The glorious vetsister. Seriously, why has no-one done this before?
Move over cronut, step aside duffin, the vetsister is here
‘Portmanteau bakery’ is what some are calling it. ‘Frankenstein pastries’ according to others. Whatever you want to call it, I want in on it. And so I give you, ladies and gentlemen, the proudly South African vetsister.
The glorious vetsister. Seriously, why has no-one done this before?
It’s probably a good thing Marie-Antoinette lost her head when she did because I’m not quite sure how she might have rephrased her contempt for the poor in light of the current craze for so-called portmanteau bakery. Somehow “let them eat duffins” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.
The cronut, however, does have a ring to it. Right in the middle. And it is this little critter, a ‘smash up’ of a croissant and a doughnut created by New York based pastry chef Dominque Ansel, that is to blame for the unassailable rise of combination confectionery. Cronuts, duffins (doughnut meets muffin), townies (tartlet crossed with a brownie), muffles (the result of a sordid affair between a muffin and a waffle); They. Are. Everywhere.
And as a patriotic South African I feel it is my duty to bring my country to the tea table.
With….
….the Vetsister!
C’mon, genius, right? And I don’t just mean the name. I’m talking golden, pillowy vetkoek embracing sticky, cinnamon-laced koeksister in a conjugal visit from heaven that cannot fail to produce the ultimate tea time heir. Or maybe just a bit of a brak with novelty value.
Either way, I smell a tasty gimmick, and if I can’t go down in history as the winner of the Man Booker prize, I should surely be able to weasel my way into Huisgenoot as the creator of the vetsister.
And so, as the powers that be of Starbucks sat contemplating their legal duffin-up, I beat a path to my kitchen to make confectionery magic. Of course, magic needs witnesses hence this text to my friend and close-enough-neighbour, Ashley:
“Right, so I am going to be carrying out a deep frying experiment later. I know this sounds somewhat terrifying but if it works you could become the first person in the world to try one.”
To which she, after a contemplative pause, replied: “Ummmmmmm… I’m not sure how to respond. But yeah, sure. Be safe.”
That’s sweet, she cares. You can tell from her next text: “Need me to grab anything on my way to you? Fire extinguisher. Burn cream etc.”
I, naturally, was confidence personified as I sifted, mixed and kneaded my vetkoek dough. Yes, I closed the fire-door and opened all the windows – a precaution, you understand – but that turned out to be wholly unnecessary. For after an unctuous little jacuzzi, my voluptuous plaited vetsisters emerged puffed up and golden. A few swift incisions and they were ready to be filled with a fragrant, koeksisterly combination of golden syrup, sticky stem ginger, candied orange peel and ground cinnamon. And some, for a pre-Christmas variation, ‘krismis’ mince.
Ashley’s verdict? Said with a degree of surprise but with a mouth happily full: “This is goooooood.” Between us we devoured three, and Ashley took a doggie bag, so I think I am entitled to say, move over cronut, step aside, duffin, the vetsister is here – and she’s blerrie lekker!
PS I have three left. Form an orderly queue.
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