Rossouws Restaurants

The most interesting thing about lunch at the Newlands Wijnhuis yesterday was learning that its sister restaurant, La Perla, is closing this winter for renovations after 50 years of operation. Our waiter looked familiar and he turned out to be a 34 year veteran of La Perla, his son now also working for this family operation. Wijnhuis Newlands, unlike the Stellenbosch incarnation, has the distinction of having this cadre of elderly Muslim gentlemen who serve you with dignified reserve. They are efficient in the way that  professional waiters have, they are not easily moved and can seem pretty rude, or at least offish - at least that’s what happened at La Perla.

Wijnhuis Newlands occupies a higgeldy-piggeldy space that manages to combine stylistic clutter reasonably well so that the sum of the parts feels comfortable. Businessmen love it. The menu is ostensibly Italian, with simple meats, pastas and pizza, but the execution and quality are both so ordinary that all becomes generic restaurant food. At least they have a good wine selection and decent prices - though very few by the glass?

On Friday, The Hungry Man, Bevan Newton Johnson and I ate at David Higg’s Rust en Vrede restaurant. It was my first visit and it will not be my last. From the greeting along the garden path, to the relaxed but sexy interior of this renovated old wine cellar to the proficient staff, the experience was top class even before we touched a morsel of food.

They warn you on the phone that here you have only three options: four course a la carte; six course chef’s menu; or six courses with wine pairings. It’s serious stuff. We were all set on the six course, planning to trust our own wine pairings - though it must be said that the matches proposed by sommelier Neil were good (not something you can always take for granted). But by the time our excitement at launching into the six abated a little and we looked at the four course a la carte, we jumped sides. The four seemed to have more adventurous options on the night.

Mine were: Fois gras terrine with smyrna fig and brioche in a cylinder; goat’s cheese souffle; lamb on a bed of finely sliced green beans with a sublime truffly jus; and a berry tart to finish. The flavours were poised and elegant, the plating (on own design crockery) enticing. Higg’s is a “less is more” man, understating rather than obliterating the fine ingredients he employs.

This is one of the Cape’s, and South Africa’s, great food experiences. THM had to agree that even his morose mood (apparently a regular Friday occurrence) was mitigated and excised by the evening. A last detail - for being housed on a wine farm, their wine list is not only interesting, but also very politely priced, so that you can properly enjoy all the delights detailed on the menus.

“I’m feeling too pleased with myself to think of it” was how The Hungry Man responded to his very unusual neglect in calling the waitress over. If there is anyone who knows how to conduct the floor and its staff, it is THM. The reason for his inappropriate and out of character neglect was the news that he had just received (which was coincidentally related to waitstaff) and which also saw him order us glasses of Bollinger at the end of our meal.

Wines of South Africa had just received a R250K budget from the Winelands mayor to develop an initiative called “Laduma” which is going to train staff in food and wine environments to deal with people just like THM. Skills development and the development of the Cape winelands as a tourist destination - a lovely synergy for all of us who like our wine and food and like to see the local populace find useful jobs in the sector.

Terroir employ very local staff. It is no secret that the one thing that the Cape does not accomplish as well as Gauteng is service. In good establishments, like this one, local is very lekker since the staff are devoid of any snobbery. At the same time, you do want to understand what’s on the menu and you want to hear it from someone who seems passingly interested in the whole business - which is not always the case. Again, Terroir have got the balance right, and it clearly took training, something that not all restaurants are willing to invest in. Enter Laduma!

Terroir continues to tantalise me. The food is deceptively accomplished, but the flip-side is that I sometimes feel that all the obvious energy and effort that has gone onto the plates has not culminated in greatness, has not built upon itself. Take my starter today. Confit duck with lentils, the dish featured a superb sauce with prune and earthy flavours, but was to my mind needlessly built on slices of salami. I also found very few pulses, one of the reasons I ordered the dish. Meanwhile, THM’s salmon “gratin” over asparagus was deceptively delicious, the citrus-spiked gratin a masterpiece.

Mains, THM had a wild mushroom enveloped pasta which was subtlely delicious; while I had a sublime piece of lamb shoulder that was cooked sous vide. For more on this technique of cooking in sealed bags slowly and at low temperatures, go here. The meat is incredibly tender, textured and flavourful.

Speaking after lunch to chef Michael Broughton, I asked him about his mission for Terroir to reflect food of the region and he asserted that his suppliers are still the local ones that he has always used. But then why the exceptions - eg fois gras and scallops? “Why put them on the menu?” I asked. “People ask for them”, was the reply, “the scallop starter (from over the Atlantic) is my most successful”.

Ah yes, as ever the balance between idealism and the winking eye of Mammon.

Really fresh tuna, such as the hunk that The Hungry Man gave me a few days ago, has been caught that day or the day before. It’s been bled immediately, and stored on ice. When you sear it, it keeps its deep red interior, the crust firming and becoming tan along a clear dividing line - red inside, tan out. Inside soft and melting in consistency, the outside firm, with that typical tuna flake texture. Then you think of all that pre-frozen, de-frosted tuna you’ve had in restaurants and the resultant lack of flavour and texture, that dull not-quite-red colour of the flesh.

Once you’ve had your fill, you keep a few pieces and decide to use it in a Niçoise-style dish, like the salad. So that’s easy, I thought: potato, green bean, olive, maybe boiled egg, olive oil. But I was wrong. The Hungry Man got me thinking as he called to ask about dressing for Niçoise and I said: “Just good olive oil”. Then I pulled out the Larousse. A la Niçoise for fish turns out to be with coarsely chopped seeded tomato, anchovy fillet, olives and (sometimes) anchovy butter.

A salad Niçoise features tomato, cucumber, fava beans or artichokes, green peppers, raw onion, hard-boiled egg, anchovy fillet or tuna, black olives, olive oil, garlic and basil. But no potato. Turns out that, to be proper, potato only finds its place in a Niçoise set-up when you use it in a Niçoise garnish for large cuts of meat or poultry (when beans, courgettes and artichokes also make an appearance).