The art and simplicity of gathering to eat

In first year, fresh off the fresher bus, I arrived at Wits wide eyed and keen to see what this varsity thing was about and wondering what I’d learn in what I’d chosen.

My first lecture early on a Wednesday morning was constitutional law. Those were the days where they still handed us little copies of the constitution with our course packs. We had the best lecturer, Prof Agherdien. I was mesmerised: she was a very small woman who had so much knowledge about the constitution, as well as a love for SA and applying the law that was palpable. I have always ranked this course as the one thing I really learnt at university.

Constitution Hill and the Constitutional Court have always held a special place of esteem in my soul and I was beyond excited to bound up the steps towards the Old Fort section of the space, buoyed by the voices of Oliver Tambo and others over the loud speakers around. I turned the corner past the Kathrada exhibition and did a final check with a passing stranger that I was indeed headed in the right direction to Food, I love you.

The black sign with white copy indeed signals that you are the right place as you enter what seems to be the last outpost on this strip, so heavily ensconced in history that you feel the energy of those who have passed through these walls around in some strange way. The paint is peeling a little and you cannot help but wonder who else has trod this path before you. You then notice the little information blurb that this site was the old prison kitchen and, well, I was wowed afresh before even taking in the full restaurant that is Food, I love you.

I stepped into a warm buzzing space, on a sunny, wintery Wednesday. The windows all have the requisite prison steel bars on the outside. The space was lively and warm inside with the wooden floors and long tables filled with people happily chatting over lunch. Not a spare seat to be seen inside. I spot a courtyard and want to scout a seat in the sun. Again two long tables filled with people, but a delightful stranger stood up and cleared a space for me to sit and join their table.

A waiter was already at my side to tell me the lay of the land and take my drinks order. Waiters are dressed in beautiful cottons and linen aprons, all lending such a softness to what we know was the historical harshness of our surrounds.

I then make my way to the harvest table, bumping into one of my favourite waiters from another restaurant that I liked and is now closed. Sean takes me through how the harvest table system works and points out any allergy pitfalls on the menu for me. I scoop my enamel plate (loving this simple nod to history) while salivating at what bubbles on the hot plates ahead of me. I scoop up a piece of corn bread that you cannot resist tearing a little bit of an edge off to taste. There is also the most appetizing green with touches of jewel toned red from a broccoli salad with cranberries in it. The ripples of beautiful sweet potatoes and sage in a gratin greet my spoon as I dish up inhaling the delicious smell, followed by some chicken cooked with thyme.

I hurried to my table to tuck in. I had my laptop with me to begin typing this column as I ate, but my laptop remained closed, as I took in what I had come to do: to gather with others in communion and savour this delicious meal. I landed up chatting with a stranger about how his son shares a second name with my first name; someone else told me about her mother’s love of language. I overheard other tables speak about work while a cute five-year-old showed me his signature break dancing moves behind me.

As my carrot, pineapple and ginger juice arrived, I was swept up into a quick tour of a studio built into the ramparts by Lwando Xaso who has such an exceptional knowledge of law, history and our Constitution, before returning to my plate and planning dessert. How lovely is it to leave your bag and laptop among strangers on the threshold of Hillbrow and remember that we live in a beautiful city and there are still parts where strangers gather and leave as friends?

I ordered banana bread and a coffee to finish up my meal. This banana bread alone is worth a trip to Food, I love you. It’s interestingly spicy and has a delicate crunch throughout and it is not too sweet. I picked up some take away for my very pregnant friend and she said to me, “I know why that place is called Food, I love you, because I could taste the love in that banana bread.”

No truer words were spoken. Food, I love you is a wonderful surprise. A warm space, not just in temperature, but more in temperament. Head chef and owner Mpho Phalane left advertising and opened this restaurant in 2022. It feels paltry to call it a restaurant as it transcends mere dining that one experiences in the space. It is so hard to leave once you settle into your seat.

Mpho says of her space that, “there’s always a community and things that are beyond your control and that is what I love.”

I recommend you visit with no plans for what you’ll do after, because you may have to postpone them. The space is absorbing, the dappled sunlight soothing and the food celebrates the flavour and flair of local ingredients. The service is a seamless symphony, where you are both taken care of and left alone in just the right balance.

Mpho was inspired to open a restaurant because she loves the art and simplicity of gathering. That is what you get at Food, I love you, a space that has refined gathering into an art with a mix of wonderful people, exceptionally delicious and simple food and superb service that all contribute to this masterful canvas.

• Food, I love you is located at Constitution Hill, 11 Kotze Street Braamfontein.