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Muse, a lockdown survivor that thrives nearly five years later

The ingenious crème brûlée mille feuille with what I thought was an unnecessary accompaniment of somewhat tart cinnamon-spiced apple. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

By Tony Jackman

8 Nov 2024

In February 2020, I visited Muse restaurant in Gqeberha/Port Elizabeth. It was then in Stanley Street, at the lower end, and I remember eating excellent confit duck. One month later, the pandemic struck.

The Muse must have been on duty the day lockdown kicked in and all the customers suddenly went away. She seems to have kept her hand on the restaurant, because nearly five years later, though the venue has moved from sea-view Richmond Hill to sprawling Walmer, the place is thriving. And there are good reasons it should.

I was last here in February 2020, one month before our lives changed and we were confined to our homes and hidden behind masks. Throughout that time, I wondered what would become of Muse, and many other restaurants I knew at the time. In this instance, it was a husband-and-wife team, Allan and Simone Bezuidenhout, that owned and ran the restaurant, and for a long time I wondered how they were doing.

No one escaped the reach of the pandemic, but I did wonder what it must be like to have this level of risk and responsibility in a notoriously fickle industry. Customers drop you on a whim when a new place opens just down the street. I did wonder: what chances did they have? There seemed to be no certainty that I would see it again once the pandemic had done its work.

But here it is. In Walmer, not Richmond Hill. But the place looks much like the old venue; the decor and mood are instantly recognisable when you walk in. Wall planters of celery, lettuce and basil. Dark hues and moody lighting. A medium-sized sort of place, not overly ambitious (this is not a criticism). In place of any apparent greed, seemingly a desire to offer a solid place with reliable food, decent service and plenty of skill and technique, showing that those in the kitchen here have been well trained and know their stuff.

I’d rather have that, on most days, than the kind of pretension and aggrandisement I often encounter. Give me a well-run bistro that knows and loves its clientele any day over a newcomer with a mission and a vision. It’s good food, night after night, as reliable as Cape Town’s Noon Gun, that makes a restaurant that works.

But before I go any further, let me gush a little about the small, round charcoal bread roll that was served with great pride soon after we settled down. Soft and luscious. As perfect and satisfying as any bread roll could be. I’d go back for the bread roll alone.

This place works. I can’t think of a restaurant that was so consistently reliable half a decade later. After dinner last weekend, I found my earlier review, from 2o20, and was amazed at the similarities. Hardly anything at all seems to have changed. Is this a good thing, or does it suggest that imagination and exploration have been left behind? Either could be argued.

Then, déjà vu. How’s this for consistency? Here’s the bone marrow starter I had in February 2020…

Bone marrow starter in a restaurant the author will return to. For this. I wrote that in February 2020. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

And here’s the bone marrow I had last Saturday night (with that bread roll to its left):

The bone marrow and pulled beef and, left, that beautiful, utterly divine charcoal bread roll with rosemary butter. (Photos: Tony Jackman)

Sure, consistency is not everything. We want innovation too; a different way with something, bend the boundaries, toy with the obvious. But a signature dish is a signature dish, and one sign of a good restaurant is when you dare not remove a dish from the menu, or fiddle with it unnecessarily, because the regulars love it and order it again and again and will demand it if you take it away from them. My money is on that being the reason chef Allan’s bone marrow starter remains intact after all this time. Even the plating is nearly identical.

I wrote in my notes, on Saturday night, that one marrow bone seemed a tad stingy. And there wasn’t much marrow in it either. And look: I got two back then, although yes, they were shorter bits of bone. I’m not put out about this; I only noted it.

The starter, with its little pool of delicious pulled beef and fermented potato bread, was finished with yellow mustard seeds and a tired wild rocket sprig. A dish that worked, and still works. But leave the garnish off if there’s nothing fresh; it’s these tiny things that make the difference between a great restaurant and a merely good one. (Hold your horses, I’ll return to this theme later.)

The fish cakes. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

The other starter on the table was the Foodie’s Wife’s fish cakes with “vinegar chips”, sumac aïoli and burnt lemon. On first sight I thought, but there’s one fish cake, then I looked more closely and saw that there were two on top of one another. And four very ordinary looking chips, but which Di said were very good. Four little blobs of the aïoli. A little pool of lemony sauce. More wild rocket, a few cerise flowers (dianthus, I think).

Then, a bit of theatre. Suddenly it’s more like Cape Town (erm, no, this is not a requirement) and our smiling waitress is pouring rosemary and thyme water over a pool of dry ice and stones. This heralds my main course of lamb rump. I chose it because I had eaten this cut at COY restaurant in Cape Town recently and that was the best lamb I had eaten in a long time. This was really good, if not in that league; and anyway, I’m not going to hold that up forever as the pinnacle of possibility with lamb. That would be tedious, and life has been too short for a long time now.

The excellent lamb rump, right, and a bit of theatre on a Saturday night in Walmer. (Photos: Tony Jackman)

I loved this lamb dish. Tender and juicy meat, cooked medium, which is the way chef Allan likes to serve it. Alongside, a delicious slice of pampoen tert (pumpkin tart) and a golden, crunchy croquette filled with creamy, cheesy broccoli and spinach. A lovely mustardy sauce spread on the plate.

That I paid scant attention to whatever Di had as a main course is testament to how much I enjoyed this dish. I could be wrong, but I think it was… meatballs? (Oh hang on, I’ve found it: beef and chorizo meatballs, with basil and parmesan. She loved it.)

I very nearly said no to dessert, but I’m so glad that I persuaded myself. (It doesn’t take much.) What an utter delight…

Somewhere between a crème brûlée and a mille feuille of this or that lies this wonderful concoction. It was described on the menu as a vanilla pod crème brûlée mille feuille with butterscotch sauce and, alongside, an entirely unnecessary pile of diced apple cooked with cinnamon. A dessert as delicious and clever as this needs no distraction.

Honestly, I’d go back for this dessert alone. I see and taste lots of desserts, at all sorts of restaurants, and there’s a sameness about so many of them. Thousands of restaurant desserts are good to excellent, but few make you really sit up and pay attention, even on fancy tasting menus. This one did that, which is more evidence that you don’t always find the best or cleverest food at the supposedly finest restaurants.

The ingenious crème brûlée mille feuille with what I thought was an unnecessary accompaniment of somewhat tart cinnamon-spiced apple. (Photo: Tony Jackman)

Muse strikes me as being a business that has settled into a rhythm, has most likely attracted a loyal customer base, and where there is perhaps less innovation than there is common sense. And if that’s the case, why should they chase change when their clients are perfectly happy with what they’re offering them? In fact, the restaurant industry needs more such stories.

Muse really is not far down the pecking order. It would be nice to see it raise its game enough to make the bigger league. As long as it doesn’t lose its soul.

Coda

Does a bit of wilted rocket negate everything this restaurant offers? That would be mean and churlish, although there are many “critics” (I never call myself that) who would mark it down severely. I will say this: pay more attention to those little details and your clients will see the difference. It really is that simple. Get the food just right, then add some fine detail. Therein lies potential greatness. DM

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