Sex Trek

After variously sorting out the world in a bumper morning’s work, the Philosophe and I allowed ourselves the naughty indulgence of a Friday afternoon at the cinema, so off we went to Star Trek. I confess to being one of those culturally superior inferior people who have never watched any of the Star Trek films (nor even Star Wars), thinking myself a non-sci-fi kinda gal.  But it was great, and now I can say “beam me up, Scottie” and know what I’m talking about.

We enjoyed an after-movie whisky under the brooding sky of a Cape Town gearing up for a weekend storm:


(Free snacks are always good).

Ho hum, but we still had a couple of hours to kill before it was respectably dinner time, so we decided to check out the Sexpo. (We were hoping to get there to see the silly Christians protesting, but we imagined the weather put them off – apparently it didn’t, though we missed them).

It was altogether a pretty silly (and expensive!) experience. Not only was the space far too big for what was in there (meaning you never shake the feeling of being in a large warehouse with a few dildos), but there was very little raunch – not to mention the absurd stalls in between selling olive oil, and other gratuitous marketers like the stall selling pet cushions for “pussy lovers”, and “doggy style” (my, how clever!).

We watched Miss UK poledance doing her number – she was very good, but more of an athlete than a nymphette, and then we watched the Boerewors Brothers (which turned out to be one man) doing penis puppetry. What it is? I’ll leave that to your imagination, which will probably do a better job than half-bro Boerie.

We also saw Pricasso and his portrait of our new president, penned with – yes, you guessed it – his penis.

There were a couple of topless women standing around, and a couple of large wandering penises:


Ho hum. More crunch than raunch there. Anyway, it was certainly a different way to spend a Friday evening, and after we’d had our fill of fake genitals and whisky, it was thankfully time for dinner at a little bistro that made us decent versions of (appropriately) coq au vin and T-Bone steak.

Now we continue to await the storm, and since we’re both on strict diets, I spent the morning making sure we were armed for the rain:


On the left we have a naartjie cake which involved boiling the fruit whole before pureeing and adding to a polenta-olive oil batter with a touch of almond. For the syrup on top, I boiled down a last drop of Beaumont’s delicious Goutte D’Or dessert wine with some lemon juice and sugar. Since the naartjies were also gifts hailing from Beaumont, I’ll call it the Naartjie D’Or. Should hit the spot with afternoon coffee in front of the heater.

Oh, and on the right, one more pan of brownies. I am STILL looking for the perfect recipe, and this one comes from the one who will not be named. I almost hate to say it, but I think these might be the ones.

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