---
title: "When slow food was a way of life — a small-town reminiscence"
description: "‘Written over several years,’ reader Judith Shopley writes at the end of her story about life in a small town, and all the food that salted and peppered her family’s days."
type: "NewsArticle"
publisher: "Daily Maverick"
site: "https://www.dailymaverick.co.za"
section: "FOOD NOSTALGIA"
author: "TGIFood Contributors"
author_url: "https://www.dailymaverick.co.za/author/tgifood-contributors/"
canonical_url: "https://www.dailymaverick.co.za/article/2026-08-14-when-slow-food-was-a-way-of-life-a-small-town-reminiscence/"
published: "2026-08-14T10:05:00"
lang: "en-ZA"
word_count: 1164
---

# When slow food was a way of life — a small-town reminiscence

> ‘Written over several years,’ reader Judith Shopley writes at the end of her story about life in a small town, and all the food that salted and peppered her family’s days.

By TGIFood Contributors · Published 14 August 2026, 12:05 SAST

## Key points
- A personal reminiscence of growing up in King William’s Town (Qonce), where the writer’s mother – transplanted from Muizenberg – became the town’s consummate hostess and anchored family life in a roomy, party-ready house.
- The mother’s cookbook obsession is central: she read recipe books like novels, kept meticulous party notebooks and prep lists, and treated entertaining as a season of ritual and choreography.
- Exotic touches came from rare outings to James Lamont deli in East London – think caviar soufflé, pickled tongue, homemade ice cream and Gone With The Wind pudding – dishes that speak to a slower, labour‑intensive food era.
- Beyond recipes, the story is a tribute: parents as social magnets (dad as resident barman), community ties through clubs and music, and how that upbringing gave the author a lifelong respect for sourcing, cooking and the art of hosting.

## Content

While Mom died several years ago, writing this story was an important way of acknowledging how much her love of cooking and baking over the years influenced me and also instilled in me an appreciation of sourcing good food, and how cooking – even just for one – is a creative and relaxing process.

I don’t think growing up in Muizenberg between the two wars was the impetus for her love of cooking. I think it was moving to King William’s Town (now known as Qonce) as well as meeting my father and getting married during war time that propelled her into the social ways of living in a small town.

I remember hearing about the quaint custom of leaving visiting cards. So both my parents were influenced by the last vestiges of colonial traditions. I think her way of adapting to a small town, away from the familiar seaside town and interacting with my father’s family, was challenging.

I believe that reaching out socially was her way of adjusting to this new life, in the shadow of her much older sister and other family members.

My father had to leave Germany in 1936, and his family in King stood guarantee for him. So Dad also had a challenging time adapting to a complete new way of life.

In fact, both my parents earned the reputation of being very social. My parents soon became absorbed into the social and cultural activities that small towns in those years were well known for.

![The family home in a wide street in King. (Photo supplied by the writer)](https://cdn.dailymaverick.co.za/i/J0AExNvNMK7qhqAzyE3XqwKAhuU=/200x100/smart/filters:strip_exif\(\)/file/attachments/2996/Judith4_963097.jpg)

Our home in a wide street, lined with wild plum trees, dated to the early 20th century, so it had huge rooms and huge passages, and a big garden. It lent itself well to lots of parties, celebrations, anniversaries, a bar mitzvah and a 21st. The wraparound stoep complete with Adirondack chairs made by my father was a playground for the young and old.

My mother loved her recipe books and read them like novels – long before the advent of pictorial recipe books.

In fact it’s this aspect of my memory of my mother, as a gracious hostess with the mostest, which prompted me to write down some memories of living in a house where culinary surprises were the order of the day.

My aunt in America treated my mother to a subscription to the American Gourmet magazine. What a treat to explore that marvellous mysterious food magazine in the 1970s.

I have kept various notebooks in which she meticulously recorded all the entertaining that she did over a long period of time, as well as her ledger of her favourite recipes.

Each party item started with the list of invited guests, and those who had replied. The preparation list started a few days before the occasion. Going to the market, making herring dishes from scratch, buying meat from the butcher, calling on friends who offered to assist, making dishes on certain days leading up to the dinner party.

![Mother and daughter. (Photo supplied by the writer)](https://cdn.dailymaverick.co.za/i/6JsgIVKQBscuxBiFWnnvRkfZJQM=/200x100/smart/filters:strip_exif\(\)/file/attachments/2996/Judith5_941377.jpg)

I like to think that our family friends loved to be invited to my parents’ “dos”. The menus were the highlight. I also remember that they were jolly and there might have been a singalong at the piano.

Also, the conversations and the various age groups of the guests made for an interesting mix. My brother and I were mostly included in these parties… Well, we were expected to assist!

![A family gathering in times gone by. The original black-and-white image has been colourised in Photoshop. (Photo supplied by Judith Shopley)](https://cdn.dailymaverick.co.za/i/OjfryEfCWHW6GbKJXy2RixqMmF4=/200x100/smart/filters:strip_exif\(\)/file/attachments/2996/Judith-colourised1_569413.jpg)

My mother would never have been able to make the different and exotic dishes by only shopping in King. We made special forays to East London (always convenient when my father had business to conduct as well).

The specialised deli shop was James Lamont in Currie Street, East London. (How do I remember this? I consulted a Facebook page of East Londoners.) My request elicited some nostalgia from the locals.

Indeed, it was the only deli shop for miles. A reader remembered the delicious cheeses and cold meats, another reminisced about canned tripe. If you lived in the town the shop delivered on the same day.

I can’t remember whether we made regular trips there or only when Mom was preparing a dinner party. She had a cupboard to store her special ingredients, but I knew where she hid the key! I must have been a teenager then, as I craved the speciality vinegars and the combination with Bournville chocolate. I was definitely not popular if it was needed for a dish.

So what would Mom have bought? Caviar for her signature dish, caviar soufflé. The recipe I know came from Gourmet magazine, specialist vinegars, olives, tinned artichokes, asparagus, sprats.

Four dishes that stand out for me are that caviar soufflé, pickled tongue, her signature homemade ice cream – made with cream skimmed off the milk that was delivered in a gallon container – and GWTW. It took me some time to remember what that was: Gone With The Wind pudding, made with jelly and ideal milk.

![In Judith Shopley’s childhood home, caviar ended up in her mom’s soufflés. (Photo: Lukinigor from Pixabay)](https://cdn.dailymaverick.co.za/i/OXLyAlKxDdn1K94sonIjHaUZxCc=/200x100/smart/filters:strip_exif\(\)/file/attachments/2996/lukinigor-black-caviar-7472596_1920_146618.jpg)

My mother used to swear by the principle that garnishing makes the dish, and this sticks in my mind to this day when I entertain.

Reading through these lists helped me to recall the amazing circle of friends my parents had. Living in a small town, one socialised a lot and met people through the Rotary Club, the local active dramatic society, the local Jewish community, the schools, and the touring Cape Town Symphony Orchestra.

It also got me thinking about dishes that might have been in vogue in the 1960s and 1970s – they were more labour intensive. Examples are Mom making her own mayonnaise, pickling the tongue, stuffing prunes, pickling eggs. On a couple of her menus, croquembouche was served and made from scratch.

![Croquembouche. (Photo: HannekeV from Pixabay)](https://cdn.dailymaverick.co.za/i/ps5Ib4Lwvd5tGENVqo5TUFCrmLg=/200x100/smart/filters:strip_exif\(\)/file/attachments/2996/hannekev-opzat-1027902_1920_331784.jpg)

Besides the help obtained from her friends, my brother and I and our domestic worker, Grace, were part of the party machine.

Dad had renovated the traditional kitchen to make it simpler to cook and entertain.

He was the barman at the parties and he relished this role. He had all the essential equipment for the parties. Offerings of cocktails, gin and tonics, vermouth on the rocks, Irish coffees and Nederburg wines were on the list.

![Irish coffee, the old-fashioned way. (Photo: xql051016 from Pixabay)](https://cdn.dailymaverick.co.za/i/inF1eylc3WLO-u5cL_4M0MDf-kU=/200x100/smart/filters:strip_exif\(\)/file/attachments/2996/xql051016-irish-coffee-4546110_1920_992080.jpg)

The entertaining didn’t stop once my parents retired to Cape Town in 1986. They resided in a beautiful home with a view of Newlands Ravine. The stoep of different dimensions and views was a happy place for all sorts of gatherings, whether afternoon tea, drinks or even the various family gatherings and celebrations.

My mother instilled in me the love of food, the preparation thereof and measuring all the ingredients. **DM**