Faeeza Abrahams has always been the first out of the gate. She started school at the tender age of four and left aged fifteen to work. And work she did. For over 25 years and upward of twelve hours a day, she exhausted herself catering to hungry UCT students before retiring to her home in the Bo-Kaap, Cape Town’s colourful Malay quarter. But retirement wasn’t never going to keep people away. Netflix approached her for a foodie segment, even Harry and Meghan have dropped in on her for lunch.
Now, sitting in her brightly-coloured upstairs kitchen with five others I only just met, we are learning what makes her cooking so special. She passes around a jar of masala, explaining that every Malay lady keeps her own personal blend of spices to suit her family’s palate. Into the pot of bubbling onions, soft cubed potatoes and fresh tomato chunks it goes, along with cardamon, cinnamon, cumin, turmeric, ginger and coriander. Within minutes, our stomachs are grumbling.
Cooking with Faeeza
While the curry simmers, she has us roll up our sleeves and get our hands dirty. Roti, naan’s unleavened cousin, is a short list of ingredients but a labour-intensive task that involves a lot of rolling and a lot of pounding to achieve an ideal buttery, flaky crust. Faeeza has us working quickly, spreading our dough out on the unfloured counter and then whipping it into skipping ropes. No doubt, she can see how our mouths are watering and she wants to hurry us downstairs. The aroma of fragrant spices fills the air as she removes the lid from the pot of curry, gives it one quick stir to check the potatoes, and replaces the lid. You have give it love, she tells us, by not interfering with it. She likens constant stirring to a form of abuse.
While the roti chills in another room and the curry continues to bubble, we move on to spicy, deep-fried dhaltjies and cheese and mielie samosas. At this point, we can no longer help ourselves and we munch on the warm dhaltjes as we work, audibly pleased. The trick to light and airy dhaltjes, she tells us, is to use equal parts pea flower and self-rising flour. All-purpose flour on its own will cause the dhaltjes to become logged with oil and come out of the pot dripping and greasy.
A Meal at Faeeza’s Table
Downstairs at Faeeza’s dining room table, we enjoy the fruits of our labour, served with spicy sambal sauce that is simply to die for. As a special treat, she brings out a plate of piping hot koe’sisters at the end of the meal. The koeksister is an Afrikaans treat—braided pastry glazed with cold syrup. But the Cape Malay variety is more akin to a cake bite, the dough spiced with masala and tangerine peel, and rolled in warm syrup and coconut flakes. Even if you don’t get a chance to roll up your sleeves when you visit Cape Town, you can still experience Cape Malay cuisine at her home kitchen, and I recommend you do.
