The Bokdroll Cafe is a fictional place in the far reaches of my mind. The recipes and memories, however, are real.

This all started when my youngest son, who is now a top chef in London, asked me for my grandmother's macaroni and cheese recipe. I had no idea that he even remembered having it even though we had it at least once a week when my children were little, and they loved it.

I think that a meal is as much about the company, the places where you enjoyed the food and the recipe which can often vary from a blurred memory, to a different culture, can come second.

These are more memories than recipes. I hope that you like them. If you do please buy me a cup of tea.

Memory 1 - Granny Lal's Mac and Cheese

Memory 2 - Mussels on the Rocks

Memory 3 -

Memory 4 -

Memory 5 -

Memory 6 -

Memory 7 -

GRANNY LAL'S MAC AND CHEESE

Granny Lal was my Dad’s mum. She divorced my grandfather in 1929, in England, back when you were scorned if you got divorced, so she took her only son, my dad, on a mail ship from Southampton to South Africa.

Single Mom. No money, no plan, and for the rest of her life, and as far as I know, never another man.

That right there is extraordinary. She did well. Well enough to leave me with this memory.

When I was in high school my brother Topher (His name is Christopher, but we called him the end part of his name; Topher, not Chris). We would walk to her flat for lunch most days. Granny Lal would leave out some decent bread and cold cuts, including tongue in gelatin and head cheese made up from whatever was left over, also in gelatin. Both I loved.

Except on Thursdays. That was the day that she left out two Mac and Cheese’s. One for me and one for Topher.

There was nothing special about them except that they tasted amazing mostly because when we were starving. We were teenagers. We were always starving. She made a basic roux out of butter and flour. She added cheese and a couple of cupfuls of love. What she did that made it special was to slice tomatoes that she had grown on her porch, layer them on top of the mac and cheese and then lathered them with a thick layer of shredded cheddar. She left them out for us in two ceramic dishes that we could put under a very old and half working broiler until the cheese bubbled and browned and that was our Thursday lunch.

Granny Lal was 83 when she died. She had been playing lawn bowls the day before. She told my Mom that she wasn’t feeling well when she came over for her daily cup of tea. She had an agreement with her neighbor across the hallway. Every morning they would each open a small window to show the other that they were okay.

One morning Granny Lal didn't open her window.

Her Mac and Cheese is mostly about memories.

Isn’t everything?

Listen to Granny Lal's Mac and Cheese as an audio file here. All stories From The Bokdroll Cafe are available on Substack here.

RETURN TO THE TOP HERE

MUSSELS ON THE ROCKS

There is something so simple and sweet about a mussel, freshly caught and eaten five minutes later. It’s a beautiful thing, unless you are the mussel, of course. They are plentiful along the coast of South Africa and we would wait until low tide to go and get them. We were just kids and we loved the adventure.

At low tide the rocks were overflowing with all sorts of good eating, but it was the mussels that we were after. I would drag my skinny legs down to the edge of the water and start to collect lunch. The fun part came in when an extra large wave crashed close to the rocks and we would have to retreat in a hurry

Sometimes we got caught and would be swept out into the warm Indian Ocean, but we knew that there would be another wave that would come and deliver us back onto the rocks, but it came with a price. My brothers grabbed me and they had to drag me across a bed of mussels and of course there was some blood involved.

While we were hunting and gathering, Dad was making a fire. He would find a dry place between the rocks, fill it with driftwood, and burn it down until there were just embers.

We had a battered and burnt old pot that he used and threw the mussels in to steam. He gave up some of his white wine which he and mum had been enjoying, chucked in some garlic and parsley while we sat waiting for the magic to happen.

Within moments the mussels opened to bare their orange insides. Mum had made some bread and those delicious mussels with bread dipped in the pot while looking out at the crashing waves was one of the best meals ever.

We had to rush because the tide was coming in and a half hour later everything was swept clean by the ocean.

Except for the pot. Dad made sure that he kept the pot.

I never knew what happened to that pot. It makes me sad because my dad is gone now, and so is the pot, but there will always be mussels on the rocks.

Listen to Mussels on the Rocks as an audio file here. All stories From The Bokdroll Cafe are available on Substack here.

RETURN TO THE TOP HERE