One is spoilt for choice when it comes to dining opportunities in the town of Franschhoek, where one can barely throw a beret down the main street without hitting an eatery offering quality, style, and flavour. The village of Huguenots truly is a fine joint for those embarking on pursuits culinary and vinous, and each time I am back in South Africa, I ensure an opportunity arises to visit.
Upon just such a recent Franschhoek interlude, I decided to skip the main drag of downtown, heading instead for the mountains, south-facing, and to the delightful Arkeste Restaurant on Chamonix Estate. The restaurant is next to the tasting room and the winery founded by my good friend, the late Chris Hellinger, back in 1991, and I deemed it opportune to see how Chris’s legacy was being cared for. After all, it was Chris who told me: “I am definitely not fussy, it’s just that only the best will do.”
Joining me at Arkeste were my friends Clyde and Sigourney, a good-looking young couple involved in the finance industry. Fit, assured and with tanned faces and gleaming smiles, they made me feel my age as I remembered playing polo in Mallorca with Sigourney’s late father, Lord Bazmond.
The light passing through the surrounding trees makes Arkeste feel a roomier space than it is, and the finishes of sanded wood and linen allow a casual, comfortable aesthetic, blending style and simplicity with a slight air of rural chic. To awaken the palate, I procured three glasses of Chamonix’s Blanc de Blancs Cap Classique, this sort of fizz still being the best appetite-sharpener around. It was perky, citrus-laden and brisk.
Food-wise, the starters spoke of clean, fresh ingredients prepared with light touches. Such as salt roasted beetroot and goats’ milk cheese, Tempura prawn and oyster mushroom ravioli. Elegant, refined and rustic, without being farmyard.
Clyde and I settled for the special, a mussel-dish, while lovely Sigourney selected the beef tartare with mustard vinaigrette. Some freshly baked bread had arrived with a sweetish whipped butter, and seeing Clyde and Sigourney were going light on the carbs, I dug in.
The mussels arrived, whole morsels of shelled-mollusc the colour of tamarind and Seville orange. A light Asian sauce had whetted the mussels, but without in any way cluttering the flavour of ocean-spray and kelp, universal signs of a fresh mollusc. Clyde ate in satisfied silence, still sipping his sparkling Chamonix Blanc de Blancs, while Sigourney made mince-meat of her tartare.
This was aged beef-steak, skilfully cubed and served with egg yolk, capers and a jus of smoked bone marrow. Seeing the hungry look in my eye, Sigourney offered me a taste, which I took and ate, and it was delicious, the raw flesh evoking a primal urge.
Red wine was ordered, a Chamonix Reserve Pinot Noir and a variety with which Chamonix is the undoubted leader in the Franschhoek appellation. It is a kind, generous Pinot Noir, charming with its lacing of sour-cherry and pine-needle smoke and succulent autumn plum. It runs quick on the palate, finishing long and clear, and memorable.
Food. Main-course. To select from, there were – inter alia – confit duck-leg with a risotto, beef fillet and potato fondant, crispy pork-belly served alongside ginger caramel, springbok with roasted cauliflower purée,
This time, I followed Sigourney, who was continuing her blood-fest, by ordering springbok loin, while Clyde opted for the pork-belly. The wine, well, I don’t really agree on proscriptive food-wine pairings, but a fine Pinot Noir accompanies any dish, really.
The springbok had been given an Asian twist with a sauce of sake, poached pear, and shitake mushrooms, laid alongside cauliflower purée. Clyde’s pork-belly and its glistening ginger caramel looked inviting. As he split the golden crackling from the unctuous fatty flesh, I could see the pork was perfectly cooked. The crisp skin met Clyde’s mouth with a satisfying crunch.
On my and Sigourney’s side, the springbok spoke of perfect game of Karoo origin. The buck was cooked medium-rare, the flesh having been well-hung in the dry veld air, allowing the meat to maintain a sensual blush, fleshy pink and moist hue without any bloodiness. The dish was perfect on the bite, the mild gaminess accurately complemented with the sweet side of poached pear infused with an earthy shitake hit.
A bottle of Chamonix Sauvignon Blanc was ordered to cleanse the palate as we worked our way through the food, myself having the last of that Pinot Noir before the onslaught of vibrant Sauvignon Blanc.
The gorgeous meal was complemented by informative, brisk and efficient service, the service lady understanding that no dessert would be required due to the meal’s sating ability. We each had an espresso, finished the Sauvignon Blanc and headed down the mountain to toss some berets.