The woman in her early 30s grumbles on Facebook: she is fed up with the lockdown – in fact, it makes her sick to her stomach – but she feels even more strongly about the never-ending stream of recipes on her news feed: Granny Gertie’s miracle venison pie, Aunty Anne’s roly-poly pudding with a twist, Uncle Fred’s tangy sourdough bread… The rest of Planet Facebook seems to be in raptures over these recipes – clearly a way to block out thoughts of lockdown. But why, oh why, must every precious recipe drip with nostalgia, she complains (and gets three likes). Can one really not put a single thing in one’s mouth without a yearning kicking in for a time when everything was supposedly so much rosier? (Two likes.)
This nostalgia simply creates unrealistic expectations, she drones on, and, what’s worse, it paints an inaccurate picture of the past. Is there really no other remedy for this sick, bitter-sweet emotion? (Her reward for this remark is a single crying emoji.)
SITTING AT the cheerfully laid long table of his home restaurant Stasie Street Kitchen, Mynhardt Joubert nods his head at every quote read out to him and washes it all down with a glass of ice-cold water.
In The
