Growing up in the Free State and visiting our Cape relatives during school holidays, I was always struck by the sheer exoticism of the people down south. The Cape air smelled damp and salty. There was sand instead of 'grond', meaning earth. People spoke in a peculiar vernacular, mixing...

It's the time of year where the fire's a-crackling indoors, the smell of mulled wine floods noses, and notes of gently aged auburn leaves coat the air with sweetness. It's also the time of year that famously old wooden doors creak, and beautiful artisan restaurants like The Jordan Restaurant...