Braai -ing (how do you spell that?) is part of South African life. We all braai – even vegetarians with their stuffed butternut and home-made holey jerseys that smell of lentils. Even them.

My boyfriend and I have been to many braais in the 18 months we’ve been together. And we have eaten chops, steaks, wors, chicken and probably even fish and pork off the grill. But we have never had a braai – the flat owner I was renting from may have objected to coals on her laminated wooden floors.

But now we have a tiny little fake garden with the world’s smallest built-in-braai. And shopping yesterday I suddenly realised I don’t know what he particularly likes on a braai. Is he a lamb chops man? Does he like a chicken kebab with his garlic bread? Is it worth murdering a rump on the open coals to light his heart up? Or is chicken the answer? And if so – does he believe in nuking it first?

18 months into this South African relationship but living on the 4th floor means I don’t know some very basic deal-breaking info about this man.

What a person likes cooked on open flames says a lot about him. Now we have the opportunity to light our own fire, I hope he does not disappoint. If he nukes a flattie I may have to braai his ass!

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