It All Started With a Special…

I’m not entirely sure if this is a Capetonian thing or just a me thing, but I am an absolute sucker for specials and events. Don’t get me wrong, I get excited about going out to eat in general. But the moment you slap a limited time menu or a set menu in front of me, you've got my full attention.

It’s probably the same level of excitement I used to get whenever an A-list celebrity announced they were coming to South Africa. Justin Bieber. Rihanna. Lady Gaga. That glorious 2010s era when we’d lose our minds because someone actually remembered we existed at the bottom of Africa.

Gosh, have I gotten old? Surely not. I think my priorities have just changed. Nowadays? Announce a special and I’m just as excited.

So when Grub & Vine announced their lineup of daily specials, each with its own multi-course menu, I was immediately intrigued. But one, in particular, had me mentally clearing my Friday calendar before I’d even finished reading.

Beef Welly Fridays.

“I publicly apologise to soup. Because I judged you.”

The Question That Started It All

Now let me ask you something. Where in Cape Town have you had a Beef Wellington? I’ll wait…

Still waiting… Exactly.

It’s surprisingly rare to find a proper Beef Wellington done well (not to be confused with well done). For R499 per person, you get canapes, the soup of the day, their signature Beef Wellington, malva pudding madeleines, and a glass of wine. Now that’s my kind of Friday. 

I’m also already a big fan of Grub & Vine, so I had a feeling this was going to be good. But if you know me by now, I don’t just talk the talk. I become a full-blown FBI food investigator. So come with me on this very important investigation. It’s a long one (nothing new). Get yourself comfortable, pour a glass of wine, and let’s begin.

“Making My Way Downtown…”

“Making my way downtown…” Okay, sorry! Every single time I head into town that song gets stuck in my head. Hang on… is it “jumped in the cab, here I am for the first time…”? Or did I completely make that up? You know the one.

Where was I? Oh yes. I always really enjoy coming into town. Maybe it’s because I live a little further out, but heading into the city never just feels like “going for lunch.” It feels like an occasion. Almost like I’m escaping normal life for a few hours and stepping into another world. Bree Street has that effect on me.

Why I Already Knew This Was Going to Be Good

And let’s be honest, sometimes you climb out of your Uber at a restaurant and it can feel a little… awkward. Maybe the entrance isn’t quite what you expected, maybe it takes a while to find your bearings, maybe the excitement hasn’t quite kicked in yet. 

Well, that wasn’t the case here. From the second I arrived, the experience already felt elevated. And I don’t just mean elevated as in elegant, I literally mean elevated. Because you actually walk upstairs to get into the restaurant.  I don’t know why that made me laugh so much. Something about beginning an elevated dining experience by physically elevating yourself just tickled me. Yes, I know. The bar is low. Or… apparently upstairs.



Obviously I had to stop at the entrance for a few photos first. Purely to prove I was actually there. Definitely not because the burgundy exterior and Grub & Vine sign are ridiculously photogenic. Once I’d officially marked myself safe at the location, I made my way upstairs.

Before I’d even had a chance to properly look around, I was greeted with the warmest smile, and then immediately smacked in the face by one of the most incredible smells I think I’ve ever experienced. No, seriously. I wish someone could bottle that smell. Forget perfume. I’d hand this out like Oprah. “You get a whiff! You get a whiff! Everybody gets a whiff!” Think slow-roasted meat, buttery pastry,rich glossy jus and  freshly baked bread. Think every comforting winter smell imaginable all happening at once. You’re welcome. I hadn’t even reached my table yet and I was already salivating. And that’s when I knew this Beef Welly Friday was going to be something seriously special.

Officially Marking Myself Safe

After somehow resisting the urge to walk straight into the kitchen, I made my way over to our table by the window. Which, if you’ve followed me for even five minutes, you’ll know is exactly where I want to be. I’m such a window-seat person. In fact, I genuinely don’t understand people who say dining out is boring. You’re boring.

Seriously though, look at everything happening around you! You’ve got chefs flying around the open kitchen, conversations happening all around you, the person sitting opposite you. And then, because we were upstairs, I also had the perfect view looking down onto busy Bree Street below. It’s basically dinner and a live show. How are we calling this boring? Not on my watch.

Sparkling Water Was Never Really a Question

Once we settled in, we were offered still or sparkling water. Sparkling. Always. Because if life gives you the option of bubbles, you choose bubbles. We were then taken through the menu. Not that I really needed the introduction. I’d already studied it fourteen times before arriving, but I was more than happy to hear it all over again. We were also introduced to the sommelier from Culture Wine Bar right next door. And that’s when I thought, “Okay. These people aren’t just serious about the food, they’re serious about the entire experience.”

Now… I’m going to be honest with you. Sometimes I play by the rules. But on a Friday? With specials on specials and Beef Wellington waiting for me? Absolutely not. One glass of wine simply wasn’t going to cut it. I’d already told you to sit back and relax… So I decided to take my own advice. I handed the reins over to the sommelier and told him to take me on the journey too. One wine with each course. Done.

The Wine Lesson I Actually Remembered

What surprised me most wasn’t actually the wines themselves. It was how much I genuinely enjoyed learning about them. I’ll admit it. Sometimes wine knowledge completely flies over my head. People start talking about soil, slopes and all the other wine words… Somewhere along the way I’ve mentally wandered off. Not this time.

He explained everything in such a fun, approachable way that I actually remembered it. I’m sitting here writing this now and I can still remember why he paired each wine with each course. That’s rare. You could tell he absolutely loves what he does. You could tell everyone genuinely loved what they did. You could see it in the kitchen. You could taste it in the food. Those are the dining experiences that stay with you long after you’ve left.

Tiny Food. Huge Happiness.

Soon enough, after a couple of sips of one of the most delicious glasses of white wine I’ve had in a long time, our canapes arrived. And can I just say something? Tiny food will forever have my heart. I don’t know why. Maybe because it feels fancy. Maybe because every tiny bite somehow packs in an unreasonable amount of flavour. Or maybe I’m just easily entertained. Probably that one. Either way, I was already smiling before I’d even taken my first bite. 

We were served two beautiful bites. The first was a gem squash arancini with creamy goat’s cheese inside and a glossy dollop of fig jam balancing perfectly on top. The second was a cheddar and bacon jam biscuit that honestly sat somewhere between a buttery shortbread biscuit and scone.

Whoever Invented Cheese & Fruit Deserves a Medal

The arancini was everything I wanted it to be. Golden, crisp and comforting. The goat’s cheese made it beautifully creamy while the fig jam cut straight through that richness with just enough sweetness to keep every bite balanced. I’ve always been a sucker for sweet-meets-savoury combinations. Whoever first decided cheese and fruit belonged together deserves a medal. 

Then you have the biscuit. Oh my goodness, this was delightful. It was buttery, crumbly, and savoury all at once. The smoky bacon jam brought this incredible depth that made me wish there had been another one hiding somewhere on the plate. Both bites somehow felt comforting and refined at the same time. Like proper winter food, just dressed up a little. And paired with that crisp, beautifully chosen white wine… everything just made sense. The wine lifted the richness, and set the tone for everything that was about to follow.

I Owe Soup a Formal Apology

And what was to follow? Well, let’s just say it was much more than “just a starter.” Don’t get me wrong, like most people, when I first looked at this menu, there was only one thing my eyes were immediately drawn to. The Beef Wellington. Obviously. Everything else? Lovely. Exciting. Looking forward to it. But let’s be honest, they were all supporting actors. Or so I thought. I was wrong, very wrong. This is where I publicly apologise to soup. Because I judged you. I’m healing. I’m working on my ego. When our starter arrived, I was told it was carrot and Parmesan soup. Again, lovely! Not exactly something I was expecting to write home about. Guys, I would happily write several letters about it. It was that good.

The bowl landed in front of me alongside the glossiest little brioche bun you’ve ever seen and, next to it, what looked like a perfect little disc of butter. Except, it wasn’t just butter, it was bacon butter. Yes. Bacon. Butter. I know. I repeated it because I needed a second to process it too.

Bread Babes, This One’s for You

Then there was the soup itself. She was thick, with a Q, the good kind of thique.  Beyonce would approve. Silky carrot soup topped with Parmesan shavings and the lightest little foam. Before I’d even tasted anything, I already knew I was in trouble. Naturally, as a self-confessed bread babe, my attention immediately shifted to the brioche. I tore it open, and that warm, buttery, slightly sweet aroma escaped into the air. It was enough to make me emotional. I spread on a generous amount of the bacon butter and it melted straight into that warm brioche, creating this ridiculously delicious combination of buttery, smoky, savoury goodness with just enough sweetness from the bread.

I genuinely had to stop myself from eating the whole thing there and then. Because obviously, soup dunking was still to come. And if you’re one of those people who eats all the bread before touching the soup, I don’t know if we can be friends. It’s the same people who eat all their chips first and then tackle the burger. No. Absolutely not. There is an order to these things.

The Best Soup I’ve Ever Had

Eventually, I gave the soup the attention she deserved. And wow, this wasn’t watery soup pretending to be healthy. This was rich, silky, velvety, and packed with naturally sweet carrot flavour, while the Parmesan brought this beautiful salty, nutty, umami depth. Every spoonful somehow felt comforting while still feeling refined.

Then came the moment. The bacon-buttered brioche met the soup. I think my soul left my body for a second. It was warm, comforting, smoky, creamy, rich… This is genuinely one of the best soups I’ve ever eaten. Not one of the best carrot soups, one of the best soups. Full stop. I’d happily drive across Cape Town just for another bowl.

Just when I thought life couldn’t possibly improve any further, I took another sip of the beautifully paired white wine. I still can’t explain exactly what happened… I’m not pretending to be a sommelier. I just know that somehow it refreshed my palate, balanced the richness and made me immediately want another spoonful of soup. That’s all I needed to know.

“Would You Like to Watch?”

And then, as if the universe thought I hadn’t been spoiled enough already… I looked up. Standing overhead was Chef, proudly holding the freshly baked Beef Wellington straight from the oven. For a second I genuinely wondered whether this was real life. He smiled and said, “We’re about to slice it if you’d like to come and watch.” Would I like to come and watch? Sir… Is the sky blue?!

So, after making sure there wasn’t a single drop of soup or crumb of brioche left behind, I practically skipped over to the kitchen. Watching him slice through that perfectly golden pastry and reveal the beautifully cooked beef inside while another wave of buttery pastry, mushrooms and rich jus drifted through the room. It still feels like a dream. One I was very, very lucky not to wake up from.

Ladies and Gentlemen…

The Main Event.

After picking my jaw up off the floor, I made my way back to the table. I thought I’d have a minute to gather myself. You know, like that little debriefing walk back to your friends after you’ve just met Justin Bieber in 2012. But no, no time! Because before I’d even fully sat down, our sommelier appeared beside the table, smiling, bottle of red already in hand. Honestly, no complaints.

I swear these people have an internal group chat. The timing was suspiciously perfect. As he poured the wine, he explained that it was served slightly chilled. I actually remembered that. Medium-full bodied. Served cool. I took a sip. Then he looked at me, gave the tiniest little smirk and said, “We chill it to perfection.” That is an incredibly bold statement, and absolutely right. It was fresh, elegant and had enough body to stand up to everything that was about to arrive, while still feeling incredibly easy to drink.

This Wasn’t a Beef Wellington, It Was Architecture.

Then, almost as if it had been waiting for its cue, the Beef Wellington landed on the table. Honestly, calling this a Beef Wellington almost feels unfair. It looked more like edible architecture. The pastry was deeply golden and crisp, wrapped around a perfectly pink centre, with that beautiful layer of mushroom like it had been measured with a ruler. Beside it sat silky pomme puree, glossy carrots and a rich, dark jus that practically shimmered across the plate. Every single component looked like it deserved to be there.

The first cut told me everything. The pastry shattered beautifully without falling apart. The beef was cooked exactly how you’d hope. Tender, juicy, perfectly pink. Not to be confused with perfectly well done (Please appreciate that joke. I wrote it for you.) The mushroom layer added this incredible earthy richness that made the beef taste even beefier. The jus was deep without becoming overpowering. The potatoes simply tasted like, well, potatoes. I mean that as one of the highest compliments imaginable. Earthy, comforting, not over-seasoned, and not fighting for attention. Which is exactly why they worked so beautifully. That’s actually what impressed me most about this dish. 

You could eat a forkful of beef. A forkful of potato. A forkful of carrots. A spoonful of jus. Each one tasted complete. Then, you’d build the perfect bite and suddenly they became something entirely different together. Nothing was trying to outshine anything else, they simply elevated each other. Kind of like a really great dinner party. Everyone gets their moment, nobody has to shout. Another sip of that beautifully chilled red, another bite. Everything just made sense. Even the portion! This wasn’t one of those tiny, precious little slices that leave you wondering where the rest went. This was generous and substantial. Long story short, a proper Beef Wellington. Exactly as it should be.

Somehow It Still Wasn’t Over…

Can we just appreciate something for a second? Picture this. It’s 2012. You’ve finally managed to get tickets to Justin Bieber. He opens with Baby. Then One Time. Then Eenie Meenie. Then another favourite. And another. Hit after hit after hit. That’s exactly what this menu felt like. Every time I thought, “Surely that was the highlight,” another course arrived and somehow managed to raise the bar all over again.

By this point, I was actually a little sad that the experience was coming to an end. Thankfully, Grub & Vine clearly believes in saving the encore for last. Now, the Friday special includes the malva pudding madeleines for dessert, but because we were fully committed to the investigation (strictly for journalistic purposes), Chef Aaron and our trusty sommelier suggested that instead of ordering two of the same dessert, we share both desserts, each paired with its own dessert wine. I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but I have absolutely no self-control when someone says the words “I have another recommendation.” Sold.

My Wishlist? A Personal Sommelier.

Soon enough, my personal sommelier (which, by the way, is now officially on my wishlist. Forget a chauffeur or a bodyguard, I’d happily take a personal sommelier. Specifically this one) returned to guide us through our final wine pairings. Once again, what I appreciated most was how approachable everything felt. I learnt so much throughout the afternoon without ever feeling like I was sitting through a lecture. Every explanation felt like another layer added to the experience rather than an interruption to it.

Wait… Mushrooms? In Dessert?

I started with the chocolate fondant because, well… molten chocolate waits for no one. At first glance it looked familiar enough, until I noticed the slice of mushroom on top. Then I read the description… Shiitake mushroom ice cream. I’ll admit, I paused. Mushrooms, in dessert? But one thing this job has taught me is that the dishes I’m slightly nervous about are often the ones that surprise me the most. One bite later, I understood.

The shiitake didn’t make the dessert taste like mushrooms. Instead, it brought this incredible earthy depth that somehow made the chocolate taste even richer. The miso chocolate sauce enhanced everything with a gentle savoury note, the hazelnuts added texture, and suddenly a dessert that sounded completely unconventional somehow felt perfectly balanced. It was clever without trying too hard, creative without becoming gimmicky, and comforting enough that I’d happily order it all over again. Paired with the beautifully rich dessert wine, every bite somehow became even more indulgent than the last.

Malva Pudding, But Make It Fancy

Lastly, the malva pudding madeleines. If the fondant celebrated creativity, these celebrated comfort. The madeleines were unbelievably soft, almost disappearing beneath my spoon. Paired with ginger cream and frozen walnut parfait, they reminded me of everything I love about a warm South African winter dessert, but with subtle Asian-inspired influences woven throughout. The warmth of the ginger, the cool creaminess of the parfait and the luscious dessert wine somehow transformed something deeply nostalgic into something that still felt completely new.

So… Was It Worth It?

Looking back now, almost a week later, I genuinely can’t tell you which course was my favourite. The canapes were beautifully balanced. The soup completely stole the show. The Beef Wellington absolutely lived up to every expectation. The desserts surprised me all over again. But if I’m being completely honest, what has stayed with me most isn’t a single dish. It’s the people. 

Why This Meal Will Stay With Me

You can always tell when someone genuinely loves what they do. You could see it in Chef Aaron. You could hear it every time the sommelier spoke about wine. You could feel it throughout the restaurant. That kind of passion can’t be manufactured, and I think that’s what transformed this from an excellent meal into such a memorable experience.

This wasn’t simply one of my favourite dining experiences. It was my favourite dining experience to date. Every single detail felt considered. Every course built on the last. Every person genuinely cared. And by the time I walked back down those stairs and onto Bree Street, I wasn’t just leaving a restaurant. I was leaving one of the most memorable afternoons I’ve had around a table.

Your Turn.

So, if you’ve made it all the way to the end of this article… congratulations. I think you’ve earned yourself a Beef Welly Friday. Go celebrate. Eat well. Drink great wine. And I’ll see you around another table very soon. Until next time!