This past Friday night, during our simple but satisfying meal of challah and dips, Adi and I were looking through the photo album of our amazing trip to South Africa. As we turned the page on each wonderful memory, we paused and grinned as we recounted our unforgettable dinner feast experience at the Yeoville Dinner Club, in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods of Johannesburg. Eating there is not even close to being about the ingredients of the dishes, but rather the ingredients of who the marvelous chef Sanza Sandile is. The place is to be felt and lived. Going there will make you feel like you’ve just had one of life’s great culinary experiences, as if you were on one of those foodie shows where they spotlight something you’d never otherwise find, an intimate attraction that nobody has heard of, but by episode’s end you contemplate booking your next trip to that country just to share in that experience. (And in fact of the celebrities he has fed, Anthony Bourdain fittingly was one.)
Let me begin by explaining that the restaurant – if you can even call it that – is a hole-in-the-wall. There is not even a sign for it on the outside. You must arrange the meal in advance, and when you arrive you NEED to call because otherwise you will think you are completely lost, and quite frankly you will likely feel worried for your safety. I say all of this because Yeoville is not considered a safe neighborhood anymore. It is full of life, and mixed full of many African cultures thrown together, and as the chef Sanza told us that night, “when people see White men and women arriving nearby they know it must be either for the Dinner Club or for drugs”. And sure enough, we arrived in our bus, could not find a sign anywhere, and many smiling faces tried to wave us to the side but there was no obvious parking, and we had no idea if our GPS had sent us to the right area until Sanza himself approached us, and led us into his Dinner Club; a location that is a single room with a long table, and littered with decorative items all around you. It is as if you have just entered Sanza’s own home, and he has invited you as his guest. And this feeling of intimacy continued when he introduced himself and talked about his love and mission for bringing hope and love and safety and togetherness to this otherwise rundown neighborhood, utilizing what brings so many people together over the millennia of time: food.
His passion is unparalleled. His joy is like a lightning bolt that fills up the room. His smile did not wane for the hours we were with him, as he was so excited to share his love for food and Africa with us. It was a good 15 minutes of discussions before he went into meticulous descriptions of each dish, put before us to share family-style. When we finally were ready to dig-in, WOW, the food was incredible. Be ready for most dishes to be spicy, and appreciate how much flavor is in each bite. Other than the fish and the yogurt served with the dessert, everything else was actually vegan, and our large group of 18 different difficult Americans were able to eat as much as we wanted, and there was still tons of food leftover that he promised would not let go to waste. He created everything himself, from the delicious beer-infused bread to the best cole slaw I have ever eaten. And for worried tourists like myself, even the ice is safe to drink as all of the water is first boiled prior to freezing it.
I heard one friend say it was the best fish she has ever eaten. He approached another friend who was pausing and not eating that moment, but was reassured that he was simply taking a moment to appreciate that this was the single greatest meal he had ever eaten. Sanza stayed with us, moving around the table, sitting with us, drinking with us, laughing with us, and treating us as friends, not customers. He walked us to our bus, and hugged everyone once or twice, and we each left each running to our computers to help spread the word about a culinary gem of a human being in Johannesburg.
Of course, the food itself was sublime, but Sanza taught all of us that you do not need to have a fancy home or expensive ingredients to enjoy a special meal; if you open your doors to others, and show them your authentic self, the memories create themselves.
Boaz Hepner grew up in LA in Pico/Robertson and now lives here with his wife and baby girl. Thus, the neighborhood is very important to him. He helped clean up the area by adding dozens of trash cans that can still be seen from Roxbury to La Cienega. When he is not working as a Registered Nurse in Santa Monica, he can be found with his wife and daughter enjoying his passions: his multitude of friends, movies, poker and traveling.
