In Cape Town's Bo Kaap with andulela

For the authentic feel of the Bo-Kaap, culminating in a hands-on cooking session, join an enriching tour, led by Monique le Roux of Andulela Experience (a Xhosa word meaning "first"or "to be the first"). In this case, the first cross-cultural experience for visitors. And also a first for enthusiastic Convivium member Elena Aniere, eager to absorb history and food knowledge.

The charm of the amble lies in its intimacy, and the balance between travellers needs and those of the community. Monique accepts a maximum of eight visitors, allowing for interaction, questions, and a less intrusive presence.

Meeting place is the Cape Malay Museum, to soak up tradition and history. You then stroll down narrow cobbled streets, blinking at the vivid colours silhouetted against a clear blue sky, made even brighter by blankets hung over the walls of the front stoep to air. The pace is easy and the company international.

In Atlas trading store you inhale exotic aromas; in a corner café youll find specialities like "crackles" that replace conventional snacks. Outside the halaal butcher, the tantalising smell of spicy chicken sizzling on a street barbecue will tempt your tastebuds. But hold it: the best is yet to come.

Theres no neon advertising. Just an unobtrusive sign: Bo-Kaap Bazaar. And nothing could be more authentic. No bazaar this, but Zainie Misbachs family home, the lounge cleared for a restaurant and sometime cooking school. The chalked blackboard menu promises a dish of the day (perhaps curried chicken) for R35; also typical delights like samoosas and roti.

And its roti and samoosas the group learns to make after a nutritious mug of boeber, a subtly spiced, sweet milky drink used as a gentle stomach-filler after the Eid fast, which forbids eating between sunrise and sunset.

With skill and infinite patience Zainie demonstrates the step-by-step intricacies of the traditional delicacies, her actions duplicated by the group, now suitably apron-clad and armed with rolling-pins.
Rotis, those flat, crêpe-like circles, start life as an elastic ball of dough. A roti requires not only therapeutic rolling, but twisting and circling, buttering and sprinkling with flour.

Geometric samoosas demand precision and are much more taxing. No free-rolling here. You are faced with a paper-thin strip of pastry, and expected to fold it into a pocket to take the spicy filling, and then into a perfect triangle. (I never could do maths).

A designer in the group (we guessed him to be an architect) makes text-book examples. The rest of us are all thumbs in the face of our hostesss deft folding; our saviour flour and water "glue". With this paste (shades of nursery school), you patch mistakes and seal the samoosa securely to prevent the filling from leaking into the frying pan. "This is evolutionary!" exclaimed Elena, proud of her increasingly acceptable corners.

As an ice-breaker, its unbeatable. And so is the meal though their is some discussion as to whose roti is whoseYoull be so relaxed that youll be comparing notes and contributing titbits of information on culinary customs back home till well into the afternoon. And you came away with the recipes, plus a packet of masala, personally mixed to suit your palate.

Jos Baker in Winescape Magazine, Summer Edition, 2004