Cradock - An MG is like a puma. It is sleek and rare, and when you spot one it takes your breath away with its lithe form and innate gracefulness.
But, oddly, it has something of a far more lumpen creature about it, too – the elephant, with its longevity and seeming ability always to be there, somewhere, even if mostly out of sight. It’s comforting to know that there are elephants, and pumas, and MG motorcars, even if you very rarely encounter one.
Recently, late on a Saturday afternoon, two hulking 4x4s pulled up across the road from our Cradock restaurant, trailing Venters and spilling out many children and their fathers. One of the dads rallied the adolescent troops around him as he pointed up the street. “Now that’s something you don’t often see,” he told them.
Up and down the street, lining both sides, were 50 MGs which had graced us with their presence since they pulled into town the previous day. It was an MG car club meeting and every car shone like a sergeant-major’s forehead.
It was a sunny day, yet somehow the presence of these fine cars seemed to make it sunnier still. There was an air of wellbeing and of companionship in the street and you felt you knew all the strangers in their crisp clothes and polished shoes. After breakfast, they all went back to their houses (they were staying in the Tuishuise, which line the street and are today individual guest houses filled with lovely antiques), climbed into their cars and drove them up the street where they parked at jaunty angles in front of the Victoria Manor Hotel, like a serried guard of honour.
This hotel has seen generations of Cradockers and visitors to the town come and go yet still stands proudly in Victorian green and white at one end of Market Street.
Sadly, much of the immediate part of the town beyond Market Street has lost much of its old style, so today the hotel stands as a reminder of what once was, and a reprimand to modern-day developers with more money than style. To me, the MGs in their fire-engine reds, olive greens and creams seemed to rebuke those who would build vulgar car showrooms where once was grace and style, right in the centre of town. Even the old town square and lovely park is now a shoddy Spar shopping centre. There is no accounting for taste – and there is no truer cliche.
But today, style was back in town in abundance. Slim 1960s ones, boxy 1950s ones, even MGs produced in recent years. These looked plain and disappointingly like so many other cars on the road today. Surely the point of such a notable car is to ensure that the contemporary design somehow reflects the style that has steered MGs through the decades? The newer ones could just as well be Alfa Romeos or Mazdas, for all the individualism they have. Only the badge on the grille attests to the car’s history.
We cooked for the MG drivers and their partners, taking part in the street market that had been set up for the day. Others were set up further along, where most of the sporty little cars were lined up, but we set up right in front of the bistro. This could have been a disadvantage but soon the punters started traipsing down to us, going inside for tea, coffee, home-made lemonade and walnut tart or apple crumble. Outside, on the portable gas range, I grilled springbok sosaties and venison wors to be served in rolls with mustard mayonnaise.
But while my eyes were enjoying the sight of the motoring beauties that cruised this way and that all day, my mind was pondering the kind of classic dishes that would be to the food world what these cars were to wheels.
Chateaubriand came to mind, that beefy French showpiece flamed at your table in posh old spots like the former Mount Nelson Grill Room. Or avocado Ritz, with its delectable Marie-Rose sauce.
But it’s Crepes Suzette that I think best fits the sleek, gleaming lines of these MGs. You can make your own crepes to any recipe of your choice (Google one) or buy some ready-made ones, of which there are some quality examples these days. The joy of Crepes Suzette is in the sauce more than in any particular method for making the crepes.
CREPES SUZETTE
Juice of 2 oranges and the zest of one of them
180g butter
75g castor sugar
8 crepes
80ml Cointreau liqueur
Pour the juice into a pot and add the orange zest, butter and castor sugar. Bring to a simmer on the stove, then turn the heat down and allow it to simmer for 12 to 15 minutes for the sauce to become syrupy and luscious.
Fold each crepe in two, then fold again so that they are in quarters. Arrange them side by side in a large, deep, heavy-bottomed frying pan, overlapping slightly. Pour the hot orange syrup over and let them steep in it for a few minutes on a low heat. Pour the Cointreau into the same pot to warm it, then immediately set it alight for the crepes to flambe.
Serve right away.
Dream dreams of owning a bright red MG as you tuck in. I would.
Weekend Argus