EASTER

I remember as a teenager if you gave me a choice of driving down to the coast with my parents or sticking prickly pear thorns into my eyes, the second would be infinitely more palatable.

Actually, I would pay you for the pleasure of flinging myself naked and face down into a prickly pear bush rather than having to sit in the back of the car with my mother and two siblings, my father driving and my ditsy grandmother in the front passenger seat.

Mile after interminable mile of “are we there yet?” and wrestling with brothers and sisters to while the time away. When we were sick of eating naartjies we would stop for lunch.

The Women of the House would have prepared a picnic basket. This consisted of a flask of weak, milky coffee, another of cold water to dilute the Oros. To eat, rusks, slap premade sarmies, and boerewors that were colour-matched to the coffee.

For a treat we’d stop in, say, Bloemfontein. While my father saw to the car, we’d go next door to the corner caff where we’d use the loo, have free reads of the comics and order Mixed Grills.

My father didn’t see the point of staying over in expensive hotels, “as long as the bed is clean”, he’d say. Nothing wrong with that principle. In fact, a Holiday Inn is far preferable to those interminable B&Bs that littered the roadsides of virtually every country of the world. You know the ones: single beds with thin foam rubber mattresses and that bedding that gives off enough static to jump start a Studebaker; ‘Dot’s Specials’ on the plate for dinner, a fridge that contains boxed wine and a chatty husband that’s probably consumed half of the content of the box, loves his own jokes and won’t go away.

This Easter I’ll be ignoring prickly pear bushes. I’ll be picking quinces from my garden and thinking up new recipes.

And perhaps also driving down secret roads in rural Gauteng to discover more delicious hideaways.

 

 

QUALITY CUISINE FOR HUNGRY TOURISTS? REALLY?

When my mother lived in Clarens in the eastern Free State highlands many years ago it was a delightfully ramshackle village inhabited by a loose collection of people of varying eccentricity.

It is still breathtakingly pretty, hugged as it is by multicoloured sandstone cliffs that change hues during the magic times of sunup and sunset. The village has become – much like Dullstroom in Mpumalanga, Prince Albert in the vicinity of two glorious mountain passes (Swartberg and Meiringspoort) and Greyton in the Cape – redecorated, refurbished and even rebuilt, and filled with tourists during weekends and holidays. This piece is not about the merits or demerits of transforming these villages into boltholes for refugees from the cities, nor is it a comparison of the uncertain aesthetic value of reinterpreting classic regional South African architecture.

What is certain is that the year-end holidays arrive as regularly as appetite. Therefore one would assume that restaurateurs would prepare themselves for a constant demand for food, and the consequent filling of their coffers.

Clarens was to be our first port of call on a rondvaart around the smaller towns and villages of the country, the southernmost one which was to be where my soul resides, Prince Albert.

In Clarens we pre-booked a table at a well known restaurant close to one of my favourite book stores in the country, Bibliophile. The service was charmingly shambling, the wine list similar. The menu sounded tasty. The place was packed with visitors and the owner beamed broadly. Why then, when my husband’s T Bone steak and my lamb chops arrived, was it patently obvious that both dishes had been extricated from a freezer around the time we placed our order, defrosted in a microwave before being utterly destroyed.

Lamb should always be treated tenderly; disrespect, as in this case, resulted in two chunks of impenetrable hulk. The beef was decimated.

Surely when you know that the holiday-maker’s demand for food is as inevitable as breaking New Year’s resolutions, pre-planning is essential. And when you’re dealing with big numbers of hungry travellers, simplicity is the key.

Sadly this experience was repeated in a number of other villages. (I did, however, discover some excellent produce in the folds of the countryside, like Boerenkaas cheese –based on the classic Dutch recipe – produced in Paterson in the Eastern Cape, and the recipient of an important international award).

Prince Albert, though, is firmly on the culinary map, and for good reason. Bokkie Botha’s unassuming restaurant The Olive Branch opens only when he’s not travelling internationally and is always busy. Award winning cuisine, a short, excellent wine list that includes local inhabitant Haimie Schoeman’s eminently potable Bergwater Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc and Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve grown in the nearby Prince Albert Valley. Soetkaroo, too, features to my delight. Created in their back yard right there on the Prince Albert’s main street by Susan and Herman Perold, it is a rare privilege to taste this dessert wine. Visit the tasting room in the Perold’s dining room and allow Susan to show you their small but perfectly formed vineyard beyond the back door, where Herman meticulously tends to the Red Muscat d’Alexandrie (red Hanepoot), Red Muscat de Frontignan (Red Muscadel, Petit Verdot and Touriga Nacional.

I return to Prince Albert (www.patourism.co.za) as often as I can, and will certainly visit during the Prince Albert Town and Olive Festival at the end of April. Then I might also take time to do a course with award winning chef Vanie Padayachee at African Relish Culinary School in the town. Vanie, along with an invited chefs offer interesting cookery courses in stylish surroundings.

We ended our trip in St Francis Bay and spent lazy days walking on those white beaches and watching dolphins play in the bay.

One night a lazy-day pot luck dinner produced vegetables – fresh, roughly chopped garlic, caramelized onions, butternut and baby carrots drizzled with olive oil and Mediterranean herbs, and slow-roasted in the oven. Cousin Margaret Cloete had marinated a whole fillet of beef simply, in a drizzle of good soy sauce. In the meantime we toasted the sunset with some boutique cellar-produced Arendsig Sauvignon Blanc from the Robertson Valley.

A fire in the braai burned down to a perfect heat for Marge’s husband Gerard to produce a meltingly delicious piece of butter-tender, perfectly rare meat.

A simple meal, not a gurgle of mass produced wine, a slice of Boerenkaas with a perfect Prince Albert fig, and sip of Soetkaroo.

No shortcuts. Easy.

Isn’t it interesting how, no matter how much and wide our life’s experiences are, one of the primary joys of existence is that we never stop learning.

And recently I have had a few blissfully enlightening revelations.

One is that Nobu Matsuhisa carries an uncanny resemblance to the small statue of Buddha which has accompanied me on my life’s journey since I was in my early twenties. His twinkling eyes and his quiet smile have told me many stories of wisdom.

The other is that fusion food is not just an arbitrary combining of ingredients from disparate cultures in order to prove you’re a creative cook. It’s a carefully thought-through harmonization in order to create a complete and whole dining experience. World famous chef and author Nobu Matsuhisa has created in his multi award winning Nobu restaurants around the world (and now at Sol Kerzner’s newish One & Only hotel at the V&A Waterfront in Cape Town) an experience that, when I say it surpasses all notions I had of Japanese cuisine, it actually has opened a new universe to me: one that whispers of South American culinary influences and tastes that dance a dance of, as Nobu says himself, the heart.

Although I have travelled and dined far and wide and have had culinary experiences from the utterly sublime to the downright weird, the professionalism at the One & Only is one of the most superlative I’ve experienced. Head Concierge Chris Noone is known to royalty, heads of state, politicians, superstars and legendary sporting heroes. He has been with Sol Kerzner since being part of the opening team for The Landdrost hotel in downtown Johannesburg in the early 1970s – and is still jaw-droppingly professional: although they hadn’t met in many years, and Noone must meet and know by name literally thousands of people from around the globe, he remembered by name, my husband Graeme whom Noone from The Landdrost.

At Nobu restaurant I met Andrew Milne who, in his early twenties, must be one of the youngest and most professional of his ilk. And charming. And hugely interesting, with a passion for Sake.

Now I know that the Japanese rice wine Sake that arrives in little heated pots at table in obscure so-called Oriental restaurants is done thus to disguise the fact that more often than not what you’re being served is cheap and nasty. As it happens, Sake is a delicate product that can be ruined if warmed. As with a visit to Mexico some years back (when I learned that Tequila comes in many excellent varieties that includes Reposado – the aged version that is enjoyed slowly, like an excellent brandy), my knowledge and enjoyment of sake at Nobu amplified.

In essence, Sake is a Japanese rice wine, the quality of which is hugely influenced by the experience and intuition of the master brewer. The variations are almost endless and redolent with subtle fragrances and flavours, from super dry, to medium bodied, smooth and mild, full bodied and fruity and the incomparable Hokustest Su Ongakushu, a semi-dry smooth Sake aged to the sound of music.

Another lessons learned.

LA COLOMBE IN SOUTH AFRICA IN TOP 50 RESTAURANTS LIST

There are my favourite mom-and-pop restaurants where I tend to linger over long conversations and multiple bottles of vino. Then there are the ones that elicit a different kind of dialogue: the molecular gastronomy guys (more men than women follow this curious path) and often confusingly, the fusion cuisine followers.

My long visits to La Colombe in Cape Town have always turned into a truly faultless experience. Every since Executive Chef Luke Dale-Roberts took over in 2006 – and I think I was one of the first food writers to taste his no-comprise attitude to all that it takes to create a delightful and delicious dining experience – the restaurant (the sublime cuisine, the inspired wine list, the warm and always meticulously professional service, and oh, that French Provincial ambience) has been impeccable.

La Colombe, one of Cape Town’s most well-loved and awarded restaurants has now achieved an impressive 12^th place in The San Pellegrino World’s 50 Best Restaurants of the World awards, announced in London last night. It has moved up 26 places and into the hallowed Top 20 and now this bastion of contemporary French-meets-Asian fine dining thereby also clinched the Aqua Panna best restaurant in Africa and Middle East award.

Dale-Roberts and the La Colombe team join culinary luminaries such as Ferran Adrià, whose famed concept-driven restaurant El Bulli was shifted into second place from last year’s number one rating by 32-year-old wünderkind Rene Redzepi, head chef at Copenhagen gourmet destination Noma.

The awards, organized by the UK’s Restaurant Magazine tallied votes from an Academy of over 800 esteemed international critics, journalists and food experts to establish the hallowed annual list of the best names and places in the world of gourmet dining.

Another Cape Town based restaurant on the list at number 31 this year, up six places, is Le Quartier Français, home of fellow culinary talent Margot Janse.

La Colombe, winner of both Chef of the Year and Restaurant of the Year in the Prudential Eat Out Awards 2008, was also honoured with the prestigious Eat Out Restaurant of the Year title for 2009.

TALKIN’ REAL ITALIAN

Let’s face it: the Italian culinary landscape here in Jo’burg is as bland as a faded Venetian watercolour. Or so I thought.

I have always had a particular penchant for pasta and although I make it at home, someone else’s version offers unexplored palates and plates. The quality of so-called Italian food produced by poseurs mostly has me scurrying back to my doppio zero flour, fresh garlic and chilli at home. Not that only Italian food is victim to pretend-chefs and cooks. But that for another day.

Gauteng offers a range of Italian foodie experiences, from the unpretentious mom & pop place, to white-napkin fine dining and relaxed hangouts for those in the know.

But still, hiccups exist. I was so excited when I discovered il Tartufo in Dunkeld, where the classic elegance of the place even extends to the two Italian businessmen who own the place and make guest appearances in designer jeans.

What stands out is that the menu has no pretentions to ‘fusion’ or ‘modern’. These are dishes that have come across the ocean in the culinary memory banks of real Italian people. And they are cooked at il Tartufo, thus, and presented to those of us hungry for authentic Italian gastronomic experiences.

My friend – and favourite travelling and dining companion – Susan and I ordered a salad to share (R55) and were delighted: there it was, seemingly simple but fabulous with flavour, colour and crunchiness.  And some great cheese, including authentic, creamy mozzarella, herbs, heavenly olive – and balsamic vinegar. I asked for a wedge of lemon, which I used instead.

For starters there is, for instance,  a bean soup on offer (R75), flavoured with rosemary and served with grilled fillet of rabbit and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil.

The San Daniele prosciutto is of superlative quality, served with that buffalo mozzarella (R89). Carne all’Albese (wafer thin veal marinated in lime-flavoured olive oil and served with Parmesan as old as it should be, and knee-trembling truffle.

I’m not going to get into “then I had” here, but this is simply to illustrate that there’s no smarmy announcement that “we also serve pizza” here.

For mains I ordered the saddle of rabbit with truffle, served in puff pastry (R110). There was no puff, certainly no pastry, and the rabbit tasted like it had been a hare in a rush.  But the flavour was in line with the quality of the restaurant.

Other carnes? Beef, pork cheek in chianti wine, chicken. Seafood, good-looking pasta, risotto of the day depending on ingredients. And here’s a thing: I’m by far not a dessert fan, but could give up French fry or ten for their Panna Cotta alla Violetta or Gelato alla Mandorla – almond ice cream with fresh coriander. Or lemon sorbet with ginger. Can you imagine?

The wine list is intelligent, meaning a good selection of local wines that make the food sing and won’t make your purse simper too much. Also good Italian ones.

My rating (what to call it?) is out of ten and includes the quality of the food. Is the menu tantalising? Toilets not off-putting (I can’t stand the unisex ones). Service non-existent? Obsequious? Informed? Wine list/availability. Do I feel comfortable there? Value of the experience. 

I give the place 8 ½

Address: Hutton Court, Jan Smuts avenue (diagonally opposite Hyde Park Shopping Centre), Johannesburg.

Phone number 011 788 8948

More Jo’burg Italian dining experience next time.

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