An extraordinary Weskus food affair in the engine room of the Mount Nelson

Of all the places in the world I might expect to find a human heart story about a West Coast kid telling his life story in food, the Mount Nelson Hotel was as far off the radar as salmon en croûte is to fish and chips from a Saldanha Bay takeaway.

And I’m seeing the Nellie in new ways, and in new ways. New ways, first, because this visit (here’s the previous one) is affording me a new perspective of a landmark I was first aware of in my younger years, when it was the fabled hotel I had yet to set foot in, and would have to wait until I grew up. New ways, second, because the same old spaces are filled with different things now, new looks, other cuisines.

The contrast couldn’t have been starker. Gaby Palmer had wanted me to meet a friend, who wanted to meet me; and I wanted to meet him, having been aware of him for years, not least when he hosted a performance of my play An Audience with Miss Hobhouse at his Klein Karoo hotel. Lynita Crofford, who played Hobhouse, had told me all about how it went, and I was green with envy, not having been able to attend. 

Theo Nel, former owner of the Karoo Art Hotel in Barrydale, was waiting for us at a verandah table adjacent to the Planet bar when Gaby and I arrived after she’d given me a tour of the grounds. (I’d been ushered to the other side of the famous Prince of Wales Gate (that’s what you’re looking at when you swish by on your way to work) where there are tennis courts you can’t see from Orange Street (did you know?), and given tidbits such as how tourist-class passengers were put up at the old Helmsley Hotel while the first class hoity-toity lorded it in the hotel proper. So the great divide on board the grand ships continued ashore. And we walked through lovely Taunton House, where Pieter Toerien used to put his actors and where I interviewed many a thespian back in the eighties.

Gaby, who markets the hotel with discreet aplomb, has a vibrant, sunny personality, she’s a super-duper person; Theo is all charm and wit, and seems to regard the Nellie as something of a second home; he had a sort of proprietorial air about him. We should all be so lucky. We had a whale of a time, the three of us and later the four (my son-in-law Neal was deposited out of an uber, and had put long trousers on, to my relief), and I was almost disappointed when Neal and I were called for the start of dinner in the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen.

Neal and Rebba had each chosen a night to have dinner with me, after I’d suggested they take turns this time, so that Neal could have a turn out, with Rebs at home with the kids. Rebs had given Neal first choice, so she would be going to COY at the Waterfront with me the next evening. Neal was very excited at the prospect of this dinner in the Mount Nelson kitchen; he knows his food, and is a fabulous cook, as is Rebs. Seems to be a bit of a family thing. (I suspect Rebs might have said to him, in their early days, “Yes, but can you cook?”)

Chef Luke Barry, whom I interviewed for his story, had invited me to experience the chef’s table in the kitchen, and at first I’d thought it would be him cooking for us. While Gaby, Theo and I were outside, Luke had popped by to say I was going to love tonight’s chef’s story. “Tonight’s” chef, because this is a rotating thing. He pushes individuals on the kitchen team to take a turn to present their dinner, and tell their story. And as the dinner progressed I would well up several times, so moving and inspirational was this extraordinary food affair.

At the centre of tonight’s affair was a young man who explained to us shakily yet confidently that he “hails from Saldanha Bay” and was proud to present us with his food tonight. And I’m already feeling the emotion. For context, consider my past and present — in my teens, my mom and I had next to nothing and for a while we lived on Social Welfare food parcels of samp and dried beans. Meeting someone at the start of their path in life, and seeing their talent and possibly their future, moves me profoundly.

This kid is chef de partie Isaac Chitter, just 23, and I observed with growing admiration his self-confidence and his deft expertise in the kitchen as the evening progressed. He behaved like a seasoned chef, perfectly turned out, neat and tidy, completely on top of the many courses he was in charge of, and these are important aspects of the professional chef’s craft. If this had a practical exam he’d have been given straight A’s.

It’s not only Isaac in the house tonight. Lazarus Masango, a sommelier-in training, is putting himself through his paces (and Isaac has an entertaining surprise for him later; entertaining for us, at least) and pastry chef Nomthwakazi Magoloza (who introduced herself as Kazi) will be popping in with a course or two. Lazarus worked so hard, and met the challenge from Isaac with aplomb, although his tendency to be repeatedly repetitive (tautology intentional) and gesticulate wildly needs to be tamed before he is let loose as a professional sommelier.

Our dining room alcove seats 10 at various table configurations, but tonight there are only four of us at two tables. The Swiss couple at the other table are smiling and appreciative throughout, which I found useful to observe — they are more typical of the clients here. There’s a mini pass between us and the kitchen beyond, so we can see the scurrying around, the opening and closing of steaming oven doors, the occasional flame leaping from a pan that’s had brandy poured into it.

The chefs have written a short introduction describing their menu: “A bespoke journey through the memories and flavours we grew up with, surrounded by Aunts, Oumas and friends. We welcome you on a journey influenced by textures, spices and exquisite aromas from our childhood that inspire us to be the chefs we are today.”

Kazi started proceedings with a bread course of her homemade vetkoek with butter and apricot jam; this is pure West Coast and executed with finesse (not that vetkoek requires finesse). 

Isaac presents us, so proudly, with an amuse-bouche of Saldanha Bay oysters with salmon roe and seaweed butter. His home town on two half shells. And my heart is in my mouth. “Laz” has paired a cocktail with it: Strawberry purée at the base of a flue of Antonij Rupert MCC L’Ormarins MCC.

‘Ouma’: Pressed pap with chakalaka. (Photos: Tony Jackman)

‘Nienies’: pan fried kingklip, hazelnut butter and crumb, chicken broth. (Photos: Tony Jackman)

‘Oom Fabian’: Butter poached crayfish tail, Malay curry purée, grilled corn. (Photos: Tony Jackman)

‘Gees’: Braaied wagyu, monkeygland sauce. (Photos: Tony Jackman)

‘We weren’t allowed any’: Nyangbo cremeux, granadilla frozen yoghurt, chanilly roulade. (Photos: Tony Jackman)