Ice to Inuits - Biltong to Americans

Six extremely contracted years ago (sleep deprivation truly demonstrates the relativity of time over the life-time of a child), my husband and I were searching for a name for our first-born.   I have no idea whether the Greek word for 'whirlwind' was a self-fulfilling prophecy or an ironic mad-lib, but so it came to be: born in Dubai, raised in South Africa and now in North Carolina over her lifetime.

Her dad is one job of a 60-job production plant that has been established by an international snack foods company, South African firm Stormberg Foods.   Stormberg Foods produces meat protein snacks, dubbed “Project Jerky” by economic developers.   Not to nitpick but I have come to learn that Biltong is NOT Jerky, the preparation is markedly different.   Google, which never lies says that Biltong is a dried and cured steak cutlet which is traditionally marinated in vinegar and spices that add extra flavour to the meat.   On the otherhand jerky has an unspiced dry and smoky taste because it is cooked on a rack.    In review; Biltong well-hung and air-dried whilst Jerky is toasted.   

Crystal Gettys, president of the Wayne County Development Alliance, says conversations between economic developers and Stormberg have been ongoing for the past year.  Company representatives visited Goldsboro four times prior to making their decision. And they brought their families on one of those visits to scout “the quality of life” in North Carolina, she says.   

The product, called “biltong,” is similar to beef jerky and is described as an all-natural, gluten-free snack.   It’s distributed under several brand names targeted toward both pets and people, including “Free Range” and “Best Friend,” sold at Woolworth’s in South Africa. The company has an in-house “African Pride” brand, as well as another pet treat label, “Beg & Barkers.”

The company doesn’t currently distribute its products in the United States, but that’s likely to change
“They have been doing market analysis for over a year now, looking into different avenues in which they can market their product,” Gettys says. The plan is to set up shop in Goldsboro and distribute up and down the East Coast, aided by North Carolina’s highway system, which also factored into the decision, says Gettys.

In a prepared statement about the expansion decision, CEO Gary Moorcroft said the state’s central location on the East Coast was driving factor, as was the low cost of establishing facilities.
“Add a stable labor force, with agricultural processing experience too,” he stated. “The support from the state, city, county and other agencies has been very impressive,” he says.

Stormberg was also lured by a performance-based grant of $125,000 from the One North Carolina Fund, which requires a local match.Wayne County had a 5 percent unemployment rate in April, the most recently-available statistics put out by the North Carolina Department of Commerce. Statewide, the average was 4.3 percent.

Source: Biz Journals

Posted in Press ReleasesTagged Article, Featured Articles, News, Press Releases, Stormberg Foods

The Life Manual (batteries not included)

I asked my husband the other day, when I would grow up. At what moment, I would buzz, rattle and inflate, form a cocoon and emerge with all the secrets of life and all the knowledge required to raise children and appreciate the brussel sprout. He smiled at me, and chuckled in a way that lets me know that no matter how ridiculous I am, I am the most loved woman in the world. And with the look of a man who has all the answers, he said simply "Don't worry about it so much, the baby comes with a manual".

Now the physical logistics aside of how I would print a life manual, what if there was a manual? A set of rules and procedures that outlined how-to's on every conceivable situation. A hitchhiker's guide, if you will.  

If we look at the things that come with manuals: electronics, appliances and the wonderful world of Ikea. How useful do we find the manuals that are included? Written by illiterate gnomes who haven't ever heard English and who all have PHDs in health and safety, half of the story is 101 ways this television, bed or coffee table will kill you.  Fit stake A into death trap B until you hear a crack, find item C (not in the box) in order to make this item safe for consumption. Not that it will fulfil the purpose for which it was intended. Ever. 

Maybe all our cars are Transformers. We just don't know how to activate them, because the secret is written in the telephone directory in the glove box, which doesn't open. However, find and push that button at your own peril. As your car transforms into a super quantum mechanical alien who will save the world… You will be crushed. You will have a really cool car. But there will only be bits and pieces of you left to appreciate it.

Six months ago, this was a fair trade off. Your new life as a Thing from the Addams Family riding on your Popularis Prime would've been satisfying every evening when you got into your Transformer-themed bed. Now, as you become a Transformer: Emergency Air Bag Boobs, Floatation Device Ankles and a Blackhole in your mid section (let's face it, THAT is the only way all that stuff fits in there), the cost seems too great and the benefit way too low.

Do we want to know the dangers? My life mate has a heart attack, a nervous twitch and stress spasms every time I get near a road. Busy intersections have caused him to hiccup in seizures of health & safety. The last thing I need is for him to know, truly know how much can honestly go wrong and how quickly (please refer to Page xxxiiilv in Chapter iiixvy-3 of the Life Manual). My civil liberties and freedoms would be severely impaired, I'm sure.   

I know that I am slowly growing to be a parent. I have been censoring my blue verbs when stubbing my toe, which is f-ing f-unny and people look at you like, wtf a-hole? This is the first step in learning parent language, which includes such ground breaking techniques as S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G-I-T-O-U-T, Ear Muffs! and  Ons praat die taal, want hy kannie verstaan nie. I don't even know when I started doing this. So, happily and with confidence, I'm throwing out the manual or being struck by enlightningment. I don't even care if brussel sprouts are good for me. All I know is that I will find all this out, one thing at a time, learning with my precious family.

Lashings of WHIPPED cream

It's the new year, and we all know what that means: The New Year's Resolution. The single-most unbinding promise we make to ourselves. And we can make promises, we can break promises but the one thing we cannot get a handle on is control. There are just too many variables.

Standing at the airport with our family of friends, a close friend (let's call him Pauly D for the always-impeccable, orange physique and ever-present Essex-shades) said "I need to control myself". To which I answered, "How's that working for you?". Maybe what is required is a little less control and a little more going with it. When you are booked to go to a foreign country and the embassy won't grant your visa. Go with it. When your boobs start taking on a life of their own and double in size. Go with it. When you point at a friend and she bursts into tears. Go with it. What's the worst that can happen?

In the first case, you end up in a very foreign country, you never expected to, with so many opportunities. In the second, your little family is blessed with a little alien that has taken up residence somewhere between your ribs and your knees, still not quite sure. And in the final case, the universe drops a doll of perfect contours, sweet heart and fairytale personality into your lap. All because you went with it.

Now one might think, that having gone this far (with it). You could just gone with it some more. But somehow the human condition likes to interfere and strike down these things that we have stumbled upon. We begin to feel undeserving, like we should've or haven't worked for it. We begin to feel like there is no way that this will work out. Unless we intervene, regain control, quantify variables, think through every eventuality and outcome (the more pessimistic, the better). Because this will make us prepared. This will save us from... From what? The amazing things that are happening to us all the time.

To this I say: DON'T. Just DON'T. For every terrifying what-if that drags you into the grips of terror and despair, there is a what-if that can empower you and move you the other way. And when you begin to over think what is happening around you, follow these easy steps:

1. Go to the fridge
2. Open a Castle Lite (or favourite alcoholic beverage)
3. Drain the bottle
4. Beat yourself over the head with the empty bottle for not going with it and possibly missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime
   

Pauly D, do yourself and the world a big favour. Control less. Hell, think less. Go more. More going with it. Because you never, and I mean never, know where it will take you. We took a cab out to Dubai Sport City, had a beer (and a homemade Ice Tea) at the Ernie Els Golf Club. And once our courage was up we walked around. This place is absolutely amazing, we walked past Dave Richardson in the ICC building (I later found out Dave missed our meeting due to match-fixing in India, but I don't let details bother me), we saw the most amazing sporting facilities (you can only imagine), we literally wet our pants. Just when it couldn't get better, we got lost in the staff accommodations. Houses and cars that would take your and Lulu's breath away. Thank heavens a taxi accidentally came to rescue us, otherwise we'd be squatting in one of the beautiful parks.

But I know, that this place is where I want to be. The Big C seems so at home here. I've never seen someone just fit. And if you argue with my Go With It plan for you, I will smack you (and get away with it "because of the hormones") and tell you this. The job The Big C wanted, that he thought he was too late to get, has just been advertised again. And I bet you anything, he's going to get it. Why? Because he just went with it.

Enjoy living in Cape Town! 

   

oh, Frack Off

I remember a wise man once told me about the mountains just outside the Karoo. I remember because it was not so long ago (only last year in fact) and the wise man was an American immigrant farm owner whose surname was decidedly Afrikaans. Not a yoda that you quickly forget. He spoke about the intense pockets of natural gas in the caverns and tunnels under the surface of his mountains. And how, if one could harness the pressure system to create power, we could rule the world. The earth would keep us rich and we would keep the lights on. This Yankee Mountain Guru may have had a point. But are we that desperate for power, that we must build mountain fart capturing turbines? I'm not so sure.

 

We are spending millions of Rands and oil tankers of water to recover gold dust from dump sites we threw away years ago. In Canada, the oil industry is booming thanks to oil extraction from the soil aka 'Oil Sands'. Oil sands are a mixture of sand or clays, bitumen and water. The bitumen is much heavier than other crude oils. Mining of the oil sands involves excavation of the bitumen-rich sand using open pit mining methods. The sub-title here is they have a scorched earth policy on forests, with special reference to carting off the top 5m of soil to processing plants. This is considered to be "the most efficient method of extraction when there are large deposits of bitumen".

 

If we are strip mining dumps for gold and ground for oil, isn't everyone getting a little touchy at harnessing the potential of an arid wasteland? Why are we not laughing at the potential industry of natural gas extraction? Well, while I was pondering popping the cork of the Swartberg mountains, Shell came up with a doosy. Hydraulic fracturing, or "fracking", for the exploration and production of shale gas (aka natural gas). The Karoo, an arid land of sheep and ostrich, would be an energy sector game changer.

 

Fracking, is not a swear word. It refers to a process whereby natural pockets of oil or gas are liberated from the earth by forcing a subterranean fracture, then the fracture is filled up with… and it gets a little hazy here, but pretty much anything will do, to force the desired commodity out of the earth and into the barrels. Then, to avoid a catastrophe, sand or ceramic dust is pumped into the fluid to stop the fracture from collapsing. Simple, nẽ?

 

Hydraulic fracturing has been used for decades to stimulate groundwater wells, underground exploration for mining or measuring the stress in the earth, burying waste and reducing the impact of toxic spills. Still, fracking raises some serious concerns. How does it affect water supply (the fractures could link into fresh water zones), air quality, and/or ground stability so far under the earth? Will our animals and children be safe and poison free? Who's to know?

 

The fracking companies are keeping mum on the subject, as full disclosure of their fracking methods, frack yields and frack fluid ingredients threaten their competitive advantage in a highly competitive market. The anti-frackers have jumped on the silence as confirmation of the presence of toxins and environmentally detrimental fractices (sorry, couldn't help myself). To date, no one has proven either way, beyond reasonable doubt. We want to protect the land and we want to ensure the longevity of earth, but without finding alternatives to oil and coal we are saving the Karoo at the expense of the world.

 

Did you know that South Africa is in the Top 5 Most Carbon Reliant Economies? We emit up to a ton of carbon per dollar GDP earned… Do the math. We are also in the Top 10 Most Energy Intensive Countries. Right behind Libya. Libya only gets on the list because it requires double the amount of energy in a barrel of oil to extract it. That is a massive cost. South Africa is in the same boat because of our coal mines. Fracking may have some serious implications, but studies have shown it is one of the few methods of energy extraction that the benefits far outweigh the costs. And a method of energy extraction that yields more resources than it costs may go a long way to balance the scales in the earth's favour.

 

I'm not saying give the frackers free reign. I'm saying that without serious interventions, South Africa is in serious trouble. Maybe the old ex-American boer in the mountains is less crazy than I thought he was over a Full English breakfast. Let's do the required research in cork popping and make sure it doesn't hit anyone in the eye. The cost is high, but what is the cost of forgoing? They don't want a wind farm in Sardinia Bay (not just there, there are objections everywhere), they don't want a nuclear plant near St Francis, they don't want fracking in the Karoo. What the frack do they want?

 

Where is Yoda when you need him?

Since time began, it's been a battle of the sexes… There are two sides. In the blue corner, weighing in at 529 pounds (including ego): The Man, stalking prey in the jungles of history, competing to be the ultimate Hunter/Gatherers. What the hell are they hunting for? Quite simply, a larder full of provisions to trade for the precious currency of affection and heirs. It's the business of pursuit.

In the opposite pretty pink corner, weight undisclosed for obvious reasons: The Woman. In the economy of love, the reserve bank; the centre of currency production, financial policy summit meetings and committee decision-making on procedures and strategy. So really, the battle of the sexes is no battle at all, but an open economy of trade and negotiation. How can it go wrong?

At least in battle, there are rules of engagement. Both sides follow the Art of War, attacking, defending, counter-attacking and turning tail, running like mad in the other direction. It was a carefully choreographed dance of courting. In primitive times, the dance was simple yet aggressive. Man brings food, Woman accepts food, Man bonks woman on the noggin with big stick, Woman produces child, if you know what I mean. The semi-conscious disco could be danced as many times as required, with many partners, until the dinosaurs ate you for breakfast.

In medieval times, it was a decadent ball set in a soap opera. There was drama, jousting, to-ing and fro-ing. With the dawn of the stock market, the jiving ceased. The Providers of safety and stability laid down their swords and sequins, moving into an arena of buying and selling. A State of Mating where black market trading is totally unacceptable.

This shift in tactics has left a Yoda-less void. Rising to the top of the pile of applicants are the garishly front-covered, fast-paced media of fashion and lifestyle magazines. Bikini clad bodies giving the best advice on packaging, primping and people-screening. This is alright, any assistance in the navigating the stockmarket of relationships is appreciated. My "quibble" is with the quality of the advice. Men get good practical advice, for instance: 'How to stop dry eyes while working at the computer….. Blink.'. Women are given by their bibles: 101 ways to pleasure him, 50 ways to deceive him and 21 ways to knock him out and bury the body.

How useful is this information to finding your one true life partner? You definitely will be able to entice him, deceive him and surprise him by following the latest advice in Cosmo by pressing his 'perineum'. First you have to find it, by navigating some serious potholes, and then apply pressure. This will cause your man to jump up, hurdle over the bed and run screaming down the road. It would be far more constructive just to blink.

Terrible advice columns, however entertaining, undermine the very partnering that is required to ensure the continuation of the battle, dance or trade of the sexes. I am therefore, dedicating my blog to the Art of Trade. I have no idea what sage advice I can dice into the pork pot roast, but it's got to be better than: Find his G-spot, and he will love you FOREVER.