Hotazel to Haute Cuisine: How a Kalahari chef is redefining soul food

Kuruman, the Kalahari town whose natural spring makes it unusually lush with greenery for this otherwise arid region, is not generally known for producing culinary artists. 

Hotazel, the stinking-hot dorp where land surveyors supposedly dubbed the spot “Hotazel” after a night of carousing in 1915, is hardly known for greenery at all, but beautiful things grow in sand dunes too.

Yet, out of these unlikely environments blossomed one of South Africa’s finest chefs, Jess van Dyk, who was born in Kuruman’s hospital but brought up in Hotazel before moving to Kuruman at the age of 11.

“It was a small, tightknit community, lots of farmers and mineworkers, small business owners, very much like Cradock I suppose [Jess knows my home town of Cradock and has family there]. I loved school, I think I was quite good at it, LOL. I loved being surrounded by friends, loved my teachers and did well academically and not too bad with extramural activities like netball etc. 

“But I knew our world was small there, and if I wanted to pursue cooking I would have to venture out, as the things I saw on BBC Food were not readily available there and people didn’t eat like that in the platteland.”

This small-town girl was to make her way to the finest restaurants in the Cape where she spent more than 10 years cooking in the La Colombe Group’s kitchens. She was Chef de Partie and Sous Chef at La Colombe, where she first interned in 2010, under Luke Dale Roberts and later Scot Kirton, before becoming Head Chef at Protégé in Franschhoek. This after a stint cooking on yachts.

“I think my 10-plus years with the La Colombe Group shaped me into a chef who understands discipline, flavour and balance, how to extract flavour and build it from the base up in sauces, dressings etc. It also taught me great refinement, technique and to work hard; the pursuit of perfection takes hard work and sacrifice. It also taught me how to have fun while working hard, that a happy kitchen cooks good food.”

But she is not following the La Colombe lead entirely in her own solo career, which began when she opened her own eatery, Post & Pepper, where a friend and I dined, very happily, as Jess’ guests, after I had met her at a function at Eike restaurant two nights earlier.

“I would say my food is different from the group in the sense that nothing is off the table — I don’t try to only do refined or super technical,” says this self-confident young chef. “We had Mac ’n’ Cheese on the menu in all its glory, because it’s one of my favourite things to cook and eat, most people have a nostalgic connection to it, and at the end of the day I want my food to be comfort/soul food on a plate.

“It might be pretty and ‘fancy-looking’ but I always want it to give a sense of warmth and comfort, a hug from inside. Although people always say it’s interesting, to me and my palate it is just food, made really well and that people can understand and relate to. My brain isn’t creative enough to add the theatre and frills the way the amazing chefs at the LC Group do.”

What she did get from LCG, apart from the discipline and hard work ethic, was a rekindled love for Asian food. 

“Growing up, Chinese food was always a treat, and La Colombe having always cooked with a fusion of Asian flavours reignited the love for those influences.”

Jess sprang from the La Colombe Group fold to open her own restaurant in 2022, which means she has been bubbling under the surface until, like the water that spews in abundance from the Eye of Kuruman in her home town, she found herself in the national public eye.

Her Post & Pepper restaurant quickly rose to national prominence, although, while her years with the group are evident in her style and plating, she is very much “her own chef” too, with clear evidence of her past in Kuruman and Hotazel.

I asked her if the strong greens in her restaurant’s interior design were inspired by her verdant Kuruman background.

“I have always loved the colour green. Even before school, whenever I would colour in a picture, I would feel the need to add green, as it brings life and sparks joy inside, or it has always had that effect on me. 

“I think that’s where the green interior comes from, it’s earthy, calming and also sparks a sense of joy/happiness. I used to joke at previous restaurants that I wanted a plant wall, where I could go put my head when the stress and pressures got too much, to find my Zen in the greenery. These are all things that now come to mind after you asked the question. That might have been subconsciously influencing the choice of green interiors. I think that is probably also why all my food has greenery and ‘garden-like garnishings’.”

There is a clear sense of lush greenery about her restaurant space. Booth seating reminiscent of a speakeasy is upholstered in a striking dark green, offset by wood and a mural of winter and autumnal leaves. It’s a smart space, and pleasingly colourful compared with the austere, sometimes overdesigned spaces of some of our top restaurants. Too often, the result is clinical, at worst cold.

When I first saw the leaf mural, I went over to brush it with my palm, because the leaves have a distinct carpet-like appearance. But smooth it is, and a happy backdrop for a fine repast.

Her time in Franschhoek reminded her of her small-town gal roots, and she knew she needed to stay out of the city.

“I started exploring options like Greyton, Stanford etc, but still wanted to be close enough to good schools, the city and needed enough feet and tourists year-round to make an upmarket eatery work.

“I didn’t really know Stellies, I knew there was a street called ‘Dorp Straat’ and lots of students, but other than that I knew very little. But I knew it was very community driven, schools were great and it had enough tourist attractions; oh and the oak trees are super pretty in autumn, lol.

“And so I resigned from Protégé knowing I wanted to open my own space but had no clue where to start.”

Once her final day at Protégé had passed, she spent “a few days sulking at home, feeling so overwhelmed with not knowing where to start and if I wanted to”. 

She quickly pulled herself together. 

“I reached out to a chef I knew in Stellies, he put me in contact with his landlord and before I knew it I’d viewed a few premises. The Post Office wasn’t actually on my radar, but one of the agents said he had another spot he wanted to show me. 

“From outside I thought it looked like a ‘boring white building’, but when I stood inside and saw the details of the door and windows, the exposed original red bricks, my view and Pinterest board came to life. 

“On my first visit I said where the bar and booth seating with arched mirrors would be. The rent was double what I had hoped for and had put in my preliminary budgets. I thought the space was too big, my dad said it’s too small... 

“But after a week of thinking and trying to see more places, the Post Office was haunting me and I booked another visit and decided to take the plunge. I then put on my Big Girl Business Owning Pants, and the rest was history. I loved that there was history tied to the space, it helped give building blocks for the story we wanted to tell.”

She also has a “small-town gal’s” eye (her term) and palate for ingredients, and this is the kind of thing that sets a star chef apart from others who may just follow their culinary school instruction. It’s the stepping out, and the adding in of your own story, that makes the difference. That and a chef’s best friend, her palate.

She is a solid presence in her open-plan kitchen and in the dining space, where she readily pops over to chat when she has a gap in her cooking schedule. Her approach is careful yet no nonsense, such as her insistence on not wasting anything in her kitchen. Potato skin discards, for instance, are deep-fried and turned into a crumb, rather than being thrown out.

The setting for Post & Pepper is the Oude Postkantoor in Stellenbosch, which is as central as any building could be, on the corner of Bird and Plein Streets right across from the large square that abuts the town. 

There are several courses offering two choices. Luckily, I had the company of a gourmand friend, so we were able to try a good deal of the menu once we’d agreed each to order different options. We offered each other tastes, too.

“Indian bread” was delivered to the table first — a red lentil dhal dip, aubergine and black cardamom curry, mini potato roosterkoek, and poppadoms, topped with semi-dry tomatoes. I’m no fan of roosterkoek, which is shameful for a Karoo denizen. It’s just so chewy and often bland in taste. But here was a roosterkoek to banish all of my reluctance. It was superb.

But nothing could beat the lollipop. That’s it in the main picture up there: a sticky pork “lollipop” with a doenjang glaze (salty Korean soybean paste with an umami kick), sesame seeds and a charred spring onion dip. Oy vey, I could eat this every day for a lifetime. Stupidly, impossibly, insanely delicious. I was tempted to ask for “a plateful and cancel the rest of the menu”. But I behaved myself.

Apart from that wondrous mouthful that is her doenjang pork, the Cape Malay curry dish was far and away my favourite on a menu of many highlights. And I loved seeing slangetjies (spiced chickpea flour strands) again; they’ve been cropping up on fancy menus lately.

Cape Malay prawns were served with a divine roti, soft with a delicate crunch on the surface, as well as curry aioli, curry leaf, and pickled onion. The waiter had explained that the prawns were beneath the beautiful pile of many wonders that were visible.

When I asked Jess, days later, if she had a favourite dish, she replied: “Favourite dish on the menu — sjoe, it’s like asking who is your favourite child. At the moment I think I really love the Cape Malay prawn — it’s been on the menu since New Year’s/too long; it has changed slightly, but the essence of it is just plain deliciousness. Growing up Afrikaans, a lot of food is sweet and salty, bobotie/chutney/bazaar kerrie vetkoek — and this Cape Malay base is all those nostalgic flavours tied in one. The butter roti on the side is that naughty indulgence: I love dough, and I feel a stukkie bread makes anything nice. It’s also a very pretty dish, so it has everything I like. Great looks, perfect balance of flavours, and eats well.”

I’d trialled an AI notetaker, which delivered some succinct wraps of what my friend and I had spoken about. We do sound rather erudite: “Discussion about various forms of art including wall sculptures and specific installations, e.g., the Mandela capture site sculpture in KZN Midlands. Musical references including family ties to the Flying Pickets (a UK-based a cappella group) and personal recollections of music and musicians. Observations on the textures and aesthetics within the dining environment, linking them to broader topics in art.”

We also talked about “self-publishing versus traditional high-spec coffee table book production, highlighting friends Chris and Julie’s Karoo Roads series, and intoned on such pertinent topics as the “preservation concerns for historic towns like Kimberley and Pietermaritzburg, loss of local character due to commercial takeovers, and changes brought by big hotel chains.” Funny: when you’re just lost in conversation, you don’t really remember the minutiae of it.

More to the point, though, is this: “Reactions to food were overall positive with remarks such as ‘heavenly’ and ‘outstanding’, although portion sizes were sometimes considered too large.” (That doesn’t sound like me.)

I love this one: “Service Details and Tableware: Finger towels provided for guests to clean their hands after eating. Guests clarified that the finger towels are not to be eaten.”

I’d actually observed that the warm little hand towels were so artistically arranged that they looked like another course and for a second I considered having a bite. 🙂

Not quite on point was this: “Mention of travelling through Karoo towns (Cradock, Caerphilly, Mikey’s Fonteyn), including first visits since 2006, and the emotional impact of revisiting meaningful places.”

I think Caerphilly must be Calvinia, and we can all guess where Mikey’s Fonteyn is.

“Menu highlights and food experience” were encapsulated in a stream of consciousness sort of way: “Detailed descriptions of dishes such as gamefish tataki, fish tuna with fermented pear, peanut chutney, coconut cream, sweet and sour bokum dressing, potato gnocchi with mushroom ragu and crumb, deep-fried potato skin, and truffle mushroom cream.”

Easy problems to spot include “fresh” tuna (not “fish”), filled raviolo (not pulled), and bokkom, not bokum. But fairly accurate in other elements, although it does almost wrap up several courses into one. An interesting experiment, though.

Rather than accept all this, I checked with the chef, who replied: “Tuna tataki was served with peanut chutney, fermented pear, fresh lime and gel, chinese cabbage and coconut crèma finished with a spicy, smoky, sweet-and-sour bokkom dressing.

“This is in fact my Sous Chef’s creation (Astrid Kennealy, previously with Bertus Basson) — I had said I wanted a ‘red’, spicy Korean type sashimi, and she came up with this. The base of the dish — the cabbage, peanut chutney, coconut and fresh lime — was based on a party snack her mom used to make (she passed five years ago). When she put those components together her eyes welled with tears and we all shared in a bit of her mom’s legacy. The sweet-and-sour bokkom dressing came after I said I felt it needed some ‘juiciness’ and the ‘red Korean’ factor.”

The gnocchi was one of my favourite elements on this menu. Jess elaborated: “I love gnocchi — WHEN made well. So my gnocchi gets about 10% flour to avoid that glutinous texture one usually gets at restaurants. 

“Cloudy pillows, caramelised — amazing. I knew I wanted to do something with mushrooms and winter truffles, and this dish was born. We also use the potato skins (after salt baking to absorb moisture) and fry them to create a crumb that the dish gets finished with for some texture and flare.”

The dish comprises pan-fried potato gnocchi, mushroom ragout, pickled shitake gel, crispy potato and sage, finished with a truffled mushroom crème.

Her crumbed kingklip is refreshingly different. They look like crispy oval boats with the delectably white fish shining through. 

“I am a fan of kingklip but some people aren’t,” the chef said. “The idea started as a play on normal fish and chips, and I wanted to recreate the deep-fried fish. Hake is great, but super inconsistent in size, and so I moved to kingklip. The first fish I crumbed and fried I cut in half, and it looked and tasted superb, so the rest came pretty easily.

“I made a warm tartare sauce, but wanted to elevate it slightly and bring in more citrus — so I knew I needed to introduce it in more than just the juice or zest of lemon, so I tried limoncello, and it gave great sweetness/balance to the sauce.”

Limoncello in a sauce for fish. That’s genius.

The pork raviolo was great too: pork and apple raviolo, pickled jerusalem artichoke purée, crispy pork crackling, jerusalem artichoke veloutè, and sage.

“We always have our signature pork lollipops on the menu — it’s a staple that will always stay, but because of the square shape, we are always left with trimmings. Since the beginning I have made use of these trimmings in different dishes, whether in Asian pork dumplings, Spanish pork ragu with our mac ’n’ cheese or now our pork raviolo. I wanted to use Jerusalem artichokes as they came into season and the dish was born.”

Now here’s a thing you may not know about your Food Editor. By the time I get to the desserts end of these multicourse menus, sweet things are pretty much wasted on me. Also, almost all desserts are excellent, and a sweet tooth and palate are very easy to please.

Plus, because wine is poured quite liberally in some cases (happily so, this is never a complaint), by the time the desserts are sent out I usually forget to photograph them. (Or if I do, the focus might be a tad off, for some reason.)

So yes, we did have “afters”, but I have nothing to tell you about them.

Coda

The AI notetaker even gave me “suggested action items” which included “share professional-quality food photographs with the group when available” and “explore opportunities for preserving or documenting local heritage buildings and towns, possibly through future book projects”. Huh?

Hmmm. I might add: “Download a better AI notetaker.” DM