Writer Tudor Caradoc-Davies and photographer Warren Heath met up with chef Kobus van der Merwe in 2016 to talk about his move from the city of Cape Town to Paternoster. Kobus was in the process of handing over his first restaurant Oep ve Koep to his family to focus on his latest endeavour, Wolfgat restaurant, which won the Restaurant of the Year 2019 at the World Restaurant Awards earlier this week.
Kobus van der Merwe’s daily commute to Paternoster features tortoises, farm gates, scrubby dunes, and plenty of wild pickings for his celebrated first restaurant, Oep ve Koep.
Nine years ago, Kobus van der Merwe quit his job as an online editor for a restaurant review website in Cape Town. He wasn’t quite sure what it was that he needed to do, but he knew he wanted to start afresh and do something more hands-on with food. And so he moved out of the city to the arid West Coast town of Paternoster to live in a beautiful yet Spartan cottage deep in the veld.
We’re Open. Come Inside
What happened next was even more unusual. Rather than opening a fish-and-chips shop or a classic seafood restaurant – businesses that would have an obviously decent chance of survival – he started something completely different with his first restaurant Oep ve Koep (Open for Business).
Unpretentious yet challenging, Oep ve Koep is a place radically different from anything to which even ‘foodie’ South Africans are generally accustomed, and it has rapidly become a benchmark for modern, adventurous, locavore food that also reflects on centuries of culinary.
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An Oasis in the Desert
The West Coast is a harsh, bleak part of the South African coastline, stretching from Cape Town to the Namibian border. The further north you drive, the drier the land becomes. Quite soon, it has become semi-desert. Trees are few and far between, farming is tough, the wind is a constant companion, swimming in the icy Atlantic Ocean is an activity reserved for the brave, and the weather is consistently harsh. Harsh and hot, or harsh and cold: take your pick.
Of all the coastal towns on the West Coast, Paternoster is the postcard-worthy jewel. Featuring whitewashed, old fishing cottages and a growing number of well-known eateries, during the summer months it attracts both foreign and local visitors willing to make the two-hour drive from Cape Town.
Kobus’ family used to farm in the Northern Cape, an even drier region of South Africa further into the interior of the country. For most of his youth – until his parents moved there permanently – Paternoster was the family’s holiday destination.
Now the Van der Merwes run a shop (also called Oep ve Koep) in a building that used to be an oil factory. Situated on the same property, spilling out from his tiny kitchen into a small garden where its tables are set, Kobus’ restaurant has become the town’s most notable culinary drawcard.
What Kobus drives through on his daily commute from his home – a tiny dwelling on an isolated smallholding about 15 minutes’ drive from Paternoster village – is Strandveld. Literally meaning ‘beach scrub’ in Afrikaans, Strandveld is a type of vegetation specific to the West Coast. (Its full name is Cape Flats Dune Strandveld and it’s officially defined as endangered).
The Strandveld around Paternoster covers land that was once ancient coastline – aka the larder of hunter-gatherer-forager peoples the San and the Khoikhoi. Drive into town with Kobus on his commute and you’ll find him regularly stopping during the journey, and not just to move tortoises off the sandy road. Without a word of warning, he pulls up, puts on his leather hat and disappears into a clump of innocuous-looking shrubs growing in the sand, to search for plants that turn out to be edible, and very tasty.
For decades, we South Africans have been outward-looking, exploring tastes derived from what happened across oceans in another hemisphere. This included the national palate, which was borrowed from Europe even though there’s a wealth of distinctive indigenous ingredients from which to create truly local dishes.
Kobus is at the vanguard of a new South African pride in valuing our culinary heritage. “I’m extremely inspired by the landscape of the West Coast and its wild food offerings,” he says. “The more I’ve experimented, studied and researched, the more fascinated and obsessed I’ve become. I think South Africa’s love of exoticism is finally changing. Even just on a small scale – such as using local olive oil instead of imported.
“I think the foraging trend will blow over, but to me, being ‘on trend’ has never been the point. Anyway, we don’t have the abundance of wild food to sustain everyone suddenly picking dune spinach willy-nilly. It’s rather about rediscovering forgotten indigenous flavours and appreciating, nurturing and cultivating a culture of understanding and pride in what’s truly ‘homegrown’.
“Hopefully that includes the possibility of sustainably propagating indigenous species in a kind of small-scale permaculture or eco-agriculture… but even if it’s just planting your own wild garlic and kapokbos [indigenous wild rosemary] in pots at home, that’s already great.”
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Finding Inspiration in Our Heritage
Kobus’ adoption of local and indigenous coastal ingredients is informed by the past, the distant past and the present. Before it became cool to forage, Kobus was digging around in the dunes for long-forgotten succulents and other plants. Much of his inspiration came from the legendary Afrikaans poet, cook and naturalist C. Louis Leipoldt.
“I grew up with my parents and grandparents using Leipoldt’s cook books,” says Kobus. “I’ve always admired his extensive knowledge of indigenous veldkos [bush food] and his passion for cooking innovative, truly local dishes with it. He was a true Renaissance man – physician, botanist, chef, poet. There’s a bit of hero worshipping from my side, and his 1933 book Kos vir die Kenner [Food for the Connoisseur] is my heritage-food bible.”
Behind Kobus’ small house – it’s dwarfed by the expansive landscape in which it’s set – lie ancient archaeological sites of the San people. These are concentrated around Kasteelberg, a rocky pinnacle, but the cave paintings and shell middens of the area’s original foragers are found all along this coastline.
Initially, when he was trying to understand where he could find edible plants, Kobus asked for the help of expert botanists. But as he grew to understand the Strandveld better, the penny dropped. Everything he needed was right there in front of him: it just emerges when the time is right. Which means that, like the San used to, Kobus forages according to the seasons – and his menu at Oep ve Koep changes accordingly.
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“In winter there’s more of a creamy umami, seaweed focus and in summer it’s more fresh and zingy. I find the transitions hard. I’m very connected to the weather. If the sun is out, my mood changes. It’s hard to make a shift like that. Yesterday the wind was blowing, it was really cold, misty and wintery and today it’s perfect, sunny and blue. Bang.”
As much as possible, the focus of Kobus’ food is local. That means many of the ingredients – Strandveld plants like soutslaai (literal translation ‘salt salad’), dune lettuce, dune spinach and dune celery, as well as seaweeds such as sea lettuce and kelp are foraged. Then there’s the fast-disappearing and slow-growing heerenboontjie, a small South African heritage bean similar to a Lima bean that few farmers grow nowadays. Kobus has also begun distilling indigenous herbs such as buchu and wild garlic into vermouth.
All the menus at Oep ve Koep are constructed in relation to Kobus’ commitment to sustainability. His foraging efforts, for example, are conducted with great care for the vulnerable Strandveld vegetation. Mediterranean mussels, a widespread alien species in South Africa, are picked off the rocks in front of Paternoster to feature on the menu, and the fish he uses – such as angelfish and locally caught kob – are all sustainable.
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At Oep ve Koep, you won’t find the crayfish so ubiquitous in other Cape restaurants, as the industry is under immense fishing pressure. And you’ll also probably receive a subtle introduction to
bokkoms, the plentiful sundried sardines of the West Coast. Loved by locals, and in the past treated with suspicion by outsiders, they deliver umami in force.
After lunch service, if it’s a double-shift day Kobus takes another short coastal drive to Mosselbank to swim and clear his head before returning to the kitchen for the dinner. And if he isn’t serving dinner that day he heads back to the farm, foraging along the way to come up with new dishes for Oep ve Koep, which he tries out at home on an outdoor braai.
“I thought I’d come to Paternoster for a year to help my folks set up the eatery side of the shop,” says Kobus. “Now it’s nine years later. Unexpectedly, I guess I found my groove.”
+27 (0) 22 752 2105
10 Sampson Street, Paternoster
Lunch is served at 12:30pm from Wednesday to Saturday, and 12pm on Sundays. Dinner is served on Friday and Saturday evenings at 6:30pm for 7pm.
Words Tudor Caradoc-Davies
Photography Warren Heath
Production Sven Alderding
Tudor Caradoc-Davies is a man of many hats – a former Michelin-star dishwasher (at Strahlenberger Hof in Heidelberg, Germany); Dar es Salaam’s first restaurant reviewer (under the nom de plume Shadrack Malimbo); the sex and relationship agony uncle for Women’s Health; and these days he runs a flyfishing magazine called The Mission. But more than anything, he’s a food and booze writer who’s had a hand in several cracking books (The Real Meal Revolution, and Braai – Reuben on Fire).