THE RONDEBOSCH

In the early 1970s The Rondebosch in Edith Cavell Street, Hillbrow, was a largely residential hotel that also catered for a few tourists. Most of the residents resided there permanently, the rooms offering an affordable monthly rental. The building has gone through several iterations since it was originally built in the 1950s (or thereabouts). Until the early ‘70s it was graded by the tourism authorities as an affordable, yet respectable hotel. It later became a residential hotel and in 2005 was refurbished, now renting out rooms with shared ablutions. Once respectable, it plunged into the realm of seedy establishments as Hillbrow followed a pathway to inner city degradation. Since 2005 it has become known as Rondebosch Mansions – the “Mansions” something of a misnomer in Hillbrow, as few buildings even hint that they could be considered “luxurious”. Nevertheless, it is today a cut above most of the accommodation available in Hillbrow, and certainly much better than the hijacked buildings that blight the city of Johannesburg.

During the early ‘70s the proprietors and management of The Rondebosch Hotel had a dining facility that offered serious value for money. Table boarders were allowed to dine there for a reduced rate that compared favourably with the rates afforded their residential patrons. In addition to the regulars, wholesome affordable meals were also provided to the general public without the need for prior booking. At 85c for a three course dinner (on Sundays, lunch), the kitchen pulled off something of a miracle to produce fare that could compete favourably with more expensive restaurants and hotels. Really good meals were served!

Managing the dining facilities and kitchen was an old Jewish fellow, David Cohen (not his real name). He was a part owner of the Rondebosch and insisted on overseeing the dining himself. The Chef, kitchen staff and waiters responded without hesitation to any instructions emanating from Cohen. He was always nifty in his attire, which always sported a colourful bow-tie, cuff links, waist coat and shoes buffed to military standards. David Cohen was not only an efficient and skilled manager overseeing the unpredictable seating arrangements given the fact that bookings were not insisted upon, but he was a fine gentleman to boot. His courtesy paired with a delightful sense of humour endeared him to one and all.

The residents were generally accommodated in the furthest section from the stairwell leading to the basement dining room. Casual patrons (members of the public) that were required to present an 85c coupon per person were seated nearest the entrance. One fellow (his name known only to the manager), however, was neither a resident nor a casual table boarder. He was a regular, always dined alone and had a permanent table betwixt the two groups of diners. His table, with a single seat, was located near the kitchen alongside a gigantic pillar that was something of a unique feature right in the centre of the spacious dining room. This chap always arrived for his meal about halfway through the two hour dining session (between 6 and 8 in the evening, and on a Sunday between 12 and 2pm). He was quite a character!

The “regular” was an object of amusement to diners and waiters alike. He had an enormous appetite for a fellow who was clearly not obese. He did have a hint of a distended belly, but that was the only indication that he was given to gluttony. On each of the tables there was a good selection of fresh salads. He would do a round of collecting salad bowls from tables around him where diners had already consumed their meals and departed. All the uneaten salads wound up on his table before he took his seat. The waiters made a show of helping him to accumulate a decent array of salad bowls at his table – their sniggers behind his back were accompanied by winks and nods to other diners. Bits and pieces of salad he considered stale or not up to scratch would find their way to the floor. One waiter, not engaged in this task of collecting leftovers for him, would place a single glass of red wine at his place setting. Another would present the starter, followed in rapid succession by two more. “Regular” wolfed the starters down and made short shrift of the wine, though he didn’t drink a second glass. The main course was something to behold. The Sous Chef plated all the main courses himself and ensured that the portions for “Mr Regular” were substantial – far more than that dished up for other diners. Diners could select a portion of chicken OR beef OR lamb and three cooked vegetables. “Mr Regular”, of course took all three meats and his veggies. Whereas the dessert was presented to other diners after they had consumed their main dish, “Regular” tucked into another two main dishes graciously provided by the kitchen. When the dessert showed up, it also was not dined on alone. Two more arrived and found their merry way down his gullet. Topped off with strong coffee, he consumed far more than his coupon of 85c entitled him to devour. 

Not a word of admonition ever left the lips of David Cohen. The waiters seemed to look forward to the entertainment value offered by “Mr Regular”. The chef no doubt regarded the devouring of his well cooked and presented menu as a compliment. Other patrons regarded the antics of this fellow as a spectacle not to be missed and would occasionally dine at the Rondebosch to be entertained by this gluttony that knew no bounds. Some muttered that he was clearly digging his grave with his teeth and doing it in spectacular fashion. He had elevated gluttony to an art form – worthy of its place among the seven deadly sins.

©Paul M Haupt

Photo Credit: The Catholic Gentleman