Cape Town Food Tour

New country means a food tour! I absolutely love a food tour. It’s a way to get to know at least one local, often some fellow travelers, and try some food that I would not have tried on my own. Food is such a part of each of our cultures and heritage, that trying food in new places is almost like visiting the heart of a place. We found the food tour that we did today on Tripadvisor, and it had glowing reviews. We were very excited about it, but as our only other food tour in Africa had been a bit of a disappointment, we certainly went into this afternoon with a bit of hesitation. There was no reason whatsoever for us to be anxious.

Our guide, Sifiso, was incredible. He was gentle, kindhearted, and passionate about his home. He is from the other side of South Africa, but has lived in Cape Town for the past 10 years. He is a small business supporter, and he and his girlfriend have been handcrafting beautiful leather bags that they are trying to find a market for. He did not begin this particular food tour, his teammate, Dennis, an ex patriot from Germany, did. Their goal is not only to share food with travelers, but also stories. None of the places that we went into today were ones that I ever would’ve wandered in on my own, and the food was simply divine. He said it was hard to even call many of them restaurants, but they were called kitchens.

The history of South Africa is one that I have much to learn about. I do know, however, that it is one that is recent. This is a country that has only recently grappled with horrific inequalities. As such, however, it seems that they are eagerly moving forward, and in many ways by-passing other countries who have not dealt with the same recent struggles. We started our tour in a square where a famous Dutch church sits that has been in that same place for 300 years. Just outside the church steps, was a market where enslaved peoples were sold right after church services. There are plaques that include names of those people, of course, most of the names were not ever truly recorded, and the ones that were were rarely the names that their mothers gave them. And yet, today, the church stands. It holds services weekly for all to enter, but the service is spoken in Afrikaans. There is dark history here for sure, but beautiful irony as it moves forward.

The first place that we walked into was a tiny little hole in the wall with the sign over the top of a name that I do not remember, but it is of no importance. For the last 14 years that restaurant has not been the one whose name is on the board. Nor does the restaurant serve the food on the giant placard that takes up 2/3 of one of the walls of the restaurants. Sifiso told us he asked why they didn’t take the signs down, and they simply responded, “Well that takes money.”

The restaurant is a Somalian restaurant. South Africa is home to refugees from around the continent. The largest percentage of those refugees are from Somalia. We joined our fellow American tourists by eating with our hands using chapati bread to help us scoop up rich bites of rice, beef, cabbage, and potato. There were also spaghetti noodles on the plate. While these did not seem to fit with the rest of the traditional foods, as the story apparently goes, the Italians tried to colonize Somalia. It did not work, but Somalia kept some of the things that they liked about the Italians!

We walked around the city some, allowing our first course to digest. Sifiso told us about some ins and outs of the city, explained some street names, walked us through a flower market that has been in place for a number of years thanks to the generosity of someone who once owned the land it now sits on, and took us into the old post office building. It appears that many big old buildings here in the city that are no longer needed for their original use are being creatively repurposed. Throughout the large post office building, small booths and tables of vendors are set up and pay a moderate fee for being there. We were introduced to one entrepreneur who specializes in educating South Africans. He searches for used books on African history, business, interesting biographies, and self-help books.

Our next restaurant, a Xhosa one, represents one of the largest ethnic groups in South Africa. We had a traditional Sunday lunch of seven colors on a Monday evening. The rice and the meats represented two different colors while the vegetables and side items represented the other five. It was as beautiful as it was delicious! The bread like soft sourdough, but apparently it is cooked in boiling water.

Our next treat came from an ethnic group that I must admit I knew nothing about. They are called Cape Malay. They are a mostly Muslim group of South Africans, who trace their descendants back to enslaved people that the Dutch and British brought with them from Asia, specifically Indonesia. The chili bite that we ate was similar to a hush puppy in texture, but bursting with flavor as well as, yes, bites of chili.

At each of our stops, we always had some leftover food. Sifiso and his incredible kindness and thoughtfulness would get a take away container each time. He carried these with us, and I assumed they would be his lunch for tomorrow. However, slowly as we went, he found people that needed these meals and graciously passed them off. He didn’t want us to see him doing this, as he did it quietly and with intention on who he chose, but his generosity added depth to our tour. His simple acts of kindness showed the deep love he has for this country.

On our next stop, we went to Heaven. No, that’s not a metaphorical speaking of how delicious the food was, but rather a geographical location. If in fact, you are looking for Heaven, look no further than Central Methodist Mission Churchyard in Cape Town. It’s a coffee shop. This beautiful church is not much more than a century old, but it’s activism in the community rings truer than the bell that has only been rung once in it’s tower as it shook the foundation of all of the buildings around. The coffee shop has some outdoor tables, but if you want to sit inside, just pick a pew. The pews and altar cushions are covered in vibrant cloths in rainbow patterns. The church is known for being active in the community and speaking up when people are not being treated fairly. I was touched by this humble church and the beautiful work she does, especially after my own, home Methodist Church recently went through a great division, mostly due to the rights of the LGBTQ community. Looking around at the rainbows sharing God’s love for all was a perfect way to enjoy tea brewed by a man who had been so moved by the AA meetings held in this church that he wanted to help others by bringing Heaven to them. While many African countries still do not permit people to love who they love, some even punish it as a crime, South Africa has had legalized gay marriages since 2017. It appears that Cape Town is a haven for all sorts of people seeking refuge on this continent.

While sipping on our deliciously brew coffees and teas, we also had a delicious cake bite of sorts. It was called a Koek sister which simply translates to cake sister. It was somewhere in between a donut hole and a cake bite, and it was delicious!

Our last stop on the tour was a place called Fatima’s. Fatima and her sister come from the western part of Africa from the country of Mali. One of the reasons this restaurant has become so special, is that they have found ways to represent many different western African countries in their dishes, making people from all over this great continent feel like they are at home at this welcoming kitchen. Many of the flavors were similar to those that I enjoyed while in Senegal. We drank bissap and tamarind juice, dipped our food in peanut sauce, and enjoyed jollof rice along with our fish and beef. What a treat!

A few months ago, my Mom sent me this article. I read it, but I didn’t take note of the food tour as I should have. How lucky I was to find out on my tour, that this was the same one that a New York Times journalist had been on and enjoyed. It was not only the food that was delicious, but the spirit of the city that seemed to be conveyed by the people that we met and the stories that we heard.