Kitchen Vixen

Yip, the great Ferran Adria is serving his last supper at the world’s most famous restaurant, El Bulli, on Saturday 30 July and to celebrate his massive contribution to modern cuisine, our own Richard Carstens will be hosting a tribute dinner at Tokara restaurant on the very same night. I’ll be there! And I won’t say a word about foams and skidmarks and blobs cause it’s going to be SPECTACULAR. Book now.

Am I the only one that thinks El Bulli is Tickets is funny? Ferran is closing El Bulli and he’s already opened a molecularly inclined cocktail and tapas bar in Barcelona called Tickets. Riiight?! Maybe all that safety dancing at the 80’s party I crashed last night has caused a humour regression of sorts… right back to about 1986. Any event, I’ll be visiting Tickets when I hit up Barcelona in September. My friend Guy sent me this pic of their dessert plate.

Ferran slumming it at Tickets

Richard Carstens, fresh from Hong Kong

Richard is buzzing after a two-week cooking stint in Hong Kong. He says the veins of influence between the East and Ferran’s wizardry run deep. So expect to be blown away by his tribute dinner. From where I sit, I can see little tufts of smoke rising from his lair above the Tokara kitchen… inspiration distillation in progress.

I’m reviewing Tokara and my epic ten-course meal on Expresso Show next Wednesday 27 July. Or click here for the blog review.

Also on the 30th of this month, yet on a slightly less accomplished note, I’ll be doing a food demonstration (my first) at the Stellenbosch Wine Festival (massive culinary events colliding, I know – El Bulli closing, my demo, the Tokara tribute – aeish!) to an audience of about 80 unsuspecting folk. I’ve chosen food and wine pairing as a topic and am marrying duck and Pinot Noir shotgun-style. Which is why I spent my weekend boiling wine to make jelly. I hate wasting good juice but I have to get it just right. My first attempt resembled chopped liver.

Check out the Festival website here.

I love freshness. In everything. Wine, food, people. The opposite of stodgy and staid and stuck in a rut. With food, it’s about more than the newness of the produce. That elusive fresh element has to do with a balance of flavours and a certain zing most commonly defined as acidity. Don’t let the word put you off. It’s when food hits your tongue and your mouth waters for more.

Chef supreme Luke Dale-Roberts talks about umami. That elusive fifth taste that fuses flavour to create a mouthfeel greater than the sum of its parts. It’s like a natural MSG that leads to unbridled plate scraping. And my meal at The Test Kitchen in Woodstock’s Biscuit Mill was laced with it. In The Test Kitchen, Luke has created the perfect playground for his imaginative East-meets-West flavour combinations to shine.

Keeping it tight - LDR and his team

I’m a sucker for cheese and tomato combos. From the humble braaibroodjie to this: home dried tomato, pickled tomato, miso cream cheese, wood fired aubergine dressing and jalapeno and apple puree…

Did I mention the parmesan crispy thingies?

It was incredible. Saliva inducing flavour bursts, with every item distinct yet in perfect harmony. You just want more. Conceived to make fine dining more accessible, The Test Kitchen is small, informal and very trendy. Beautiful hand-stitched chairs by Casamento next to metal-topped tables with felt lamps overhead. The lunch menu is compact with starters in the Asian flavour range and mains leaning towards Euro cuisine. I opted for the wood fired pork belly, coco bean and bay leaf jus, TK kim chi and pak choi.

Pork belly with asian greens

I noticed a neighbour’s perfect vegetables popping with colour. All done sous-vide at 85 degrees for 50 minutes, thereby retaining just-plucked colour and texture.

Bags of goodness, sous-viding away

Confession time – my lunch made one thing very clear. I have to return for the 11 course gourmand tasting menu – The Fantastic Eben, Adi and Luke Show – served evenings only. Luke goes all out to knock your flavour socks off, with wines by Eben Sadie and Adi Badenhorst of Swartland fame. Like the foie gras, red cabbage and fig ‘mi-cuit’ (semi cooked), rabbit ham, braised chestnuts and gently pickled quince paired with Sequillo White Port 2010. Eben Sadie has been called the Baby Jesus of the wine industry (he can do no wrong) and Adi as the Elvis Presley (cause he rocks) and together with the King of Zing, this is probably the most profound food experience to be had in this country. And it belongs on every foodie’s bucket list.

The Fantastic Eben, Adi and Luke Show

Time magazine agrees. Read about it here. Or visit The Test Kitchen’s website for full menus and images. Or catch my review on SABC3 Expresso Show tomorrow morning at about 7.40am’ish, give or take a few minutes.

I daresay, I think I’m back in the fine-dining saddle… thanks Luke. I needed to be reminded. And I’ll be back for the big show.

Poor me landed at Dear Me’s doorstep after months of gorging myself on rich, over-faffed food, feeling like a foie gras duck minutes before the slaughter. With a bit of bronchitis thrown in to drive the point home that I was bent out of shape and desperately needed to recalculate. My inner GPS was free-wheeling through Lardville. And Dear Me was just the place to remind me of my true food self.

Yes, you deserve a medal

‘Green is the colour of true love’ some hippie whispered through a bong haze in my distant past and it also happens to be my favourite colour. And Dear Me is all about the love. Or just being good and kind to yourself and the planet. But there’s none of that neurotic wheatgerm gleam in the eye that some health stores get off on. This place was a long time in the making and it shows in every inch of bespoke, conscious quality. From the slinky green Thyla chairs to the Deep Heat infusion (ginger, lemon, chili and apple) that manager Ronel suggested for my beleaguered bronchi, smart sensibility prevails. Because, let’s face it, when it comes to your health and the planet’s, being kind means being clever. In the long run.

So pretty to me

Deep Heat infusion

Call me feeble but glass teapots really excite me. Dear Me has juices, teas and smoothies down to a fine art. The menu changes constantly but if ever you’re there and the warm cauliflower & cheddar tart is available, it is God’s way of telling you to have it. I know foams, emulsions, reductions and sous vide sakkies don’t come easy (or cheap) and they have their place in this world but to me, a bite of this tart is the milk of human kindness made edible. So simple, yet so delicious. The cauliflower held its own and for once, unadorned by a whole team of flavours, displayed depths and nuances beyond its humble reputation* and of course the cheddar, in line with Dear Me’s superb provenance philosophy, was of the kick-ass, tongue-puckering kind.

Plain fabulous

Perhaps it was my lucky day but they just happened to have some of my favourite flavours on the menu. Like horseradish and celeriac… nothing new-fangled and technique-driven, just the cleanest, most thoughtful combinations, mindful of tried and tested flavour relationships. Sensibly, most dishes are available in two portion sizes and prices are extremely fair. Chef Vanessa Marx is ex-Caveau Newlands, if that adds to the picture.

Beetroot-cured trout gravadlax, fresh horseradish cream, pickled carrots, dill, lumpfish caviar

No blobs or puddles, just seared kudu, celeriac remoulade, red onion & rocket

I’m a graduate of the skidmarks-belong-on-tarmac school of dining and though flexible, it was a truly heart-warming experience to find a restuarant that so met my true food needs. I could throw endless adjectives at it but I’ll leave you with real, true & beautiful.

Cape Town has many great eateries but every few years, a place opens that raises the bar in terms of capturing Deep Cape Cool and I daresay, Dear Me is that. Owner Ilse Koekemoer and her team have added much needed freshness to the CBD. But it gets better. Just above Dear Me is Tjing-Tjing Bar. Tjing-Tjing opens when Dear Me closes, at around four. The same kitchen team provides light meals for the trendy bar crowd. Tjing-Tjing is retro fab gorgeous.

Painting in the stairwell leading from Dear Me to Tjing-Tjing

And I’m going there tonight. So, dear friends, if I seem a bit slow on the uptake at 7.30 am on SABC3 Expresso Show tomorrow – when I will be reviewing Dear Me –  you’ll know why…

PS – Dear Me serves filtered tap water – still and sparkling – for free. Restaurants, take note…

*proof that the frequent reading of wine writing leads to ebullient poncification of inanimate and blameless entities

‘Dis daai ou wat amazing goed met bokkoms doen,’ was how Kobus van der Merwe was first described to me. Truth be told, ek skrik vir vis… fish funk – that whiff of pungent sea-dweller – shrivels my appetite. And I’ve always considered the potent little bokkom an oddity peculiar to the West Coast, like a smelly type of mobile … I remember visiting Paternoster as a teenager and being quite horrified that people actually ate them. Until I read Kobus’s blog and then it was just a matter of time.

Uber talented Kobus van der Merwe

First corner on the left as you drive into town, Die Winkel op Paternoster and Oep ve Koep Bistro

Charming time warp

Owned by his folks, Die Winkel is a retro sensory overload of pickles and preserves jamming with jammerlappies and doilies, while Kobus goes about his business resuscitating the culinary heritage of the West Coast from his tiny kitchen at the back.

Exterior decorating, the best kind

I was downright excited about my first bokkom encounter. And a bit nervous because what if I didn’t like it? And him being Mr Bokkom and all. But when the Sandveld bean dumplings arrived I knew I was in excellent hands. Kobus is ICA trained and it shows in how he incorporates near-forgotten dune plants with fine-dining flair, plated in sharp focus yet with every element justified in the overall flavour-scheme. Nothing is there for the sake of being pretty and though some ingredients could be called rustic, the end result is always sophisticated and downright gorgeous.

A taster portion of the delicious Sandveld bean dumplings

He uses maasbanker bokkoms and due to short supply, recently started drying and salting his own… a necessary step in the evolution of the gourmet bokkom.

Bokkom se kind

The bokkoms are marinated to soften them up and in so doing, that sharp bokkom edge becomes less pronounced. Breaded Bokkom consists of a round slice of bread, halved, with slivers of green apple and bokkom, fried in a pan and served with beurre blanc, a poached egg and garnished with samphire or seekoraal as it is called in Afrikaans – en wat ‘n mooi naam is dit nie? It resembles delicate asparagus and tastes pleasantly…. green. But it’s the contrast of crisp apple and salty bokkom that provides the X factor here.

The gourmet Breaded Bokkom

Have no fear... just go for it

I polished my plate. The menu is small – about six dishes per day – and changes daily. Some form of bokkom is pretty much a given and well worth the journey. Kobus harvests dune plants that used to be West Coast staples but have fallen out of favour. Now people simply no longer know about them. For a main I had to choose between old fashioned chicken pie and calamari bobotie. Much as I love old fashioned chicken pie it was a no-brainer, really.

Heritage fusion food

Bland by nature, calamari perks up nicely as bobotie. The sides here were masterful and I loved how the beetroot bled around the edges. This dish is on par with anything I’ve had in one of our top fine dining restaurants and at R70 it is mind-blowing value. And that sentence really could do with an expletive or two. I’m being far too ordentlik…

Oep ve Koep Bistro is one of a kind. And Kobus is a national treasure. His commitment to raising the kontreikos bar adds heart and authenticity to the local food scene. I was most impressed that someone as young and talented as Kobus was toiling away in a tiny kitchen on the West Coast, digging deep to honour his food roots. Hy maak kosbare bydraes tot ons koserfenis.

Baie te koep

Kobus, dankie vir ‘n heerlike kuier, die lekker vars brood en die tip oor moskonfyt. Ek gebruik dit nou ook om ‘n bietjie Bolandse umami by my kos in te werk!

If you’re looking for that typical Weskus bokkom aan ‘n toutjie vibe, Paternoster se Padstal down the road has them strung up and for the more iffy-at-heart, there’s the vacuum-packed sort that won’t honk up the car.

Not so larney bokkoms

Paternoster has blossomed into a soul food destination with so many restaurants, you need at least a weekend to sample the best of them. Maar dis ‘n ander dag se storie daai.

Oep ve Koep was reviewed on SABC3 Expresso Show on 31 May. All my restaurant reviews are in the process of being uploaded to the Expresso website.

Why am I speaking Japanese to Richard Carstens? We first met as students in the great bad old days when – on the cusp of a new order – one could imagine that Stellenbosch’s Rooi Plein alluded to hip lefty undercurrents, rather than the maxed-out credit ratings of the present.

Heady days indeed. Change was pungent in the air. And out popped a new kind of restaurant on Dorp Street called Le Chameleon. With ex law student Richard in the kitchen. I remember how chuffed I was as a teen when my mom made her first ratatouille. It was the start of my aubergine thing. And at Le Chameleon, Richard sealed the deal with a wonderful melanzane parmigiano. It was all I ever ate there. Aubergine, baked to an ooze, with mozzarella slotted into slits across the top, surrounded by a moat of absurdly divine tomato reduction. It’s the stuff of dreams. And enduring memories. I left Stellenbosch and for many years ordered melanzane parmigiano but nothing came close.

Twenty years on and I’m so happy to hear that he’s joined Tokara, just up the road from me. A suitably impressive establishment for one of South Africa’s most committed culinary pioneers. It was high on my to-eat list when Richard and I connected on Twitter. ‘I still haven’t found a better melanzane parmigiana than the one you used to make in Dorp Street,’ was my immediate response. There’s been a lot of food under the bridge for both of us. Richard has distinguished himself as one of South Africa’s edgiest bright sparks, always pushing food boundaries, and I… well, I’ve dealt with a lot of food. Plus I’ve been quite vocal about my position as proud founder and lifetime president of the FF Alliance (second F standing for Foam). I was a tad apprehensive that this food reunion wouldn’t pan out, what with me being too boring and into plain kos. Up for a retro challenge, Richard offered to create a new wave version of the beloved old melanzane. Thrilled, I rocked up for a 10-course chefs menu with the melanzane cheekily positioned at the 6-course mark. This was going to be an exercise in restraint… and endurance.

The Modernist, Richard Carstens

Not to digress but Tokara has breathtaking views of the Stellenbosch valley. The weather permitted a stoep lunch.

Big open dining

Richard was one of the first local chefs to pick up on the Spanish wave that revolutionized fine dining, driven by the brothers Adria and their scientific deconstruction of ingredients, only to reconstruct flavours and textures in surprising combinations. He made his first savoury gorgonzola ice cream in 1999 and with all the sci-fi tricks bagged and at his disposal, has moved on to what he calls modernist cooking, with flavour being the holy grail.

'Sashimi', cob wasabi yoghurt, green tea, rice & seaweed

The first course posed a challenge: identify the origin of the red slivers, pictured bottom right. It was silky and meaty in texture – incredibly so – and after a few seconds in my mouth I thought ‘Egad, I’m eating rabbit carpaccio!’ I so convinced myself it was raw rabbit that I couldn’t finish it. Turned out to be watermelon, cooked whole at a low temperature, overnight, then cut, drained of juice, deseeded, compressed, vacuum-frozen and finally, sliced very finely. I was much relieved to be wrong. And impressed. It really was very… meaty. The rest of the dish was a subtle oceanic flavour-interlude.

Calamari, squid ink brioche, lemon veloute, garlic, parsley and rice crisp

His current food philosophy is tech-emotional: capturing and reworking the influence of memory on food appreciation. South Africans love calamari and his take on this standard is layered with light lemony flavours.

Roasted beetroot, yellow pepper emulsion, fennel, pear, gorgonzola and hazelnut streusel

This was a favourite. Clean earthy notes with punchy gorgonzola. Given his attention to detail and precision-plating, people assume he’s spent time in Japan. Not so. Richard is largely self-taught and driven to expand his own horizons, even if it means translating a Spanish recipe word for word, dictionary in hand.

A Carstens classic - baked alaska of rainbow trout, citrus salsa, cucumber, ginger, soya, mirin and smoked salmon ice cream

At this point I started fretting. Would my appetite stick around for the funked-up 21st century version of the melanzane? I had a tiny taste of the next course.

A very fetching fossilized parsnip, mushroom soil, hazelnut honeycomb with miso and truffle

Fossilized to perfection. By now I was edging my seat, rifling through the taste bud library for that old favourite flavour memory. I crashed the kitchen to see how my melanzane parmigiana – post molecular gastronomy and with the benefit of tech-emo gestalt – was coming on.

Hello stranger! After 20 years she's had a bit of work done... but the bones are still good

Finally, the great reveal.

TADAA! Crumbed aubergine and mozzarella, parmesan veloute, tomato gazpacho, roast cherry tomato sorbet

One hell of a makeover but quite incredibly the little melanzane,  that long-lost object of my affection, tasted EXACTLY as it did twenty years ago. Awesome! What a joyous reunion. The aubergine was melt-in-the-mouth delicious but it’s all about the tomato (I’ll refrain from calling it ‘sauce’). Reduced for hours to release amazing flavour. Thank you Richard for this much appreciated indulgence down memory lane!

Sesame linefish, ginger sake parsnips with citrus emulsion

Given my happy reunion with old missus melanzane, the following didn’t stand a chance. Plus I mistook the citrus emulsion for common old foam and we know how that doesn’t go down.

Peppered springbok, parsnip puree, beetroot, croquettes and hibiscus jus

A yummy dish, especially the Tretchikoffy puddles of jus. My appetite was waning fast but knowing that Richard’s latest passion was dessert, I’d spotted a deconstructed malva pudding on their five-course winter menu and thought… if ten, then why not eleven?

Lemon, mascarpone mousse, white chocolate sorbet, meringue and almond financier

I don’t have much of a sweet tooth (except for Malva pudding and the odd shard of Lindt) but this was so light I pretty much inhaled it. A kind of amuse bouche to clear the way for the deconstructed malva. How utterly wicked!

Precious Malva - Mach 2

A veritable odyssey. My first and possibly last 11 course meal. I usually get food hangovers from tasting menus. Yet, even after 11 courses (I didn’t photograph the sorbet palate cleanser, nor do I recall eating it and that can only be a good thing cause maybe it didn’t happen), I didn’t have that awful over-stuffed, liverish feeling. Although busy with colour and flavour, his food is clean and not loaded with starch and cheap-thrill fats. It’s what fellow blogger and chef Kobus van der Merwe of Oep-ve-Koep in Paternoster calls ‘happy food’. Considering the tremendous focus and intent concentrated in every effort, the end result is surprisingly light. And playful. And cheeky.

Me thinks Richard-san is styling in his ayrie. I just wish some patron of the culinary arts would send this man to Japan for a bit. The inspiration overflow will ripple through the industry. For years to come.

Tokara, for years home to Bonthuys The Saucerer, now hosting the tech-emo Wizard of oz.

This new food memory was enabled by Twitter, cause that’s how mr Carstens and I reconnected after many years. So follow me @kitchenvixenSA and him @richardcarstens and also @Tokara. And you’ll see why I call him the Samurai of Sweet. He’s just rolling them out. OK, enough with the Suzuki-speak now.

Without knowing that Assaggi was Italian for ‘to taste, try a little, or to peck at’, that’s exactly what I did when I was lucky enough to eat there. Owner Mario Guerini and chef Luca Toni graciously trimmed down the portions so that I could absorb as much of the menu as possible. I’d heard the food was brilliant and a girl has her limitations.

I’d also heard that the restaurant itself was not the greatest looker. And in particular that the setting was kind of juxtapositional to the food, which greatly appealed to me. It was day two of my Joburg trip and Mrs Garmin and I had finally started bonding so when she ordered me to park here, I did just that:

An unassuming little centre in Illovo, Sandton

I prefer my Italian restaurants family-run, with huge pride in quality and a pragmatic approach to decor. And such is the case at Assaggi.

Part walk-way, part restaurant

Not a Philippe Starck Ghost Chair in sight - YAY!

I’ll refrain from name dropping but during lunch I recognised quite a few VIPs… artists, ex-politicians, famously famous people… apparently Brett Kebble used to host his Monday night supper club here (if you’ve read the Kebble book the name should ring a bell) and may I add, with bloody good reason. Assaggi puts many a bastardized Italian joint to shame.

I’m inclined to gauge a restaurant by how they manage the simple things, like a little salad, plus I felt the need for a palate cleanser of sorts. So my first dish was a tomato and red onion salad. As simple as can be.

Why do I not eat this every day?

We spend so much time devising wayward combos and fusion-funk, when one could always have a humble tomato and red onion salad. Chances are you’ll be happier. This was an absolute stunner and I took note that the tomatoes were peeled. When next I make this at home, I’ll go that extra mile. Not that my guests should expect tomato roses any time soon.

Luganica con bruschetta

The gents at the next table had heaps of deep-fried zucchini ribbons that looked delicious, so I got a wee bruschetta with a grilled Italian sausage and lightly-battered zucchini worms as an inbetweener. The zucchini ribbons were rich enough to be lip-smacking, yet light and very much still vegetable.

Lasagna with fresh asparagus and brie cheese

I couldn’t resist their signature dish, a lasagna with fresh asparagus and brie. Thank you Luca for this downright dainty little portion. It was sublime. I have every intention of recreating this one at home… and in fact was planning on doing so tomorrow but asparagus out of season is hard to come by and shockingly expensive. It is a deceptively simple dish with hints of nutmeg and earthy asparagus in layers of fresh pasta and subtle cheese. A strong contender for best comfort food ever.

Sirloin of veal marinated in garlic, olive oil and rosemary

Their food is phenomenal and if I was going to have just one course, or perhaps two, I might not have chosen the veal marinated in garlic, olive oil and rosemary, served with roasted potatoes and tomatoes. But on this day I felt like clean flavours. Plus I’m a sucker for roast tomatoes. The marinated veal requires only a quick searing, so have it as per the chef’s recommendation.

No! she cried. How to resist a teeny taste of their most popular dessert – for the life of me I can’t remember the name – light and creamy with nuts and crunchy bits of biscuit drenched in a delicious liquor.

The final act

I enjoyed my meal with a glass of their house red, the Assaggi Private Bin 07. A blend of pinot noir and shiraz. Have you ever? I LOVE pinot noir (especially in summer as I’m not big on white wine) and shiraz is my standard go-to in winter, so this seemed like an interesting all-weather solution.

Assaggi Private Bin 07 (R125)

Lighter than a typical red – in the Italian easy-drinking way – yet more robust than a Pinot. I was very happy.

Chef Luca and owner Mario

Assaggi prides itself on quality ingredients prepared according to classic, traditional Italian recipes. Mario is friendly yet unyielding when he states that they refuse to South Africanize recipes to suit customer whim. And therein lies the beauty of Assaggi. By sticking to the classics, they’ve become one.

I’m reviewing Assaggi on SABC3 Expresso Show tomorrow morning at approximately 6.50 am.

These days, pork belly is on every fine dining menu. Almost without fail. Mostly infused with Asian flavour and preferably with crisp crackling. I’ve been less than impressed with some of the offerings, either due to blubbery skin or dried-out meat. Which left the impression that pork belly was somehow difficult to prepare. Fear set in. Could little old me do this, at home? So when I bought half a pork belly from Joostenberg Deli, the occasion demanded that rarest of rare kitchen vixen occurrences: a recipe!

By process of elimination (time & ingredient availability) I decided on Marcus Wareing’s Blackened chili belly of pork on page 106 of Nutmeg & Custard.

Left: the end. Right: the means

It is a basic recipe that I was determined to follow to the letter. If anyone, Marcus could take the blame. The only exceptional instruction was to rub the skin with salt and let stand for two hours. Why? He didn’t say but salt always draws moisture so that might have something to do with it (I’m just following orders here, right). Finely chop and mix together the following: salt, red chillies, soy sauce, a really big knob of ginger, demerara sugar, cloves garlic and maple syrup. My Eerste Kookboek couldn’t be simpler. Rinse the pork, pat dry and coat with the soy mixture.

Not to be mistaken for a festive ham

I must admit, I had two people coming for dinner (one of them my rather hard to please cousin) and things just weren’t going my way. I slashed the tip off my ring finger whilst chopping. I know! The bloody ring finger – what’s the knife doing over there in the first place? Waaay off course… Plus I have a rather basic gas stove sans grill. Under 180 degrees you have to guess the temperature by the size of a little blue flame down below… so I free-styled the belly at a random low temperature for two and a half hours.

I needed an easy side so decided on sweet potato mash with spring onions. A brief boil, then mashed with a dash of coconut milk, a hand full of spring onions and a pinch of salt. And butter, of course. It is mash after all. What a lovely, clean-tasting dish. Perfect with an Asian-style meat main. I had fancy ideas of carrot and courgette ribbons steamed and flashed in sesame oil, lime and coriander but after the detipping of the ring finger I didn’t have the nerve to use a mandolin so settled on courgettes, steamed and flashed with a few rosa tomatoes, lime, sesame oil and coriander.

In mash I trust

With the meat roasting away at a mystery temperature I started fretting, until cousin J reminded me that I had a meat thermometer (thanks Weber) and a quick google search revealed that pork is done at 71 degrees. The thick ginger and chili coating meant this belly was never going to crackle. I had to make do with the little grill in my microwave to blacken the pork and lo-and-behold, when I took it out cousin J said the magic words: ‘It looks exactly like the picture’. Waves of relief I tell you… and at 76 degrees it was perfectly done.

I deviated from the recipe only once – by adding half a bottle of cider – to keep the soy sauce from burning. Permissible, I’d say. Cousin J and Hermien loved it, with cousin even pronouncing the belly to be ‘a bloody marvelous piece of meat’. Although the skin wasn’t crisp, the blackened ginger and chili crust saved it from having that blubbery look, plus the flavour was amazing. It takes about three hours from start to plate (excluding time spent resting with salt) and provided you get going in time, there really isn’t much to it. Let the improvisation begin. Next, I’ll go the bay leaf and fennel seed route…

It was love at first sight when I read a Tashas menu on the internet two years ago. I wish Cape Town had one of these, I thought, and since mid April, we do. At Constantia Village.

With one Mozambican Greek granny and another from Cyprus, Tasha has great food genes. She bought a Ninos store in 2001, converted it to the first Tashas and today has five stores in Joburg, one in Pretoria, one in Durban and the most recent arrival in Constantia.

Sideris siblings, Savva and Tasha

I love the all-day availability of eggy meals, the robust Mediterranean flavour combos popping with fresh greens and the generally generous sauciness of their food. Not to mention the bespoke interiors. It’s a chain, but not. Light breezy interiors are a characteristic, as are natural textures and the Tashas signature blue/grey/green palette. Each store has its own local flavour. Urban melting pot in Rosebank vs champagne set at Melrose Arch, to describe but two. For Constantia, Tasha wanted to recapture some of the French flair of her first store at Atholl Square.

Fern-like installations in leafy Constantia

Now, enough about the decor. I was super excited to sample her menu and as the Afrikaans saying goes, die oomblik was vir my te groot… I got a bit…dilly. My friend Douw, with enfuriating clarity, ordered the perfect cold weather meal. A delicious French onion soup with Gruyere croutons. Lovely at R48.

He cared less for sharing...?

I suffered from a bout of ordering-anxiety so eventually played spin-the-spoon on the menu and asked for a half-portion of baby pear and gorgonzola salad. It was really good but it wasn’t French onion soup. Have I mentioned the generous portions?

Quite full-on, as half portions go...

Douw again hit the nail on the head with a hearty bowl of pea and bacon pasta topped with ricotta cheese (R78). I fell for the more showy linefish in light soya, spring onion, sundried tomato, green olive and lemon sauce served with truffle oil parmesan potatoes (R130). Both are from the signature Constantia menu.

Pea and bacon in Napoletana, topped with ricotta cheese

Linefish with crisp-fried baby potatoes

I loved the tart, lemony sundried tomato and green olive sauce but would have preferred the fish and potatoes less fried. If you love your baby potatoes done to a golden crisp, this one’s for you. A meal with cold-weather gravitas but beyond my capacity.

Still not convinced that I’d had enough of Tashas, I went back for the crayfish sandwich – yet another Constantia signature dish. Two tails in Marie Rose dressing and herb salsa with green olives, lemon and capers. Served with chips and, of course, gold cutlery. Got to love it. Gold cutlery, but only if you order the crayfish salad or sarmie (R160 – R210 depending on tail size). Another brilliant touch for the Southern belles would be The King, Queen and I trio of fresh crustless gourmet sandwiches. Perfect for nibbling on with a glass of crisp Constantia wine, of which there is plenty on the wine list.

Marie Antoinette will have the bread, actually

I love a bit of Marie Rose with shellfish and topped with this herb salsa, the crayfish was delicious. The menu recommends ciabatta but I foolishly asked for baguette (stickler for the French theme) which was semi-rye and quite chewy. My little gold knife couldn’t quite cut it… Crayfish with such a nice dressing – me thinks – is best served on soft white bread to absorb the lovely juices. If you can’t make up your mind about the bread, there’s always cake. And lots of it.

Spoiled for choice

The pear and almond tart was bliss. I’m not mad for muffins but I thought their selection looked extremely perky.

Not for my muffin top, thank you

Tashas… welcome to the Cape. With plans of having 12 – 15 bespoke stores countrywide in the next five years, I’m holding thumbs for one in the winelands. Avoid ordering-anxiety by visiting www.tashas.co.za for a good look & drool at the menu. Next time I’m going with the gourmet hot dog.

I’ll be reviewing Tashas at Constantia Village tomorrow morning at approximately 6.50 am on SABC3 Expresso Show. It’ll drive you to eggs. And crispy bacon. Come prepared…

They say never trust a thin chef but with Hartford House’s Jackie Cameron ‘they’ couldn’t be more wrong. She’s beyond passionate – by her own admission, she’s obsessive – and her achievements as head chef over the past eight years walk the talk.

Petite kitchen dynamite

At the tender age of 28 she’s been at the helm of this revered establishment’s kitchen for eight years and she now laughs at how confident she was when she took over as a very fresh 20-year old. Hartford House encapsulates old world charm, gracious hospitality and colonial comfort. Jackie’s menus are a gourmet tribute to the incredible producers of fine food in her area and she champions indigenous ingredients like Zulu potatoes, or Amadumbe, by letting them shine as the base ingredient in mash, rostis, blinis and soups.

Eggs Hollandaise with bacon and amadumbe rosti

Visit her blog at http://blog.hartford.co.za/recipes to recreate a bit of Hartford magic at home.

Poultry with provenance

As a boutique hotel destination in the KZN Midlands, Hartford House is open seven days a week, breakfast to dinner. And every meal is prepared and served with heart. For more on Jackie and her country-fresh gourmet offerings, I’m reviewing the restaurant at Hartford House tomorrow morning on SABC3 Expresso Show at 6.50am.

A fat screen, cucumber sandwiches and spiked tea was on my wish list for the royal wedding and for once my fairy godmother over-delivered. With a pink fur wand thrown in for good measure.

Wish list: check, check and check

Bless the Honourable Lady Hanlie Hill and Andie, Empress of Events, for hosting a high tea complete with Yorkshire puddings, Scotch eggs and Pimms. Boland princesses sporting fur (fake and real), tiaras, old wedding dresses and homecrafted fascinators* descended on Vriesenhof for the day. I landed a last minute invite and arrived, burning rubber, a few seconds before Kate.

Kate, behind Duchess Annette of Joostenberg's fascinator*

The Empire strikes back in the Boland

Back when Charles and Di got married the entire school sat wide-eyed in front of a massive old Telefunken. And I was young enough to make believe that a princess could hail from Uitenhage… any event, I was mesmerized and designed Lady Di-inspired ballgowns for months. Perhaps because of how Charles and Di ended, or because I’m 30 years older, or because this time around there was bubbly, delicious food and funky princesses to talk to, the actual wedding did less for me. But the party was delicious!

Scotch eggs, lovingly prepared by Prince Simon von Olding in his dressing gown in the early morning hours. The dedication!

And Prince von Olding’s delicious pork pie…

Lord only knows how many eggs he boiled

I loved hanging with Baroness Mila von Reyneke, as always. She’s channeling a bit of foxy Queen Mum here…

Mila van de hooglande

Lord Borrie and Andie, Empress of Events

And of course Lord Borrie’s jellies… what’s a royal shindig without a good jelly?

Britannia waives-the-rules-jellies for the colonies

The aristocats really went to town.

Princess Inke von All und Sandri's bejewelled cupcakes

Thank you ladies for a LOVELY lavish bash. I think Camilla Duchess of Cornwall and I felt much the same on Saturday morning…

Rockin it royally

*O yes, ere I forget – this is a disastrous example of a ‘fascinator’.

I blame Fergie. For everything.

AND THEN, ON SUNDAY, A VERY REAL WEDDING….

For reasons too numerous to mention, my friend Callie Maritz is a legend. Suffice to say if you partied at the Onverklaarbar in Hermanus in its heyday, you’ll know Callie. On Sunday he finally took himself off the market by marrying Claudia, the most gorgeous woman and the mother of his 4-month old son, Pierre. In an aunt’s garden in Rosebank, Callie and Claudia tied the knot and baby was christened.

Love, love, love

It was a super relaxed affair. The service was quite… interactive… there were so many little people present, at one point it looked like they were getting married in a kindergarten. The babes were all on their best behaviour and only added to the charm of the day.

Mini witnesses everywhere

As one half of the ubertalented Cakebread team (with his dynamo of a sister Mari-Louis Guy) I expected the desserts to be 100% gorgeous.

Given time, their lovely book 'Cakes to Celebrate Love and Life' will outsell Wilbur Smith

For once Callie was less concerned with the cake table and lavished loads of attention on this little fellow.

This little piggy went to Salt River market...

Fit for a groom

I know how these pics upset sensitive readers but it was Callie’s big day and that’s that. Of all the heartfelt moments at their wedding, I think this picture captures the spirit best…

A love knot

It was by far the most relaxed wedding I’ve ever attended. Unlike Will and Kate they kissed often and laughed loudly. Big love to the radiant bride, her forever ouskool-cool hubby, and their beautiful bundle of boy!