Observatory Restaurant, The South Hills, Johannesburg
The Stars Were Great, The Insects Were Crunchy | By Elmi | Friday, 17 February 2012
On your way to this restaurant you'll wish you had a 4x4 if you don't already. The dirt roads into the bush near Honeydew are not in a great condition. So it took us quite a bit of extra time to reach the Aloe Ridge Hotel and The Observatory Restaurant which houses Africa's largest privately-owned telescope.
Upon arrival at the restaurant there was no one to greet us or seat us and the cavernous dining room was hushed as funereal music played in the background. Nonetheless we took our seats, expecting to be offered a drink. But no. Finally a waiter was flagged down and a wine list requested. But nothing happened. Another waiter was flagged down and asked for the same thing. Again nothing happened. After the fourth request was ignored, my partner went to the service hatch, asked again, and was given a scribbled-down 'wine list'. Obikwa was as good as it got - for those of you who have never heard of the stuff, never fear - it's R20 a bottle plonk that The Observatory marks up 400 percent to charge you R80.
Our starter of Springbok Carpaccio was without incident although the parmesan shavings could have been more generous. Before and after courses the resident astronomer focuses the telescope on amazing objects such as Jupiter, the Orion Nebulae and various stars, talking you through the night sky. We loved this part of the evening.
Main course, however, arrived more than an hour after it had been ordered. In fact a waiter came to ask us if we wanted desert and looked perplexed when we said we hadn't had dinner yet. When mains finally arrived the medium-rare fillet hadn't been rested - the plate and the accompanying Béarnaise sauce were swimming in blood. The salmon was good, though.
Off we went for more star-gazing, not bothering to order pudding because it just didn't seem worth the anxiety. But when we got back to the table a crème caramel and a chocolate mousse had been delivered. Not one's to be shy, we tucked in, but as I dug a spoonful of mousse out of the shot glass it was served in and popped it in my mouth, I paused because there was something round and crunchy on my tongue. Maybe it's a coffee bean, I thought.
Thankfully something in me said, Just check. It was a large, dead beetle! I'm not overly squeamish so there was no screaming or vomiting. We just calmly told one of the waiters. He apologized and removed the bug, but nothing more happened. So we tried to tell the head waiter. He apologized and left. Then we asked another waiter if there was a manager. A few minutes later the manager arrived and after explaining what had happened he said he'd look into it. More than 20 minutes later we were still waiting, at which point we left.
I have yet to hear from the restaurant or the hotel, but I'm not holding my breath. In the meantime I have had to suffer the indignity of being nicknamed Bugsy!