FARM TO TABLE
Curry Bunny: Have your vetkoek and eat it, too
Vetkoek is an inherent part of South African food culture, with variations in cooking styles from Xhosa to Malay to European. There are similar Caribbean Johnny Cakes, Dutch oliebolle, American doughnuts, and Mexican sopaipillas.
Vetkoek-and-Kerrie-mince has always been the Friday afternoon staple in our home. After a week of hostel food, freshly fried vetkoek heralded a weekend of good farm eating.
The vetkoek queen of the valley, Marie Pokpas, used to make them for us… She’d make a batch large enough to feed the entire farm and we’d steal the hot and crispy pillows from the enamel bowl as they were being lifted from the hot oil. She used to get very angry with us. (However, secretly, I think she loved that we couldn’t resist them.)
Marie had a hand for vetkoek; each one she produced was a perfect pocket of light and crispy dough with one swollen side that could hold our filling of choice – her famous spicy curried mince. To this day, nobody can rival her delicious vetkoek-making skills. It hasn’t stopped us from trying, though.
Vetkoek is very simple. However, it has one rule. It should be made to have a hollow pocket on the inside. This way, you get just the right ratio of crisp to fluff with no dense doughiness inside. That’s the trick; to get it crispy and golden on the outside, without too much stuffing on the inside.
When making it, we were taught to roll out the dough in one long worm before cutting it into pillows to achieve this result. However, you can also pinch off a small piece of dough and roll it in your palms before frying.
The magic lies not in the ingredients or method, but rather the equipment used, it seems. The more basic, the better. Marie made her vetkoek in an old Hart pan that had been scoured to the bone. It looked like pure polished silver. Her choice of weapon to fish out the fried balls from the hot oil was a plastic orange slotted spoon with a few broken threads. When that finally conked, she resorted to a plain old fork with which she’d stab the frying buns to flick out of the pan and into the “skottel”.
The recipe is nothing special: a basic combination of flour, water, yeast, a tiny bit of sugar (just to help feed the yeast) and salt that’s leavened twice before being shaped and fried.
Tracing the origins of this simple fried dough is difficult. What we do know is that vetkoek has become an inherent part of our South African food culture, with variations seen in many cooking styles from Xhosa to Malay to European. It also relates to many international deep-fried delights. There are the Caribbean Johnny Cakes, Dutch oliebolle, American doughnuts, Mexican sopaipillas, even our own South African koesisters and koeksisters.
Most similar to the vetkoek, perhaps, are French-style beignets; deep-fried dough parcels dusted with powdered sugar. Café du Monde in New Orleans is renowned for its sweet, sugary beignets. They were first brought to New Orleans in the 18th century by French colonists.
In SA’s Transkei, you’ll also find a variation of this sweet-style vetkoek (whether these have French roots, I doubt…). We call them amagwinya; an on-the-go all-day snack which is enjoyed either hot or cold, just as is.
You’ll find amagwinya at every good spaza shop, taxi rank, roadside vendor and fast food shop in the Eastern Cape. Elsewhere too, if you’re lucky. In Cape Town’s Heerengracht Street between the train station and the MyCiTi bus stop, there’s a small pop-up stall which sells them too. I say “stall”, but it’s basically just a lady sitting behind a two-plate burner, churning out delicious, hot delights. R10 for a packet of six or so. They’re a hit with passers-by.
Vetkoek and amagwinya are as delicious as they are lucrative. For years, it’s been a source of income for housewives, mothers and all-round entrepreneurs trying to make an extra buck on the side.
Joy Nkamba is the owner of Avushadi Enterprises, a traditional restaurant and takeaway shop in Cradock specialising in the classics like umngqusho, tripe, bombolo, and, of course, vetkoek with curried mince – or “curry bunnies” as they’re known. She sells a generous size vetkoek with mince for R10 a pop.
She has a curious vetkoek clientele, she says. “Most of my vetkoek customers are from the white community. They come in specifically for the curry bunnies, which have become the best seller in the shop. It’s definitely a cross-cultural favourite.”
Apart from being finger-licking good, vetkoek is also her bread and butter. Joy makes a living and sustains her two children, Avuthando and Shadika, with the money she makes from her shop.
Vetkoek is rooted in our South African ingenuity as eaters. The word literally translates to “Fat Cakes”, referring to the animal fat or lard in which the dough was traditionally fried. In the old days, when an ox or sheep or pig was slaughtered for the pot, the fat was rendered for a myriad of uses, including deep-frying.
Using lard for your vetkoek will give you a very distinct umami taste, a darker colouration and a much crispier crust. If you have it available, it’s definitely worth a try. These days, however, it’s acceptable to fry your vetkoek in store-bought sunflower or canola oil. No need to slaughter an ox.
Then there’s the question of sugar. Do you add it to your dough or not? Do you soak the fried morsels in a sugary syrup or do you serve it plain, or savoury? All vetkoek traditionally contain sugar. However, the amounts and consistencies of sugar used, differ.
Joy agrees that it’s difficult to strike the right balance to please all palates. “Some people prefer a sweeter vetkoek, and when you adjust the recipe, the others complain that it’s too sweet.”
She now adds just a little sugar to the dough, not to overpower the savoury mince filling but rather complement it.
Not all vetkoek are equal. Neither should they be. The Heerengracht stall’s sweet amagwinya, for example, differs from Marie’s Afrikaans-style vetkoek, which again differs from the Hantam favourite, namely skuinskoek.
[My great grandmother used to say that sugar was only added to fried dough recipes when food rations allowed it (she referred to tough times during the South African War). I cannot help wonder if this is not perhaps where the first recipes for koeksisters came about…]
Skuinskoek is another variation on the vetkoek theme, similar in method and looks to sweet Malay koesisters. However, instead of adding spice, skuinskoek was made using leftover dough from traditional mosbolletjies – a type of rusk made with grape must and aniseed. It’s very specific to the Hantam regions of the Northern Cape and is traditionally cut in diagonal shapes before frying – hence the name.
If you’re making vetkoek for sweet consumption, say skuinskoek or amagwinya, you need to press down on the dough pillows slightly before sliding them into the hot oil. For vetkoek with savoury fillings, again, the pillows should be left to rise in order to form that iconic, hollow centre.
Regardless of its origins, vetkoek represents South African food culture across the board. Katlego Maboe, the host of Expresso, once reminisced about how he used to buy his two amagwinya from the tuck shop at school for 20c apiece.
“When the bell rang for break, I’d run so I could be first in line to get the first, freshest amagwinya,” he said. He bought two slices of polony – one for each amagwinya – with his remaining 10c. A classic choice.
We all have a vetkoek story to share – even if it’s just a joke from that corny 90s Afrikaans TV series, Vetkoek Paleis.
Remember! 30 August is National Vetkoek day. Celebrate it by making this simple recipe and dress it up any way you like… DM