MOVEABLE FEAST Barbara Ludman
LET’S get this straight at the outset, unapologetically: few of us are beautiful enough for Mea Culpa. Even on an ordinary off-night, by half past eight, unless you’re as stunning as the decor, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb. You can see they’ve gone after the Annabel’s crowd.
One doesn’t know where to look first: at the gorgeous women, blonde hair cascading down the back of little black dresses of lace or leather or both; at the greying super-fit men buying them drinks or nosh; at the gorgeous blond men; or at the outrageous, unrestrained bravado of the decor, described by a friend as post-modern Baroque — like the larger- than-life paintings decorating the main dining room with red-headed Biblical figures in Paradise. Like the faux marble tables, the painted floor, the swathes of green draperies …
Prefer streaky-black faux-marble surfaces with banks of wrought iron candelabra and mirrors with lights so low all you can see through the gloom is the glow of couples in love? Book for the bar. Personally, I see wrought iron candelabra and I run, but there are people who choose to perch there in the catacombs.
As theme restaurants go, the owners — graduates of Balduccis and Bougainvilea and, in the case of chef Tim Allcock, Friths in Soho and Bentley’s as well — have done a wonderful job. Finding premises next to the Rosebank Convent, they set out to decorate the restaurant as a church (the sin of the title is gluttony), but seem to have got carried away by a desire to send up decadence while celebrating it. It works. Even if you’re not a beautiful person, just an ordinary diner out on an evening’s joll, the atmosphere is great fun.
The food — Italy via California –is also by-and- large better than in most restaurants-as-theme-parks, particularly if you stick to the starters and the puddings. Some of it sounds better than it is, like roquette served with pine nuts, shavings of parmesan and a couple of thin slices of pears, or fettucine with fresh tomato, shavings of mozzarella and mint. Some of it, however, is better than it sounds — baked sliced aubergine with coriander, cumin and garlic, for example, or roasted vegetable salad with anchovy sauce, or carpaccio (friends who ordered it recommended it). If you’re into meat, there’s a pizza topped with sliced lamb, aubergines, feta and onions dusted with cumin. If you’re not, you can have it with mushrooms, sun-dried tomato and rather too much cheese, or chicken, morogo and atchar, all sorts of odd combinations. Most dishes taste rich, although more from olive oil than butter and cream.
The coffee ranges from indifferent to awful, but the puddings are truly wonderful: a tarte tatin that rates, say, nine on a scale of one to 10, lime/saffron ice cream that hits 12 on the same scale, chocolate mousse cake with a taste of fudge …
The trick is getting any of this food on to your table. Visit number one, three weeks ago, took so long for the starters it was about all we could manage, and even then plats didn’t materialise, although the chef did, apologetically. “Do you always find a reason to say ‘mea culpa’?” somebody asked. Sure enough, visit number two they’d run out of ice cream.
Apparently they had to launch the restaurant before it was ready; they’re still adding bits and baubles here and there, although the painted floor already needs a touch-up. Hell, success is difficult.
* Mea Culpa is in Keyes Avenue, Rosebank, across Tyrwhitt from the Constantia Centre, open lunch and dinner seven days a week. Prices aren’t bad: starters R10 to R15; puddings even less; and pasta and pizzas around R17-R22. Booking is recommended: tel (011) 447-4543.
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THE WEEKLY e-MAIL INTERNET SUBSCRIPTION SERVICE Issue dated September 2 1994
NEWS AND OPINION SECTION
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