As usual, my wife did the booking back home. As usual, I had no idea what kind of restaurant we were walking into. I trust her on this, she gets it right most of the time, and I quite like not doing the research beforehand.
The name had done some work on me. Belly of the Beast. I pictured open fires, barbecue, big bold meat dishes, something closer to a steakhouse with attitude. Not quite.
This was our third Cape Town restaurant after Coy and The Pot Luck Club. By this point I was properly in love with the Cape Town scene. Unpretentious, flavour-first, confident. Belly of the Beast fits that world, but pushes the flavours harder than the other two.
Small restaurant. Around a dozen tables. Concrete floors, brick walls, open kitchen. No soft material anywhere to take the edge off the restaurant sound, so once the wine kicks in, the room kicks in with it.
We arrived at 18.45 for the single seating. Most tables already taken. The buzz was low, guests quiet, looking at the kitchen. No smiles from the kitchen either. It felt a little soulless.
When everyone had settled and the wine was chosen, the dishes came out all at once. The plates lined up, then dressed at the pass. The sense you get is: here is your plate, please do not ask for changes.
A little harsh to put it that way, but you get the idea. Allergies aside, this is a kitchen that has decided what you are eating tonight. The menu changes often, fine-tuned in between depending on what is best right now.
A note on the wine.
We ordered a bottle of Moya Meaker Pinot Noir from Elgin. It was hot outside and the wine was too warm. We asked for it to be chilled. They did not have a wine cooler, not even the basic kind you clip on the bottle. The bottle went back and forth to the fridge between pours. A new one for us.
Most of the room went for the wine pairing. After pouring the glass from an open bottle, they fetched a second, unopened bottle of the same wine and left it on the table until the next course. This was also a new one for us.
The wine list leans low-intervention. Not a manifesto, but the direction is clear. Names like Steilpad, Saurwein and Swerwer. It fits the restaurant, honest, South African, slightly on the edge.
Tuna – Rooi-Noedelslaai – Spanspek – Red Onion – Chilli Oil
Then the food.
Big, bold flavours. That is Belly of the Beast in one line. The kitchen goes for the knockout. Locally sourced, confident, spicy on the edge of what I can handle.
My wife is braver with heat, she was in her element. I was, let us say, slightly outside my comfort zone.
New names for me too. Kabous, Belnori, Lamskerrie. Lucky I had my translator, wifey.
Kabous turned out to be the bread. Roosterkoek, the rolls, cooked on the braai. Served with charcoal butter. They smoke the butter by adding hot coals of Rooikrans wood to the melted butter.
Then the venison tartare with biltong guanciale, Worcestershire sauce cured egg yolk and coriander seed mayo, topped with burnt onion dust. Served alongside a baba ganoush with heirloom tomatoes, biltong pickle onion, sumac and tomato oil. Phew.
Venison Tartare – Baba Ganoush
Honestly, I would never have remembered any of those names, memory of a goldfish, if it had not been for the small cards left on the table for each dish. Either the kitchen got tired of describing everything, or they know their guests.
The local fish was tuna. Served with rooi-noedelslaai, spanspek, red onion, topped with chilli oil. An Afrikaans-inspired cold noodle salad. For us, the star dish of the night.
The beef heart came with a bordelaise sauce. A familiar word, at least.
The pappadam crisps were beautifully made. And the dessert, Peaches and Moskonfyt, closed the evening on a high.
The thread running through it all was local. Local ingredients, local names, local flavours. We like to be challenged a little.
Peaches – Moskonfyt
At the end.
The pace, though, was too quick for us. We came in at 18.45 and left at 21.10. That is not a long dinner for food of this ambition. My wife would happily go back in a heartbeat. Me, I hesitated while writing this. Then I stopped pretending. I would go back too. I was just not prepared for what kind of restaurant this was.
As we left, I caught the eye of the kitchen. I put my hand on my heart and nodded. The first smile I had seen all evening. The brigade lit up.
That was when it clicked. They are not distant. They are just deep in it. Focused on getting the food out, exactly as they wanted it. And that, honestly, is fair enough.
Yes, and my wife will book it before I know.
Yes, for food this ambitious.
