Cradock – Endeavouring to get more for less is a factor that looms large when you’re running a restaurant, especially – like ours – a fledgling business which still needs to find its way towards making a reasonable profit.
It did not take me long after arriving in Cradock to find the biggest second-hand goods store I have ever seen, anywhere, and I quickly became such a regular customer that I’m met on arrival with ear-to-ear smiles and effusive cries of welcome back.
Plates, soup bowls, teacups and saucers, milk jugs, vases and candle-holders piled up in my shopping basket, and the More4Less bakkie began making many trips to Schreiner’s Bistro in the following days bearing chairs, tables and the odd standard lamp.
Imagine a branch of something like Builders’ Warehouse or Pennypinchers, crossed with a secondhand furniture and junk shop. The place is endless.
Stoves, fridges, double beds, kitchen units, umbrellas, books, burglar bars, dressers, sideboards, lounge suites, display cabinets, antique porcelain, meat slicers, fans, cash registers, tools, blackboards. I defy you not to find what you’re looking for.
The place is mad. So it’s not surprising, then, that wires can on occasion get crossed.
My kitchen is small. There are two rooms, the smaller of which is where I cook and also where the two fridges and the freezer are kept. I have to fight for fridge space, and the more I cook, and the more often we’re open, the more I need more of it.
By the fifth week of business the second fridge was packed from top to bottom with the cold beverages that are an inevitable part of a restaurant’s stock.
So off we went to More4Less on Monday where I found the perfect drinks fridge – slim shelves, six or seven of them, and more space inside the door for cans to be stored. This and a crisper to handle a few more of the salad ingredients I have to find place for.
As always, I bargained with “Marlien die smous” – as she had introduced herself to me weeks earlier – and got a good price on it. It looked out-of-the-box new. And it would be delivered on Tuesday morning.
I awoke, had my coffee, and waited. And waited. Eventually I heard a voice in our back garden. A man’s voice. Suddenly Brian “Buggs” Wilmott, curator of the Schreiner House museum, appeared at the window.
“Did you order a fridge?”
“Yip.”
“Thought so. They’ve delivered it to the museum. My colleague thought I’d ordered it and signed for it.”
Turns out Marlien had thought all along we had opened a restaurant inside the Schreiner House museum, because all the while, during my many shopping expeditions to Marlien’s business, she had believed that two local guys had bought Schreiner Tea Room, hence their parallel trips to buy plates and all the rest from her.
“Who?” I asked.
“You know, those two moffies.”
Um, nope. I’m sure I’d have noticed a new eatery in such a small town. Still, maybe it is in the wings, and any competition is welcome.
If they’ve out-shopped me, good luck to them, but I somehow doubt it. Most recently, I bought some small glass pudding bowls of many designs. I love the eclectic look, the idea of four pretty but disparate plates or bowls all going to the same table.
As for pudding bowls, a glass bowl looks wonderful if it contains a pert pink pear that you’ve simmered gently in a syrup of water, sugar, cherry syrup and pomegranate juice.
If you can’t find pomegranate juice, use strawberry or cranberry. If you can’t find cherry syrup, find another fruity red syrup or a slug of cherry liqueur. Or, for that matter, raspberry syrup. Be inventive and use what you can lay your hands on, but the point is to get both a good fruity flavour and a luscious pink hue.
Heat the sugar and cold water over a gentle heat until dissolved, stirring. Add the other ingredients, stir, add the pears and bring to a very gentle simmer. Simmer for up to an hour, then remove from the heat and allow to cool to room temperature.
Once cool, they can be put in a plastic container with a tight-fitting lid and refrigerated for several days.
Serve cold, in a glass bowl, with three or four tablespoons of the syrup and a blob of whipped cream or creme fraiche.
Weekend Argus