We’re seeing too much emphasis on the use of technology (“My Kingdom for an App!”), than on savvy, skill and craft. We’re breeding a generation of PR people who can’t influence or persuade unless they have an app to do it for them. It all started when Microsoft introduced the “spell checker,” obviating the need for PR people to pay attention to what they were writing…
Posted: November 21, 2014 in Photography
Tags: asia, australia, Bangkok, documentary photographer, Freelance, Green, Greens, Khlong, Melbourne, NGO Photographer, photographer, Photographer job, Photography, Photojournalist, Siam, Thailand
Blustery day at St Kilda, Melbourne, Australia.
St Kilda beach, Sunday 23 November 2014.
Melbourne, Australia, Sunday 23 November 2014.
MAKING BASIC SOUTH AFRICAN-STYLE BILTONG AT HOME
All you need to know.
Chris Westinghouse. Updated 21 February 2015.
Most South Africans will tell you that, despite all the fancy spices and flavours that are available, traditional beef biltong without the frills is still the best.
- A kilogram of silverside (known as London Broil in the USA), cut with the grain in strips about 1 – 2 cm thick.
- Rock salt.
- A small basin of vinegar, any vinegar, but some folks prefer brown or apple cider vinegar.
- Some cracked pepper.
- Coarsely ground coriander.
- Any of your favourite spices or blends of spices – I make up all kinds of my own blends, but you don’t have to make it spicy – you can stick with the pepper and coriander. Powdered chilli is also popular – experiment at will!
- A Biltong Box, i.e. a container that is well ventilated (close any holes with some sort of gauze or mesh to prevent insects from getting inside). These days I use a hi-fi cabinet with nice glass doors and gauze at the back (see image).
- An electric fan – it doesn’t have to be very powerful, but must be positioned in such a way that the air flows well over the meat. The moist air is driven out of the ventilation holes in your container. This is the primary mechanism for the drying process. If you have a dehumidifier lying around, that’s what I use these days – it makes biltong in 3 days.
- A 60 Watt light bulb positioned at the bottom of your container. This will produce only a small amount of heat, but its purpose is not heating – its purpose is to assist to dry the air. If you’re using a strong fan, or even a dehumidifier, then you can dispense with the light bulb. I stopped using a fan and electric light bulb, and instead conscripted a room dehumidifier that fits nicely into an old glass-door hi-fi cabinet that is now my state-of-the-art Biltong Box. When the dehumidifier packed up recently I went back to using a small fan and electric light bulb. Use whichever tools are available to you.
- Some small S-shaped hooks (plastic or stainless steel – you can even just bend some clean paper clips), that you will insert at the top of each piece of meat and use to hang the meat. Make sure that the pieces of meat don’t touch each other during the drying process.
- Racks, tubes, rods that you will insert into your container’s walls to give you racks, onto which you will hang the meat.
- NOTE: The meat may drip slightly during the first few hours, so make sure that this doesn’t drip onto your fan or onto your light bulb – this will make an unhygienic mess. If you cover either of these items, make sure that you don’t use something flammable too close to the light bulb, or something flimsy that might get caught in the blades of your fan.
- Buy a kilogram or two (as much as you like, but don’t overfill your container – too much meat risks too much moisture in your container and you don’t want the meat to rot). Start with a kilogram of silverside (London Broil). I sometimes use topside.
- Cut the meat (usually with the grain) into strips about 1 – 2 cm thick. The thicker the meat, the longer it will take to turn into biltong. You can make your strips much, much bigger (the way I like it), or much, much smaller (making Biltong “sticks”).
- After cutting, lay the meat in a tray with enough salt (rock salt) to more-or-less cover the meat on both sides. Leave it for at least an hour, though probably 2 hours is better. This not only gives the meat its saltiness, but more importantly it is aimed at making the fluids in the meat seep out. After an hour or two your salted meat will usually have shed quite a lot of blood and water.
- Use paper towels to soak up all the water that will have been sucked out of the meat by the salt. Brush off the salt with a clean brush. NEVER use water!
- Dip each piece of meat into a bowl of vinegar, just for a second or two. This is important as it will discourage any moulds from attacking your biltong. So make sure your meat is thoroughly immersed in the vinegar.
- Sprinkle (or smother!) your choice of spices over the meat (both sides). Cracked coriander and cracked pepper are the traditional favourites, but add anything you like.
- Insert the clean hooks into the meat at one end.
- Hang the meat on the racks that you’ve put in your container.
- Switch on the electric light bulb and the fan (or, if you’re using a dehumidifier, just switch it on). Close your container.
- And wait…. Depending on how much meat you’ve used, you can expect proper South African-style biltong in as little as 3 days (less if you’re using a dehumidifier). The longer you leave it the drier and harder the meat will become. If you leave it for a week or two it will tend to become very dry and brittle – and that’s quite nice. Most South Africans prefer it to be soft inside and to have a slightly rubbery feel in the middle, with a hard, black crust on the outside.
- NOTE: The meat will thoroughly absorb the salt and spices, so you really don’t have to overdo it. You will quickly discover how much suits your taste, and you’ll want to experiment with each subsequent batch.
- You can keep an eye on your meat during the drying process. It will change colour, from greyish (that’s what it may have looked like after you dipped it in vinegar) to black. If the meat starts to turn green – throw it away, it’s started to rot. This will happen if your drying container is not well ventilated and there is still too much moisture in the air, or if there is not enough airflow over the meat. Make more ventilation holes.
- If you notice a bit of white mould forming on your meat, the problem is the same: your drying container is not ventilated enough. BUT you don’t need to throw away the meat – simply dip it into vinegar for a second or two, and hang it up again, making sure that you’ve improved the air flow in your biltong box. Make sure though that it is mould and not just an excess of salt – excess salt isn’t a problem.
- Basic hygiene is important. But there is no need to go overboard and try to create a hospital-grade sterile environment: biltong was “invented” in the field to accompany settlers on wagon treks and it was traditionally hung outside in a shady, breezy spot, or in the back of an ox wagon.
Here’s a photo of my first arrangement for making biltong at home.
Biltong, made at home
My current biltong box
Having spent a big chunk of my career helping others to manage their public reputations, “image” and commercial value, I have to confess that I am still absolutely incompetent when it comes to marketing myself. I like to use my inherent modesty as an excuse for this failing. But then I realise, in moments of look-at-yourself-in-the-mirror honesty, that I’m not a modest fellow… Damn. I realise that both my “real” work and my photography are infected with the same problem: I am a control freak, a harsh self-editor, a cruel self-critic. The result? Nothing gets done. Or the best bits get left out. Because I can’t “agree” with myself on what’s best. I suspect this is a problem that’s endemic to solo practitioners in all walks of life. We all need a spare set of eyes, ears etc., to help us to understand the value of things when we can’t see the wood for the trees. That’s why so many of us solo photographers are so good at pinpointing the first class images – in other peoples’ portfolios! Here are my current comp cards, as an example. I think they look “ok,” but it would be nice if they were “outstanding.” Some of them might actually be quite brilliant, but then my judgment is clouded by the fact that, for every image I publish, more than a thousand are filed away, never to see the light of day.