Hooked on Cape Town

Despite Cape Town being a coastal city it’s becoming increasingly difficult to find seafood restaurants offering variety and imagination. I suspect that’s why many fish lovers now default to sushi. But I’m ambivalent about sashimi, sushi and sake; I prefer fish less ornamentally presented, and prepared with pots, pans and panache. But where to find it?

Cape Town’s four harbours are theoretically prime spots for pescatarian delights. But that’s not entirely true; the V&A caters to all gastronomy preferences, but establishments punting seafood are distinctly bundled into elite tourist traps or over-commercialised franchise chains. Frankly, unless you enjoy being part of a crowd and are OK with scrambling for a table in the knowledge that you will pay over-the-top prices, look beyond the V&A.

On the opposite side of the bay, Hout Bay’s Chapman’s Peak Hotel used to be a gem. At the base of the scenic drive, with luck diners could get an outside table giving a grand view of the bay, beach and Sentinel Peak, erect as a soldier, guarding the harbour entrance. That’s still possible, but, alas, there’s no longer a steady stream of signature cast-iron pans emerging from the kitchen, overflowing with succulent calamari. Now, it’s standard, not standout, fare.

The Deep South has a few pleasant places. Within a few whales’ lengths of each other in Simonstown’s harbour are Bertha’s, The Salty Sea Dog, and the False Bay Yacht Club’s Pier 23. The picturesque bay smells of the sea, seaweed and — depending on the direction of the wind — diesel and deep-frying cooking oil. Somehow, that synthesises with the sea view and tantalises the taste buds.

Bertha’s, right on the water’s edge, occasionally offers an unusual line fish. On our visit a delivery of cardinals was expected in time for dinner. Unfortunately we were there for lunch, and the rest of Bertha’s fare, like that of its neighbours, is soulful rather than imaginative.   

There’s better luck in shabby-chic, gentrifying Muizenberg. Carla’s is down a newly bricked side street towards surfer’s corner. The environs remind me of seaside towns on Portugal’s Atlantic coast, especially when it’s windy. There, five- or six-table eateries are salt of the earth, down to business places; the attitude is “This is what we serve, do you want to eat?” conveyed with an assured smile because the staff know the food is delicious.

Carla’s has a few more tables, but the same spirit. It’s dedicated to Mozambican prawns, with regular consignments arranged by Carla’s mother in Maputo. Go there prepared to get your fingers a bit messy.

In the gritty Kalk Bay harbour, just steps away from the quay and its dozens of fishing boats, is Harbour House. The menu is comprehensive, embracing sushi, shellfish, and platters. Initially it disappoints to see that the line fish options are pre-printed, not chalked on a board as varying daily specials, meaning that the usual suspects appear: hake, kingklip, salmon (Norwegian, and farmed, of course). But all is forgiven when I notice the inclusion of swordfish, an underappreciated species, lighter than tuna but gamy enough to marry with robust pairings.

There’s care, too, in the conceptualisation of the accompaniments. Mix and match between parsley risotto, salsa verde and garlic mash, prawn-flavoured ratatouille, and chardonnay sauce.  

The restaurant’s signature dish is sea bass, marinated for 24 hours in miso and mirin and pan seared. I’m planning a return visit for that, despite my misgivings about Japanese flavours.

The food is notable, but what makes Harbour House special is its location. Insist on a seaside window table, ideally in the quieter alcove facing Simon’s Town.   

Counter-intuitively, two of Cape Town’s best seafood places are near the city centre. Miller’s Thumb, so named in reference  to a European freshwater species — not a bakery — is small and unobtrusive, drowned out, especially on weekend nights, by partygoers on what has become a throbbing nightlife corner. But brave the crowds and the parking chaos, because it’s been operating for almost 30 years for good reason: every day there’s an interesting choice of line fish — generally at least three. Bluenose, geelbek and kabeljou (kob) were available on the night we visited. According to our waitress they even occasionally have marlin.

The three preparation options are Cajun, Moroccan or grilled with lemon juice and origanum. Adventurous diners may sway towards big, bold dishes like Chilli con Pesce or Red Jambalaya. The choices epitomise Miller’s Thumb: diminutive and homely, but serving expert fish dishes, with attitude.       

A short drive from the chaotic intersection at the entrance to the V&A, heading towards Table Mountain, is SeaBreeze. It’s is a misnomer, though: fringing the city bowl, in summer the baking heat is ratcheted up by the concrete and streams of cars, and in winter a biting wind funnels between Bree Street’s small businesses, bistros and bars.

Still, it’s a characterful, Parisian-like part of town, with outside tables, copses of trees, and a cosmopolitan buzz. The restaurant is elegant and airy. “I need some vitamin Sea”, says a welcoming poster at the entrance. Another, on the wall opposite our table, offers a recipe for life: “A smooth sea never made for a skilful sailor” — a promising sign of a willingness to experiment in the kitchen.

There’s evidence, too, that SeaBreeze takes fish seriously. The table setting includes old-fashioned fish knives. And there are no less than four daily specials: white, line, game and whole-roasted.

Our waitress, Lina, confirms that in the past week they’ve offered yellowtail, bream and kabeljou. Tonight there’s Cape salmon. I’m hooked. Served with a grapefruit hollandaise, it’s delicious. The sauce is rich but the tart citrus cuts through. Serendipitously, I’m drinking a caipirinha and the fragrant lime further compliments the dish.

Plenty of oysters are coming out of the kitchen. The menu offers them natural, panko-crumbed and cooked, or dressed four ways. Neighbouring diners are delighted, their oyster forks arcing constantly between plates. And I’m intrigued at the whole-roasted fish on its way to another table. Served tail up, tall and proud, it’s clearly a SeaBreeze signature dish. “Carpenter,” Lina responds when asked. I should have asked about all the options before ordering.

Having these choices is, in itself, remarkable; I may have found the Holy Grail of Cape Town’s fish restaurants.

Harbour House, Kalk Bay harbour, 021 788 4133

Bertha’s, Quayside Centre, 1 Wharf Street, Simon’s Town, 021 786 2138

Carla’s, 9 York Road, Muizenberg, 021 788 6860

Miller’s Thumb, 10B Kloof Nek Road, Tamboerskloof, 021 424 3838 or 082 782 2934

SeaBreeze, 211 Bree Street, Cape Town, 074 793 9349