Eat. Drink. Write. Repeat.

Food and wine at a writer’s residency provide sustenance for the body, inspiration for the mind and ink for the pen. Lisa-Anne Julien

When bestselling author Ian McEwan was asked about his idea of happiness, he remarked that it had something to do with the three things waiting for him at the end of his writing day – food, friends, and wine.

On our writing residency at Paulet House, we experienced such happiness three times a day. Okay, twice. Anyone who’s having wine at breakfast ought to be at a different type of retreat. But the ritual of writers meeting at the large mahogany table to break bread each day, meant our fluffy scrambled eggs, homemade burgers with sweet potato fries and roast lamb with Pecorino Romano green beans, were often served with a side of literary criticism. Not to mention discussions from rock n’ roll, to why exactly the Boers lost the war, to the ever-evolving angsts of our fabulous teenage kids.

14 Days. 4 Writers. 1 Table.

Tom Naegels, a non-fiction Flemish writer. Paul Kammies, a Kaaps poet. Danie Marais, a freelance journalist and poet. And me.

It was always going to be a recipe for…no, never disaster, but a creative experiment, a tossing together of different ingredients to see who sizzled, whose composition changed, who gelled and who repelled. I couldn’t help but notice how our habits and idiosyncrasies sprinted ahead of us like a 5 o’clock shadow. Who limits breakfast to a cup of strong Arabica coffee? Who always sits at the same seat? Who asks for ice in their Chenin Blanc? Who leaves their meat for last, tackling the boneless chunks of creamy butter chicken only once the basmati rice and spicy tomato and yogurt marinade were polished off?

The library, living room and fireplace, beautifully manicured gardens and looming mountains around Somerset East provided food for our creative spirits. Chef Gilbert Van Zyl simply provided food.

Only, there was hardly anything simple about it. But when it was, hearty meals like lentil bobotie, or crispy pork belly sandwiched between pan fried vegetables and a roasted potato hollowed out with a dollop of cream cheese, sent you back to your childhood days.

Pictured: Flemish writer Tom Naegels and Chef Gilbert van Zyl

Few would guess that Gilbert’s fingers, the same ones that spread rice onto nori to create a dazzling display of California and maki rolls, also cradled guns at the 8 South African Infantry Battalion where he was stationed as a Green Beret in the early 90s. An ultra-marathon runner, Gilbert is unfazed by challenges like inclining hills and declining electricity. When loadshedding hit for many hours longer than scheduled, he calmly fired up the braai and we were soon chomping on boerewors, chicken, veggie hot dogs, roasted potatoes and perfectly charred sweet corn. The outdoor candles and full moon overhead meant we only had to squint to distinguish the Merlot from the Pinotage Malbec, bottles of Bruce Jack wines that became a staple of the residency, alongside checking your word count every 15 minutes.

I won’t try and pretend I moonlighted as a sommelier while at Paulet House. The wines were there and they went with just about everything. After we polished off desserts like apple crumble with vanilla ice-cream, milk tarts and assorted chocolates, Bruce Jack wines accompanied our singing alongside the guitar played by Gilbert’s son, Nash. The wines oiled our banter on the particularities of European migration, the merits of mayonnaise on French fries (might bear relation to the previous point), why the herd of cows on Paulet Street take the same daily route, and the genius of Jacques Brel. No doubt, wine must be implicated in the Paulet House impromptu dance offs. Ok, Paul won that. There was never a competition.

Writer, professor and political activist Jakes Gerwel bought Paulet House in 1993. When his widow Phoebe Gerwel generously donated it to the Jakes Gerwel Foundation shortly after his death in 2012, it was to be a safe and inspirational haven for creatives.

I’m not sure they even imagined how much it would satisfy almost all of Maslow’s Hierarchy Of Needs:

• Physiological (the 200 year old house, Gilbert’s penchant for delicious menus and Bruce Jack Wines, whether full bodied or fruity, has this covered)
• Safety (relates to employment, resources and personal security. As a writer, I think it’s best to just move onto the next point)
• Love and Belonging (A sense of connection was firmly established on the residency and is no doubt set to grow. Tom is aware he has to clean out his spare room for the inevitable visitor)
• Esteem (Danie finished a poem he’d been stuck on for two years. If this isn’t a self-esteem kick I don’t know what is)
• Self Actualisation (the highest level of need and the desire to become the most one can be. Thank you Paulet House. Together with friends, great food and good wine, we’re almost there).

Photo credit: Lisa-Anne Julien