I don’t make friends easily. I’m picky with what movies to watch, which books to read, where to have lunch or dinner. There are only two things I’m always 100% confident about, without any pickiness. The first is my love for Indi, and the second is whether or not to travel. Big Yes in both cases. Anything else, I’m quite slow and careful to decide. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I’m often overtly suspicious when it comes to meeting new people. 

However, on my way back to Europe after a year abroad, I already knew I was going to have to make an effort. Especially as Indi settled in Groningen for the semester, and I determined to follow her there, I would be submerged in a new, and unfamiliar environment. Inhabited by people I didn’t know, and who therefore also didn’t know me. What to do, I didn’t know. 

It took me a day or two to explore the small but very charming old town of Groningen, with its flowery parks and languid canals. It’s remarkable how the tall Dutch live in boats on the water, or in tiny, cute homes, almost like doll houses. I read my book in the Prinsentuin all on my own, and explored the market hand in hand with Indi, letting her do all the shopping. Easy.

I was sure it would take me a lifetime to find a good friend, nevermind a whole bunch of them. But frighteningly, I wasn’t left with much of a choice. Indi generously gave me those first two days to settle down, get used to her and our new home, and then executed step one of her master plan. I have to admit I was nervous.

She went about things well, getting us sweet chai latte, finding a sunny spot by the canal to chat. A minute later her best friend Mickey turned up, curious to meet me, to share his warm friendship with us. Mickey turned out to be a great storyteller, dancer, and singer, although I’m sure he’d laugh to hear me say so. In the following weeks we’ve had dinner at ours, at his place, studied together all day, sharing lunch and snacks. Never has he been negative or dejected, instead, he’s a man of enthusiasm and smiles. 

Of course Indi had to follow up her victory over my tendency to isolate myself with another scheme. After a dinner with us and our new friend Mickey, she organised another evening, this time inviting another pair of her friends. I was lucky to have visited both Lila-Sarah’s hometown of Nantes, and Carol’s of Porto, with Indi. Things like that make conversation flow easier. At least that’s how it works for me. Indi hadn’t mentioned nothing to neither of them.

A week or two later I saw my chance to thank them for their homely and genuine welcome. I filled my backpack at the shops and got to work. Despite my time in a box and a cage in Tokyo, forsaking my hobby of cooking for a year, I still felt quite at home in the kitchen. While Indi, Carol, Lilah-Sara, and Mickey advanced their schoolwork, I prepared a little piece of South-Africa for us. 

Bobotie is a stew that interests me because it is a mix of different cultures, containing contributions from the Dutch settlers, the much less bland Javans and Indians brought over by the VOC, and the multitude of peoples calling the Cape home since ages past. It is definitive proof of the creativity and deliciousness brought by the diversity, surmounting the difficulties of the Cape’s colonial past. It is also definite proof that making friends needn’t be hard at all. As we often like to say in Belgium, the best way to a friend’s heart is through their stomach.

For those of you who like to cook, some advice: 

​​In a large pan (either this pan goes in the oven, or later you have to switch from the pan to an oven dish) I fried two chopped onions in half olive oil, half butter. Wait for them to get glassy, then add a whole lot of curry mix (I did about a shot glass full), plus extra turmeric, cumin, and oregano. Let it fry for another minute, then stir in a tiny can of tomato concentrate or some kind of tomato sauce, a kilo of minced meat (for 4), as many chopped cloves as garlic as you like (I did 4), and a bay leaf. I also added two cloves and six grains of allspice because I like how they smell. Break up the meat and have it cook for a moment before adding bits of dried fruit to your liking (I had mulberry, apricot and raisins), plus a container of mango chutney. Finally, add about half a lemon’s worth of lemon zest, some of its juice and a drop of Worcester sauce to balance out all the heavy flavours.

While your amalgamation cooks, fill a bowl with a cup of milk and add four or five slices of white bread to soak for about five minutes. When the bread is all nice and soft, squeeze out the milk, and add it to the meatpie. Mix it in thoroughly so it kind of breaks up and disappears. This will enormously help make the pie stronger and more consistent. Finally, add three or four eggs to the remains of the milk and whisk them thoroughly. Throw in salt and cayenne pepper for extra flavour (and add more milk if you want a thicker layer of egginess on top of the stew). Smooth out your pan (or oven dish) of meat and fruit all nice and flat, and pour over your egg and milk mix. Put this in the oven for about 45 minutes at 180 degrees Celsius, or 350 non-Celsius. After ten to fifteen minutes, when the eggs are starting to get a bit jelly-like, add a couple of bay leaves to make a pretty star. 

For the sambal salad, finely chop two red onions and three tomatoes. Add as much sambal ulek spicy sauce as you can manage, in my case about a large teaspoon worth. Also add salt. For the rice, I wash my jasmine rice until the water stops getting white, then boil it on the lowest possible flame in coconut milk. Usually I have to add water because I’ve not bought enough coconut milk. Stir in a couple teaspoons of cinnamon and cardamom, about as much as you like, and then some. 

Final step: eat and enjoy!