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THE best laid plans of mice and men…!
I’d heard that the long awaited eatery at Avondale, replacing the beastly, bog-standard former Wimpy Bar was open and had received mixed reports.
It rejoices in the name Steak Out, a nice pun. There was a Steak Out for many years less than 300m from the present Avondale pitch. They cooked great grills but catered for some of the city’s more heroic drunks, serving hooch long before (and after) permitted hours.
It became Art Café, which my daughter loved. (She never came face-to-face with perhaps the rudest chef in the world!) A temperamental Belgian, he memorably, once physically threw out the then president of the local branch of the International Food & Wine Society, her sister and nephews/nieces for complaining their breakfast eggs were cold!
Art Café became Utano, which opened, very promisingly, as an “Afro-Health” joint at Easter 2007, but now — amusingly –– calls itself a Tex-Mex restaurant. As far as I know it’s the only one of its ilk in Central Africa…and possibly the dearest in the world. Prices are just so…next decade? Or Gideon Gono-ish?
So Steak Out has reappeared. I was intrigued to know if it had anything to do with its eponymous predecessor. Would they be serving gin on cornflakes, grappa with grapefruit, cognac with coffee, beer with bacon?
I also wanted to go because Paula Mattock’s there. I’ve known her since she was knee-high to a bush baby. As Paula Pafitis (her maiden moniker) she ran the perfectly splendid Bella Vista, where Delhi Palace is now, at Greystone Park.
But it wasn’t to be! Apparently the restaurant (which incorporates a retail butchery: a bit like the international Butchers’ Block chain) did open a week before I got there, trading conventional hours, but since then has switched to suppers only.
Don’t ask me why. I’m sure I’ll find out in the fullness of time.
This was lunchtime and minutes ticked away. I crossed the Avondale SC square, spotting a venerable powerful Mini parked en route. It belongs to my mate Chris Williams, who’s half Cherokee and a chef.
He’s also something of a computer buff and was holding court on the stoep of Café Nush, the Iranian-owned and run confectioners and eatery which replaced Italian Bakery last winter. I joined him briefly, but there wasn’t room on one tiny table for two full-sized laptops (he was downloading a Portuguese programme for someone) and my katundu.
I’ve previously ordered pasta (US$8-US$10) at lunchtimes there and found it very acceptable. They do splendid breakfasts (US$5-US$10) which are okay, if you remember the gaffe is owned by Iranian Muslims and there’s no way you’ll get bacon or pork sausage with the full English fry-up!
And, candidly, “macon” –– the acceptable-to-Islam (and the Rabbi!) alternative –– just doesn’t do it for me.
When I was last there, executive chef was Marina Avgidis, who many years ago operated the then superb Greek restaurant, Taverna, which used to be on The Chase at Mount Pleasant with her late husband. Sadly Marina –– who fairly recently returned from Down South –– has not been in the best of health and had to stop work, but was there with her daughter for lunch.
She thoroughly recommended the kebab specialities of Café Nush (it means “cheers” or “good health” in Farsi) and I opted for a Persian-style jooje kebab: grilled marinated, generous chunks of tender, juicy, plump chicken breast dusted with “saffron” (turmeric, I suppose) and served with tzadziki (Levantine flavoured yoghurt dip) and the most delicious more-ish salad combinations of various members of the tomato family, cooked, raw and roasted; peppers of all colours, cucumber, crisp, crunchy lettuce, broccoli florets, carrot strips, onions, etc.
“Starch” was a choice of the dill-flavoured fluffy Basmati rice I went for, or ubiquitous chips, which looked well cooked, golden and too tempting!
My main course cost US$14. Koobideh kebabs, made with minced beef steak are US$10 and chenjeh –– in which beef fillet is the star –– are US$13.
I obviously needed a sugar boost because –– in the forced and sad absence of my usual tipple, Golden Pilsener (Muslims, again: no grog!) –– I unenthusiastically sipped two Sprites, at US$2 each and ended the meal with a couple of large dollops of vanilla ice-cream anointed with a cerise-coloured syrup which bore little resemblance: colour or flavour-wise to the strawberry it claimed to be.
Service at Nush –– and its predecessor, IB –– was always problematic. My main course did seem to take an awful long time to arrive, but as I was chatting to acquaintances (Chef Susan Lemon is temporarily consulting there) and dipping into a humorous paperback…and as it was Monday….that was no real train smash.
I hoped for a chat with owner, the urbane Ramin Khalatabari –– who came here from Teheran 16 years ago with the firm which took over Cone Textiles from the Cohen family –– but he was back in Iran, due to his father’s ill health.
I heard a son was acting member-in-charge, but he was obviously tied up in the busy kitchen during the perhaps 90 minutes or so I was there.
Bottom line: main course, pudding, two cooldrinks cost US$21.
Café Nush is in the Avondale SC, under the Seven Arts Centre. They now open seven days a week: Monday to Thursday 7am-10pm; Friday 7am-1pm (Muslim holy day); Saturday 7am-11pm; Sunday 7am-9pm.
Sorry, the only contact phone numbers I have are cellphones belonging to senior staff no longer there.
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