first proofing took quite a while. The coarse multigrain mix also has an effect, no cause for alarm if things go slow in the beginning. The dough doubled in volume before it was divided into blobs of around 700g for the second proofing.

Here I learnt another trick of the trade. Take the blob of dough in both hands and fold it into itself using both thumbs. This has the effect that the side away from your thumbs get stretched, making for a nice looking loaf. The seam on your thumbs' side gets to be squashed together nicely and goes on the bottom of the loaf. We decided on putting the garnish of rolled oats on before the final proofing, along with the requisite cuts on the top.

The tops of the loaves are cut to help with even rising. Else you may get oddly shaped loaves. The proofing went fine. Having controlled temperature and humidity makes a huge difference in the process. So does having a proper industrial oven with controlled air flow. This translates to even temperature everywhere in the oven. So all the loaves bake at the same temperature, irrespective of where they are in the oven.

Bistro style: Checking taste and texture

The last surprise came with baking time. Having an oven up to the proper temperature and proper air flow has a major effect. These loaves baked in about twenty minutes. I did not have time to enjoy a cup of coffee peacefully before the message came that I should get myself over to the oven to see what was going on. On arrival, my friend was already unloading the loaves, the baking done.

The results were outstanding. A crisp and chewy crust with a wonderfully soft crumb. The bread had a distinct after taste of sourness coming through, with the crumb getting sweeter as you chewed. A wonderful result indeed.

Real bread, artisan style

For me, a new perspective on baking. Don't follow blindly, think for yourself. The results are your responsibility, not someone else's. And don't let your fears stand in the way of a culinary adventure.

More of life's small lessons, I guess.


This blog post also linked to Yeastspotting!

Authored by Johan Zietsman

Last updated on 2014-03-21

Awareness: A Change In Perception

The last week saw me instructing yet again on a sailing vessel. New people, freshly off the street, so to speak. Young people that saw the inside of a boat for the first time ever when they stepped aboard. Boarding the boat to embark on a Competent Crew course. Some of whom have never been out on a boat on a dam, let alone going to sea.

This is one of the wondrous things of  the sailing world.  To introduce people to the vagaries of sailing. No engine noise. Only the sound of the sea and the wind. Every now and then a creak or gurgle from the boat as she cuts through the water making happy sounds. Very romantic indeed.

But the most wonderful part is in seeing the change in the people as the week progresses. I see the change from street-wise kids from suburban backgrounds to a person with some sense of wonder and a light in their eyes for more adventure.

Especially after sailing into the night. This must be one of the most effective eye-openers you can have, without using chemicals. Bear in mind that these people are not mere passengers on board. No ma'am, they are sailing the boat themselves. Harnessing Nature's forces and feeling the wind and the spray on their faces. Getting blisters on hands not used to the coarse and salty lines. Trimming sails on a small boat requires real effort.


And all this while having to think about where they are going, where the wind is coming from and taking note of other vessels and obstacles.

Then the sun sets. In the Cape this is always something special. Table Mountain with its table cloth, signalling heavy wind in the form of the famous Cape Doctor. Perhaps some clouds to the south and west. The city lights coming on little by little as the dark settles in. The wan sound of the foghorn on the isolated danger mark just outside the port entrance. Those small details that make you feel very alone and small on the open ocean. Especially if it is your first time out on the water.

The darkness of course transforms everything. After all, this is when the little voice in the back of your head starts to subvert your reverie and asks questions to scare you.


I recently had a student that had a real wake up call when the boat started to heel as we left the dinner spot. He had never experienced a sail boat heeling. We had no wind out of Cape Town, so we motored to a suitable spot near Robben island. Dinner was completed shortly after dark, by which time the wind had come up. We then proceeded to sail back to port in a steady wind of just on twenty knots. Wonderful sailing conditions on flat water.

In the dark. That part was a real revelation to this person and he got a real scare for a few minutes as the boat heeled under the full sail. Having this new experience in the dark. Scary? For a novice, certainly. This fear was short lived, however, changing into an elation and a smile that got broader as we sailed on into the night.


This last week had the same revelations to me. I yet again saw the looks of apprehension turning into broad smiles as each of the students changed their perspective.

This change is wonderful to see and to experience along with these people. After working hard at learning the knots and the ropes, this was the reward for their hard work. Really learning the ropes. No pun intended, except on a boat ropes are called lines...

Somehow, along with all this, I get the idea that they all changed their way of thinking about adventure. Forever they will now judge a new experience or base a decision on the emotions that they experienced on the course.  And you may well ask how this pertains to awareness.

SV Georgia.
Until recently the largest sloop in the world

Well, it is clear to me that all of these people think about risks in a different way after having had the experience of sailing and living aboard for a week.


And the learning and perception changes make them all more aware of their own psyche as well as what goes on around them. For some more than others. An introduction to yourself, after a fashion. Peter Senge's book  “The Fifth Discipline” comes to mind. In the book he discusses the concept of personal mastery. Knowing yourself and understanding about your own limits, being aware of your limits and learning more about them.

And then he goes on to discuss the same subjects in a group environment. Learning organisations. Groups of people that have to work together experiencing the more abstract characteristics of their group or organisation.

And it so it is the same for sailing a boat. There is some form of organisation required, otherwise the boat will go in one direction only. And there is some team awareness required, otherwise the crew will not be able to tack through the wind or turn the boat around.

But the best part of all of this learning is that this awareness come unconsciously through the adventure.



Authored by Johan Zietsman

Last updated on 2014-03-17