Izakaya Matsuri - Cape Town, South Africa

Some of the best sushi in Cape Town, if Lonely Planet is to be believed. 

Jet lag makes my stomach turn at the thought of yet another meat-heavy Cape Malay-inspired meal so curiosity brings us to Bo Kaap.

Started with the Bang Bang Prawn. Very fresh shrimp and avocado, deep fried. What's not to like?

They have a more limited selection of fish than we're used to. US sushi includes a menu of at least ten choices, varying in quality as some of it probably sits when it doesn't sell. Izakaya Matsuri only has salmon, tuna, and a daily linefish for raw options, and I appreciate the use of super-fresh, in-season ingredients. 

We order some stuff, our usge. The Dragon Roll because we need unagi, and this eel is  soft and flaky and sweet, striped with ripe avocado. There's an assortment of sweet, striped Salmon and meaty Tuna, sliced into sashimi and nigiri. Fresh, higher-end cuts for sure.

Mixed Tempura because we're dying for vegetables. Because vegetables barely exist outside a salad bowl. The batter is exactly right. Onion, carrot, sweet potato, broccoli, and calamari in shades of light brown, practically white, a never-soggy coat to soak up some sauce.

Nice meal. Love the decor and the dark, quite mood of tranquility. The food is no-fail, a reliably familiar selection of quality sushi and sashimi. Great for the sushi craving, good for a lighter, less meaty meal.

Lorenzo Marx Coffee Bar - Muizenburg, South Africa

Being crazy cat people can take its toll, and I suspect this cafe exists to provide a break between pets. 

They make a legit Latte, a perfectly balanced blend.

There's a simple Workers Breakfast of fluffy scrambled eggs and toast to tide you over if you're looking a light but filling meal. 

Their house made Chicken and Mushroom Pie is the best comfort food. The crust is soft and flaky, opening into a creamy, stew-thick center of tender chicken and juicy mushroom. 

It's very rare for me to find a cafe where I can feel equally satisfied by both the drink and the food. Usually one is stronger and often the other is lacking. Lorenzo Marx is already the third South African cafe I've found where I'm in love with both!

Cape Town, South Africa - Day 2

Today's theme: crazy cat people. To clarify, we are the crazy cat people. 

Table Mountain still has zero visibility so we're Ubering it over to the Cheetah Encounter to pet some big kitties. 

The adult cheetahs are majestic, sleek with breathtaking coats of perfectly round spots. The handlers readily pass on an abundant fountain of facts, and they exude an expert calm. The way they scratch these big cats behind the ears, you could almost forget you're stroking the belly of a born killer.

The cheetah cubs are a new level of cute. They are a miniature of the adults, but at a mere 5 months, that speed-demon build already creates an aerodynamic silhouette. But it's hard to take these little fuzz-faces seriously just yet - their poofy little heads make them look like kittens.

A caracal comes next. Her name is Gracie, and she is excitedly exploring her new habitat at the moment. This means a lot of shots of cat butt, but who could begrudge those tufted ears?

Saved the best for last. His name is Sebastian, and despite reaching an impressive age of 17, he's thriving. This lovey little guy is a lap-meerkat through and through, and who wouldn't love that inquisitive nose?

The animal encounters are one of a kind, and I'm thoroughly impressed but their Anatoli dog mission. A minimization of livestock loss for the farmers as well as a stop to the killing and mutilating of so many endangered predators, I am rooting for them and will gladly pet more animals for their cause.

They also have bat-eared foxes and servals to encounter, but their inconsistent availability of handlers means waiting all day or missing out. Still, we did get our fill of all the fuzzy things, and now we're left with nothing but fond memories...and maybe some meerkat fur.

La Colombe - Cape Town, South Africa

The cuisine at La Colombe is to die for. And it better be. Our cab hugs perilous curves in the pitch black night with a practiced precision, not that there's another option as the crashing sea beneath leaves no margin for error. 

I should also mention that we're traveling through a downpour. Visibility is next to none as the rain flies, drenching a city that thirsts. 

I'm thirsty too. Thirsty for experience, starving for what the chefs voted as the #73 best restaurant in the world. 

With just one bite I start to see what the other chefs saw. The amuse bouche of Hibiscus Water hides in foliage, a cocoa butter casing best consumed with the mouth fully closed. The water inside is only slightly viscous, washing over every place on the palate, priming it for the flavor-flood to come. The volume of liquid is overwhelming at first, but the light floral overtones are refreshing, like an ant that swallowed a giant drop of morning dew.

They bring out the bread to start, a ball of crusty Sourdough, steaming soft, waiting to be smeared with "natural" butter; pork lard with paprika. The lard dances with slick chorizo slices, and the savor sneaks itself in, engulfing the senses mere moments after it sinks into the crevices of the supple sourdough.

Parmesan Breadsticks crunch in contrasting tones. These are a delightful combo of salty olives sprinkled on butter-sticks.

Tuna 'La Colombe,' A dish so signature the chef does not allow it to be described. It is sealed in a cheeky, chicken-of-the-sea, pull-tab can, the contents of which are inscribed on a playful label. The tuna is meaty, a raw red so tender the avocado chunks almost match it in softness. The "umami broth" is much like a sweet soy sauce, not quite teriyaki. Clean, classic, perfect.

The Mozambican Langostine and Kerala Style Sweetbreads merges the land and sea. The langostine is so tender it's just unreal; it finishes just slightly gooey like Japanese sweet shrimp, as it slathers itself across your tongue and seeps sweetness into every crevice of your mouth. It's a foil to these firm, no-nonsense sweetbreads. 

Far East meets Middle East in the Korean Style Beef Tataki. A dukkah crust disrupts a smooth-as-silk wagyu roll, aided by an earthy romesco and a perky hoisin glaze.

The Seared Scallop is peerless, a pliable disc whisked off a sizzling saute seconds before it begins to char. It steeps with radiant rows of sweet corn and attends a gorgeously glazed pork belly, practically dissolved from cooking sous vide.

Life began on this continent, and a theatrical inception gives rise to this primal palate cleanser. Steam rises through this Eden-esque forest floor, engulfing the tablecloth to create a misty mystery without spilling a single drop.

The vapor clears, and eggs materialize from the mist. A sorbet of sorts, a citrus yolk sends fine shards of tang through a light, creamy white. Lemongrass clashes with assertive ginger, and pomelo moderates the skirmish.

Cod sleeps on a comforter of creamed mussels. The dish runs afowl as a pearly piece of chicken steals the show in spectalar fashion. The egg may come before the chicken on this menu, but this chicken is more memorable by far. I've never had chicken so tender, texture that rivals even the best braised belly of pork. 

Lamb Loin. Every bit as tender as expected, full of its famed game-flavor...and then the braised neck. The neck is indisputably the best piece of meat I've tasted today, maybe ever. A nonchalant circlet sits beneath a showy shallot, it hides until it hits, until the very essence of lamb shines through every sliver and there is no going back. The lamb is the best kind of intense, and there are satiating slips of broccoli, turnip, and pickled red onion to give your palatal emotions a break.

The storm rages outside this peaceful paradise, the rain tumbling down in unfolding sheets. The Borenkaas takes a stand, as organized ribbons of bold, nutty, slightly pungent waves roll against the chaos. Set against subtler sugars of spongecake crumbs and fluid pear, this cheese course segments a meat-heavy slew seamlessly.

Roasted Ivoire Namelaka sits silky in the center of a lively surround. The rest of the plate is pulsating with activity as spongecake soaks up honeycomb and sugary pineapple collaborates with chamomile. The dance of the salted caramel ribbons ebbs and flows with the alternating warm and cold, liquid and solid, sweet and bitter, a finale for the beginning of the end.

A couple more tidbits while we await the check. Shells of dark chocolate release a flood salted caramel; I am floored by these Truffles.

The almond and blueberry Financier makes my knees shake; the amount of pure, decadent butter they hold is the purest sin.

I used to think there was no magic in the world. I am no less cynical now, but places like La Colombe have adjusted my view. For me, real magic lies not in white knights and unicorns. It is not necessarily inexplicable or coincidental. For me, magic lies in creations like La Colombe. It's the vision of a wide-eyed child who realizes his dreams as a seasoned chef. A man who creates a culinary haven to house his vision and allow him to share it with the world. La Colombe offers a glimpse into a brilliant mind and bares the heart and soul of an incredible human being, and that is truly magical.

Kamili - Cape Town, South Africa

We deviate briefly from our daily Truth routine to check out another pretty little two-story shop. 

The first floor has a few tables, conducive to coffee and conversation. The second floor is a small, airy space with high ceilings. The wide front windows admit streams of sunlight, and customers type furiously into their laptops. If I had more time in Cape Town, I'd do all my blogging at Kamili. 

I can't handle a second cup of coffee in the same day, but their fresh juice selection is legit. My Apple Cucumber Juice is squeezed on the spot, and and I appreciate the tart apples that finish veggie-fresh.

It's barely midday, and that refreshing juice is the only thing keeping us awake. 

If jet lag were a flavor, it would be Mozzarella, Basil, and Chorizo on sourdough. The mozz is boss with basil, and I love how those fatty, porky slices of red-hot Spanish sausage wake me up.

I love the quaint, quiet modesty of Kamili. Service is sincere, and smiles are as plentiful as their fresh-baked pastries. And although it's just one of several small coffee shops on the same short block, it's as sweet and memorable as a standalone.