Black South-Eaters

In this media drenched, data-rich, channel-surfing, computer-gaming age, we have lost the art of doing nothing, of shutting out the background noise and distractions, of slowing down and simply being alone with our thoughts. Boredom-the word itself hardly existed a150 years ago-is a modern invention. Remove all stimulation, and we fidget, panic and look for something, anything, to do to make use of the time. When did you last see someone just gazing out the train window on a train? Everyone is too busy reading the paper, playing video games, listening to iPods, working on their laptops, yammering into mobile phones.

Instead of thinking deeply, or letting an idea simmer in the back of the mind, our instinct now is to reach for the nearest sound bite. In modern warfare, correspondents in the field and pundits in the studio spew out instant analyses of events as they occur. Often their insights turn out to be wrong. But that hardly matters nowadays: in the land of speed, the man with the instant response is king. With satellite feeds and 24 hour news channels, the electronic media is dominated by what one French sociologist dubbed ‘le fast thinker’ – a person who can, without skipping a beat, summon up a glib answer to any question.

In a way, we are all fast thinkers now. Our impatience is so implacable that, as actress-author Carrie Fisher quipped, even ‘instant gratification takes too long.’

…So the smallest setback, the slightest delay, the merest whiff of slowness, can now provoke vein-popping fury in otherwise ordinary people everywhere (Carl Honore, In Praise of Slow).

On 11 July my good friends introduced me to Darling Brew which they got at the Stellenbosch Market, a slow beer, for a slow soul, on a slow birthday except for a World Cup final. A beer that was inspired by the geometric tortoise, which is found only in the Western Cape and the Kalahari and is extremely rare. According to its creators Kevin and Philippa Wood this tortoise captures the uniqueness and the unhurried character that is Darling Brew.

The beer is crisp and light (4% alcohol), with roasted aromas, is natural (preservative free) and has a 4 and a half week brewing time. The apparent response to their SLOW BEER has been excellent.
Currently their little micro brewery is focusing on supplying draught and bottled beers to restaurants in Darling and the West Coast Region.

It is available at The Marmalade Cat, Vyge Valley Farm Stall, Evita se Perron and Groote Post. Also available in Riebeek Kasteel’s Auntie Pasti, Paternoster’s Voorstrand, Blouberg’s Carluccis and Stellenbosch’s Slow Food Market.

And in an age of instant gratification I suspect that we are just going to have to wait for Darling Brew to make its mark and find some shelf space at the major Retailers but it is definitely worth all of the enduring slowness that accompanies its quiet revolution. It’s a great beer.

Email: wood@darlingbrew.co.za

A few years ago Alif Tree released an electronic, downtempo, nu-jazz styled album, French Cuisine on the Compost label. A strong album at the time but more ambitiously one which tried to pair the inputs of the DJ with the food. Here is what Alexandre Alif had to say:

How many times have you found yourself at a reputable table, classical or modern, chic or friendly, saliving before hand thanks to the scents exhaled from the dishes and the kitchens, only to feel that some mysterious element stands in the way your desire?

What can this strange force be? Without even noticing it, you have already started to raise your voice, or on the contrary, have you have become silent, shy or dumb in front of the other guests?

Could it be that DJ who had the good idéa to accompany your plates, however light and refined, by a mix which would make even the hottest moments of a spanish club seem lukewarm? Or that again, could it be the exquisite taste of yet another comical rerun of the “Jeux Interdits” DX7 version, or that of Mozart’s Requiem, version “midifile” performed by sir Bontempi himself?

Tell me, how do you feel in front of this tension emanating from the neighbouring table (add to this uncontrolable cigar spirals, cuban of course), scrupulously belching figures of Nikei’s evolution since the beginning of the year? Oh yes, your dish will certainly meet up to all your expectations, impeccable service, perfect lighting (a little dodgy maybe…), but what’s left of the meal itself?

What kind of souvenir or moment is left behind from this heterogeneous atmosphere where the taste, the right taste will only stop at your plate? Oh, that poor table where everything is possible and so many memorable moments have been engraved, that same table is crying out for music. But not any kind of music, and certainly not at any price nor or at any volume.

I now think that you’re ready, besides a few easy recipes which figure amonst my favourite dishes, to try out a few suggestions concocted in a musical vein, far removed from any kind of so called “programming”. One could call them atmospheres, but try not to evoke the common or impersonnal meaning of the term. No, these are more like flavours, a community of rediscovered senses, enabling the table to re invest it’s original meaning, and also allowing your palettes to experience a certain harmony re-designed for infinite tones and privileged moments, so that finally, that onehundreth “sole meuniere”, or that famous home made “pâté” can once again make a claim to that innovating, unique glow. And to complete it all, what would you say to a little suggestion concerning the tones and the light?

So good listening, and …….bon appétit!

Alexandre AL!F

To date we’ve not gone down this pairing route instead we have simply given you a couple of soundtracks to accompany a memorable evening of ‘fine’ wine and dining but it does make for interesting discourse. How to construct a menu and the musical mood for the evening, if you’ve got a menu perhaps we’ve got the perfect soundtrack; drop us a line.

Saint Jacques and leek nibbles – See all of Alif’s menus.

La Colombe
Cuisine: French, Fusion
Ambience: Classic Elegance
Where: Constantia Uitsig Wine Estate Spaanschemat River Road, Constantia Uitsig Wine Estate Constantia

The following quote from Absolute Power, the Pope Idol episode reminds me of how I felt on visiting La Colombe recently:

Screen subtitle – Posh Restaurant

“Most of the women who visit this restaurant worry about whether the menu will make them fat. I worry that it will make me middle-class.”

And while the experience and the food was good, the starter better than the main, there is something about the place that I didn’t like and it probably has something to do with the expectation that it would be award winningly fabulous but once it was all said and done it just felt middle class and safe.

Like a Cinema Nouveau experience in Cavendish Square where most things on the cusp of vaguely challenging have been quarantined, La Colombe have mastered that art of keeping things review friendly and agreeable, you are experiencing fine dining but yet there should be more and while you can’t quite put your finger on it something feels dull and a little food boring.

I had a straight three course meal: Springbok tataki starter which was my personal highlight, the line fish main and the Cashew nut parfait with dark chocolate and orange mousse. The others had the Winter special dinner menu which they paired with the selected wines. We all enjoyed our food but I personally felt quietly unfulfilled.

Address 1: Café Ganesh, Trill Road, Observatory, 021-448 3435

Imali: R60.00 (4 drinks for two, free orange vibes) + R9.00 for crisps from the corner cafee.

Address 2: Mezzaluna, 16 Loop Street (corner of Loop and Riebeeck Street), Cape Town, 021-421 6391 (see previous review).

Lire: Can’t remember, it was a lot (courtesy Voronki, and included a bottle of wine at excellent value – R140.00 – and four grappa at ∑R100.00)

The long introduction

The worldcup finals are moving at pace – like a German counter-attack – to the final final and, like many football crazy people, I wish it could start all over. Like many sentimental fools, I feel for all the teams that played hard but who, alas, did not make it.

Except for England, simply because of the hype in the anglophone media and popular anglophone/anglophile imagination that always accompanies that team’s forays into international competition. Made up of players from the ‘best league in the world‘, it is repeated ad nauseum. But sans any acknowledgement that that league competition itself is made up of many non-English players. Who might make shine players like Rooney and Gerrard. Or that there are other club competitions which Commonwealth fans do not follow as closely because of colonial legacies (football and politics… there, I said it.)

That colonial legacy dictates cultural strains (yes, I mean it in both senses) and determines which leagues get the best coverage in local media and which leagues are most popular. But it is odd that punters may be shocked to discover that there actually are other league competitions and other countries in which the quality of football outstrips the only football they know about. Sold on the marketing. And ignorant of Flavour Flav’s admonishment: ‘Don’t believe the hype!’ It’s almost as if some people are shocked that other countries could have premier leagues from which players may be drawn for national teams that turn out to better than Ingerland. The temerity!

I attended, among others, the England-Algeria group game in Cape Town with Mr. 302 and BookSA (thanks to 302). We were surrounded by South African fans of the England team. Every now and then I would yell in support of Algeria as counterpoint, much as one would perhaps have some mint sauce as counterpoint to rich lamb. Call me contrarian, but I was really rooting for an England booting, so as to avoid an England-Germany clash in the Round of 16, an unnecessary anxiety.

Every time I yelled for Algeria, the SA-England fans would turn to look at me as if I was a traitor in their midsts. But it seemed as if the fans could not even comprehend the existence of a country called ‘Algeria’, much less that they could have a football team, and much less one that could hold ‘mighty’ England to a draw. And everytime chants swelled from the Algerian fans’ block, I noticed people around me look in that direction, ‘What are those Arabs chanting?’ written nervously across their faces.

Anyway.

So, yes, I am sad because I always have more than one favourite team, or I have favourite players in a team. Or I like their names. Or I have a virtual relationship with some players via computer games. Etc. Thus I am sad that Cameroon just never got it together. Nor Ivory Coast. Nor Japan. Brazil taken out by the Netherlands. Brazil! Etc.

But I am happy that Germany (!) appears unstoppable, although Spain (Spain!) could block them. And don’t forget the Netherlands (Hup!). Uruguay! (I’ve always liked Diego Forlan as a striker and that goal against South Africa early on made nonsense of any complaints about the ball.)

Anyhoo, let’s get onto more serious matters. For the games that I have attended, circumstances and the weather have conspired against me going on the fan walk and stopping off at Lusitania fisheries for their very excellent fried fish, which, a week before the worldcup,  was cheap at R21.00 for a piece of fish. I hope tomorrow, for the Brazil-Ghana Netherlands-Uruguay semi-final, that the weather is fine. I want some of that fish.

Food and football adventures have had their ups and downs. The biggest downer was Dias Tavern, although the food was good. Voronki and I, wanting to experience a bit of the gees of a sunny Saturday afternoon, decided on lunch and Netherlands vs Japan at Dias Tavern. We called. ‘Yes, we are showing that match. There is rugby on later (SA vs Italy) but we’ll keep everyone happy.’

We started with some delectable grilled sardines and squid tentacles, drenching all in Dias Tavern’s own peri-peri sauce. Good times as we watched football, talked, explained, laughed… but stopped short of singing and dancing as we quaffed the Graça. Yes, we seeked the high in the low, and often a popsong can have more depth of feeling than a Shakespeare sonnet.

Orders in for mains of trinchado (damn, that stuff is good) and fish&chips. All good, all peri-peri. Have more Graça.

Half-time and the sound gets turned down. Surreptitiously, the channels on all the screens are switched. A rugby crowd drifts in. Fifteen minutes later, 2 English tourists are complaining. OK, Dias will turn on the football on one screen, but sans sound. English tourists decide to go elsewhere. They settle the bill, but grump on, justifiably. We too had been led to believe that, yes, there will be football and everyone would be kept happy. We were also grumpy, despite the tender trinchado and crispy fish, despite the haze of  contentment settling on our brains like a sluggish gastropod. Make that the sluggish tail of a crustacean, lightly dusted and seasoned, flash-fried, served with peri-peri.

Wait. What?

Oh, right. It’s not like SA vs Italy is a meaningful rugby game. And I overheard the owner/manager say to English tourist 1 that rugby is more popular ‘here’ (in South Africa? at Dias Tavern?). As a business proposition on that day, it was clear that the shebeen had big bookings for the rugby match. Why could the tavern not simply have said: ‘Big crowd for the rugby match today, so we may have problems accommodating the football.’ But no, they wanted to get the earnings of the measly 3 football tables in as well and thus hoodwinked us football fans. Greedy bastardo!

Well, English tourist kept on grumping and eventually the owner/manager gave him his money back with a dismissive wave of the hand. 0-0 draw.

We maintained our quality of movement off the ball, settling the bill with panache (thanks Voronki) and wishing Portugal an early exit (hah!). It will be some time before I am persuaded back to Dias Tavern. But then again, that trinchado is something. And so are the fish&chips. God, I am of weak principle when things fried crispy are mentioned…

Netherlands vs Brazil – 2:1 (0:1)

Voronki and I decided to provide some gees at Café Ganesh for this game. A regular there had taken over and decked the place out in orange balloons. Some counter-attacking came from the organiser of a birthday party there later that evening, but the blue, green and yellow ribbons kept on bursting.

Ganesh was selling drinks only. Following the radical dip in attendances after South Africa’s exit, they closed the samoosa bar (hot snacks including their delicious crayfish [lobster] samoosas). But the Castle Stout was only R15.00 a bottle and Ganesh allowed snacks in. That’s Lays crisps at R9.00 a big bag from the corner cafee, picked up during a counter-attacking run down the left channel.

The crisps were fresh and crackling, the stout was dark and stout. The vuvuzelas were joyous, but sometimes mournful, like an unnameable beast retreated behind a bank of reeds to there accept its death in age.

Uruguay vs Ghana – 1:1 a.e.t. (1:1, 0:1) 4:2 PSO

Voronki came up with the sparkling idea that a dinner at Mezzaluna would be just the thing to extend some worldcup gees. Not a ‘boo’ or a ‘bah’ you’ll hear from this black south-eater at the mention of Mezzaluna. And off we sped in the Volvozela.

Our favourite restaurateur appeared tired, but welcomed us as early diners (6.15 pm I think we got there) and ushered us to our favourite table in a restaurant all to ourselves. He had just seen off a slagorde of Dutch journos, clearly wasn’t expecting droves of ‘normal’ diners, but warned us that a squadra of Italian journos would be watching and eating in the lounge/smoking section across the hallway.

We didn’t mind at all. In fact, we will be joining after dinner, we said. But, are you open for dinner? And my condolences for Italy’s early exit.

At the mention of the Azzurri, Mr. Fiore cocked his head in his inimitable style, hunched his shoulders and drew his hands palms upwards: ‘Well, if you don’t want to play football…’

While he went to check on the state of the kitchen, a waiter brought us bread and menus. As usual, indecision with the wine.

But Mr. Fiore returned, happy that the water was on the boil. He quickly told us what was no longer available. More importantly, and what I like about him, is that he knows just when to enter the fray of indecision and solve your problem. And so he decided that we should have the burrata, mozarella and prosciutto crudo for starters, as well as a Tamboerskloof shiraz (I forget the vintage. My apologies, but I have football on my mind).

At R140.00, the wine was a ridiculous bargain.

The burrata and prosciutto, locally made, were excellent. The cheese is for dairy lovers: as you cut into it, creamy milk spills out, which you can sop up with bits of ham. (Alas, it is cow’s milk.) I did not quite catch who the cheese makers are, but Mr. Fiore waved with his hand when he said that it was locally made, as if to indicate a garagiste cheese operation somewhere in Green Point.

Having vowed not to order something we’ve had before at Mezzaluna, Voronki chose the calf’s liver and onions fried in butter and served with mashed potato, and I plumped for the tagliatelle e salsiccia. Both were sensational, and sensationally rich. I want more, of both. The sausage, also local Italian, reminded me of the fagioli e salsiccia I had in Umbria. Rich and salty and, it goes without saying, perfectly cooked tagliatelle. Excuse the expression, but I hoovered that up.

In between me drawing breath, Voronki offered me morsels of the liver. A little pink on the inside, it maintained that ferric taste, but not as strong, obviously, as ox liver. It was tender yet stout, and rich, and the onions… probably the most delicious onions I’ve ever tasted done that way (OK, maybe the onions I once simmered for an hour+ to go on boerewors rolls were better.)

Content with The Warm Glow, we decamped to the smoking area where soon the squad of journalists arrived and pierced their burrata. There was no controversy at our table; no handballs, no penalties, no nothing. Just espresso and grappa. A perfect prelude to the next day’s stout questions put to Argentina by Germany.

We generally like our blondes in bottles but we are however prepared to make exceptions when the price is right, yes putting all dogma briefly aside we’ll change beer types (what were you thinking we were talking about) and most definitely visit new restaurants. Click on the image for more details.

(No it’s not me).

We had Boerewors Rolls at the UFO, it was our third time at the Cape Town Stadium and just like the football was getting serious so too did we think that we should better give some of the food a try.

In the Group stages we got the insights of former Chicago resident about the hotdogs on offer, he said that it was above average, like a Nathan’s dog except that it was probably five ZAR to expensive (R20) but that the service and the sauce were good.

While acknowledging his assessment we decided to try the more traditional option: a good processed Boerewors Roll on a cold night prior to the local battle of Iberia between Spain and Portugal.

As we had been before and had made some notes we knew exactly where to go to get our food quickly. Once you are through security and have entered the Stadium, climb those steps to the plateau, go left for 100m on the outer circumference and there you will find a food and drinks stand which relatively few people appear to know about largely because it is slightly removed from stadium’s food core.

That’s where we went for our food, and within 30 seconds it arrived, I inspected mine and then proceeded to douse it with mustard and tomato sauce anticipating something a little more threatening but it was ok, it didn’t need all of the condiments but I was glad that they included it in a pack with a serviette.

So not too bad on a cold night, better than the Bud and better than Portugal.