Photographs: Klein Karoo

Photographs: Images of Igoda

Jemima's -Touched by an angel

Jemima is rumoured to be a guardian angel of love, good taste and the finest cuisine who can be sensed at sunset by those open to experiencing a little magic. By the time we arrive at Jemia’s restaurant in Oudtshoorn’s Baron van Reede St, the sun had long set, but I can sense the restaurant’s namesake is every detail of the place.

Giant succulents, their spikey leaves topped with silver baubles, usher us towards the reception area. A tree rises idly through the roof of a tented outside area filled with heaters and people enjoying their dinner. It’s only 7pm, but the many inside rooms are also full. People seem to eat early in the Klein Karoo.

I feel like I’m being welcomed into the home of a favourite aunt whose youthful adventures have left a twinkle in her eye and her treasures on the walls. Oversized candelabra perch on polished wooden dressers and black and white portraits of Tannie Sannie and Oom Willem bulge out of oval frames next to colourful oils. My artist husband won’t complain that I’ve dragged him to a foodie heaven that assaults the eyes. He’s purring happily and pouring over the wine list. Dr Don also looks impressed, especially when our waiter deposits a plate of fig and Parma ham canapés compliments of the chef.

We order a bottle of Springfield Special Cuvee Sauvignon Blanc and its figgy, green pepper minerality has us composing short lyric verses to the genius of Springfield winemaking. Our attention turns to the menu as we enjoy the fresh sourdough bread with butter and peppercorn cheese mousse.

Paprika potato skins and Tsitsikamma Mozerella fritters compete with fresh fish, ostrich, venison and beef fillet for our affection. Eventually we order West Coast Mussels in a green curried sauce with julienne vegetables and garlic terracotta pot bread to start. The vegetables are the perfect excuse to ladle up all the sauce left over when bread is finished. This is sauce you don’t want to send back to the kitchen.

Grilled sole in saffron cream sauce follows with potato parmesan gratin. Besides a lack of a few greens, which could be acquired with a side order, the mains are perfect. I sample the lamb shank stew and duck confit in cranberry sauce and the meat drops off the bone in wanton abandonment to my tastebuds.

Having worked my way steadily through my own meal and that of my husband and best friend, I can’t accomodate another morsel. The others press on though, reclaiming the lost portions of their meals by enjoying home made peach and apricot ice-cream and Irish coffee. I find the Irish coffee topped with milk froth a bit disappointing, but the ice cream is everything homemade ice cream should be.

Before we depart, Dr Don and I head to the ladies room, a ritual born as much out of décor curiosity as anything else. We’re impressed. Handmade teddy bears huddle on a wooden bench and antique nick nacks have us loitering admiringly and using way too much Charlotte Rhys hand soap.

Back at the table, chocolate coconut truffles bid us a fond farewell from the angel who has enchanted us with her country hospitality and magical food.

A rather nice Gift

I once rode a camel. I made my younger, braver sister sit in front and when our ride rose onto his knees and then jerkily straightened, I whooped in terror. Unfortunately, I was not among strangers in the middle of a dessert, where whooping might be respectfully interpreted as a culturally appropriate response among my kind. I was at the Grahamstown festival, surrounded by artsy types who could smell terror when they heard a whoop.

That unfortunate whoop and a scolding by a friend who pointed out the potential cruelty of camel joyriding, has left me somewhat apprehensive of these large animals. Of course, whatever intimidates you, invariably fascinates as well, so one day driving towards Kommetjie beach I had to stop and investigate when I saw three camels lying in the grass on the side of the road. They were all togged out in saddles and were chewing away on whatever it is camels chew on. This was all rather fortunate, because although I stopped to ogle camels, I discovered the Imhoff farm stall, set back across a stretch of lawn. When I arrived at the beach, my friends were impressed by my haul of homemade pineapple beer and crunchies.

For years now, I’ve stopped off at the farm stall to stock up on pineapple or ginger beer when I pass by, but a few days ago I discovered that there is a whole lot more to Imhoff’s farm than fruit beer.

If, instead of going into the farm stall, you walk around it on the right, you pass into a courtyard where shops nestle among the old farm buidlings. A décor shop, a cheesery and a surf shop vie for attention with a craft store where products are made from recycled goods and a touch farm. The farm stall has an outside dining area and the old farmhouse has been converted into The Gift restaurant.

It was this dining establishment that I had overlooked for so long, that had me scurrying past camels to get to my breakfast last Sunday morning. The low chandelier, red walls hung with gilt framed portraits and the smokiness of last nights fire had me smiling pleasantly as the waitress showed us to our table outside. If I’d been impressed by the gracious, but relaxed ambiance of the interior, I was blown away by the view when we reached the veranda.

Before us stretched the wetlands of Imhoff’s Gift and Noordhoek and in the distance the waves rose slowly and crashed onto Long beach. Chapman’s Peak framed a partial view of Hout Bay and suddenly I was very hungry. We ordered coffee and read through the menu’s list of rather wholesome breakfasts. I settled for scrambled egg and jumbo toast which was a deeply satisfying thick slab of homemade buttermilk toast smothered in golden scramble. Pat’s farmhouse breakfast also went down a treat and we both ordered a second cup of coffee – a practice reserved only for places where the coffee is comparable to that made at home on the stove with our silver coffee pot.

The lunch and dinner menus had me trying to schedule in a second visit as soon as possible and featured a good range of interesting steaks, stews, seafood, salads and pizza’s, which are a specialty.

I have a feeling that this charming spot with its jaw-dropping views is going to become one of my favourite local haunts.

The Gift restaurant is at the Imhoff Farm Village on Kommetjie Road. 021 783 4545

Wine and Restaurant: Manolo salutes Hamilton Russell

I’m very grateful that Anthony Hamilton Russell hasn’t taught his daughters to share. “I have four daughters and I can’t leave them to fight over one small farm,” he explains as he introduces wines from his various ventures of Hamilton Russell Vineyards, Ashbourne and Southern Right at a gourmet evening at Manolo restaurant in Kloof St.

Hamilton Russell Pinot Noir and Chardonnay have long been objects of desire on the local and international wine scene, with Top US gourmet magazine, Saveur, calling Hamilton Russell Vineyards the most Burgundian Winery outside Burgundy. It’s the Southern Right Sauvignon Blanc however that’s sending me into guavary raptures as we sit down to Amuse Bouche of Prawn with guava crumble and lime cordial.

The tasty morsels of prawn and lime froth soon disappear, but the wine lingers. A starter of scallops, hazelnuts and pear with beurre noisette and citrus follows and this time it’s the Hamilton Russell Vineyards Chardonnay that holds her hand out to be kissed by our appreciative lips. Dr Donne, my intrepid dining companion and self-confessed fool for Chardonnay, is positively euphoric. It’s the best she’s ever tasted. She smiles coyly as she lists past favourites. I have to agree, this wine inspires devotion.

As we move onto mains of mushroom crusted lamb terrine with dashi flavoured potato, simejii and bacon wafers with Szechuan red wine jus, I have to resist caressing the bottle of Hamilton Russell Vineyards Pinot Noir presented by our waiter. Perfumed, with uncompromising mineral intensity and focused fruit, this Pinot Noir is a rare pleasure. I start to feverishly try and phantom how to increase my disposable income.

While pondering how I might fare as a contortionist in a traveling circus, I am surprised by dessert. Chocolate ganache, berry and pinotage ice-cream, curry leaf marshmallow and a banana wafer flutter their eyelids at me and they don’t have to ask twice. Dr Donne is not impressed with the marshmallow, but I find it delightful. Richard Carstens is such a clever man to dream up these wonderful concoctions.

Dessert ushers in a duo of Pinotages: the Southern Right Pinotage 2006 and Ashbourne Pinotage 2004. John Platter gave both these wines four and a half stars. As I contemplate their respective subtlety and virtue, I think I lean towards favouring the fresh heady fruitiness of the Southern Right. The structure and integration of the Ashbourne scolds me for my flighty ways in preferring the younger wine.

I happily resolve to make a pilgrimage to the Hemel and Aarde Valley to visit the hallowed ground responsible for these seductive wines.

The evening is drawing to a close and appreciative noises are echoing off the elegant walls. The food was remarkable, the wines sublime. Thank you, thank you, thank you and come again.

Photographs: Neighbourhood watch

Winelands Eatery – Barouche at Blaauwklippen

I recently found myself staring at a pair of black swans walking chest deep in snowbells at the Blaauwklippen estate between Stellenbosch and Somerset West. We were checking out whether the farm would be suitable for a family wedding and as soon as the swans strode into view, their red beaks exploring the foliage around them, I was convinced.

To be fair, if the swans had been off swimming in the river than runs along the property, I might have been won over by the shear number of gracious old buildings littering this unpretentious estate. The gabled Manor House is fronted by oak trees planted to give the tower of Babel a run for its money and flanked on both sides by long lime washed buildings. From the Manor House veranda you look out onto a wide lawn and beyond to a pasture, more farmland and blue mountains. The perfect place to say “I do”.

The estate’s Barouche restaurant is housed in one of the old buildings remodeled inside along more contemporary lines. Being a closet old world charm junkie, the trendy décor and geometric dark wood furniture in the restaurant seems to me a bit at odds with the vintage personality of the rest of the farm. What the restaurant lacks in décor soul though, it makes up for in the kitchen.

The menu emphasizes fragrance and flavour, with old favourites getting a new lease on life with novel ingredients. You can have the caesar salad in a variety of guises: topped with pan-fried line fish or prawns, stir-fried chicken or beef paillard or try the ultimate in healthy salads – the beef bobotie samoosa salad with pineapple and sweet chilli compote.

The double baked blue cheese soufflé, tandoori rubbed ostrich sosatie and crispy duck leg confit set on red cabbage, caramalised apple and bread dumpling with a balsamic jus, also had me swabbing away drool as I agonized over which meal to make my very own.

I eventually settled for the fragrant stir-friend chicken breast strips and prawns with chilli and ginger which made my tastebuds and my waistline smile. The rest of my party went on to dessert and while my girth strained to get at the dark chocolate tart and duo of coffee mousse, I tried to appease it with a skinny cappuncino.

After lunch, a stroll to the carriage museum and bonding time with the cart horses in their paddock sealed everyone’s opinion that this was a special place, perfect for celebrating a very special event.