The Wild Dogs, Part Deux

The night we went to the Cape of Good Hope (a name much better for tourism than say, The Pit of Despair!) we had dinner reservations at Carne, which was recommended by a friend who grew up in Cape Town and lives in the NYC area now.  He checked with friends for restaurant recommendations, and this was one they suggested.

The restaurant is located in an old house/small business at the end of a short dead street in City Centre.  The food was incredible.  The setting was post-industrial modern.  We got there at 7pm, and it was maybe one quarter full.  More and more people came in, and by 8 pm, the place was packed.

There were a couple of highlights.  First, the wine list was great, and included our favorite South African wine -- Thelema, a Cab from the Cape Winelands area. So, of course we ordered it.  Thelema is our favorite because we went to a Thelema wine dinner with our friends the Laportas at Restaurant Eve in Old Town Alexandria.  It was a great evening -- maybe 12 people, plus the wine maker and the rep.  Gene and I ended up sitting next to the winemaker.  We bombarded him with questions, but at least they were interesting questions.

Another highlight was the presentation of the menu.  Well, actually the meat platter.  The waiter brought a large baking flat full of the different cuts of meat (well, what did you expect from a restaurant named "Carne"?).  Julia choose the filet (I think, if my memory is wrong, I will fix this post), Carol had the lamb loin, and I had the lamb T-bone.  I won!  It was one of the best pieces of lamb I've ever had, and I've had a lot of lamb in my life.

The third highlight was the cab ride over.  I asked the black cabbie (reminder -- the terms in South Africa are black, coloured, and white, with white being both English and Afrikaners.  Coloureds, before you pillory me as a racist, refers to people of East Asian descent, who generally came to SA hundreds of years ago as slaves) how many languages he spoke.  Four -- English, Afrikans, and two African languages.  Then I asked him about Cape Town.

His life story poured out -- and it was quite fascinating.  He grew up in the Congo, right near the border with Sudan.  His city fell under control of the rebels, and he could not find a job or travel to leave.  However, he had applied for a scholarship in Switzerland (slightly different winter weather) on a lark.  Much to his surprise, he got it.  But, he didn't have a passport, and the rebels were not in the business of issuing papers.

The cabbie then fled to Zambia, where he was sent to a camp for foreigners, far out in the bush.  He was again not allowed to work in a town.  Eventually, he bribed a camp bureaucrat to smuggle him into South Africa.  When he got near the border, he and another refugee got into the first trailer of a two trailer truck.  The border guards simply inspected the second trailer, and they made it through.  He called a friend in Cape Town, who came and picked him (our cabbie, in case you are lost in this story), and brought him there, where he started by parking cars.

He wasn't completely happy in Cape Town -- he felt that after twelve years, he should be further along in life than he was, but he also was happier than if he had stayed in the Congo.  He charged us R63 for the cab ride over (about $6.00), and then we paid a different cabbie R80 for the ride back.  (Not sure how that worked, but I wasn't going to argue with the second guy -- we are talking about a $1.70 difference.)

Anyhow, great dinner, preceded by a very interesting cab ride.