Educating the Brits about the beauty of Biltong
Biltong is so much more than the world’s sexiest savoury snack. For South African expats abroad, it’s a little slice of home.
This article was brought to you by The Savanna – the UK’s top provider of South African food.
“What you got there?” an old man asked me on the tube as I sat scoffing pieces of dried meat. “Is it beef jerky?”
I was more sad for the little man than offended that he had confused biltong with its ugly step sister. Sad that this man had lived so darn long without every savouring the spicy gloriousness that is biltong.
But how does one even begin to describe biltong?
As a South African, I was sucking on biltong straight out of the womb. When I grew my first teeth, biltong turned into the tastiest teething toy ever.
My mum put us all on rations of biltong growing up. When guests came over and the biltong was put out on the table, my mum would quietly whisper “FHB” (Family Hold Back) and we would sit staring at the bowl, sneaking a handful whenever she wasn’t looking.
When I tuck into a bag of biltong, I imagine summer holidays, sweltering days and laughter around the braai. I hear the tsss of a Castle Lager opening, I taste the orange cheese on my fingers left over from NikNaks and Flings.
Biltong is the sexiest of all savoury snacks – cherished above every other appetiser. It’s moreish and guilt-free as it is low-fat and high in protein.
#couldntresist – The perfect mid-morning snack! #biltong #protein #nocarbs #thesavanna #victoriastation
A photo posted by Jimmy Scott (@jimmyscott03) on
I recall one holiday when dad piled up the car and we headed up the east coast of South Africa, and we broke down in the middle of nowhere. Everyone panicked until dad found us the family size pack of biltong he had brought along as padkos.
We were quite happy to ration that amongst ourselves for the hours we spent waiting to be towed.
Biltong is a part of many happy memories, and when I moved away from South Africa, it became the perfect remedy for homesickness.
So now, as I grow used to the biting British winter and pave my way on this Great British island far away from everything I know and love, biltong is my not-so-guilty pleasure and my little escape back home.
But how do I explain all that to this poor old man next to me? I don’t. I offer him a piece instead, knowing I’ve just changed his life.
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