The highs and lows of pimping your table

In the Seventies in London I went with my mother to lunch with Elizabeth David. My ma said she was a writer. I had no idea she was a famous cook. We ate in the kitchen and she and my mum smoked throughout the meal, sometimes standing with their backs to the Aga to warm their behinds. I don’t think there was any special table setting except a big bowl of midnight-black figs. It illuminated the whole meal. The bowl was a mustardy yellow and it stays in my mind although what we ate has vanished.

An upwardly mobile friend tells me that it doesn’t matter what you eat, it’s what you eat off that counts. It has to be Japanese named stoneware, rinsed in pure gold, licked by vestal virgins, tantalised by a million ancient customs and even buried underground. I found these very plates in a hole-in-the-wall shop called Setamono in Salt River ranging from R500 to R1,000 with a slightly overzealous aficionado of all things Japanese in charge. 

Darrin Morrisby, who owns Setamono Japanese Homeware, has that look in his eyes of someone with a long-held passion – in his case it is for Japanese everything. His tiny shop (enough for a couple of Japanese families to live in comfortably) is neatly stacked with bronzy, slightly archeological table weaponry.

There are modern Toki plates dipped in a solution of water and real gold to give an unearthly glow. The longer they’re soaked, the more you pay. But if you’re lucky you can find mid century Toki plates with quirky designs on eBay. If you want to crack the social elite dinner party you also need a few Tiki plates and of course a Hidochi, the unique Japanese table grill. The name to look for is Konro, made from diatomite. 

Dissolve to a recent dinner party.

From the start I was aware of the table in the background, blocking the fire. With its little asperities and collusions, fig leaves sprayed with gold leaf, a bright purple bowl full of peeled naartjies lent a sort of flesh coloured topography to the whole thing. There were shimmering jewelled jellies in tall glasses, glass trumpets full of sweets wrapped in silver and gold, a string of white camellias down the centre of the table and lots of deep troughs of fabulous greenery.

The whole thing was so glitteringly decorated it was like a lightning strike.

But when it came time to eat I was a bit done in and longed for something plain. The hostess had by then set a hundred candles alight so it looked a bit like Brunhilde’s immolation scene from Götterdämmarung.

But many good cooks prefer to keep things simpler.

Marlene van der Westhuizen, one of my favourite cooks in Cape Town, stands by an old recipe, good linen tablecloth, well creased, NOT ironed, simple crockery and very good large linen double napkins. “You don’t want it to look like the afterparty at a Eurovision contest.” 

It made me wonder how people set about planning meals. Is what we eat off as important as what we eat? Personally I am so greedy I could eat off the floor but it is wonderful to think that people still go down to the wire – plan, imagine and buy special crockery.

Clementina van der Walt, a much admired Cape Town ceramicist, says, “For me it is everything. When you see someone drinking out of a supermarket mug, with no care, it is really disgusting. Food takes long to prepare and it needs to be served fastidiously.”

One of her clients, Kate Owen, widow of Ken, famously admired for his writing, has bought a whole set of her latest Fusion ware, wildly patterned with an African aesthetic. “I love the look. I lay it out, perhaps for dinner in the garden. I love them and think carefully what to put on them.”

Mervyn Gers has a way with a green glaze. (Photo: Supplied)

Mervyn Gers' work is peerless. (Photo: Supplied)

And yes to anything by Mervyn Gers. (Photo: Supplied)