It’s sometime in May, and I’m with chef Peter Tempelhoff in Boschendal’s Werf building—the original cellar of the 1812 manor house, which has in recent times gone through various iterations. It’s a long, narrow space with limewashed walls, Spanish-reed ceilings, and yellowwood beams (which have all borne witness to its past) where, the chef tells me, he’ll be opening a new restaurant.
Standing in the somewhat awkward space, he explains that not much can be done in terms of changing the physical structure itself, as it’s a designated heritage building, and I can’t help but think you’d have to be a bit crazy to take on a project of this scale and nature. But, knowing the chef, who turned the rooftop of an inner-city building into what is now one of Cape Town’s most internationally recognised restaurants—FYN—I am excited to see what will come.
A few months later, I return to Boschendal. The space is almost unrecognisable, masterfully reconfigured into four beautiful rooms—six if you include the terrace and what is possibly the coolest washroom in South Africa. Yet it’s not just the décor but also the energy that’s changed — there’s a sexiness to the space, it’s bold and daring and impressive.
The design by Rotem Shachar and Megan Bond of MR. Design Studio, alongside architect Jacques Mouton, under the guidance of Tristan du Plessis, sees a triad of distinct themes brought to life, each area drawing on a realm that is core to the nature of the farm, be it mineral, vegetable, or animal, along with the ever-present anchor of time.
It’s almost as much restaurant as it is interactive gallery, with each space anchored by a bespoke design element. The first is the striking vine installation by Charles Haupt of Bronze Age Studio, which stands in reception at the front of the communal table and “growth tunnel”, immediately setting the tone. In the dining rooms, a Cape Dutch-esque fireplace draws the eye—only on closer inspection does its form reveal itself as a cross-section of a cabbage.
Downstairs, the bar becomes the dominant sculptural gesture: Driaan Claassen’s largest work to date, it is inspired by bone structure. Then there’s the aforementioned washroom, which features a sundial basin made from Zambezi stone and featuring a steel gnomon aligned to true north.
But the most daring installation may well be the one that ties the restaurant most directly to the farm—a custom dry-ager, glowing in the narrow passage and displaying a whole hanging carcass and other cuts of meat. It’s visceral, honest, and impossible to ignore.
Each space is so considered, so impeccably designed that, although it is clearly new, Arum feels like it belongs on Boschendal.
Perhaps this is because Arum as a restaurant takes its cue from the valley long before a fire has been lit in the kitchen. The lilies that give the restaurant its name rise and fade with the seasons, marking time in a way that is reminiscent of the rhythm of the farm—at Boschendal, their biodynamic and regenerative practices guide everything they do. Here, under the guidance of executive chef and partner Travis Finch, the farm dictates the menu. Vegetables come straight from the gardens; whole animals are broken down in-house. Ferments, preserves, and aged ingredients stretch the seasons across time.
I begin with a few of their snack plates: the crudités land crisp and cold on the table, along with wild-garlic aioli; the charcuterie board sees varying cuts of cured Duroc pork (also from the farm) paired with house-made pickles and fresh sourdough.
Among the starters, a standout is the Stracciatella tucked beneath delicate layers of fire-roasted beetroot. The delicate yet rich cheese meets thin beetroot slices, croutons, and a hint of hibiscus vinegar — a restrained, elegant dish. The Cape octopus with crisp guanciale and smoked corn is equally fantastic, as is the rooibos-smoked duck with squash and mango achar, with the chef showcasing his impressive technique in whispers rather than shouts, much like the delicate notes of fire woven throughout these dishes.
For mains, the prime rib cooked over flame is a pure expression of the restaurant’s ethos — beautiful farm-reared Angus, charred properly, rested fully, and served alongside a composition of carrots and what will no doubt be a crowd pleaser: the kitchen’s potato cakes. It’s confident cooking—nothing added that doesn’t need to be there, and nowhere to hide either. To close, I can’t resist the Dalewood cheese course. A throwback to Tempelhoff’s days at the Greenhouse, the course features a perfect slice of cheese, a Basque-style cheesecake, a cheese ice cream, and a nostalgic braai-broodjie cracker.
Group sommelier and beverage director Jennifer Hugé, the recipient of the Relais & Châteaux and Pommery Woman of the Year Trophy 2026, has shaped a tight wine programme built around Boschendal wines. At the bar, her approach leans into the same ethos as that of the kitchen: tinctures and bitters made with ingredients from the farm and incorporated into various twists on classic cocktails. The Malva Old Fashioned is inspired by local lore that Boschendal’s old Werf restaurant was the first to serve malva pudding. Here, Hugé swaps the classic bourbon for a caramel-and-toffee-butter-washed brandy.
Thinking back to that first visit, I can’t help but feel that the space has become a natural extension of the farm, one aligned with its environment, its ethos, and its produce. The cooking is focused and farm-driven, while the design builds a quiet narrative that sits naturally within Boschendal’s landscape. Considered, grounded, and entirely sure of itself—Arum is in full bloom.
From the December issue of Wanted, 2025
