Chorus didn't bore us.

 3 December 2023           

 

CHORUS

Waterkloof Wine Estate, Old Sir Lowry’s Pass Road, Somerset West.

 

The stark, forbidding exterior of Chorus, and the complex of buildings it’s in, reminded me of Benguela Cove and of various government buildings from the latter days of the previous regime whose architects seemed to delight in the kind of brutalist design that is the physical façade of the ugliness within. Where there’s a pleasant, mitigating difference,  here, though, is that this building houses one of Bertus Basson’s latest ventures into culinary splendour. The views from the dining room are magnificent, the interior is elegantly and sleek modern and the nosh ain’t too shabby.

 

This lunch was to be the last of the wife’s extended birthday month and I think we closed off the festivities quite well.

 

We chose to do the foodie journey over 6 courses for R1025,00 a person, shared a bottle of bubbly and had coffee afterward.

 

Chorus didn’t require a deposit when I booked, which mildly surprised me given that most restaurants at this level, not to mention others of lesser stature, nowadays require a significant deposit per head to secure the booking.  When he was presented with the bill, one of our fellow diners queried why the deposit hadn’t been deducted until the server pointed out that it’s not Chorus’ policy to ask for a deposit. Obviously, the diner was on a culinary safari in the Western Cape and confused his bookings. 

 

There’s an interior lounge space, and some tables but the dining space is mostly in a room that protrudes from the side of the main building, with huge windows on all sides for that sublime view over the rolling hills in the near distance and the mountains further away.   

 

The  canapés and bread were served with slightly over the top theatrical flourishes, both from trolleys; the first laden with all manner of small stones and suchlike, only there for effect, before the server doled out the canapés hidden in the throng, consisting of a dune spinach daltjie, beef tartare, oysters, smoked snoek and “mebos.”  

 

Allegedly, the chef had been foraging on the local beach early that morning to bring us some of these exotic yet local ingredients and flavours. 

 

A small, flat, rectangular loaf of rustic bread arrived like royalty on a palanquin and the server cut two slices of bread while we watched, a la Salt Bae carving steak at the table. I guess it beats seeing the server plonk down pre-plated bread on the table.  

 

We also received an exotic, unsalted home-made butter that resemble really good, clotted cream and accompanying  pink  salt.

 

From the next four dishes comprising the 1^st and 2^nd courses, my favourites were the seared & raw tuna and the mushroom and celeriac tart, though each of the dishes was delightful in its own right.

 

The wife’s main course was the beef fillet and mine was the kabeljou, with a side of fondant potatoes for two.

 

 The fillet was the relative disappointment  of the meal as it was clearly somewhat overcooked, and not the medium rare the wife asked for.  I had a morsel and it seemed oddly dry even if  still soft, and the flavour was good.

 

An aside: the menus is at pains to point out that the meat is supplied by Frankie Fenner Meat Market, as if that is some hallmark of unparalleled excellence.  However, meat is only as good as the quality of preparation.

 

I thought that my perfectly cooked kabeljou was superior in flavour and texture.

 

The wife chose the vanilla soufflé and I went for the selection of cheeses.  The menu’s reference to “a walk to the cheese room” wasn’t metaphorical, as I’d thought. The server invited me literally to walk to the space next to the kitchen, where the wines are kept, to select my cheese.   

 

When I got there, it was somewhat underwhelming: two small shelves with a few cheeses. I didn’t even have to make a choice; I could have one of each. Well, why didn’t the server just tell me this at the table and save me the arduous journey?

 

Once I got my cheesy bounty, though, I was well pleased with probably the most generous cheese platter I’ve ever had as dessert. In most restaurants the “cheese board” is 90% board, with only a few slivers of fromage. At Chorus you have almost a whole meal in itself.  Needless to say, the cheese was toothsome. 

 

The wife adored her soufflé and declared, if the berry soufflé we’d had at the Ritz Hotel in London in 2019 set the standard with a ridiculously high bar, this vanillas soufflé was serious competition.

We ordered coffee and then the final treats arrived, a box of chocolate petit fours. We selected three each and indulged our palates one last time.

 

The bill, including the wine and the coffee, came to R2 465,00 before tip. Not only did Chorus not ask for a deposit but they also don’t sneak a service charge onto the bill.

 

I’ve no idea whether the food and service at Chorus would merit one or more Michelin stars  were it elsewhere in the world, but Bertus Basson does fine dining to a degree of excellence and attention to detail that is supremely impressive. It’s not cheap date territory yet I feel that one does receive plenty value for money. We had a delightful final fanfare to my dearest wife’s birthday celebrations and would definitely recommend Chorus for any special occasion.