Shaun Has A Meal There And Goes, “Meh”.

Sinns In Wembley Square, Cape Town.

It was a tepid Friday night at The HQ, and I was scavenging around, desperately looking for food. The fridge was a definite no go area – the bowl of tuna pasta was old enough to be my mother, and the slice of pizza at the bottom shelf was actually waving at me, asking me where the party would be that evening.

I didn’t know where the party would be that evening, but I did know where Sinns Restaurant was, and so The Girlfriend and I ventured forth to Wembley Square in Gardens, for what we hoped would be an evening filled with gastronomical delight.

Sinns is what one may call a “trendy spot”. The location is certainly superb, on the ground floor of Wembley Square, opposite that sushi place that everyone loves, and S-Bar, which is actually Sinns bar.

S-Bar was understandably packed – full of beautiful, hip, upwardly mobile people – with a sprinkling of ugly, hip upwardly mobile people. And one distinctly immobile person, who looked like she would need an oversized crane to help her off that ottoman.

Sinns on the other hand, was relatively quiet, which was rather disconcerting for a Friday night. I remember trying to make a reservation some time last year, phoning on the Friday afternoon hoping to make it for that evening.

The hostess at the time, laughed her tits off at the thought, and I ended up at McDonalds instead. This time round though, it was actually possible to stroll in without a reservation and get a table.

In terms of the food, The Girlfriend yearned for the duck, whilst I settled for the line fish, which was Silverfish. Both dishes came with a side order of fresh vegetables, which consisted of broccoli, pumpkin, carrots and a horrible beetroot mix.

The food was… adequate, certainly not horrible, but not exactly spectacular either. Bland is probably the word I would use to best describe it. The chef is obviously trying out some creative concoctions – my fish was on top of a bed of cream spinach, surrounded by crisp strips of bacon – but it just didn’t quite come off.

The Girlfriend felt the same way about her duck, and we were both left feeling that something was missing. The food lacks that X-factor, that thing that makes you say, “Shit, that’s helluva tasty” and gives you a semi erection at the thought of it, days after, when you’re lying on your leather four-seater eating toast.

A redeeming feature was the dessert though, a rich chocolate cheese cake surrounded by fresh fruit and creamy ice cream. That was something which certainly met my expectations, leaving me with a warm chubbiness in my loins for days after.

In summary, Sinns was like the new Linkin Park album, very well packaged and marketed, until you actually play it on your iPod and realise that there’s only one good track worth listening to.

Slightly underwhelming, let’s try harder next time, shall we?

What: Sinns
Where: Wembley Square, Gardens
How Much: + – R180 per person. (Give or take a stiff Jameson or two)

At The Foundry In Green Point

Beluga In Green Point. Or Greenpoint.

I have long considered myself a “creative”, a free spirit and someone who thinks outside the box. As a young impressionable chap, I remember scratching my head at the concept of “long play records” or “LP’s” as we cool kids called them back in the 80′s.

“These things are so impractical”, I remember saying. “Surely they could come in a more compact disk?”

Then there was the time I was trying to watch German pornography on a poor quality VHS tape. “Bah humbug” I said aloud.

“Why can’t this be displayed on a high quality disk which we would then call a DVD, for no apparent reason?”

Yes, these were just some of the many crazy and “out there” ideas I came up with whilst growing up.

As a creative, I enjoy mingling with other like-minded people, and so it came to pass that we arrived at Beluga, a rather trendy little spot at the Foundry, just off Somerset Road, Green Point, where many a creative can be found eating sushi or drinking beer.

Alex the manager seated us at a very exclusive spot upstairs, and The Girlfriend, The Brand Ambassador and myself prepared to tuck into sushi, one of Beluga’s specialties.

Although reasonably priced by Cape Town’s standards, Beluga also offers great specials from 5-7pm every day. Or evening, if you really want to be pedantic about it.

This include massive discounts on their sushi dishes (up to 50% off), which I obviously took advantage of.

The restaurant has a great ambience, no overtly loud background music to speak of, but not uncomfortably quiet either. You can talk about your erection problems or your recent bout of halitosis without fear of anyone hearing you.

The food was to my rather high standard, the sushi was fresh, tight and compact, and the service by our deaf waiter was quite superb (he hovered around every 5 minutes or so without being overly annoying)

For dessert, The Girlfriend and I shared a chocolate truffle cake, a richly layered truffle cake with a sweet chocolate filling, which is probably why it is called a chocolate truffle cake.

Downstairs afterward, we skipped and pranced over to the bar, for a cognac and cigar. Regrettably there were no cigars, the cigarette vending machines were broken and the bar staff didn’t want to hand out entjies (loose cigarettes) to The Brand Ambassador, who desperately needed his nicotine fix. So that was the only down side then. No entjies at the bar.

Otherwise, it was all good though. Shaun recommends.

What: Beluga
Where: The Foundry, Prestwich Street, Green Point
How Much: + – R180 per person. (That includes a few stiff Jamesons)

At The Cape Quarter.

Tank Restaurant At The Cape Quarter.

I have always had a bit of a love affair with fish. It all started as a baby, when one of my cousins – envious of my ability to read John Grisham novels since birth – threw me into the dark abyss of the Indian ocean at Seaforth beach, Simonstown. Although I could devour a John Grisham novel with relative ease, I hadn’t quite grasped the concept of walking. Or swimming.

“Oh dear” I thought, as the previous 8 months of my life began flashing by. “I guess I shall be signing off then.”

I was sinking slowly to the bottom of the ocean floor, wondering if my financial affairs would be in order, when I suddenly felt a sharp nudge in the back. I turned around to find a school of Cape snoek who, upon seeing my predicament, got in underneath me as if a magic carpet, and guided me to the shallows – where my jubilant family awaited.

In gratitude, my dad immediately gutted the heroic fish and we had a lovely braai that evening, musing how intelligent and courageous the snoek were as we sunk our teeth into them. Ever since that day, I have loved fish, and so it was fitting then that we recently dined at Tank, a seafood and sushi restaurant at the Cape Quarter, in De Waterkant.

I was first to arrive, and immediately marvelled at the decor – which is very sleek and modern, very minimalist in fact. I ordered a Peroni from the rather perky waiter and waited for The Girlfriend. And waited. And waited. Christmas came and went, I turned 29, peace in the Middle East was finally realised, and still I waited. Eventually The Girlfriend rocked up, and nimbly evaded the fork I hurled at her in anger, expertly rolling, whipping out her pepper spray and then blinding me – in one, smooth motion.

Once I had stopped crying and regained the vision in my left eye, we decided to order. For starters we settled on prawn spring rolls in sweet corn and chilli sauce. This certainly appealed to our tastebuds so we had another. Then another. Eventually, prawn spring rolls in sweet corn and chilli sauce were coming out of my ears, which we then shared and ate as well. I cannot stress enough how good that was.

For our main meal we settled for the Rainbow Roll portions, a tasty and refreshing meal which left my mouth in ecstasy and me slightly aroused. Being a master with the chopsticks, I quickly and efficiently gobbled up mine, then made a dash for The Girlfriend’s. A quick warning shot of pepper spray was enough to ward me off however, leaving me to whimper and lick my wounds in the corner.

After a long and satisfying burp, it was time for desert. While The Girlfriend settled on a chocolate mousse, I decided on a New York style cheese cake. The chocolate mousse was simply amazing, whilst the New York style cheese cake – once I found it hiding under a garnishing leaf, was pretty good too.

Besides the excellent cuisine on offer, the staff at Tank are pretty jacked up too. Once I had finished dining, I tried to make a dash for the door, leaving The Girlfriend to settle the bill. In a flash, my rather perky waiter was on hand, barring the entrance with his relatively large frame, and forcing me to return to my table, where The Girlfriend awaited with a vengeful dose of pepper spray again.

Besides that though, we had a good evening. For a good night out, be sure to check out Tank restaurant, at the Cape Quarter near Green Point – I liked it, and I’m pretty sure you will like it too. Because I know what you like.

Yes, you over there. I know what you like. Don’t pretend you don’t know me.

Will You Be Having A Cockroach With That?

A Feisty Cockroach. Similar To The One Seen At Royale.

It was a cold and wet Winter’s Thursday evening, the kind of evening that makes you go “Hey, let’s sit down and have a meal at Royale Burger, in Long Street, Cape Town”. And so it came to pass that we sat down and had a meal at Royale Burger, in Long Street, Cape Town. Royale is an interesting venue, boasting a 50′s Grease-Lightening styled theme, innovative decor and design, and substantially large burgers, the size of a small Cape suburb. Many an evening had been spent gorging on one of their famous Federale Burgers, getting pissed at the bar upstairs (called, interestingly enough, “Upstairs”) and then proceeding to physically roll home, using sheer will power and the momentum of a stiff kick from The Girlfriend’s steel-tipped boot.

Plans to follow in this proud tradition were going swimmingly – I had just devoured my meal like a hungry lion, whilst drinking copious amounts of beer, and the disgusted look on The Girlfriend’s face meant a stiff kick in the solar plexus was imminent.

I had just finished my 27th Windhoek, when my spider sense suddenly kicked in, alerting me of impending danger. Instinctively I did a forward roll into a defensive stance, expecting a karate kick from The Girlfriend, but she was still stretching and warming up, and an attack from her side was still minutes away. Then I saw the source of my danger radar – a rather pretentious looking cockroach had sauntered in, mouthing off to the patrons in a rather derogatory manner. He scurried around from one table to the next, causing great alarm and distress to the easy-going customers, who just wanted to enjoy a good meal and were now being treated to the greatest disrespect from the feisty Parktown prawn. Seemingly inebriated, he clearly had his Beer Coat on, looking for a fight, but he quickly met his match when a rather annoyed patron whipped off her Green Cross sandal and smashed him to pieces in one smooth motion.

Everyone cheered and clapped in mutual appreciation, but our joy was short lived as another roach soon entered the fracas, cursing obscenities from the nearby wall above us in a rather vulgar manner. At this, we then decided to get the bill, and proceeded to leave in a hurry, our ears still burning from the foulmouthed tirade of the wretched pest.

Royale, one roach was bad enough, but two is simply unacceptable. Me thinks it’s time to call in the Pest Control, or I may have to have my burgers elsewhere.

Fine Indian Cuisine

Bukhara - Finest Indian Cuisine.

After a long day at work, smashing rocks with my bare fists, I like nothing better than to slip into my favourite “sherwani”, and enjoy a good night of fine Indian cuisine. So it was very fitting then, that we ended up dining at Bukhara, in Church Street, Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa for a night of Tikka Pasanda, Dum Aloo, Warki Parantha and Amstel.

I am a big fan of Indian food and a regular patron of the Spur in Canal Walk. Our waiter eyed me suspiciously however, when I asked for a Double Rib Burger with cheddarmelt sauce, but the Chicken in Butter Curry he brought out more than made up for the Indian restaurants apparent menu faux pas. A novelty of Bukhara’s is the see-through window to the kitchen, allowing patrons to watch the food being made. We spent several minutes watching in wonder as the child labourers employed there expertly butchered and carved up a rather feisty cow.

The meat, as one would thus expect, was incredibly soft and tender, literally melting in my mouth as soon as tongue hit flesh – allowing me to slurp up my food in a most dignified manner.

To cater for the white people, the dishes are not too spicy, although we were quite fortunate to witness one unfortunate chap literally bursting into flames as he tried some of the chilli sauce on his garlic Nan bread.

Bukhara: Too Hot For Some White People

Everyone was enthralled by the spectacular show and our dinner party decided there and then to try some of what he was having, which we loved.

Afterwards, back at The HQ, I settled down on the couch for a viewing of Little Britain (Season 3) while having my varicose veins and abnormally large feet massaged by The Girlfriend, to cap off a most enjoyable night.

Because Shaun Digs Asian Food

Saigon Restaurant Cape Town

“Saigon” was the name of an old movie which had a “2-21″ age restriction on it, so you knew it had to be good. As a young spritely lad of 8 or 9, I remember spiking my parents drinks with copious amounts of Grandpa, sneaking into their bedroom and watching the R-rated flick, which had some sort of military story if memory serves, although the strongest memory I have is obviously the gratuitous nudity, and the severe beating my mom gave me when she woke up 3 days later.

So it was with this feel-good nostalgia, that we dined at Saigon restaurant in Kloof Street. The venue is large and spacious, letting you chat among your dinner party without the risk of any pesky eavesdroppers – something I value as I am often guilty of blurting out government secrets and blatant slanderous lies after an ale or two.

I’m not sure whether the food is Thai, Vietnamese, Japanese or Chinese – I can’t remember and I’m too tired to look it up now. Let’s just go with the safe route and say that it’s Asian. Not Indian or Pakistan Asian though.

Okay, so the food is Asian, reflected by the decor, and the waitrons are all dressed in traditional Asian garb, (Think “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”) looking as they they could easily rip your heart out with the Eagle’s Claw technique if you’re unhappy with their service. We were certainly mindful of not annoying our waitress, who probably leaned on the side of over-helpfulness, at one stage even explaining to The Girlfriend how to eat a spring roll.

The complicated concept of eating has often baffled me though and so I watched and listened intently, finally realising what I’d been forgetting all these years (ie: chewing) and so settled down to sushi, which is raw fish which the Japanese eat because they are too lazy to fry.

Our waitress spoke in an incredibly high-pitched tone, sounding the way I did before my voice broke 18 months ago. Her pitch seemed to get higher and higher as the evening progressed, shattering my spectacles during the starters, and causing my brain to begin hemorrhaging during the main course. Eventually her voice couldn’t be heard by a human ear, and so I had to get my favourite canine friend Mr Biggles on the line to translate for us, which he duly did even though he was chilling with his mates at a nearby kennel.

Everyone agreed that the food was really good and all in all it was a very enjoyable dining experience. Getting into the whole sushi thing, the next day I tried wrapping raw snoek in a lettuce leaf, but it didn’t quite have the same taste, so it’s something I’m going to have to work on.

Shaun is Left With Stained Teeth

Belthazar: Not Just A Restaurant. A Wine Bar Too.

Wednesday was Valentine’s day, and so The Girlfriend and I went to Belthazar Wine Bar in the Waterfront, partly because neither of us can cook, but mainly because eating is a big hobby of mine (I do it on most days)

Essentially a steakhouse, the place is also a wine bar (as the name clearly suggests) and so we were greeted by a wine guy called Darius who took us through a variety of semi-sweets, chardonnays and merlots. Naturally I leaned toward the cheapest wine available, which is normally stored in room temperature cardboard box, but Darius was quite a forceful character and after putting me in a unrelenting choke-hold, I eventually conceded and went for one of his recommendations, a dry red which now may have left my teeth permanently stained.

Their steaks as you would expect, was of an exceptionally high quality, and once I found mine, which had been hiding under the lettuce leaves – I wolfed it down like a hungry… well… wolf. The bill was also reasonable, which The Girlfriend settled after I had absent mindedly left my wallet in my other handbag.

So… ja (yeah), that’s my story. I guess this was one of those “had-to-be-there” kind of stories. Gosh, I thought I had more to say actually, this is a little embarrassing. I must be really tired.