, , , , ,

What’s in a name, the Bard inquired – and well might you ask. DW Eleven-13 might be a parts number in a catalogue of automobile spares; a new brand of hairspray, available only from Verimark or DisChem; a coded section in the President’s Secret Ops manual, containing the instruction to ‘nuke Al Qaeda’ – but no, no, in fact it is – wait for it – the name of a restaurant. You think I’m pulling your leg, don’t you – so why don’t you click on the link, and see for yourself?

Rob and I went to see for ourselves, Saturday lunch time (that’s yesterday). The restaurant, in Dunkeld West (you see?), just up the hill from where we stay, is in fact rated one of the top ten in South Africa – higher even, in last year’s ratings, than Roots, where we were married and had our wedding dinner. The chef, Marthinus Ferreira, is supposed to have worked with Michelin stars Heston Blumenthal and Gordon Ramsay (neither of them my favourite personae, or favourite chefs either – at least as TV characters, but heck, I couldn’t afford to eat in their establishments, anyhow) and is something of a dark, chubby, inflammable cult figure in his own right, I gather, here in the leafy northern suburbs of Johannesburg.

But I digress. We went, Roberta and I, to celebrate her new job at Soweto TV – and her first pay-check too, which meant she was paying. Lunch was unhurried, discreet, and pretty good too, we thought. We opted for the lunch-time set menu, R165 a head for three courses and a glass of wine; Rob had the salad nicoise and I the gazpacho; for mains Rob had the wild mushroom risotto, and I the steak sandwich with chips; and both of us went for something icky called Eton Mess, for desert – meringue, cream, passion fruit and papaya. Rob’s risotto was on the salty side, but rich and meaty; my steak was laced with caramelised onions and a dash of horseradish and rarely done, as I like it. Desert was a dream. All served beautifully, as you may imagine – and while not a completely orgasmic experience, very good, very enjoyable, and to be repeated – when Rob gets another job or a massive bonus.

We were in by one, and out after three, so you will get some idea of the pace and the ambience. And then it was home to peruse the papers for a while, before heading back up the hill for a second time, to see ‘The King’s Speech’ at Hyde Park Mall. Did we think it was good? We loved it. There was a round of spontaneous applause, too, from the audience, when the film ended, not something you hear every day, so we must have been right in our assessment.

I shan’t add my few words, here, to the mountains of comment and criticism – better you see the movie for yourself. You won’t – unless addicted to The Matrix or the Sylvester Stallone genre of movie – be disappointed. Damn, do those Brits know how to do period!

It’s good, now and then, to have the day off.