Nothing says Christmas on the North Coast quite like a bowl of fresh litchis.
I tried making gingerbread houses last year and that definitely won’t be repeated. Anyway, it is too hot to bake anything in December.
I tried to find a slot to make Christmas cookies on the weekend but between the searing heat and loadshedding I would rather be in the pool.
Litchis however, are the perfect no-bake Christmas treat.
Going litchi picking has become a family tradition and it is well worth the experience.
Our youngest is five and he’s a litchi fanatic. We have to ration his litchi eating or he’d go through a box in an afternoon. He also doesn’t have much concept of time yet, so he starts asking me if it’s time to go litchi picking come February… It’s a long wait for the little guy, so the anticipation is at an all-time high by December.
Going to the farm itself is a marvel.
The tractor ride, the heavily laden branches and the juice running down your arms as you collect your bounty.
It is so good for kids to see where things come from. Our kids lead such urban lives that they would be forgiven for thinking that milk comes from a bottle and not a cow, or that chickens are born crumbed KFC-style.
My boys were fascinated with the 90-year-old orchard. Most of the trees were so big that a cherry-picker was required to harvest the bulk of the litchis from the upper stories. Daniël (7) and Ruben (5) were quite disappointed when I explained that they were not old enough to be employed as farm labourers. I bet a day of hard labour would end that aspiration quickly.
This led to a determination on Daniël’s part to start his own business.
“No, washing windows and collecting doggie doo at home won’t cut it Mom” (I had to try), he wants to have a stall “in the community”.
He settled on making Christmas biscuits and fudge to sell and has been on my case ever since to make it happen.
Oh dear, I’m going to be in front of that hot stove after all. I can also see that this business is going to require a lot of support from mom (I really don’t have capacity for a side hustle). I have explained that I am not free labour, he is going to have to do the bulk of the work and cut me in.
I do have some experience in this department.
When I was about 9 or 10 my friends and I spent hours baking fudge and coconut ice squares to sell to raise money for the SPCA, where I would volunteer on the weekend.
This was before markets were trendy, so we sold them up and down Elizabeth and Townsend Roads (which is how far our parents would let us roam). I printed out a picture of a very sad looking puppy and we’d go door-to-door with dogged enthusiasm.
I wonder how many bags of fudge our neighbours bought before they were well and truly tired of us!
Kids can no longer walk the streets unsupervised, so don’t be surprised if you find Daniël and I at a market this holiday, hustling!
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