A DUCK AND STORMY NIGHT
Peter Delmar makes a foie gras of himself with the fine fare at a five-star Magaliesburg hotel
IT rained cats and dogs that night all right but, before the deluge, it was the duck that proved my undoing. Arriving at the De Hoek Country Hotel from central Joburg, my trip odometer told me that De Hoek was less than 80km away, an easy drive to a world quite apart.
On the Saturday afternoon, after lunch, while Wife snoozed in one of the new “rooms” — though they are really suites — I contemplated a short stroll to the Black Horse brewery down the road, perhaps to meet some interesting local rustics and absorb some of their fanciful yarns.
But I’d come to De Hoek to unwind with my better half and to eat beautiful food. Walking 1km to a lively wayside hostelry filled with bearded locals seemed just too much like work, so I plumped for 40 winks myself. Plus there was the small matter of a slap-up high tea that afternoon …
There is not a great deal to do at the fivestar De Hoek: there are lovely, manageable walks on the property; a shaded swimming pool; bird spotting; and, after your afternoon snooze, a cosy bar and lounges. There is not even a tennis court or a jungle gym that I could see but within easy reach are quadbiking and, for all I know, abseiling and paintballing. None of this happens at De Hoek, though.
De Hoek is for couples who want to relax and reconnect in each other’s company: it has a no-under 12s policy. With our children parcelled off to various responsible friends, De Hoek suited us down to the ground.
Waking from my mid-afternoon doze and being a bar fly, I made my way, as bar flies do, to the bar. There I foolishly allowed myself a nibble at the bar snacks, a reckless lapse of judgment that I would come to regret — but then even the Pringles chips were artfully arranged to look like flowers. What was I to do? Then, as the sun dipped over the surrounding hills, with gathering clouds promising a downpour, it was time for the main purpose of our excursion: dinner at De Hoek.
The evening meal began auspiciously enough: a delectable but entirely manageable tuna rissole.
For course number two, I plumped for the twice-baked soufflé, a masterful creation of goat’s cheese with grapefruit and veggies. My sophisticated wife had the beetroot gazpacho, with which she pronounced herself more-than satisfied, but I come from Plumstead where we don’t eat cold soup — especially when it’s made out of beetroot — unless we are trying to be very polite.
The mains presented a dilemma. After a meal-and-a-half at De Hoek, we had cottoned on to the fact that chef (and co- owner) Michael Holenstein was a very special cook and that, seemingly, whatever he turned his hand to (and those of his kitchen staff) was likely to be something extraordinary.
Never in my life have I been known to look a gift-kabeljou in the mouth, especially when prepared by a chef such as Holenstein. But that evening I did. Wife had the kabeljou and I had the duck confit with dauphin potatoes and a bitter marmalade sauce.
There was method in what I was doing: because I was “working”, in the interests of research, I adjudged it necessary to help myself to at least a third of her delicious fish. Meanwhile, I was making my way through the duck. I don’t know what that duck ate or where it went to duck school but it must have been a very happy duck. And after it was slaughtered and arrived in the kitchen at De Hoek, it made me very happy indeed. I only had one leg of it, mind you; it was slow cooked and as crispy as the menu promised. I loved that duck very much. I loved it so much that I kept on eating it way beyond the point of being sated.
My gourmandism that night (complemented by a glass of 2010 Kanonkop Kadette) entirely undid me. I greedily guzzled so much of the blessed duck that there was not an inch left inside me for the promised berry crème brûlée or hazelnut parfait. So I staggered off in the most blissful torpor to my room. And slept to the agreeable sound of large Highveld rain drops thrashing down on the tin roof.
Mercifully, the thing about good sleep is that it makes you hungry again. The next morning’s breakfast was another multicourse food fest. After the obligatory fruitand-yoghurt healthy stuff, I indulged in the huevos rancheros: a pot of poached eggs, chorizo, chilli beans and tomato salsa. It was very fine.
De Hoek is a beautiful boutique hotel near Magaliesburg town that is all wonderfully finished sandstone.
The food is so fine that people fly in for a single meal. Late on Saturday afternoon, a young couple arrived in a helicopter for a wedding proposal and the next day a yuppie foursome arrived by the same mode of transport for Sunday lunch. De Hoek, it seems, is where Gauteng’s other half go for lunch and dinner. It really is that good.