Wolfgat, 5 years on

Thank you for the delicious memories

I often write about things I have only just experienced, guessing which parts are going to be memorable. Today, I am stretching a little into the past to write about things that have proved to be so. A Google Photos reminder from 5 years ago has inspired me to write about a lunch at Wolfgat in August 2019. I have some quite clear and powerful memories of that day, even if it feels like a few lifetimes ago.

Once upon a time …

We heard so much about Wolfgat after it was named Best Restaurant in The World by some organisation we hadn’t heard about before and have since forgotten. We tried unsuccessfully a few times to secure a booking on a day or night that suited our situation as wage slaves. In the end, we made a booking for a weekday lunch a few months in advance, and used the intervening months to arrange participation in the various day release programmes operated by our employers.

What a luxury to wake up on a bright, wintry Wednesday and set off on a glorious little road trip from Cape Town to Paternoster. After an easy couple of hours we felt as if we were in another universe. Living in Cape Town is like that.

On this day, the trip took a little longer than usual because of some rather intriguing delays. A wind turbine was being transported up the coast. If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have thought it possible that the arms could be transported as whole units. It was a quirky, curious and very memorable drive.

Arriving at Wolfgat we were struck by the glorious setting and understated rustic elegance.

The wine was described and served by the chef-proprietor Kobus van der Merwe himself. We were introduced to some fabulous West Coast wines that we continue to seek out today, and occasionally find at the likes of Vino Pronto and Wine Concepts.

Then the food started coming to the table, plate after plate of delicious naturalness, expertly assembled and so thoughtfully described. Everything is local, much of it is foraged. The descriptions by various staff members delivering the courses are sometimes as mouth-wateringly exquisite as the combinations themselves.

A real highlight for us was a conversation with one of these staff members. She spoke articulately and passionately about the food in a strong local accent that suggested a lack of worldliness and … dare I say it … sophistication. Her vocabulary and understanding of the flavours and textures made us guess she was a prodigy. We decided that she had won a scholarship to a culinary school abroad, in France or Switzerland perhaps. We asked her where she had learned about food and she said: “Here, in the kitchen. Kobus takes us on foraging walks every morning.”

We pressed her a little. Had she joined as a sous chef, we wanted to know. “No,” she said, “I came here to wash the dishes. Kobus teaches us all about everything.”

When I try to remember the exact ingredients and combinations from that day, it is feelings that come to mind. Delight. Surprise. Pleasure. All senses satisfied. We were absolutely blown away by the food, the wine and the place. But it is the moment with the dish-washing lady that remains most memorable.

We must eat to live. We love to eat well, and will go far to do that. But, in the end, it is people and their stories that we remember.