The essence of the Cape in a culinary ramble through the Winelands

This was a first: a restaurateur put me to work. Should I feel used? Nah. It was too much fun for that.

In a reception room of his Zeven Eike guest house in the Banhoek Valley, Daniel Kriel poured me a glass of chardonnay “from the valley”. He only drinks, and serves, wine from the few estates he can see from the stoep. Luckily these wines are very good.

He invited me to sit down, choosing a chair with a view for me and one with not quite so much view for himself. The Chardonnay started doing its elegant work on my palate while Daniel explained that dinner at his restaurant, De Warenmarkt, the following night was not going to be all eating, drinking and happy banter. “I am putting you to work.”

I envisaged mopping the scullery floor and doing the dishes while the rest of the table had all the fun. This had surely always been coming. The final recompense for the indulgent hours spent savouring fine morsels while sommeliers did their best to muddle any quibbles about the food.

But I would be in the restaurant itself. I’d be joining him and designer Pieter Burger, and the Foodie’s Wife, along with Daniel’s French restaurant manager, Sebastien Castelot, while the kitchen crew delivered a brief he had set for them.

Daniel had just returned from a visit to Europe, and what he does when he visits other parts of the world is dine in restaurants. Lots of restaurants. And when he encounters a dish that impresses him, he sends a photo of it to his head chef, the unflappable Johann Piek.

This time, there was a particular urgency about things. Daniel had sent the cream of his photos of the culinary crop to Johann Piek.

Recreate this.

That was pretty much the gist of the brief.

But the chefs had leeway. Rather than just copying and pasting what they were looking at, they were to feel free to be inventive, to use an image, and a dish’s concept, as inspiration.

Must say, I felt for Piek and his small kitchen brigade, having to feed the customers at many tables — it was a busy Tuesday night — while bringing course after course to our table.

Some standouts: 

Ox tongue with blue cheese aïoli; and superb burrata surrounded by freshness, including strawberries, blueberries, mint, basil and candied pecan nuts. We agreed that the drizzle of balsamic reduction on the burrata obscured its whiteness, but that’s merely a presentation issue that’s easy to fix. I loved the zing of freshness on the plate.

Four pasta options came out next, and the table loved them all, describing them collectively as colourful, diverse and well presented. Mushroom ragu was matched with linguine; lightly crispy potato gnocchi with a pea and mint velouté; ravioli stuffed with ricotta with basil pesto, and rigatoni with tomato and chilli. 

The last was the first to capture my eye and palate, but as we tasted the four, choices changed. The end result was the ravioli as a clear favourite. It looked much like the reference photo and met the “summery” brief with aplomb. Note to self to go back for this later in the year.

The consensus was to swap a couple of things around — the gnocchi would be served with a truffled mushroom ragu, rather than linguine. This, along with the burrata dish, seemed likely to make the summer menu, giving the dinners both a vegetarian and gluten-free option. I enjoyed this little insight into how menus are constructed.

I didn’t know you could get a seafood platter in Stellenbosch, outside of an Ocean Basket perhaps, but De Warenmarkt has a great option. There was grilled cob, Oysters Kilpatrick (more correctly Kirkpatrick), excellent mussels, squid, prawns, chips and salad. 

Oysters Kirkpatrick is named after a Colonel John Kirkpatrick who was the manager of San Francisco’s Palace Hotel at the turn of the 20th century. I prefer my oysters au naturel. No lemon. Not even black pepper. I admire Piek’s pluck in opting for something so far from that — hiding coyly beneath bacon, chilli and jam — but it wasn’t for me.

There was a superb prawn taco — I like the food at this place, well thought out (as you can see) and unpretentious. Just good bistro food, and that’s all I really want from a restaurant. Who knew.

The seared tuna was my favourite, and the table concurred, and a trout millefeuille drew much attention for its originality.

The best dish among the meaty courses was the pork lollipops — rashers of pork belly rolled up and skewered, dipped in a sweet soy-based thick sauce and sprinkled with sesame seeds. Daniel asked the chef to tone down the sweetness, and the glaze needed more garlic and oomph. But otherwise this was a clear winner. A couple of tweaks and you’ll find it here in summer. The pork neck steak was not a favourite. The upshot was to replace it with pork loin on the bone.

The old-fashioned chicken pie based on Daniel’s ma’s recipe was well received and he asked the chef to present it in a small potjie when the menu is introduced, rather than the ramekin we were served. 

The desserts appeared to be a trio, but two were only different ways of presenting panna cotta with a perky strawberry sauce. When the table was asked to choose one, the version in a Martini glass won hands down.

But the other dessert won the day: a wonderful crunchy almond and strawberry tart.

My AI notetaker is allowed a word or two in summation: “Throughout, guests expressed high regard for the kitchen team’s talent and process, even when giving critical feedback, and recommended tweaks for plating, balancing flavours, and highlighting star ingredients.” 

Which sums our feelings up perfectly.

During those four days, we ate out at a handful of other disparate eateries.

Veld at Spier

This is the new restaurant at the Spier Hotel, and this was our first visit there since November 2008, five days after Miriam Makeba had died. I was pretty emotional as a result. After a lengthy dinner at Moyo, the jungle-like venue now long gone, we were making our way back to our room when I spotted a bar. There was a row of tequila bottles. Should we, for the road? Yep.

One tequila shot later I was hopping on one leg back towards a marquee where a band struck up The Click Song just as we entered. Within a minute, a conga line of German tourists had formed behind me, as Makeba got an impromptu right royal sendoff in a tent in the Boland.

The hotel has recently completed a year-long renovation and is looking grand. A pity, though, that they painted the stained wooden beams in the bedrooms to match the whiteness of the walls. The rooms are elegantly furnished, all very muted, but one day a future designer, charged to redo the rooms once more, will spot those beams and get rid of the paint, at considerable cost.

The main hotel is fabulous. Veld is in a cavernous room with a very high ceiling, stretching from the open-plan reception and lounge bar to the second restaurant at the other end. There’s a rooftop bar above that with a deck towards vineyard and mountain views.

There’s a lot of sustainability here. Meat from the resident Farmer Angus. Vegetables and herbs from their own garden. Breads and all from Vadas Bakery nearby. Fish from Abalobi.

We were surprised with a “chef’s delight” as a sort of amuse-bouche. A Karoo lamb cutlet with salsa verde and gremolata. Very minty and really salty, just on the edge of almost too much. The most delicious, tender tjoppie you could hope for. I asked whether this was a standard offering. Nope, they were being extra nice to the food guy. Without in any way wishing to be churlish, I’d rather not be served something no one else in the room is getting; I don’t like special treatment. But delicious it was.

There’s some very pleasing food on the plate. Eyeing the starters, I was torn. Marinated tomatoes with chevin, toasted baguette, balsamic and baby leaves. Roasted beetroot salad with feta, spekboom (which is all over Boland menus now), maple-vinegar dressing and crushed hazelnuts. “Mushrooms on toast”, which was to crop up on the breakfast menu next morning. Bobotie samosa with atchar oil, curry leaves and crème fraîche raita. Smoked snoek fishcake with pickled West Coast mussels, fennel and bokkom tartare sauce.

I chose the Farmer Angus charcuterie, this being the first time I’d visited since he arrived on the Spier scene. It was all delicious and finely crafted, served with piccalilli (an old standby I haven’t seen on a menu in forever and a great match for cured meats). I loved the crunchy oaten biscuits.

I chose the grilled Abalobi fish, and sides of hasselback potatoes and roasted beetroot, only because I wanted to try more of the menu. The Cape bream was good, but with hindsight I wish I’d ordered Farmer Angus steak.

For sweet endings, rooibos ice cream with honeycomb. The ice cream screamed “rooibos”. Sublime. Oh and koesisters, I loved that this Cape Town treat was on a fêncy menu. With “karamonk custard”. I was delighted by the use of the Cape Malay term for cardamom. And it was just lovely.

And that’s what I was hoping for in the Boland this time around: lots of local touches throughout menus. And I got it, even more so at Bertus Basson’s Eike the following night…

Eike, a great restaurant by a good oak

Bertus Basson was at a school function on the evening we dined at Eike, but he found time to pop in to say hello anyway. He is a mensch of note, unpretentious, and hard working. We have a sort of mutual fan club.

But it is the man’s food that impresses me most. Bertus employs many chefs but his own hand is clearly evident when you dine at his various restaurants. At Eike, in Dorp Street, his culinary flag flies high.

There’s a bit of theatre — clear jars containing hints of the courses to come. One of the best plates of food I’ve eaten in a while came out early on. An exquisite parcel of fish (stompneus) obtained via Abalobi, decorated with gossamer-thin slivers of courgettes as scales. This is a classical French trick seldom seen nowadays, just look at it…

In similar French style, a sauce was made from the fish bones and heads, and honestly I could have ordered the whole fish and cancelled the rest of the menu.

The chicken course was another standout, if there can be one at this level of South African cooking. This chicken — subtly peri-peri — was comparable with chef Johannes Richter’s “Vanessa’s chicken” at the LivingRoom at Summerhill in Durban. Like that fowl, this was well salted, and this is a trend I’ve picked up on lately. Salting is being pushed to the limit in smart restaurant cooking, just to the point where only a few grains more would ruin a dish. 

I loved the game pie too, and how nice to see gem squash on a posh restaurant plate. Yes please.

Desserts are invariably excellent, as were the two we were served. S’mores-inspired marshmallow ice cream, and a sublime Boland cheese course with a nectarine compôte.

Chef Michael Fuller, who has been a staunch kitchen ally to Basson for many years, held the fort with aplomb and a big smile.

The Vine Bistro and Glass Museum at Glenelly, Ida’s Valley

You drive through the tiny town of Ida’s Valley to reach this Irish-green estate where the glass museum tries to entice you from the food served in the restaurant downstairs. I need to return to spend an entire morning in this incredible space, where Madame May de Lencquesaing displays her collection of 600 pieces of glass art from Roman to Bohemian and modern via Lalique and Tiffany. 

But drag myself to lunch I did, for this was the cuisine of one of my favourite chefs, Christophe Dehosse, who has been at Glenelly since 2016 and still uses big white dinner plates when serving his refined and deceptively simple French fare. Not one for fads, he knows that this whiteness is best for showing off the finesse on his plates.

And here’s the first treat: fresh white asparagus from Malmesbury which, believe it or not, is not far away. Poached and served on a Hollandaise with tomato and chives. Food doesn’t have to be complicated to be very fine indeed.

The jacopever ceviche with shallots and triangular sesame tuiles was excellent but my eye was on the Foodie’s Wife’s white asparagus, of which I robbed her of one delectable spear.

But vengeance was mine, or was it? Opera cake! I had to have it. Which meant I missed out on the sublime crème caramel.

All of which means that it won’t be long before I return.

Genki sushi & Japanese tapas

Charlene and Richard Waite, who own this restaurant and their adjacent The Little Fish, are a popular couple in the town, as well as with other restaurateurs in the region. Set in a little square, Genki offers sushi and tapas for diverse palates. Not really one for sushi myself, there were plenty of alternatives for me to devour very happily.

It’s a taste of Japan in an airy square off Dorp Street. A pork patty bao bun, superb homemade dumplings (including potstickers), and brilliant brinjal and tuna spring rolls were all highlights of a range of dishes brought out for us to try. But would you believe that I liked the tofu dish even more? Nobody who knows me will believe this. They must be good at what they’re doing to convince me to rethink my heretofore distaste for tofu.

Tofu? Moi? 🙈 DM

The meal at Dewarenmarkt and accommodation were provided by its owner Daniel Kriel. Dinner at Veld and accommodation at Spier Hotel were provided. Visit Stellenbosch organised additional visits to Eike, Genki, and The Vine at Glenelly. All meals were provided by the hosts.