Gem at the top of a long and winding road

Raw salmon with avocado and salsa dressing

IT’S THE greed of many restaurateurs that really started to bother me in the mid-Nineties, when I was first in the thick of writing about the people who make and sell us food and the places they sell it in. Because that is what it really is all about, for too many of them – a shop where they sell stuff for as much profit as possible.

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.

These are people with one foot in a Clifton penthouse and the other on a yacht in the Med. Best they don’t lose their balance.
The most visible yardstick of a restaurateur’s avarice is the wine list, where in too many cases the restaurateur is making more per glass or bottle of wine than is the producer of the wine. This has to be wrong. “Oh but we have to cellar it, temperature control, wash the glasses,” yadda yadda yadda. They’re still eking more profit out of the wine than the guys who have to plant the vines and watch them grow for years before even thinking of producing wine from the vine. Never mind barrel maturation, bottling, transportation. I wonder what a winemaker must think when reading a wine list somewhere and finding that he has to pay R250 a pop for a wine that cost him R20 to make.

I remember being shocked to the bone when I found Ataraxia chardonnay on a winelands restaurant a few months ago for R1800 a bottle. Yes, I thought it was a misprint too, or that my mind had added a zero. But I called the sommelier over and checked. Yip, R1800. I’ve just Googled this wine and found several price variations for different vintages, all of them under R200 a bottle. Retail. What the hell kind of a mark-up is that?

I’d like to encounter a restaurateur with the chutzpah to name his ’shop’ after what it’s really all about. Pity his poor waiter: “Welcome to Avarice. My name is Ambition and I’ll be your waiter tonight. May I offer you the Chicken Supremely Expensive and a nice bottle of Chateau Neuf du Rip-eauf to help it down?” Sure. And a couple of stiff gins to calm my bank manager’s nerves.

Bertus Basson, chef-patron of Overture, is quite unlike the unfortunately real stereotype described above. Bertus, not yet 30, has twice recently been voted one of the country’s top 10 chefs. Despite this status, he rails against the pricing practices of too many of his colleagues. At Overture you’re offered absolutely top-drawer cuisine, food with true finesse, for prices which elsewhere would cost you anything up to double.

This is not to say Overture is cheap – theirs is gourmet cuisine served with excellent wines. But compare these prices to others in the same league. There are no prices per individual course. You pay R250 for three courses, R300 for four, R360 for five. That means extra courses are added at just R50 and R60 each. With wines added per course, the prices are R300 (three courses), R380 (four) and R460 (five). With a glass of wine served with each course, that’s an average of R20 a glass. Try getting that at Chateau Rip-eauf. There’s also an eight-course tasting menu available to a whole table for R455 a head (R755 with wine – which means that in this instance the wine per glass price is R37.50, a big step up).

Overture is reached up a winding, narrow road at the top of which is a large, modern building containing the Hidden Valley cellar topped by the tasting room and restaurant, which is almost entirely al fresco (though there are plans to enclose it) and boasting one of the best views of any Cape restaurant, with Table Mountain clearly visible on a clear day.

A slatted ceiling casts dappled light on smartly-clad tables, and confident, well-trained staff flit here and there in a way that puts you at ease. You’re in good hands.

The menu is printed every day after a staff pow-wow at which the team, led by Bertus, assembles the menu and plans their making.

Shoulder of lamb

So, the lunch menu for February 2, that most auspicious of days for those of us who love Madiba and this lovely land, offered 10 dishes, of which we enjoyed five. The ones we did not have were almond soup with celery and truffle; geelbek with risotto bianco, pickled fennel and gremolata; crown roast free range chicken with chicken panzarotti and brussel sprouts; Tomme Obiquia, mulled apple, and mulled apple sorbet; and pistachio tart with chocolate sorbet and cashew praline.

We started with raw salmon, salsa and pureed avocado. Fresh and light as a summer’s day, delicately dressed. Then, a sliver of duck liver and foie gras parfait, with diced stone fruit. The parfait had good texture, not overly refined, the duck adding peasanty flavour to the unctuous richness of the foie. Not that I mind unctuous.

Creamed polenta, buffalo mozzarella

Wonderfully creamed polenta followed, with fried buffalo mozzarella and sauteed mushrooms. Sounds simple, I know, but it was one of the day’s best dishes. Bear in mind that we were having smaller portions of everything: we now had braised shoulder of lamb, riddled with lamby flavour and fall-apart tender, all but splashing around in its own moistness, with pumpkin, sage and a single pomme fondant which held its shape, though I would have liked more flavour of thyme.

And then, and then … an orange souffle of such gentle delicacy you wanted to kiss its cheek and lie with it all night. Served with a soupcon of orange ice-cream to melt into it so that you quickly grab your spoon before it melts away. If you want to know how good a chef is, order his souffle. Only thing is, Bertus was at the table with us. Which means that back in that tiny kitchen, there are some guys who seriously know their stuff.

I doff my cap to them.

Hidden Valley Estate, Off Annandale Road, Stellenbosch/Somerset West
021 880 2721 info@dineatoverture.co.za

First published in Cape Argus Tonight, February 2010