Dining With The Duchess – A Family Affair

Posted on August 16, 2011 by Table Trawler

There are few things in this world that elicit such unadulterated gastronomic joy as a home cooked meal. The kind of dish that pays no heed to calorie count, and incorporates heart-attack friendly components like gravy, pastry and cheese with reckless abandon. As someone lacking in any kind of culinary repertoire (steak and packet sauce is pretty much the pinnacle of my personal achievement in the kitchen), I’m left to forage for home cooking anywhere but within the confines of my own abode.

Whilst Cape Town’s restaurant landscape is as diverse as it is impressive, it tends to be partial to the kinds of flourishes seldom found in Grandma’s kitchen (to be fair, the only thing I ever found in my Gran’s kitchen was gin, but I’m working off intel acquired from reliable sources). Sometimes simplicity works best – constantly having to excavate one’s meal from beneath enormous piles of rocket and other garnishes can leave a person feeling exhausted and unhinged.

Some of the Duchess's unique décor

But there is good news for those of us without Martha Stewart-esque domestic tendencies – home-style cooking is alive and well in our city, and hiding in a quiet corner of Sea Point. The Duchess of Wisbeach, a quirky and elegant little establishment off Main Road, doesn’t immediately scream homely goodness – in fact the vibe is less Sunday lunch at Grandma’s than it is potluck Thursday at your bat-shit crazy aunt’s place. But in spite of the wide array of eccentric furnishings (among them a giant cow’s head and a selection of porcelain dogs) at its core The Duchess is homely and familiar, and boasts the same level of unpredictable mania that only the closest of family can usually provide.

Owner and chef Theresa rules the roost from her raised kitchen pedestal, and keeps things relentlessly irregular – the menu changes wildly and inexplicably from night to night, and she occasionally stalks through the restaurant, dog in tow, in order to loudly berate a staff member. Like all the best artists, her temperament is flexible, but her craft is majestic, and the only constant at The Duchess is the undeniable quality of the food.

Table Top Puppies (To be fair my savage friends put them in this particular position)

A browse through the menu reveals a selection of old favourites – from hearty pies to roast chicken and everything in between. As I mentioned earlier, the menu is anything but an accurate representation of what is actually available to you, but it does provide a mouth-watering insight into the type of fare on offer. After being given a run-through of the evening’s substantially revised options, we elected to try out dishes that promised to put the stomach through its paces, packing a hefty punch of meat, potato, gravy and sugar, reminiscent of the most indulgent family feasts.

First up – lamb shank, cooked in an anchovy and olive sauce and sat atop a pile of buttery, smooth mashed potato. I’ve never been the type to back down from any sort of size-related challenge, but even my eyes widened when this enormous dish arrived before me. Kudos to the waitress, who was able to carry it unhindered, despite it resembling some sort of monstrous dinosaur leg.  I soon realised that completing the mammoth task of consuming this meal was not going to be in the least bit problematic – the slow cooked meat just fell right off the bone, so tender and flavoursome that I could have carried on going until someone physically restrained me (I’m not proud of this but it’s true). Even the initially worrying addition of olives and anchovies (both firm members of my ‘Don’t ever serve this to me at a dinner party’ list) did nothing to restrain my delight, adding an element of salty tanginess to proceedings. I’m proud to say that I summited my gastronomic Everest in double-quick time, and a swift glance around the table indicated that even my most restrained friends had licked the bones clean. Suffice to say that, despite the groans of anguish that haunted the next hour, this was universally well received.

Delicious Dinosaur

I’m proud/ashamed to say that I was the only one brave enough to tackle dessert after consuming my own body weight in shank meat, and, in spite of the fact that I’d lost large portions of sensation in my body by this time, I was still able to enjoy the hell out of it. Apricot sticky toffee pudding is one of the restaurant’s specialities, (apparently it’s available most nights), and lived up to its bidding in the most spectacular fashion. Again, something that I’m viciously opposed to ended up actually enhancing the dish, with the sweet apricot flavours really adding an extra dimension to an old classic. The pudding was moist and incredibly tasty, and, added to the mound of meat already in my stomach, came very close to killing me, but what a spectacular and enjoyable death it would have been!

Sticky Toffee Delight

The Duchess of Wisbeach is everything you could hope to find in the pursuit of homely goodness. Like all family meals, it begins with excitement/dread (depending on your family), escalates to varying degrees of madness and culminates in a stomach so full you’re forced to stagger home, beaten and broken (but in a good way). If you like your food and your family a little on the crazy side, this is definitely the place for you.

For bookings call (021) 434-1525 and for more info, follow the Duchess on Twitter @DuchessWisbeach

 

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Viva La France!

Posted on August 2, 2011 by Table Trawler

I’m a complete sucker for any kind of themed event – I find the predictability proffered by a defined set of parameters strangely comforting, as it caters nicely to my control freak tendencies. So whether it’s an ‘80’s roller disco evening or a Halloween party, you can expect me to be in attendance – fully clad in requisite regalia and an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm.

Interesting Interiors

So you can imagine my excitement when I found out about Sotano’s Mediterranean-themed fortnights, whereby each of my favourite ocean’s countries are allocated 2 weeks to show off their respective cuisines. I was particularly excited to try out their Egyptian menu (I mean have you ever thought about what Egyptians actually eat? Yes they build pyramids and empires, but how do they sustain these efforts?!), but was sadly slow off the mark and had to ‘settle’ for an evening entirely dedicated to the culinary stylings of France.

Sotano, part of the Caveau group, is one of my favourite places in Cape Town – on a summer’s day there is nowhere better to enjoy a gentle sea breeze and a stiff drink or two. I’ve only ever experienced the charming Greek taverna-style outdoor section, but thanks to an unseasonal South-Easter bollocking its way through the city, this particular trip led us indoors – an area of the restaurant I’d only ever seen in the distance through a cocktail-soaked haze.

I can report that the interior is every bit as attractive as its outdoor counterpart, boasting a host of really unusual and stylish fittings, as well as a most awesome feature fireplace, which is more aesthetic than functional but really who cares.

The menu Francais

It’s not like we live in Siberia.

And so to the main point of the evening – the gastronomie francaise. I’ve never been what you’d call a fan of French food – I sometimes find it a little too delicate and fussy for my liking, and I’m immediately suspicious of a culture that prizes fare like aspic and frog’s legs so highly. I also feel that many restaurateurs in this country have come to believe that the inherent ‘Frenchness’ of food somehow makes it more fancy, and use this as an excuse to serve outrageously small portions – at such exorbitant rates that you may as well book a flight to Paris and try out the real thing.

Reservations aside, at a glance the menu had me salivating, so we dove in without further ado. The deal on offer is amazing – 3 courses for just R110 – so we opted to share all 5 available dishes. A wise move indeed, given that I feel my life would be infinitely poorer for having missed out on any one of them.

Starter number 1 arrived in double quick time – a deep fried camembert, served atop a toasted brioche. Whilst it looked an awful lot like an oversized fish finger, once it hit the taste buds, the similarities to processed seafood vanished swiftly. I’ve gotta hand it to the French (and Sotano’s chef) – they really can do a lot with very little, and this unassuming dish hit all the right marks – oozing cheesy decadence and indulgent bready chewiness combining to form a powerhouse combination of flavour that won’t soon be forgotten. Viva la France!

Camembert Finger

Next up – a heavenly tarte flambée, another example of a simple concept executed with flair and skill. Although it sounds ridiculously extravagant – a result of its French labelling (something I will excuse given the obvious thematic relevance) – it essentially amounted to a pizza-esque flatbread, topped with caramelised onions, crème fraiche and pork lardons. I only found out what ‘lardons’ are later, and I’m quite relieved, given that Wikipedia has revealed to me that they are in fact small cubes of pork fat. Nonetheless, I didn’t know it at the time, so no harm, no foul. This was a perfect starter dish – light and tasty, with a hint of meaty goodness (in my mind it was ham). Another score for team France.

A pork fat pizza

Our two main courses took me into somewhat unfamiliar, but very welcome territory. First up was braised rabbit, served with mushrooms and tomatoes and the most sensational boulangère potatoes I ever did taste. The first time I ate rabbit I could practically see it hopping off my plate, with nothing left to the imagination in terms of its anatomy. It was just a pot full of legs, and I found the whole experience just a little bit too….visceral. This particular bunny was served in a far more civilised manner, sensitively chopped so as to minimise resemblance to any kind of cute household pet. That having been said, I would have eaten this bad boy irrespective of its appearance – it was absolutely splendid! Well cooked, tender, and akin to a slightly more complex and robust form of chicken. God bless the French for being willing to eat just about anything – discoveries like this are the fruits of their labours.

Bunny Rabbit

A sensational Bouillabaisse was the next stop on our tour de France. I’ve never really ordered this dish in the past, simply due to the fact that it’s a ridiculously hard word to pronounce, and I feel stupid just pointing at things on the menu and sheepishly saying “I’ll have that, the um, buee..bueee…yes that one, thank you”. After this, I’ll make a point of perfecting my pronunciation, because seriously, what’s not to love? A ridiculously tasty fish stew, with a variety of textures and flavours contained therein – I was in heaven. The ecstatic groaning from the other end of the table confirmed that the verdict was unanimous – my frostiness toward the French had now thawed quite dramatically.

Bueell.....??! How the hell do you say it?!

The night was capped with a perfect vanilla crème brulée – crisp on the outside (but not so crisp you have to take a hammer to it just to get the bastard to break), and creamy and custardy on the inside, with a whiff of sweet vanilla to seal the deal. Magnifique indeed!

La piece de resistance

I’m now utterly confused, and unsure of whether to direct my affection solely towards Sotano’s exceptional chef, or to relax my slightly harsh attitude towards French cuisine as a whole. Either way, I’m definitely heading back to Sotano regularly over the course of their Mediterranean exploration – the food is exceptional and you’ll be hard pressed to find better value for money during the Winter season. Plus, who doesn’t love a good theme evening?!

Sotano is currently serving Portuguese cuisine as part of their special, and it looks every bit as yummy as the French menu. For updates as to where they are travelling next, follow Sotano on Twitter @SotanoCT.

Sotano is open 7 days a week for breakfast, lunch and dinner. For reservations, call (021) 433 1757

 

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Food for the stomach, the soul and the wallet

Posted on July 25, 2011 by Table Trawler

Good value for money is a true rarity in Cape Town. For three months of the year, when the winter deluge sends the city’s residents into a state of sleepy hibernation, and the tourist flood slows to a trickle, many top restaurants swing into specials mode, adapting their outlandish pricing structure to survive the fickle temperament of the city. But, as the south-easter blows her way back into town, and the temperatures creep steadily up, so too do the prices, and the dining landscape once again becomes the exclusive playground of the rich, fabulous and foreign.

For all you Capetonians worrying about the imminent return to normalcy, when you’ll be forced to restrict your eating out to Spur and KFC, there is hope. Good value is very much alive and well in our fair city – you just have to look for it.

Styling...

Watson Street, a non-descript back alley between Loop and Bree streets, is a good place to start. It is home to What’s On Eatery (Watson – What’s On, get it?!), a relatively new addition to the Cape Town food scene. On the surface it’s everything one would expect from a stylish new venue – chic, eye-catching décor, awe-inspiring mountain views and a sophisticated sense of charm. In short, it has “I won’t be able to step foot in this place come October unless I sell off my vital organs” written all over it. But all is not as it appears at What’s On Eatery…

I had the pleasure of visiting What’s On last week, under the pretense of a ‘working lunch’. Let it just be said that I have the most wonderful colleagues, and before long, serious business talk had been replaced by a flurry of g&t’s and some of the finest food to have traipsed its way down my ravenous gullet in quite some time. An initial scan of the menu had me foaming at the mouth with excitement, not only because of the vast and varied bounty on offer, but due to the outrageously reasonable pricing structure which is – and this is the best part – not season specific.

Stuffed Calamari

Encouraged by the prospect of returning home to relatively unscathed bank accounts, we set about attacking the menu with relish, commencing with a simple but heavenly stuffed calamari starter. Aside from the odd groan of satisfaction, this little show stopper reduced our usually loud table to complete silence, as we relished the subtle flavours of soft feta and peppadew, stuffed inside perfectly seared calamari tubes. Professionalism was a long forgotten concept as we scraped every last morsel off our plates, desperately clinging for one last hit of goodness. Served with a herb salad, this bad boy set us each back a grand total of R39, and let me tell you it was worth every penny.

Having been given a hint of what was to come, we wasted little time with chit chat and got heavily involved with the main course options. My colleagues decided on an oxtail risotto, which I barely had time to photograph before it went sailing down their pie holes with gusto. I obviously insisted on sampling (you know, for purposes of official review), and, from the small token helping I was allocated, I can tell you that this was just as spectacular as its preceding course. Beautifully presented, and swimming in meaty goodness, this was the risotto of my dreams – a perfect combination of tender, flavourful meat (generously allocated) and creamy, flawlessly prepared rice.

Oxtail Risotto

Luckily my order envy was assuaged by the enormous spectacle that arrived on my plate – a toasted ciabatta, filled with beautifully cooked lamb, caramelised onions and feta, served with the world’s most delicious onion rings and wedges. The experience of wolfing this down ranks high on my list of culinary adventures to date, and sent the level of ecstatic groaning into somewhat uncomfortable territory. (Let’s just say work the next day was awkward, very awkward). An exercise in simply constructed perfection, all for the whopping price of R42 – yes you read right. You’d probably pay more for a Nando’s meal and feel infinitely less satisfied.

Lamb, feta & caramelised onion ciabatta

Unable to stop ourselves from continuing our relentless surge through the menu, we dove in for our last dose of decadence. Now I’m really not a dessert person. My mother never fed us dessert and, as such, I don’t think I ever acquired the taste. That having being said, I could write endless sonnets about what arrived next – a hazelnut and dark chocolate fondant, served with amarula ice cream and butterscotch sauce, delicious enough to ignite anyone’s sweet tooth. The fondant was like a dark, heavenly volcano, oozing chocolate from its core and smothering the plate in a rich, inexorable sea of indulgence. Combined with the heavenly butterscotch sauce, and the rich amarula flavour of the ice cream, this was truly a divine experience – I could practically hear the chorus of angels singing above me as I knocked it back. And all this for just 40 South African ronts.

Hazelnut Chocolate Fondant...sweet lord

Stuffed, ashamed and covered in chocolate, we hurriedly paid our (very small) bill and headed in our separate directions, painfully aware that we’d possibly seen and shared too much. We’ll always remember our day at What’s On Eatery as a time when business met, and was then trampled upon by, pleasure.

I can’t recommend What’s On Eatery highly enough – the food is unbelievable, the setting sublime and the damage inflicted on your bank account will be minimal. However, I might suggest that you go with people you know well, who won’t judge you when they catch you licking your plate like a possessed maniac.

What’s On Eatery’s restaurant is open Tuesday to Saturday, from 18:00 – 23:00. The downstairs deli, which serves a variety of sumptuous breakfasts and lunches, is open Monday to Friday from 07:30 – 16:00. R39 weekday lunch specials are also available daily. For bookings, call (021) 422 5652. Do it NOW!

I've seen less pleasant views

 

 

 

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Braving the Barrack

Posted on July 18, 2011 by Table Trawler

Alternative dining options in Barrack Street. Image courtesty iOL

Barrack Street in Cape Town’s CBD is home to many a nefarious establishment, with the vile Home Affairs Department and Mavericks, the local distribution agent for the Eastern Bloc’s vast prostitution empire, amongst its list of less than glamorous tenants. Barrack Street is where good taste goes to die, so it was with a fair degree of trepidation that we slinked into Il Cappero, an unassuming new eatery that unfortunately shares part of its address with some of the aforementioned dives. The promise of authentic, Sicilian cuisine (more on what the hell that actually means later) proved sufficiently alluring for us to bite the bullet and brave the Barrack. And what a wise move it turned out to be…

I want to say that, upon entry into Il Cappero, I was immediately transported to another time and place, impervious to the somewhat grungy surrounds (that’s the kind of thing food reviewers say right?). This would, however, be a lie. The sights and sounds of the inner city are very much in evidence, with the giant iron entrance gates serving as a very real reminder of one’s location. The interior is simple and to the point, with beautiful Venetian panoramas, photographed by the restaurant’s owner, adorning the lilac walls, lest anyone were to forget this was an Italian restaurant.

Well, Sicilian – to be more precise. The difference between the two is subtle, but very apparent, and as I read through the menu I started to panic slightly, noting that almost every dish included some of, if not ALL of, my least favourite ingredients in the world. Ever. As my eye scanned over a myriad dishes laced with various forms of personal kryptonite (aubergines and olives featuring most prominently), I started preparing myself for that awkward moment when I’d be forced to smile sheepishly at the waiter and say, “Nothing for me thanks – big lunch”, all the while surreptitiously hurling complimentary bread down my gullet like a rabid wolf.

(I must just take a moment to pay my respects to the bread – absolutely out of this world!)

Kryptonite tastes good

Possibly sensing my escalating panic, Aldo, who runs the restaurant along with his lovely wife Cetti, whipped himself over to the table and charmed me silly, completely allaying my worries with a one-two punch of Mediterranean flair and endearingly broken English. After discussing the various menu options, we opted to let him make our decisions for us – a sensible move that paid off in the best possible way.

First up was a starter of Caponata di Melanzane, a traditional anti-pasto consisting of brinjals, tomatoes, capers and olives, drenched in a sweet and sour sauce. While I wouldn’t ever dream of consuming any of those ingredients on their own, the combination was mind blowing, with the salty tastes of the capers and olives beautifully off-set by the subtle sweetness of the sauce. The brinjals also added a meaty texture to the whole affair, and, as a pretty big fan of meat, this pleased me to no end. This was gobbled down at a rate of knots, savagely disposed of like a buffalo carcass by a starving pack of hyenas.

A Taste of the Ocean

Our main course consisted of a selection of speciality dishes, the first of which was the restaurant’s pièce de resistance – the Pasta Con Ricci, or sea-urchin pasta. Sea-urchin is not something with which most people are immediately familiar (I’m not even sure I know what one looks like), so let me try to explain it. The first memory evoked in my mind when I bit into the urchin was of summers spent at the beach, being dumped by waves in high-tide and acquiring a mouth full of sand and sea water as a result. Whilst that doesn’t sound especially appealing on paper (must work on my metaphors), it is actually surprisingly pleasant, and the palate seems to adjust to the shock of it all by the second or third bite. Slight hints of lemon and olive oil balance things out nicely, and, in spite of giant odds being stacked against it, this dish really works. Well.

Next up – a dreamy porcini mushroom risotto. (The restaurant serves only fresh ingredients, so the risotto changes daily – probably best to call in advance just to be sure of what’s available). Buttery, rich heaven in a bowl, this was, hands down, the best risotto I’ve ever tasted – cooked to perfection and infused with a subtle cheesiness that can still induce pangs of longing upon reflection.

Now officially stuffed, it was time for one last dive into the seemingly never-ending conveyor belt of goodness. Dessert came in the form of traditional Sicilian cannoli, legendary delicacies which I’ve only ever heard spoken of in The Godfather movies. Seems those Italian crooks are onto something because DAMN, what a find. A sweet ricotta filling wrapped in a crispy biscuit blanket has understandably earned its status as a bit player in mafia films, offering an ample hit of rich, sweet creaminess, without being overpowering. The perfect way to end a meal.

Food Fit for a Mob Boss

Il Cappero is a truly refreshing and unique dining venue, completely devoid of Capetonian pomposity, and oozing with its own charm and flavour. The menu really does reward the more adventurous palate, and you’d be well advised to go in with an open mind in order to have it well and truly blown. For the more cautious diner, there are more standard ‘meat and potato’ options, but I strongly suggest you explore the full spectrum of the very varied menu, and you might be surprised at what you find.

Il Cappero is open from 12:30 to 14:30 on weekdays, and from 6:30pm from Monday to Saturday. You can find it, and you will have to look quite hard, at 3 Barrack Street, CBD. For bookings, call (021) 461 3168 or e-mail reservations@ilcappero.co.za

 

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Nacho, Nacho Man

Posted on July 11, 2011 by Table Trawler

Generally, when I think about Mexican cuisine, I tend to envision plates of cheesy, greasy nachos and tequila-soaked, sombrero-clad party girls screaming ‘Olé’ whilst swaying unsteadily from the bar counter. Whilst these types of margarita-infused nights of madness certainly have their time and place, I’ve been led to believe that Mexican food is about so much more than guacamole, salsa and blinding José Cuervo hangovers.

Homely goodness...or is it?

One of the city’s newest eateries purports to provide a more authentic Mexican experience, so I set off on a mission to explore exactly what such a thing entails. My journey of discovery took me to San Julian, an unusual little establishment, tucked away in a lower corner of Rose Street in De Waterkant. From what I’m led to believe about Mexico (and this is purely based on what I’ve deduced from movies and various, racially offensive Taco Bell adverts), this seemed like the genuine article. The restaurant feels a bit like a time capsule, with crosses adorning the walls and an air of small-town homeliness infusing the place with charm. It’s run by the delightful Garcia family (such fun to say in a Spanish accent – Gartheea), who have mastered the art of multi-tasking – they provide a hands-on entertainment experience that involves dress-up, singing, drinking and, at various intervals during the evening, eating.

These are some of the things I learned about Mexico and its cuisine after my evening at San Julian:

1 – Mexicans do NOT like Big Korn Bites

Despite what the adverts might have you believe, Mexicans are not mad for Big Korn Bites. They will, however, endorse them for money. Our waiter was, in fact, the star of the most recent commercial for the chip brand, having been discovered through some sort of casting system that clearly involved a fair degree of racial profiling. Kudos to Big Korn Bites for going the extra mile to find the genuine article. Minus points for them being unable to convince their primary brand ambassador to actually endorse them with any sort of conviction. “Disgusting!” was, in fact, the adjective used by our very lovely waiter to describe his feelings towards South Africa’s clearly inauthentic take on the nacho chip.

2 – Tequila also makes Mexicans go bananas

Turns out Mexicans are not immune to the charms of their wildly popular export drink. As the night went on, things got progressively rowdier as the margaritas started to flow. Out came the sombreros, the Mexican wrestling masks (more on this later) and the guitars, and our hosts got livelier by the minute, putting on quite the show for their initially confused, and later, slightly shit-faced clientele. San Julian is an experience of note, with food taking a bit of a backseat to the various forms of entertainment that are peddled through the restaurant during the course of the evening.

Olé!

3 – Mexican Wrestling Masks are really quite disturbing en masse

The difference between Mexican wrestling masks (think Nacho Libre on crack) and S&M attire is virtually nil. Add or subtract a few colourful tassles here and there but essentially, they’re the same thing. I was halfway through my slightly bland taco when I was accosted from behind and adorned with one of these delightful pieces of headgear. With tequila swimming happily around your belly this seems utterly hysterical, and, as more and more of these elaborate masks are whipped out and placed on unsuspecting patrons’ heads, the place begins to look like it’s readying itself for some sort of mass orgy. Whilst this was immensely fun at the time, the pictures the next day paint a rather disturbing picture.

See what I mean about the orgy vibe? Creepy...

4 – Guacamole should never be underestimated

Oh yes there was food too....

Whilst there was nothing inherently wrong with the meal I ordered (the Taco de Carne Asada, or tortilla with barbecued meat, guacamole onion & coriander), it was rather lacking in flavour and originality. Which is a pity, because, as I was chewing on what felt like nothing in particular, I was very aware of the fact that I was downing, and not particularly enjoying, an afternoon’s worth of hard work. All corn tortillas are made in-house, and freshly prepared each and every afternoon. I so badly wanted to enjoy the meal but, despite beautiful presentation, it failed to make any sort of impression on my tastebuds. The meat was under-spiced, the refried beans soupy to the point of being unnerving and there was a noteable shortage of guac, which I feel might have been able to save the day.

San Julian is a fantastically vibrant and eccentric spot that offers diners a truly original and unique experience. It’s less about the food than the vibe, and is definitely a place to which I’d return, although possibly just for drinks next time. The margaritas come very highly recommended and, whilst slightly expensive (just under R40), they do the job in double-quick time, and will be sure to reduce you to a singing, mask-wearing deviant in next to no time.

San Julian is open Monday – Saturday, 17:00 – 23:00. Call (021) 419 4233 to make a booking.

My next trip down Mexico lane takes me to the effortlessly chic Twitterati favourite, El Burro, for a glorious dose of goaty goodness. Stay tuned.

That's some scary shit

 

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A Dire Day in Lambert’s Bay

Posted on July 5, 2011 by Table Trawler

The kind of image the tourist handbooks extoll

According to its tourism website, Lambert’s Bay is known as the diamond of the West Coast, and the crayfish capital of South Africa. Whilst I don’t have enough crustacean-related expertise to assess the second point, I can guarantee you that diamond is a word that could not be accurately bestowed upon this bizarre little town.

Tourist brochures had me envisioning some sort of culinary utopia, complete with long, leisurely sunsets, spent sipping wine and munching on all manner of marine goodness, but, sadly, the Cederberg marketing department has a slightly tenuous handle on reality. Some of the more dubious honours they failed to mention in their marketing collateral were the existence of two giant potato processing plants, which cast unseemly shadows over the unspoilt beaches, and the omnipresent stench of gannet poo, which permeates the town with a pungency that has to be experienced to be believed.

The real Lambert's Bay

Nonetheless, I was quite optimistic about Lambert’s Bay’s dining options, having heard tales of the legendary Muisbosskerm and believing, like all Capetonians, that small towns should be overrun with charming little restaurants and coffee shops, gagging to provide out-of-towners with an authentic local experience. Rookie error.

The reality of the culinary landscape, revealed rather harshly in a short and slightly frightening walk around the town, is that Lambert’s Bay’s population is, in fact, most partial to bar food and hard liquor, with the town’s many MANY sports bars filled to capacity with a rather dire selection of humanity, all sporting varying levels of balance control.

Did I mention that it's a strange town?

Unnerved by the prospect of travelling the 238km back to Cape Town with a brandy hangover and a belly full of what I could have acquired at a local Snoekies (no disrespect to them, but that’s a seriously long drive), I ducked into the local KwikSpar, another hotbed of iniquity, practically pleading at this point for some culinary guidance.

Salvation

I was directed to Die Kreefhuis, a small, aptly named seafood jaunt that boasts a distinct country house charm and sweeping sea views – I could practically hear the hallelujah choirs singing as I walked through the door. Die Kreefhuis was the first restaurant in the area to serve whole crayfish, and must have been what inspired the mystical moniker of ‘crayfish mecca’ that is so enthusiastically reinforced throughout the town’s tourist literature.

A bright shining beacon of hope in what was becoming a bit of a dire day, Die Kreefhuis was everything I was looking for and more, with exceptionally friendly staff, who traipsed around the restaurant armed with smiles and heaped platters of mouth-watering seafood. I ordered one of said platters, complete with a healthy portion of grilled linefish, a handful of calamari and a simmering pot of cheesy garlic mussels.

Hallelujah!

The food was exceptional across the board – the Cape Salmon fillet was cooked to perfection, the calamari oscillated beautifully between crispy and chewy, and the mussels – ah the mussels – were a cheesy mound of heavenly goodness. Honestly, if I had drowned in a vat of that mussel sauce I would have died a happy man.

All of this loveliness for well under 100 ront! So much loveliness, in fact, that dessert was simply not an option, with my stomach now a veritable aquarium of delicious former residents of the nearby Atlantic Ocean.

The day in the bay was saved by the wonderful service and delectable fare at Die Kreefhuis. If you’re ever thinking of visiting Lambert’s Bay (and I highly recommend that you don’t), you’d be well advised to visit this little gem, that truly is a rose amongst the thorns.

(In other news, I have heard that Muisbosskerm, just outside of Lambert’s Bay, is absolutely and utterly incredible, but I feel one has to be in a special kind of mood to be able to knock back ten courses of food).

Die Kreefhuis has not yet made its way onto the World Wide Web, but if you’d like to make a booking, you can contact them via electronic mail on kreefhuis@wam.co.za

Some of the chief offenders in Lambert's Bay

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Making Magic With A Masterchef – Heloise Smit

Posted on June 28, 2011 by Table Trawler

Whilst I’m a firm believer in the fact that there’s nothing more spiritually fulfilling in this world than a perfectly cooked, impeccably flavoured meal, I don’t consider myself in any way capable of actually generating such a thing. My approach to cooking has generally been that if food is underflavoured/overcooked/generally inedible, I’d simply drown it in an ocean of cheese and power through it. I also make a mean roast, which I tend to whip out when I need to impress, but I don’t exactly have enough friends for this to have any sort of sustained novelty value.

Training Young Jedi

Training Young Jedi

As a result, I set off in pursuit of greener culinary pastures, and one of Cape Town’s very best was kind enough to allow me to join her in the kitchen to try to mould my limited skill set into something slightly more socially acceptable. Heloise Smit, head chef at Dutch Manor Hotel, is a gourmet goddess – her food is imaginative and exciting, and she doesn’t believe in skimping on the good stuff – cream/butter/cheese/bacon etc. Consequently I felt our food philosophies were rather well-aligned, the only difference being that she actually knows how to make this shit, whilst I really only know how to eat it.

After getting suitably liquored up (I felt it was only fair that the burden of my culinary education shouldn’t be a task undertaken 100% sober), we set to work on a menu. My brief was fairly simple – I wanted to learn to make something cheap, easy and deceptively impressive – a meal that created the illusion of intense labour and thoughtfulness.

Starter – Chilli Poppers

The 'Before' Shot

The 'Before' Shot

“Treat food like a lover,” Heloise tells me, after spotting me manhandling a jalapeno pepper like a street thug, “it needs a more gentle touch.” Whilst I don’t believe this can be universally applied to lovemaking, I’m happy to accept its validity in the context of food – Heloise’s hands are like a piano player’s, deftly handling ingredients with equal parts purpose and poise. It’s really quite awesome to behold. My clunky paws are somewhat less graceful, but, reined in under her expert guidance, work effectively to produce a rather awe-inspiring, and fiery result.

Under her tutelage, I was able to take a smattering of ingredients (5 in total), and transform them into a heavenly, cheesy platter of yumminess, complete with a requisite chilli bite. (May I just say, for the record, that we used Mediterranean Delicacies’ Jalapeno chillis, and I found there to be nothing delicate, or indeed Mediterranean about them whatsoever. I just thought that needed to be pointed out – don’t believe labels!). Turns out they were, in fact, too hot for my sous-chef – a winning result as it meant more for me – I think this is going to be a GREAT relationship!

The 'After' Shot

The 'After' Shot

 

Main Course – Gourmet Wraps

Hat's Off

Hat's Off

Now I know that wraps aren’t traditionally viewed as exceptionally impressive – they’re like upmarket hot dogs and generally sneered upon by the higher echelons of society. But wait til you see what we did with these bad boys! The first step in our gourmet wrap extravaganza was to create a delicate cheese accompaniment (the cheese will obviously need to be French, as cheddar and Tussers don’t really scream class).  We chose a beautiful camembert, selected based on very specific criteria (price), and set about dressing it up to the nines. Off came the top, and in went Willow Creek’s amazing extra virgin olive oil, and a smattering of rosemary. Into the oven for 20 minutes and onto the next step.

Heloise worked her magical skill into some of my other favourite food groups – bacon, chicken and avocado – until we were left with a spread fit for a king! We shoved all the ingredients (delicately of course) into a beautifully toasted wrap, along with some assorted greens (a touch I didn’t feel was entirely necessary, but had to concede that it added aesthetic appeal) and drizzled the now melted, heavenly camembert concoction here, there and everywhere. The result was utterly splendid, and I defy any of my future guests to heap scorn upon this delight of a meal.

Voila!

Voila!

I’m incredibly grateful to Heloise for giving up her time to teach a philistine like me the tricks of the trade, and look forward to picking her brain and eating her overly spicy leftovers in the very near future.

To sample Heloise’s ample skill set, make a booking at Dutch Manor Antique Hotel’s newly opened private dining venue, and prepare to be amazed. www.dutchmanor.co.za

 

RECIPES

Chilli Poppers:

Ingredients:

 

Filthy Lies

Filthy Lies

6 x Jalapeno Chillies (stay away from Mediterranean Delicacies if you don’t want to have your head blown off and your sinuses spring cleaned)

250g Danish (or other soft) Feta Cheese

1 x Egg

250ml Flour

200g Bread Crumbs

Slice the chillies vertically, being careful to remove all seeds (we may not have done this entirely correctly). Fill the resulting crevices with liberal helpings of soft feta – not too much that you can’t close them up mind you. Dip the chillies first in flour, then in raw egg, before burying them in the breadcrumbs. Toss the chilli between your palms to get rid of excess crumbage. Then repeat the crumbing process – this is KEY to your success.

Once your chillies are nicely coated, drop them in a pot of boiling oil (any old cooking oil will do) for about 30 seconds or so (you just want to give them some colour). Then transfer them to a baking tray, and bake for about 8 minutes on 180 degree heat.

Serve with sweet chilli sauce. Enjoy!

Too Hot To Handle
Too Hot To Handle

Cheesy Heaven

Cheesy Heaven

Gourmet Wraps

Ingredients:

4 x Rashers Bacon (streaky works best)

300g chicken breast fillets

1 x Avocado

1 x Camembert wheel

Handful of Rosemary

Crispy Bacon

Keeping it crispy - bacon lovin'

Extra virgin olive oil

Assorted salad stuffs (not my area, so you pick – what difference does it really make?!)

 

First cut the top off the cheese wheel, and drizzle some olive oil across the exposed top. Then add a sprinkling of fresh rosemary. Place the cheese on a foiled baking tray, and bake for 20 minutes.

Place bacon rashers on a foil sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and fold the foil over the bacon. Make sure this is placed flat on a baking tray, not allowing any of the juices to escape. Bake for approximately 20 minutes until crisp.

Brown sliced chicken fillets (thinly sliced works best) in a pan until they are nicely coloured. Make sure to add olive oil and spices to the chicken prior to frying, so as to seal in flavour. Then bake for a further 10 minutes or so until cooked.

Slice the avocado by spooning it out and cutting into fine slices.

Once all the ingredients are ready, toast your wraps lightly in a dry pan, and you’re ready to go. Add ingredients to the wrap as you see fit, and then spoon the melted camembert mixture across the top.

Delicious!

That's A Wrap

That's A Wrap

 

Categories: Ramblings, Recipes | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

Making Paula Proud – Down South

Posted on June 25, 2011 by Table Trawler

Let it just be stated for the record that I am an enormous fan of good ol’ southern-fried goodness. Paula from the Food Network is my absolute hero, and I can be entertained for hours watching her deep fry, batter and crumb the shit out of just about everything she makes. I’ve gotta hand it to the woman, she makes fat look like a whole lot of fun. So it was with great excitement that I trotted down to Long Street to try out Down South, a little slice of New Orleans in the centre of Cape Town’s party district.

Paula Dean

She's excited, I'm excited

Whilst the venue is more New York chic than Mississippi steamboat swag, the menu is a treasure trove of all the things you might imagine eating after a long day of crawfishing in a swamp full of alligators.Particularly noteworthy is the inclusion of bacon on the menu (yes, just bacon, all on its lonesome), which, whilst probably not endearing itself to a rather large selection of religious groups, is sheer awesomeness. For those scandalised by such a notion, think of it as a Caesar salad – you know but without the chicken, cheese and, well, salad stuff. But did you really want to eat that crap anyway? Bacon is always going to be the king of whatever’s on my plate, so I appreciate the fact that it’s now been appropriately honoured by the folks at Down South.

The rest of the menu is equally impressive, if somewhat more traditional, with an array of options ranging from exquisite, sticky ribs (served in two sizes) to delicious, butterflied prawns – all able to be mixed and matched with a variety of interesting side dishes that would make Paula proud as punch. The home fries, whipped potatoes and corn bread will quite possibly send you into a carbohydrate-induced coma, but it’ll be so worth it.

Down South - Apple Pie

Heaven in a Jar

Once you’ve given your main course a good seeing-to, you may as well try one of Down South’s legendary desserts. I mean you’ve probably exceeded your recommended daily calorie intake by about 200% at this point, so what’s a little more damage? Add an extra half hour to your gym session tomorrow if you really have to, but do not, I repeat DO NOT, leave without treating yourself to a slice, or, more accurately, a jar of apple pie. It’s dreamy (I mean that literally, I have had dreams about it) and seemingly never ending – a symphony of rich, cinnamon-infused apples and delicate crumbly goodness, served with ice cream – in a jar. The unique serving method actually enhances the whole experience, making it feel like an archaeological excavation, that reveals its secrets as you dig deeper.

All in all, a very satisfying substitute to my as-yet unforthcoming invite to Paula’s party. Go hungry and get stuck in! If you leave Down South without food all over your face, you’re doing it wrong.

 

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A Marathon in Miniature – La Mouette

Posted on June 25, 2011 by Table Trawler
La Mouette - Course 1

Blood Mary Starter

One of the things I love most in this world is the concept of small foods. Not food that is meant to be small, but proper meals that have been reconstituted into doll-like portions. I’m not sure whether it’s the fact that it somehow makes eating more acceptable (‘I ate 6 burgers’ would not, for instance, be an acceptable social norm were they of regular size), or the fact that it allows for more variety within the scope of the meal. Either way, it was with great anticipation that I headed to La Mouette in Sea Point to try out their six course taster menu special, which incorporated another two of my great loves – large quantities and discounts. Six small courses for half the price – heaven!

We arrived on a rather chilly Cape Town evening and took our seats next to a roaring fireplace – a welcome antidote to the Mother City’s notoriously tetchy winter climate. We were welcomed with a huge helping of some of the finest free bread the city has to offer – warm, fresh and absolutely delicious. If you’re on a very tight budget, I’d recommend you hit La Mouette, order some water, enjoy the never-ending stream of bready awesomeness that comes your way in euphoric waves, and then do a runner. You’ll be more than satisfied with your meal, I promise. However, if you have the means, or if you’re dining with someone else who does, you’ll be well advised to stay and enjoy the experience that follows.

After filling up on bread, largely due to panic induced by having been told by a friend that taster portions are ridonkulously small, our first course arrived.

La Mouette - Course 2

Cheese & Truffle Croquettes

The ‘Bloody Mary’ starter, described as consisting of spiced tomato jelly, celery, tomato espuma and black pepper, really just amounted to a rather tart, red, gelatinous blob. If you’re a fan of jelly-esque savoury food, this might be just up your alley, but I found it to be upsetting, texture-wise, and resented being confused by the word ‘espuma’, which is a Spanish word used to describe a foam or froth (thank you Wikipedia!).

By the second course, we were back on track, and I quickly realised that my savage overindulgence in bread might have been a mistake. Glorious cheese and truffle croquettes (a good hearty helping of five!) served in a tomato and basil dressing arrived, and to describe them as heavenly would be an understatement. I’m easily won over by cheese, and feel that it can be used to make just about any meal, but these were delicate and textured, with the subtle flavour of truffle oil infusing the whole operation with a hint of class. Disposed of in a rapid three or so minutes…NEXT!

Course 3 was a dreamy butternut soup, complete with another espuma, this time one constituted from gorgonzola, sage and onion. My previous prejudice toward the whole espuma concept faded rapidly, as I tasted the gorgeous tangy flavour (and nice big blobs of cheese), that perfectly off-set the sweet butternut taste. A really interesting spin on an old favourite. And a fairly sizeable portion it must be said. Bread grumbling angrily in the pit of my stomach at this point…

 

La Mouette - Course 3

Dreamy Butternut & Gorgonzola Soup

 

La Mouette - Course 4

Fish Course

Next up was a series of small main courses (this is the bit that really excites me – it should be so much bigger! Amazing!), starting with Roasted Linefish (Angelfish in this instance), served on crushed potatoes (pretty much mashed potatoes but no complaints), baby spinach and sauce vierge (another trip to Wikipedia reveals that this is a sauce made from olive oil, lemon juice chopped tomato and basil. It’s literal translation is ‘virgin sauce’, so I am willing to overlook this dalliance into francais). The fish was perfectly cooked and beautifully presented, and a welcome relief from the heavier, cheesier preceding courses. Tasty but not overpowering, intriguingly small but not undersized, this was a most welcome stop in this marathon of gastronomic excess. Pace now slowing, but enthusiasm levels still high…we can do this!

 

 

 

La Mouette - Course 5

Course 5

Course 5. At this point it becomes a little harder to assess with any sense of accuracy, as we were by now 2 bottles of wine down and focused largely on surviving without giving birth to some sort of alien food baby. (A child made of cheese would be amazing though, I feel). The confit lamb shoulder arrived, served with cassoulet, basil pesto and persillade. For those of you English speakers among us, this means (loosely): Lamb, immersed in a flavouring agent, served with bean stew and pesto, in a seasoning mix of parsley, garlic, herbs, oil and vinegar. At the time, my phone had run out of battery so I couldn’t wikipedia these things, so I pretty much understood that I was eating lamb with assorted bean stuff, tinged with a pesto flavour. In this case, knowledge was not power, as I enjoyed the rich flavour combinations in spite of my ignorance. The lamb was cooked to perfection, and the beans added a welcome foreign element to the mix. Highly recommended.

The marathon ended with a splendid coffee ice cream, topped with milk foam and accompanied by warm French doughnuts. We crawled across the finish line like wounded athletes, too tired even to pose the questions, ‘What makes this doughnut French?” or ‘How many kilometres am I going to have to run to work THIS off?”. Instead we just embraced the moment, and, in a haze of calorie-infused confusion, dug in one last time. What a glorious finish it was! Rich ice cream, soft, sweet doughnuts (which bore remarkable similarity to their American counterparts, although perhaps slightly less sweet), and the requisite foam combined to form a real treat, and this for someone who really has no strong feelings about dessert.

All in all a fantastic evening. For just R240 (R120 per head) we experienced a wide variety of the finest French cuisine, learnt a bunch of new words and realised that we actually are, unbelievably, bigger pigs than we even knew.

La Mouette - Course 6

Cappuccino Ice Cream avec doughnuts français

 

La Mouette’s 2 for 1 taster special has been extended for the entire winter period, and you’d be well advised to check it out. The venue is beautiful and cosy, the staff incredibly attentive and the food magnifique! Just beware of the damn bread!

 

 

 

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About Me

Posted on June 23, 2011 by Table Trawler

I’m a food lover, but far from a ‘foodie’. The word ‘foodie’ conjures up hideous images of stuffy silver service dining, small portions and pretentious prattlings about ambience and the like. It also seems to involve a lot of French words for some reason, where English would suffice rather nicely. In my world, good food is just that, whether it’s served on the finest china plate or extracted in savage fashion from a KFC bucket. Beyond that, it’s a fantastic backdrop for great times spent with wonderful, entertaining people, all of whom are able to relate on some level to the visceral thrill of the perfect palate pleaser (except for vegetarians that is, I mean what IS that all about?!).

We’re blessed in the Western Cape to be surrounded by a plethora of fantastic eateries, all boasting their own unique flavours and specialities. The goal of this blog is to bring you an everyman’s perspective of the Cape’s vast array of cuisine – from cheap dives to five star finery – so that you can take advantage of living in this little slice of culinary heaven, without rendering yourself bankrupt, or worse, fat.

So join me on my adventure as I bring you my Tales from the Table…Bon Appetit (Last time I use French I promise!)

 

Categories: Uncategorized | 12 Comments