In Memory

On the way home from school, stop and ask anyone standing around if bread is being made today. Head home, have a cup of water, change, and go back to the baker’s hut and wait while he takes fresh loaves out of the oven. Buy two, even if he gives you a third for free. Carry them home in the bag that your mosquito net came in. Eat the end of one on the way home because you can. Don’t bring the loaves inside when you get home; instead leave them on a chair on the porch in the sunshine so they stay warm while you make sauce.

Add to a large wooden mortar four to six small dried red chilies, picking out any grubs stems etc., a small handful of those round dried things that look like chilies but might be cherry tomatoes or just some bitter berry, approximately two teaspoons whole coriander, and a teaspoon black cumin seeds. Pound one minute; until dusty. Peel and mince one large-for-Africa onion and two thirds of a head of garlic. Quickly wash and mince the small sweet potato left alone at the bottom of the vegetable bowl. Add the minced ingredients and a resolute pour of olive oil to your only pot. Cook as fast as possible, only burning a little. Add the crumblier spices and the last two bay leaves, and a sprig of thyme. Cook a bit more. Add three handfuls of mostly-ripe cherry tomatoes, and cook until they start to pop. Add one 70g package of tomato paste, and a second if you’ve got it. Stir around, and add a liter of water. Crumble in a bouillon cube and bring to a boil. Add a pinch of black pepper, two dashes of ground cumin, a generous portion of dried oregano, and a tablespoon of honey. Reduce until thick. Crush any cherry tomatoes that have remained intact.

Split a still-hot-from-the-oven-and-the-sun loaf of bread down the middle with your fingers. Spread margarine on one side and pour honey on the other, then press the loaf back together.

Fill a low, wide bowl with the red sauce and sprinkle instant milk powder on top so it looks like parmesan cheese. Dip the hot honey bread in it like an au jus sandwich and enjoy with a large cup of water and a decent book or magazine. Go through two whole baguettes before you realize you are absolutely stuffed.

Dedicated to my grandmother, Helen Haugerud, who loved everything delicious.