Sophisticated cuisine in idyllic, becalming surrounds

Though not surprising, it’s a little sad that Cape Town’s fine dining scene clusters around well-trodden city centre blocks and crowded suburban squares. In search of venues capitalising on the city’s natural beauty, diners generally need to head into the region’s wine farms. Thankfully, there are a few worthy establishments in the graceful hotels that fringe the Constantia greenbelts, like The Alphen, where the Italian-themed restaurant, Blanko, is situated.

There’s a peacefulness to the environs, all leafiness and textures of green, with paddocks and the trickling Diep River nearby. Entering the hotel grounds is an invitation to slow down, not least because of the 300-year history of The Alphen, initially part of the Groot Constantia estate. The Cape Dutch architecture has been carefully restored; these are heritage buildings, and the restaurant’s modern classic interior is suitably respectful.

Per its name, Blanko is about the style and sophistication of white as a palette. The walls, the starched tablecloths, the dinner service, the giant daisy on each table: the cue is to relax and take in something of the good life.

But life is about colour too, and Blanko is not staid or one-dimensional. One of versatile South African artist Clive van den Berg’s striking paintings demands attention opposite Blanko’s bar, while a zany Hugh Byrne abstract draws one’s eyes towards a quiet alcove overlooking the restaurant’s terrace. The art is the private collection of Paul Kovensky, whose luxury brand group, The Kove Collection, operates The Alphen’s hotel, bar and restaurants. Ask the maître d’ for the catalogue, which is worth perusing to learn the details of the 26 artworks on display.

We’re seated in the library room, one of four distinct sections to Blanko, ensuring a sense of calmness and intimacy even when busy. I want to browse the books, but my wife refocuses my priorities. The wine list adroitly balances brevity and variety, and includes both established and novel producers. We choose the L’Avenir chenin blanc and the Kove Collection house chardonnay from Glen Carlou.

The menu, too, is pared to what needs to be said, listing ingredients rather than waxing fanciful descriptions. So, it’s ‘roast salmon, citrus verde, baby potatoes’, ‘osso buco, saffron risotto’, and similarly straightforward synopses for all dishes. The exception proves the rule: seafood linguine is comparatively elaborate in detailing calamari, white fish, mussels and prawns, among others. The ocean’s treasures always entice me, so it’s my main course choice. I request the chef to go easy on the chilli.

Each to their own. A neighbouring table calls for Tabasco to sauce their baby squid fritto. The waiter obliges quickly, but did I sense his internal displeasure? Why overwhelm the mildly sweet, unique flavour of these seafood jewels? 

It’s rare to see zucchini flowers on any menu, so my starter is easily decided. These are delicate gems, requiring a light touch in preparation and accompaniment. The pillowy goats’ cheese filling is delicately tangy; the drizzle of citrus honey spiked with the earthiness of truffle brings the dish together. Food conjures memories, and I can almost see and taste Tuscany from fifteen years ago. 

We share asparagus risotto, which, garnished with pea shoots, arrives as an explosion of green. Creamy but perfectly textured with a fractional residual bite, topped with Parmesan shavings and impeccably seasoned, the dish would be a triumph if it were embellished with a few whole asparagus spears — an omission at the kitchen’s pass, perhaps, or the restaurant’s only misstep in forgetting Italian cuisine’s spirit of generosity. 

My wife’s steak tagliata does justice to the classic. Tagliata translates as ‘cut’, and the sirloin is expertly sliced, dressed with balsamic and olive oil and garnished with rocket and lemon. Our waiter knew not to ask how the meat was to be done — rare to medium-rare is mandatory for tagliata. It draws contented sighs from my wife.     

My linguine is special. The chef’s expertise is immediately on show: it’s clear from the dish’s subtle colour that fish stock and white wine prevail in the sauce, and tomato is used in complement rather than as a base. Resting atop the pasta, the mussels and prawns are plump and perfectly cooked. The calamari is tossed within, and the fish — I forget to ask, but it’s probably sea bass — is a pleasant surprise artfully nestled at the bottom of the bowl. And I’m impressed that my request was noted, the chilli being no more than a dimension of freshness on the palate.   

There’s no theatre in how Blanko prepares and presents its food. Nor in its serving, with the waitstaff skilled in the art of knowing when to enquire and when to melt away, to facilitate the meal rather than make it fussy.   

“I believe the best food is prepared from the heart,” says executive chef, Amber Deetlefs. “It must not only taste good, it should also be something sincere and uncomplicated. My food is part of creating a delightful experience to make patrons feel good, cared for and carefree.”

The hardest thing to achieve is elegant, artful simplicity. Blanko gets it right.

Blanko, The Alphen Hotel, Alphen Drive, Constantia, 021 7956313