Pajamas & Jam

 8 November 2023

 

PAJAMAS & JAM

32 Van Zyl Street, Strand Industria (off the N2)

 

The, dare I say “legendary,” Pajamas & Jam has been on the wife’s bucket list for ages. We never bothered driving to the Strand on a weekend because it’s only open on Saturdays (and not Sundays) and we’d been warned that it would be super crowded and closes at 13h00. Apparently, also, the interior can compete with a sauna in summer, given that the premises were once two adjoining factories buildings with corrugated iron roofs and no air-conditioning.

 

Seeing as how it was the wife’s birthday today and she’d taken the day off, it was the perfect occasion and time to venture out to the Strand. It’s simple to get there: you put pedal to the metal on the N2 until you reach the Fabriek Street turnoff in the area where the N2 bisects the Strand and Somerset West.  One block down Fabriek Street, you see the white hulk of a deconditioned US Navy helicopter hovering over the front of the factory building, and that’s where it’s at, even if the huge signboard below the chopper  says, “Scrap Metal & Paper Recycling.” As you approach your destination, you notice the arrow pointing to a spot further along Van Zyl Street.

 

The industrial frontage of the building doesn’t look promising but the interior is a whole lot more appealing. There is some seating out front but the real deal is inside.

 

After stepping inside, you pass through a Tunnel (for the sake of alliteration) of Tantalising Temptation with a wide range of delectable pastries and cakes displayed on either side.  The wife described the walk past as experiencing the various stages of grief; you want all of them yet you know you can’t possibly even just have one of each.

 

Given that we’re talking repurposed factory building, there’s plenty of room inside and the high roof  emphasises the cavernous spaciousness.  

 

Initially, we were shown to an odd, narrow, long, white communal table in a side room, where we would be the only patrons at the table and this made no sense, as the joint was hardly jumping. Being seated on our own at this long table, out of the thick of things, made us feel like redheaded stepchildren not allowed at the main event and I quickly undertook a recce to the other room and found several unoccupied two-seater tables in a much cosier setting. 

 

We moved. We deserved to be where the action was.

 

The  principal decorating style of Pajamas & Jam is second hand goods warehouse with all manner of ancienne objets on floating shelves against the walls or on display shelving stacks, from  ceramics and small brass and copper items to  a choir of Singer sewing machines and, on the floor behind the stack, a chorus of anvils. And that’s only in our immediate vicinity. I guess all of these artefacts are for sale and probably not at budget prices.

 

The tables and chairs are quite eclectic too and might’ve been collected from many yard sales.

 

The menu is very extensive and includes small plates (the dishing style du jour) but we were there for brunch and not tapas.

 

The wife ordered a “large, tall” flat white (R42); I was satisfied with the humble cortado (R37).  The very good coffee is served in beautiful ceramic tumblers and it turned out the a “large, tall” coffee was roughly a bucket containing 500ml’s worth of hot beverage. 

 

The wife’s brunch consisted of lamb meatballs (keftedes) in Pita flatbread (R145)

and mine was the Breakfast Toast,  a sandwich on sourdough bread, with roasted aubergines and fresh tomato, maple bacon, Cheddar and pesto in a creamed aioli with a tomato and nasturtium bloom sauce, the whole topped off with a poached egg (R115). The egg was served broken.

 

The respective dishes were so substantial that we halved each and shared. A less hungry and more thrifty couple could easily subsist on just one dish of these dishes.

 

But wait, there’s more! Not only were the portions generous but the food was incontrovertibly hugely delicious and enjoyable.  Pajamas & Jam is legendary and it seems that the hype is justified. We were very happy puppies.

 

The wife dotes on mosbolletjie bread and ordered a portion (R15). She was mildly disappointed. Firstly, there was a delay in bringing it to the table, and she had to enquire about it, and it was closer to standard bread and nothing like the traditional, elastic, fibrous crumb of the traditional mosbolletjie. The taste was sufficiently redolent of aniseed but you want your mosbolletjie to have the texture of the product from a Boeretannie’s oven.

 

Of course, we were going to mitigate some of that initial grief when we set foot in the premises and trotted to the front to spy the wares. The wife, who’d surveyed and mapped the massed goodness earlier, carefully explained the options to me. It was like a server pointing out the zillion elements on a fine dining plate; by the end of the lengthy list, you’ve forgotten what the first thing was.

 

However, I recalled enough to go for the almond lemon ricotta cake

while the wife had the custard flan.

 

We washed our afters down with glasses of gorgeous Graham Beck bubbly. 

 

The bill came to quite reasonable R644,00, before tip.

 

Pajamas & Jam is clearly popular. Even on a Wednesday, outside of the school holidays, it was quite busy, mostly locals, I’d guess, some of whom came in to work, some to meet a potential romantic interest and some, like us, were there just for the leisurely, yummy brunch.

 

The wife mused that she’d be in trouble if we lived close by, as she’d basically camp out at Pajamas & Jam and eat her way through the menu and the pastry selection.  

 

We bought a large box of delicious, fresh Royal Lynn cherries on our way out, to cap a most excellent outing.