Wilde Things
| by Fingal Wilde
A Bitter Taste
An idea has been germinating in the back of my mind for quite some time now, but it came to full blossom at the
end of September, when I was enticed to an event with some seriously misleading advertising, which led to me
joining a throng of fellow naivetés, attending the Pick ‘n Pay Taste of Joburg at Monte Casino in Fourways, Sandton
- incorrectly billed as Johannesburg’s Premier Food Festival.
T
he idea that
had been
germinating and
now confirmed, was
that Johannesburgers
are starved for
entertainment, and
in their haste to get
some excitement
in their humdrum
lives are suckers for
punishment, and are
cannon fodder for
those who wish to get
them to part with their
money. It is all part of
➲ Craft beer, sometimes sold
the dumbing down
by crafty vendors
of society, and all
part of the hedonistic
rush to oblivion, with
that you can sample and shop for a range
lemming-like devotion. What really galls me
of produce in the laid back atmosphere
was that on the last Saturday of September
of a boutique food market. With world
I was one of the lemmings. But there were
class restaurants, chefs and produce,
extenuating circumstances, in the form
Taste of Joburg is a sumptuous, indulgent
of Machiavellian-type enticement that will
foodie day out. This unique collaboration
never work again, as once bitten, twice shy.
of Joburg’s finest eateries, chefs and
I had had a rough week, and needed a
producers makes Taste of Joburg the must
diversion to restore my juices, so on the
attend event on the city’s food and social
Saturday morning, when I heard on Radio
calendar.”
702 that there was this great food festival
I was literally drooling by the time I parted
at Monte Casino, my ears pricked up.
with R200 for two entrance tickets, but my
And the deal was sealed when they
reality check kicked in soon afterwards,
promised that a wide variety of South
when I saw the length of the queue waiting
Africa’s top craft beers could be sampled
to get in. If I had not already paid for the
at this festival. Now, I am a sucker for
tickets, I would have done a prompt U-turn,
craft beer, and the thought of being able
but the die was cast, and God was it cast!
to compare, beer for beer, South Africa’s
The frustrating half an hour we took to
best, had me rushing my wife into the car,
eventually get in was compounded by the
and off we went, expecting a first class
way we were directed to the various gates
experience. Silly, silly lemmings!
- now I know how cattle feel on their way to
The experience as promised on the Taste of
the abattoir - and all that was missing was
Joburg website was mouth-watering. The
the cattle prods.
promise was couched in an oxymoronic
Eventually, w e were shoehorned into a
orgy of salivating deceit, “boutique
far too small venue, clutching our R100
exhibitors, artisan producers, premium
complimentary tasting glasses. So we
drink brands and award-winning wineries,
elbowed our way from stall to stall, which
will provide a bounty of the country’s
were offering measly portions of mediocre
finest food and drink on offer, ensuring
| words in action
72
food at exorbitant prices,
and ate standing up,
because no seating
was available. And the
food was paid for with
ridiculous pieces of
paper, euphemistically
called scions, the
currency of choice
which some ponytail had
deemed a good idea.
The environment
was a heaving mass
of humanity, and
definitely not the laid
back atmosphere of a
boutique food market.
The promise of being
able to sample and shop
was just that, a promise. And seriously
unfulfilled. The purveyors of craft beer
would not allow any sampling, unless one
parted with a scion for a tiny tot of beer,
which was confusing to say the least.
How do you market craft beer, which in
many cases is an acquired taste, if you
do not allow sampling? I quickly got rid
of my pre-bought scions, and made a
hasty retreat. Well, not so hasty, because it
required some strong elbows to move even
at a snail’s pace.
I will not be attending this farce of a
“festival” again, but I am sure that the
organisers are not worried. It is not about
delivering the goods, nor keeping your
promises, it’s about making money, an
endeavour which must have succeeded
dramatically.
november 2014
Next year they will be at it again,
because the entertainment
starved lemmings of
Johannesburg will once again
be queuing like cattle, with their
wallets hanging open.