I’ve wanted to go to Meuse Farm for the longest time. It’s one of those places that is always spoken about in the Cape Town foodie circles, and it was finally time for me to experience it for myself. This beautiful hidden restaurant is located in Hout Bay, on a very well manicured, but natural looking working farm. Not only do they use most of their produce in their own eatery, but they also supply some of the country’s finest restaurants, so you already know it’s the good stuff. This past Saturday I attended their special wine pairing dinner with Painted Wolf Wines, a conservation driven winery whose heart beats for both vines and African wild dogs. These wines are made with as much purpose as flavour. Pair that with Chef Caitlin Kennedy’s thoughtful, local, and seasonal cooking. Her food not only feeds the palate, but the soul too. This event felt intentional and meaningful. From sipping on wine that supports a charitable cause, to munching on environmentally friendly, farm grown produce, there were so many positives before even getting there. But, from the moment I arrived, I knew I was where I was meant to be.

"Four courses, four wines, one long table, and a group of strangers who somehow felt like friends by the end of it."

I went alone, which I thought might be awkward, but it wasn’t. Not even close. I was greeted with a smile and was handed a welcome drink. A light spritzy cocktail with a touch of syrupy sweetness that caught the afternoon sun just right. I took it outside to the deck and sat there for a moment, looking out over the rows of vegetables and the mountains behind them. It was one of those perfect, peaceful views that make you feel like you’ve stepped out of the city and into something calmer, more honest. 

After a bit of time in that meditative state, my glass was empty and it was time for us to take our seats. Inside was a long wooden table with black plates, woven placemats, vases of assorted flowers and herbs, and delicate handwritten cards. I absolutely loved that. Simple, but it made me feel like I already belonged there. The space itself was beautiful in that quiet, natural way, with sunlight spilling through the glass walls. Honestly, just so serene. Within minutes, I forgot all about coming alone and was deep in conversation with the people next to me. It felt easy. Real. And with that, the night began. Four courses, four wines, one long table, and a group of strangers who somehow felt like friends by the end of it.

Once settled and quietened down by a “clunk clunk” of a wine glass, our host walked us through the menu, the pairings, and of course, the farm. She had a sparkle in her eyes as she spoke. As she explained everything, it honestly felt like she was telling us a fairytale. Maybe something with a title like ‘A Seasonal Story’… Once upon a time, there was a whimsical farm amongst the mountains… What made it feel even more fictional is that she started to list ingredients they grow that I have never even heard of. 

Anyway, back down to earth, beautifully thick, farm style slices of bread landed on the table. It was accompanied by cream of the crop butter, and smoked yellowtail pate served in a little bowl like it’s a secret. You could feel the heat of the fresh out of the oven bread on your fingers when you picked it up. As you tore into it, there was a soft wheat/roasted smell rising up in the still air. Drooling, I know. I smeared a generous layer of pate onto it, and prepared myself for the bite of my life. The warm bread against the cold pate was the perfect temperature contrast. The crust gives you that deep toasted edge, then you get the soft, fluffy middle, and lastly that buttery, smoky fish… Instant comfort, and a little nostalgic too. It tasted like the countless summer braais we hosted. The ones where the food took forever to be served. The actual cooking didn’t take very long, but the drinking of the wine, or maybe a few double brandy and cokes definitely delayed the process. Thankfully for me, there was always an array of pates and carbs to keep the hunger at bay, where I would make sure I was sitting right in front of. From the memories flooding back to me, to the delicious fishy flavours, this was a great introduction to the feast ahead, and I was truly feeling at home.

It was time for our first course, but first, our wine was poured. While swirling, sniffing, and tasting, we were told a bit about the story of the Black Pack 2023 Chenin Blanc. The wine itself comes from old vines in Paarl and Swartland. Slowly fermented in French oak, the kind of process that takes its time and doesn’t rush perfection. You could definitely taste it. The soft, golden coloured wine was bright, playfully acidic, and balanced by a gentle roundness. Confident, but not trying too hard. Please excuse my wine descriptions. I am no master, but certainly becoming an enthusiast. And just my luck, I was sitting in between the two wine guys, some might say I had the best seat in the house. Once we were partially hydrated, the food arrived. The gazpacho was presented in a glass looking minimalist yet striking with that deep orange hue. It was topped with tempura carrot greens that mimicked mistletoe. It looked as Christmassy as the shopping centres are, even though it’s only October. But hey, I’m not complaining, I love the festive season. The first sip was silky and chilled, with the sweetness of the carrot coming through and a touch of earthiness. The tempura leaf added some crunch, and my favourite part was the “carrot caviar”. It popped like little bursts of sunshine. The Chenin mirrored the flavours perfectly, and its acidity cut through the sweetness. 

The second dish for this course was the most delicious tart. I am still dreaming about it. It looked delicate and detailed, every element looked placed with intention. The tart itself was golden and crumbly, topped with creamy whites, glistening jelly, and micro greens. This was salty sweet perfection. Agh, the goat's cheese, THE GOAT’S CHEESE! Bold and unapologetic, exactly how I like it. It was creamy, tangy, slightly funky in the best way. The biscuit base was buttery and nutty and all these richer flavours were beautifully lifted by the floral jelly. If a cheeseboard could have a personality, this would be mine. This, together with the Chenin Blanc, was a match made in heaven. 

I must say, I was expecting good things, but the quality of everything was absolutely outstanding. You could really taste the care that was put into it as well as the time and precision when selecting the perfect wine for each dish. After not leaving a crumb in sight, nor a splash of wine in my glass, the next course was ready to commence. Our next wine was Painted Wolf “Teardrop” Viognier 2023. It is named after Teardrop, a wild female dog who survived injury and inspired the brand’s conservation spirit. She’s basically the Beyonce of the bushveld. The wine has a pale golden hue and smelt of peach fuzz with a hint of lemon zest. It tasted as good as it smelt, bursts of juicy peach and a bit of acidity that kept it fresh. It was paired with seared line caught yellowtail and a baby bibb lettuce wedge. The fish had that crisped to perfection skin, cracking as you cut into it. The flesh was buttery yet firm and seasoned beautifully without being overpowering. It was served with a lemon verbena aioli which was creamy, fragrant, and just the right amount of indulgent.

The salad was light but layered, simple on paper, but every forkful told a story. There were quite a few elements to it, combining a mix of flavours and textures, making it fun to eat. I also loved that the ingredients used in the dishes were used to decorate the table. It made the experience interactive and educational while we enjoyed the delicious food. The Viognier’s peachy sweetness hugged the fish’s salty crispness, and the citrus notes mirrored the aioli’s brightness. Altogether, this course was total harmony. Coastal freshness meets floral elegance, a match that feels unforced, almost flirty.

As I am sure you can tell, I was thoroughly enjoying life at this point. But I don’t think anything could have prepared me for how delicious the next course was going to be. For mains we were served lightly smoked ostrich alongside a pea risotto and a side of root vegetables. The wine pairing was the Painted Wolf Pictus VII 2018 Blend. A bold and brooding red, elegant but a little mysterious, like someone in a black turtleneck who reads poetry by firelight. This series was inspired by artists and their brushstrokes, every vintage a new creative expression. It was full, round, and tasted layered and confident. The kind of wine that makes you sit up straighter and speak slower. Now for the food. Oh my word, wow. First of all, the ostrich was perfectly cooked and melt in your mouth tender. It had that gorgeous char on the edges and was smoky heaven. The jus was jus(t) perfection. Tart, peppery, and totally addictive. I loved the sweet and earthy roasted beetroot, total flavour and colour contrast.

The next dish may have been disguised as a side but let me tell you, the risotto was a god damn main meal! This has to be, hands down, the best risotto ever. It was fresh, cheesy, springy… Every bite felt like sunshine and comfort rolled into one. It was creamy but not too heavy, with little pops of pea sweetness keeping it light. The Karoo crumble was unexpected and added an umami crunch. Total chef’s kiss.

Lastly, the daikon and turnip felt grounding, like a little pause between the richer flavours. Earthy and nutty, bathed in that brown butter mushroom broth. The perfect side character moment that makes the main act shine brighter. I really enjoyed this wine pairing. The red’s smoky spice hugged the ostrich's char, and the fruity undertones balanced the salt and butter in the risotto. It’s that rare combo where each sip and bite feels like they were designed for each other. Which came as no surprise, as this evening had been so thoughtfully curated, or at least that’s how it felt for sure.

Even though I am an utter dessert lover, I felt a bit down that the dinner was drawing to an end. But of course, in Meuse fashion, it ended with a bang and zero disappointments. Our last wine was the Painted Wolf Black Tip 2022 Mourvedre, and there was something quietly powerful about it. Named after the endangered African wild dog, Black Tip is all about resilience and connection. In the glass, its deep garnet colour resembled the sun dipping behind the mountain after a long day, kind of like my view at that moment actually, perfect timing. On the palate, it wasn’t loud or showy, rather soft, a little confident, and with a warm and grounding finish. Much like the wine, the dessert looked delicate but had a bold inner voice. The paper thin caramelised pastry sheets stacked so neatly you almost hesitate to ruin it… almost. Once you crack through it, it gives way to a velvety dark chocolate mousse, the kind that coats your spoon like silk. The raisin puree snuck in next. Rich, syrupy, a little moody, mirroring the wine’s darker personality. Together, they don’t compete, they flirt. The wine lingers on your tongue just enough to make the next forkful taste even better. The perfect duo. 

There’s something about Meuse that feels almost otherworldly, like time slows down the moment you arrive. The farm’s fresh valley air somehow already smells like wine and warmth. Every course felt like a conversation between the kitchen and the soil. And then the wine tied it all together. Grounded but free, wild but elegant. It felt like the perfect reflection of the farm itself, raw beauty with just enough refinement to make you slow down and notice. It’s the kind of place that stays with you long after you’ve driven away.

Thank you Meuse Farm, thank you Painted Wolf Wines, till next time!