Wednesday, 25 September 2013

Rump roast - a midweek braai

"Smell my hands", he says. Not usually an auspicious start, but I lean in and sniff. His hands smell deeply of wood-smoke and charcoal. It's a clear, still evening, so we've put a little rolled rump roast of Highland beef into the Weber, and Paul's just put a big handful of woodchips in to give a bit of smoke to the bark.

"This is the smell of my childhood". We drink wine and watch the smoke curl out of the vents and he tells me stories. About his uncle Mees, and the rows and rows of vegetables he grew; how he'd dust the potatoes off and bring them inside just in time to be cooked for dinner. About his labrador Suzie running on the beach and looking like a seal as she swam. About fishing in the brackish water of Stanford, just up the river from Hermanus - spoilt by progress on waterskis now.

After about 35 minutes we brought the meat in to rest and finished the veg - the fondant potatoes sadly represented the whole of this year's crop. A very special dinner.

6 comments:

meemalee said...

Aww. That's really lovely - despite the "smell my hands" :)

Alexandra Stafford said...

I love this post. Nice memories. And the rump roast looks delish!

Cuisine de Provence said...

It is breakfast time here right now but you just gave me a real craving for a niceley BBQ'd piece of beef....

Foodycat said...

Mimi - he has strange ideas about romance.

Ali - it was so good!

CdeP - maybe for lunch?!

Joanne said...

the smell of charcoal always does remind me of summer family bbqs! Definitely a good thing.

grace said...

holy cow (literally), that's some moist and succulent meat! i can almost taste it. for the record, almost isn't good enough. :)

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