Just what the doctor ordered.

Somewhere over the weekend, the dreaded lurgy crept up and caught me unawares. Sore throat, sneeze attacks and a box of tissues. So yesterday I did the only sensible thing I could think of doing - I went downtown and had a nourishing lunch. My friend Shonah has recently taken over the Crush Cafe in St George's Mall. Her red lentil and cumin soup warmed the cockles of my heart. (That freaky looking juice is apple, ginger and beet. Mighty good stuff.)

thanks darlin'

Girlfriends are the business.

She's been working on a long project and I haven't seen much of her. Yesterday we went for a brisk walk on the promenade and last night we went out for sushi. I looked across the table at this lovely small person and realized that we've known each other for twenty years or more. A winding road with frequent stops for parties and swimming and cooking and laughing. Lean times and fat. She is a constant in an inconsistent world.

❤

As for the sushi... I have very good news.

Papa San is back in town.

Hatsushiro Muraoka (ex Tokyo, ex Minato) has opened up shop in Park Street.

He is as eccentric as ever and the sushi is as fantastic as ever. (The avocado tempura was an unexpected delight.) The interior is minimalist but warm, the handiwork of my friend, architect Toni Unterberger of Rivets and Rockets. Be sure to book.

 

A desert is a place without expectation.

Do you also have an innate resistance when people say to you: you have to read this/watch this/eat this, it's so fantastic/wonderful/incredible... ?

For the past few weeks, Cape Town has been a-twitter about Dear Me Brasserie and their upstairs bar Tjing Tjing. The food, the free spring water, the upside down plants. The final nod came from esteemed guru of cool Jamie Who. So today I met the beautiful Shonah there for lunch. And this is the thing: I can't say anything bad, but I have no praises to sing. It was a totally underwhelming lunch. And it didn't come cheap.
 

On the other side of the spectrum is Birds Boutique Cafe. As I told the owner this afternoon, I've been coming here for years and it stays consistently good, surprising and utterly delicious.

When last did you have a good cup of old fashioned moer koffie for a mere 12 bucks?

Or a meltingly warm slice of poppyseed cheesecake, sprinkled with fresh orange zest?

It's unpretentious and downright delightful.

PS: You haven't lived until you've eaten their chicken pie.
And the title quote is by Nadine Gordimer.

... and then there was beer.

It was cold and misty on the pier.

I met my oldest friend in the world for a Belgian beer tasting at Den Anker. ZAR 130 buys you eight dinky glasses of beer and four tapas.

We worked our merry way through the pale and perfumy Blanche de Bruxelles, to the amber richness of De Koninck. Alongside cheese croquettes, small chunks of grilled sirloin with mustard, prawns, bitterballen...

A lovely way to spend a Thursday afternoon.

I can get used to this not-having-a-job lark.

For lunch today:

The grass-fed beef and ale pie at The Power & The Glory.

I salute the cook.

The Duchess, revisited.

My father's first wife was referred to, in hushed tones, as "The Duchess". Black hair with a widow's peak, milky skin and blue eyes. The small town Vivien Leigh of the sixties. I think of her whenever I look at the silhouette portraits on either side of The Duchess of Wisbeach's front door.

Our dinner there last September couldn't be faulted.

So last night I went there with those juicy Karoo Lamb Chops foremost on my mind, my belly growling.

Alas.

There were only two, not three. The jug of velvety mint sauce is now a tiny dish of watery green. The chops themselves were small and lackluster. My companion to the right remarked that his spatchcocked baby chicken may have been run over, so plentiful were the splinters of bone.

Ah well, nothing that another glass of wine wouldn't remedy. And on the bright side: the french fries are still seriously good. We shared three desserts with many spoons - all delicious. The service was excellent, if completely eccentric.

The mood was light and jovial.

Thanks friends, for a lovely evening.

Hesheng Dim Sum.

Stufted (sic) Pork Bun, Fried Cake Of Leek, Pork Potstickers... 

 A kind of rolled pork pancake with crispy bits. 

Steamed dumplings with a whole shrimp in each one. 

Flavour and texture overload. You wait until the dumpling is cool enough to eat the whole thing in one go, that way you experience the delicious explosion of fragrant liquid surrounding the filling. 

I often hear the judges on Masterchef say: the flavours sing in the mouth. 

Well. At Hesheng, try and stop the choir.

Many thanks to the lovely family who took me out to dinner.

❤

Hesheng, across the road from the Adelphi Centre, Sea Point Main Road. No bookings.

Montebello and the food of Dinosaurs.

We had a leisurely lunch at Montebello yesterday. Wraps filled with cinnamony butternut and goats cheese. Pomegranate and aloe juice. The city feeling evaporated and I forgot about traffic and first-of-the-month bills and contrary people. We spoke about traveling and music and pangs of the heart. 

At Montebello there is no direct light, everything is dappled. It's like being in a forest.

J. is an old friend. A wise man. A music producer. After lunch we sat in his studio and listened to some songs. A welcoming blue couch, equipment with hundreds of dials and tiny glimmering lights.

J. shared two projects very close to his heart. Larry Rhode is a musician currently in the Douglas Prison. In the calm of his own storm. Things I'll never forget: when Larry walks every day in the dusty prison yard, he can see the tops of two trees in the distance. From his cell window at night he can see seven stars. When he got to prison, he knew the music notes in his head, but not their names. "I want to know all the notes on the guitar's neck."

Louisa Steenkamp is very, very old and blind. She lives in Calvinia, near Van Rhynsdorp in the Karoo. Her songs are laments about her life. Accompanied by a borrowed guitar and her grandson on the tin violin. "My ma se woorde soos naalde deur my hart." (My mother's words like needles through my heart.)

T. and I wandered through the nursery, not saying much.

My first encounter with a Gunnera. River Pumpkin. Leaves bigger than a golf umbrella. A herb that's been around for the last 95 million years. Salad for dinosaurs. Unfurling new leaves like spiky hands.

According to ancient lore, J. told us, babies are born knowing everything there is to know. An angel passes by and touches each one lightly on the frenulum (that tender slute joining the top of your lip to your nose). In that instant, we forget everything. We spend the rest of our life remembering.

❤

More things I like, including the Olympia Cafe.

I met an incoming plane from Ethiopia.
 

 Have you noticed, The Man With The Generous Heart asked me. Have you noticed, that when you type Addis Ababa, it feels like you're playing the piano? (I type those words and always I hesitate before the last "ba")

In Addis Ababa, The Lip tells me, there is no litter on the streets. Most people don't have cars or tv's. They are poor, they walk and they are happy. They don't beg. Maybe it's because they don't have tv's that they don't wish for more uneccesary things. They weave and they beat silver.
 

 All of a sudden it is Summer. Summer means fish and vegetables for supper.
 

 I love the Olympia Cafe. Many don't. They complain about all manner of things. They say it's not so clean. They say it's overrated. They say it's for tourists, perhaps because it's a busy place. I have always been satisfied. We once had a seafood ragout that, if I could replicate it, I would die a happy woman. I've dreamt about it. The lemon brulée tart is a revelation. 

Last night's fish was wonderful. Alaskan Salmon, moist and pink inside, served crispy skin side up - the skin like some kind of delicate crackling. Aioli, roe, small grilled tomatoes, skinny green beans, roasted almonds.
 

 And in the morning: a big fruit salad. My first taste of an Asian pear - crisp and juicy. The miniscule green label reads: Delicious Pear to Gentle Pressure.

Then, a swim in the sea. It agrees with my hair and my skin is salty and covered in a faint sun blush.

❤ Cape Town in the Summer ❤
Olympia Cafe & Deli
134 Main Rd, Kalk Bay
021 788 6396

Harbour House and the Weeping Guitar.

These are things that I like: going for a long walk on the beach. Seeing the street lights come on. Wiping sandy feet on the doormat and watering the garden. Having a yearning for good fish and going to the Harbour House for dinner.
 

 Rare Yellowfin Tuna on a bed of garlic-mashed potato. Salsa verde and wasabi mayonnaise. Wilted greens. All topped with a perfectly poached egg. Waves crashing around us. Service was the perfect balance between quality attention and leaving well enough alone.
 

Afterwards we sat looking over the bay and listened to Righard Kapp play his guitar live on Pan African Space Station. "A mixture of composed pieces and spacey improvisation." The first time I came upon Righard, he was playing his guitar with a small handheld fan. It made the guitar sound like a lute or a sitar. He makes his guitar laugh and talk and wail. He takes an instrument of wood and metal and strings and makes it breathe. Later I drove home in the misty rain and saw lightning far away on the horizon.

Harbour House. Kalk Bay Harbour. Kalk Bay.

021 788 4133

A lucky, warm Friday the 13th.

 I can't think of a better thing to do than being taken out for lunch at George Jardine's new restaurant at the Jordan Estate, this side of Stellenbosch. We sat on the terrace overlooking a lake full of geese and ducks, blue mountains in the distance. The air was heavy with the fragrance of fynbos, the pilsner glasses were chilled, service was impeccable and each dish was a perfect little composition of the finest Spring ingredients.
 

 So happy to spot Cavolo Nero (black Tuscan cabbage) in the herb garden and on the menu - it's a wonderful vegetable, but people are easily put off by it's odious smell whilst cooking. And I was delighted to eat pea and broad bean blossoms for the first time. They're like a delicate incarnation of the vegetable itself.  
 

 Thanks T.

Trendy/Not So/Lebanese

 Two picky Virgoans and a Sagittarian went for a leisurely ramble on the pier yesterday afternoon. We're thinking: where shall we have a party? Drank a caiperinha at The Grand Café & Beach. 

(Haul Rd off Beach Rd, Granger Bay, 021 425 0551)
 

 Then went slumming on the other side of the fence at the Oceana Power Boat Club. They've been under threat of eviction by the V&A Waterfront since 2002! They have the only slipway for private boats in the precinct of Cape Town. Cocktails, maybe not, but a brandy and coke costs a laughable fraction of the prices next door. Atmosphere charming in that old-school clubby way.
 

 As we were about to leave, this Ford Zephyr Zodiac II pulled up. 1963. Mint.
 

 It had seats of the most brilliant red I've ever seen. The owner was suitably proud.

We uhmmed and ahhed about cooking and then, on a whim, went for an early supper at The Cedar. Still the same after all these years: family run, fantastic service, splendid food. We had Foul m'Dammas, Hoummous with fried lamb and cinnamon, freshly baked pitas and the best fried cauliflower in the world. Once I've figured out the secret sauce, I'll share the recipe. I could taste sumac, browned garlic...  

76a Main Rd, Sea Point. (across from Laughtons) 
021 433 2546
 

*The Jardine Bakery*

Surely by now everyone in Cape Town knows of the Jardine Bakery. But just in case you've forgotten... 

 The only difficult thing here is deciding what to have, as I'm of the opinion that these people can do no wrong. My favourite sandwich: roast lamb and tzatziki on sour dough. The croissants are rolled by hand. The pastry crimped by somebody's careful fingers. The Moroccan lamb pie I had the other day shines down from Pie Heaven. The chocolate brownies I would engage in fisticuffs over.
 

 Jardine Bakery around the corner from Jardine Restaurant. Corner Bree and Bloem.

Two Woodstock Gems.

People have been saying I'm too skinny (is there such a thing?). So I'm making an effort to eat well. This is an easy thing to do at The Kitchen and decidedly one of the best deals in town. A vegetarian lunch plate is R40.00, add meat or chicken for R10.00 extra. I had: mustard & honey grilled pork sausage, lentil salad with courgette ribbons & peas, beautiful young green beans, two discs of perfectly roasted aubergine and a salad of grated beet, apple and coriander. There was a wealth to choose from, service was friendly and the whole experience is absolutely without pretense.
 

The Kitchen: 111 Sir Lowry Rd, Woodstock.
 

Two doors down, an old friend of mine has opened up a new shop. He stocks a pleasing assortment of old refurbished pieces and commissioned metal work.
The Treasury: 107 Sir Lowry Rd, Woodstock.
 

Church, Bread, Milk, Honey.

This morning I felt I had to go and try out an egg & bacon pastry at Bread, Milk & Honey, after reading about them on The Foodie. He waxes lyrical. And yes - it was darn good. But teeny. I could have eaten four. The banana & berry smoothie helped to fill my growling belly.
I read the Afrikaans newspaper for the first time in years. The word "soesjikroeg" had me puzzled for a moment, until I read that it was in the "ontkleeklub". Sushi bar in the strip club. hm.
 

 I popped in at Church, the little shop next door, to talk to that dude with the afro. The entire place is papered with painted cardboard and brown packaging tape. Had a good browse - there are interesting things from here to Bueunos Aires. Lovely wooden inlay work with unexpected subject matter. Chunky wooden rings and bracelets. Books. And, of course, the piñatas...

Predictably, I liked the panting dog.
 

 But was swayed in the direction of the Batmen when I was told that you get an adult and a children's version. The one is filled with sweeties and the other... well, he wouldn't say.
 

"Everything you need is already inside." - Superette Dinner Plate

I went to Superette shortly after they opened last year. I ordered a sandwich to go and was told that take-aways had an extra charge of R5.00 for wrapping and a brown paper bag. I said I'd take my sandwich in my hand with a paper napkin. I got a dirty look and was told that that was against restaurant policy. I told them in a courteous way to stuff their sandwich and left.

So it was with some scepticism that I joined the Rowdy Bunch there for Supper Club last night. 

The menu was vegetarian and my plan was to take notes and write a proper grown-up review, but I was way too distracted by the fun we were having to do that. Things became really interesting after the asian noodle bowl. The second course was a grainy purée of cauliflower topped with small medallions of I knew not what. The hearts of some divine vegetable encased in a crisp batter (palms, I was later told), scatterings of chopped nuts and tiny morsels of al dente cauliflower.
 

  Next a risotto of quinoa (pronounced keen-wah) and smoked carrot (!).

Dessert was an ethereal chocolate panna cotta with cinnamon ice-cream, served with frothy little glassfuls of macchiato.

The only thing I ended up making a note of was the wine. Vrede & Lust 2005 SIMOND, a shiraz / cabernet sauvignon / merlot blend. It was smoky plummy burnt jammy good.

I loved the crockery with handwritten quotations and the linen napkins. The portion size was perfect for me, but probably not enough for a hungry man.  ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
 

 Before supper I went to the Book Lounge for the launch of Henrietta Rose-Innes' new collection of short stories, "Homing".  Henrietta is known as the queen of the South African short story and she was in conversation with the winsome Diane Awerbuck. Their repartee was relaxed, witty and bright.

Looking forward to some reading this week-end.