Ethnic Dining with Foreigners

Where do you take foreigners for a classy but ethnic dining experience? I had never heard of ‘Moyo’ because my Spanish boyfriend had always pronounced it with a funky accent, much as I had never heard some Sotho words pronounced with a Spanish accent. We had a Korean-Russian visitor that week, who was here on a business trip, and we wanted it to be more than that for her. Fortunately, she was not one of those people who expected to find lions running around in the backyard, but she was willing to have kudu served on her plate. It was pouring with rain in Melrose Arch as we dashed for the restaurant, only to be delayed at the door.

Please note that you have to make a booking, and please ensure that your name is spelt correctly. One of our Italian friends had made the reservation under his name but it must have sounded Vietnamese over the phone. We were ushered inside by waiters dressed in ethnic wear, into a dim, cosy hall with a spiralling staircase. We descended into a sparsely lit room with the pleasant strain of African violins in the air, and the aroma of tender, wild meat. The menu was particularly impressive, it all sounded quite exotic to me, even though I was supposed to be the local one at the table. Mpumalanga trout, orange and macadamia ostrich steak… I didn’t see Durban curry though, and sorry to say, but the Gautengers just don’t make it like the Durbanites! Anyway, I was feeling peckish and ordered a salad, my international jetsetters were quite keen on the springbok carpaccio (raw meat). The waitress came around to our table washing our hands and humming a Zulu chant. She also painted our faces while we waited, with some ethnic dots and stripes. My Korean friend was thrilled, especially when a musician came to sing at our table while playing a homemade instrument. Talk about camera-happy, everything got photographed – she must have got his vocal chords in there too! I think when she looks at them back home in Russia, with her 2 dozen scarves and vodka in hand, they will probably come to life.

My salad arrived – it was bigger than my head and I had to move it aside in order to finish my conversation with the person opposite me. The bit that I did eat was fantastic, though. It came with a little rose on the side, which I had the good sense to not eat, despite my mounting hunger. We spent several hours there before being treated to the final highlight of the evening – a traditional dance. The bill was not too taxing; the prices were surprisingly decent. Overall, I felt proud to be a part of such diverse culture and cuisine, spectacularly combined, and at the risk of sounding clichéd, a truly South African ethnic experience. Definitely the second best thing to lions in the backyard.

By Maryse Ash