Two good reasons why the chicken crossed the road
We like chicken. We love chicken. When we see a chicken preening its feathers, our mind quickly pops up an image of it defeathered and roasted to gleaming, succulent perfection. We see its breast removed, slit asunder, filled with something yummy, closed, wrapped up and baked.
Sunday in the field of dreams
It was one of those moments when you wake up and realise where you really are. On a soccer field, yes. But no crowd, no glaring stadium lights. Just a modest small-town soccer field on the edge of town, and it’s Sunday morning coming down on a boy’s wild imagination.
Gem at the top of a long and winding road
I interviewed a restaurateur last year who kept referring to his four restaurants as ‘my shops’. It was all I needed to know about the guy, apart from the too-much-bling and the smile that wasn’t really.
Soothing, mood elevating, sinful chocolate
You can send me an attachment of a picture of a chocolate and a note saying “Jane has sent you a chocolate!” but in fact what Jane has sent me is a thumbnail picture of a chocolate which is as much use to me as an email promising me 30 million smackers.
Braaing for Brits – and for Africa
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said apologetically. “We thought you were on fire.”
A cure for those who don’t like their fish entirely raw
The chef came out before a particular course and explained, somewhat nervously, that the kingklip was to be served raw tonight. Riiiiiiight, we muttered, dubious, looking left and right as if wondering where the candid camera was.
A touch of the Cape for Sunday brunch
OK, most of us won’t go back to our tables with a plate of smoked salmon, bacon, stewed fruit and cheddar, but my point is that there might be ways to make more sense of it all. So I thought about it all and came up with a four-course menu for a Sunday brunch, based on some of the things you tend to find on such breakfast spreads.
Is the Tasting Room at Le Quartier Francais really worse than a parking lot bistro?
How on earth is 9th Avenue Bistro, which has a nondescript al fresco area overlooking a plain-as-chips parking lot, better than the Tasting Room at le Quartier Francais or Overture with its world-beating view and Margot Janse’s fabulous cuisine? I don’t buy it.
A method for cooking pasta you cannot refuse
If your pasta is less than perfectly al dente, scowling, toothless crones swathed in black cross themselves when you come near, then scurry away down dark alleyways burbling in Latin.
Inside the Sun King’s Waterfront lair
Being at the Sun King’s newest venue whisked me right back to the ground-wetting for the Cape Sun Hotel aeons ago, when Anneline Kriel, then Sun Queen, stepped out of a limo in the rain and I nearly choked on a sliver of Parma ham.
Night of the vegetarian vampires
VAMPIRES slunk into dark corners on sight of the caramelly whole roasted garlic as I took them from the cinders and unfurled their shiny foil blankets. Hard to imagine that I had lived for 20 years before even tasting the pungent, plump cloves. Now I eat them whole, though not quite raw, and movies like Twilight and Nosferatu the Vampire no longer frighten me.
The grandest beach cafe, dancing at Gold, and a gourmet picnic at Warwick
Why are restaurateurs in this country unable to find our own themes and names for things? Tapas is not African. Small portions aren’t either. And there is one truly glaring omission from this supposedly African menu: there is no red meat on the menu other than a tiny portion of bobotie. In Africa, land of the cow, the goat and the buffalo, there is no meat on a showcase African menu. This is like not having soy sauce on a Chinese menu, or omitting the spices in a curry. Come on, we’re Africans, we eat meat.
Savoy Cabbage is right on top of its game
Peruse the annual awards lists of the last 10 years and you’ll find many examples of restaurants that were once just the place to get to, dahlings, their chefs’ names thrown about as if the Gods had come down to save our palates. Then they slip down the lists until, in a year or two, they drop out of the top 10 and are often never heard of again.
An old-fashioned dinner starts with prawns Marie-Rose
There will come a time when a new generation, or just the present generation a decade or two older, will talk disparagingly of the food fads of the 1990s and [...]
A tinklingly good way to greet the New Year
The problem with New Year parties is trying to stay sober enough to remember why you’re there. I’ve known people get to midnight on December 31 and wander around aimlessly asking whose birthday it is, or why everyone is so exciteable.