Understanding the braai, or, How to not make an idiot of yourself during the ritual carbonisation of meat
If you hang with middle-class natives for any significant amount of time you will, inevitably, be invited to a braai. At that point you want to be very, very careful. One misstep, one unfortunate remark, and you will be branded as a filthy, ignorant foreigner and driven out of polite society forever.
On the surface a braai may seem like a casual outdoor gathering of friends and family that just happens to be centered on the preparation of food. In reality it is one of the most sacred rituals of South African life, one that comes with its own language and attitudes and requirements. You will be expected to be familiar with all of these, because every South African is born with an instinctive understanding of what is required and cannot conceive of anybody who isn’t similarly equipped. In other words, your inadvertent mistake will be read as a deliberate insult.
Pro tip: show no fear of the fire. Doing so implies that your host has not tamed the beast that burns, and that is a mortal insult. Photo by Marko Milošević with some rights reserved.
Do not, at any point, refer to the event as a “barbecue”, “picnic” or “lunch”. It is none of those things, and equating a braai with any of them is disparaging.
Do not arrive at the braai with your own utensils or meat unless specifically asked to do so – preferably in writing. A bottle of wine, your own beer or any traditional dinner-party type of gift is fine, but the implication that your host isn’t fully prepared or has inferior hardware will cause deep hurt.
In a similar vein, make no attempt to help with the lighting of the fire, the cleaning of the grill or the actual handling of the meat unless explicitly invited. If you are so invited, follow all commands and suggestions to the letter without question or variation. Unless your host is a pre-teen he has his own unique method of doing these things, which in his eyes is superior to any conceivable alternative. You are welcome to visit the kitchen and pitch in with the washing of lettuce (or whatever it is that happens in there), but when it comes to anything on or around the fire, defer absolutely to the designated alpha male.
Have an answer ready in case you are asked how you prefer your red meat. It need not be restricted to rare, medium or well done; the more detailed your requirements, the better. “Well done on the outside with just a hint of pink in the middle,” for example, will mark you out as refined. Saying you have no preference or leaving it up to the braaier will show you up as an imbecile and raise suspicions that you may be a crypto-vegetarian.
You must – and this is an absolute – effusively praise your host and/or the primary braaier on the end product and the unrivaled skill that produced it. Regardless of whether you had to gag it down with a glass of water per swallow. A willingness to learn, such as by asking questions about the process (either during or after) will earn you extra credit. Just be careful to frame those questions so that they can not be inferred as doubt or judgment. Self-deprecation is also a good idea, and pointing out that your home country has no similarly advanced method of meat preparation is perfect.
Other than that you’ll be fine. There is no dress code for a braai (you can wear a tie or a little black number if you like, but everybody else will laugh at you) and there is nothing resembling table manners (failing to eat with your hands will mark you out as fastidious, but even that is allowed). Enjoy.
