The Palette and the Palate
Following Taste, Finding More
Seven Colours Eatery | Cape Town, South Africa
IIt would be too easy to say that the joy I found dining at Seven Colours Eatery had only to do with the fact I was already waxing nostalgic about three fabulously rewarding weeks in South Africa. It was, after all, my second-to-last full day in the country. But I knew it was so much more than sentimentality. There was something in the air there for me. Just as I always suspected for reasons I can’t explain, there would be.
While I had many of the more traditional foodie spots on my Western Cape to-dine list, none promised to offer the experience and education that Seven Colours, as a restaurant specializing in South African cuisine, could provide. It’s not often I get to taste a whole new world!
The first thing that hit me when I walked in off a misty, dreary sidewalk was the aroma of spice and onions hanging so invitingly in their warm, cozy air. It was as if all five of my senses had crossed a magical culinary threshold first and then decided to invite the thinking, feeling part of me to join them. To that I said an obvious yes, please.
The second thing that hit me was the contagious, welcoming smile of the young man who waited on me. He helped me navigate Seven Colours’ extensive, but not obnoxiously so, menu that was almost all new to me, except the wine. And even there, I needed coaching.
Together, we decided I should order the Seven Colours special, named quite appropriately for the rainbow of colors that come together on a typical festive South African plate. I wanted to try as much as I could, and this was such an easy, fun way to do so. Not only that, this tasting option was literally a manifestation of my favorite invigorating frequencies: storytelling, color and taste.
I had two choices to make. I chose the Cape Malay pulled chicken as my protein and the pap maize porridge as my starch. When those dishes arrived, four vibrantly colored side dishes the kitchen prepared for guests that day came out with them: spicy and savory burnt orange Chakalaka, deep purple beets dusted with cinnamon (I think, anyway), a surprisingly familiar coleslaw and rich emerald green creamed spinach.
I only had to look down and breathe deeply to know that my palate was in for an unforgettable journey. What sat in front of me was a striking and delectable palette of the freshest of nature’s colors, not to mention a feast that I hope won’t be once-in-a-lifetime.
I had read about pap and the importance of corn to the South African diet in Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom. This touchpoint, through taste no less, would be another way I could edge just a little bit closer to this man’s inspiring legacy. It may sound trivial and maybe not even my right to wish to feel, but it moved me nonetheless.
What this meal, among so many others here, had taught me is that food is so much more than consumption. It is privilege, pride and point of connection.
