The seafood-focused menu is fresh, seasonal and changes daily. Stefan, an angler himself, uses his bi-coastal seafood connections to source the best, which he enthusiastically prepares over flames in the open kitchen. Expect starters of rich creamy seafood soup, salad or mussels; and mains along the lines of Durban hake with a lightly spiced tomato and onion salsa, tuna in a signature bourbon sauce served with Stefan’s homemade mustard, and popular wild prawns in Malaysian oil, all served in a pan to share with rice and hand-cut chips. If you can squeeze in dessert, Jacqui’s crème brûlée or chocolate pot, both bruléed at your table, are worth undoing your belt buckle for.
To avoid disappointment, book in advance and call the day before to confirm. In a time of food fads and setting over substance, it’s good to see consistent unpretentious fare endure.
A small but complete local wine list, plus beers and hard tack. Cappuccinos, espressos or good filter coffee round off the meal.
Service is brusque and business-like, but don’t mistake Stefan’s gruffness or Jacqui’s reserve for rudeness. They’re seasoned hosts and passionate about what they do, and the food will prove that. You have entered chef Stefan’s dominion where your opinion is not always welcome but your compliments are. Since you will be eating “the best prawns/fish/soup of your life” – according to him – and will invariably be bullied and told what to order anyway, just sit back, enjoy the show, be generous with your praise, and earn the hosts’ warmth and affability.
Cosy, intimate and rustic. The walls covered in guest signatures and compliments bear testimony to its history, loyal following, and beloved chocolate pot.
It’s not all seafood: they’re known for their Sunday steak nights. Vegetarian and other dietary requirements can be accommodated with advance notice. If you’re staying in the area, enquire about breakfasts, served in winter, and any take-away options.
Eat Out critics dine unannounced and pay for their own meals. Read our full editorial policy here.
Chef Stephan Kruger and his wife Jacqui have turned their restaurant into an iconic place to go when visiting the Overberg. There’s no fixed menu other than what fresh produce they can find on the day. Your order is taken and the food arrives served in a big pan for all to share in the bounty. The speciality is succulent wild prawns fried in Malaysian oil and served with fish of the day and rice or French fries – all cooked, fried or grilled on an open fire for you to get you drooling before the food arrives. Lately Stephan has been experimenting with chillies and will offer a taste if you can stand the heat of it.
Although there is no fixed menu, you are sure to find prawns accompanied by at least two types of fish and Jacqui’s crème brûlée or choc pot.
On Sunday nights, steaks are served. (If you mention the words ‘well done’, you might as well leave. People drive from Cape Town for an evening of meat, beer and classical music playing softly in the background.
The drinks menu is contained to a few bottles of wine from the area. Gabriëlskloof wines are favourites of the chef, as well as some beer and hard liquor.
Hook, Line and Sinker is not for sissies. The chef has a larger-than-life personality that would give Gordon Ramsey a run for his money. You come for fresh seafood, a relaxed style of service and a great evening of chilli education, how to slice your fish or how to savour a single malt. It’s a great night out for the family with no mod cons like WiFi. Book way in advance to avoid disappointment; the chef doesn’t like last-minute calls.
It’s a cosy two-room house, where the kitchen takes centre stage and the chef holds court, showing off his culinary skills and sharing his wisdom while cooking on an open fire.
Call the restaurant and place a takeaway for a mindblowing platter filled with steaming hot, deliciously fresh prawns, fish, fries or rice and that delicious, slightly spicy Malaysian oil that you can wipe up with bread. They don’t deliver; you have to fetch it yourself, but it’s worth every cent.
Eat Out critics dine anonymously and pay for their meals in full. Read our editorial policy here.