KWAHERI,
CHEF
TRIBUTE
Once in a rare while in this life, we meet someone who isn’t just that clichéd ‘larger than
life’ personality but who seems to occupy his own warm center of the planet in such a way
that he makes his own atmosphere.
Someone who so thoroughly loves
the life he is living that he invites
others to participate in its wild,
risk-taking, heart-thumping ride
and find the insane joy in it. These
rare souls don’t spend their days
stepping on others to reach the top
of the heap. Instead, they inhabit
a place so completely that they
become its genius - and then open
their arms and invite others in to
take and eat. Such a man was Marcus
Mitchell, head chef at Talisman and
winner of the Taste Awards Chef of
the Year 2013/2014. Down to his
bones, he was a man who used food
as a vehicle for loving people and
drawing them in with a welcome that
left a deep imprint on the thousands
who came through his door.
Marcus always had a precocious
appreciation for excellent cuisine.
According to his mother, at 18
months he yelled at his uncle for not
peeling chili prawns fast enough to
suit his appetite. When he was seven
years old on a trip in the French Alps,
he couldn’t decide between frog legs
or snails as he had never tried either,
so he ordered one while his mother
ordered the other and they swapped
bites to enjoy both. This zest for
sharing good things with others
fueled the passion that would push
him to become a largely self-taught
chef comparatively late in life.
Marcus once told me that he lied
through his teeth to get his first
job in a restaurant kitchen. He had
been urged by his partner, Lynda, to
pursue his love for food and turn it
into a career, so he dived into that
challenge with every molecule of his
existence. Willing to do whatever it
took to learn his craft, Marcus peeled
vegetables while eavesdropping
on the sous chef and soaking up
everything he could. No task was
too humble, because it enabled him
to learn the kitchen and make it his
own territory.
By the time he was head-hunted
to run the kitchen at the Talisman
Restaurant in Karen, it was his
famous pork belly and crackling that
earned him the notice of owners
Stuart Herd and Satyan Patel.
Talisman was already a favorite
Karen haunt, but Marcus slowly
turned up all the burners and made
it a not-to-be-missed destination—
number one on Trip Advisor, beloved
by the tourists and the locals who
sometimes literally called it home
when Friday night’s inevitable
shenanigans turned into Saturday
morning’s Bloody Mary and poached
eggs.
Marcus constantly pushed his own
envelope, learning new techniques
and cooking in well-known kitchens
in France and the UK to sharpen
his own skills. He was never a
pretentious chef (though he could
wow the most fastidious judge with
his Islay Malt foam and Wasabi
sorbet). Instead, his hallmark was
incredibly delicious, fresh dishes
with a unique twist. Marcus had a lot
of respect for chefs who put their
customers above their egos and
focused on quality ingredients. He
often told me that the most loved
dishes are really quite simple and
that it’s important to let what’s
unique about a particular cut of
meat or type of veg shine instead of
smothering it in fancy sauces. I can
still hear him saying, ‘Let the steak
speak for itself’ and ‘Salt and pepper
are the brother and sister of a chef!’
To those of us who frequented
Talisman, Marcus was so much more
than the guy in the chef’s apron. He
was the glue of a vibrant community
that made the restaurant its home
base and didn’t consider a week
finished if it didn’t include a Friday or
Saturday night at the bar or a Sunday
afternoon on the patio. Marcus
made it a point to walk around and
visit patrons, and a meal was always
better when he told you how he’d
found some unique ingredient in
your dish that day.
When Marcus entered a room, he
towered over us and filled the space,
yet his infectious laugh sounded like
a teenage girl’s giggle and set off
ripples of laughter all around him.
And it wasn’t a proper Friday night if
he didn’t stand up and sing ‘Purple
Haze’ at the mic while Mojo played.
He took infinite pains to teach
an eager under chef in his kitchen,
but he didn’t suffer fools and had a
lightning temper when someone’s
incompetence threw a spanner
into the works. Working as a
photographer in his kitchen over
a couple of years, I marveled that
anyone could inhabit the highstress atmosphere of a world-class
restaurant and still maintain such
a crazy sense of humour. Or maybe
that was his secret after all—
laughing when most people would
have thrown in the towel. On his days
off, he could still be found cooking at
home. His Sunday afternoon braais
were legendary and we counted
ourselves lucky when we got an
invitation.
That Marcus magic tumbled down
over us in waves when he couldn’t
contain that infectious laugh of his.
But it also caught us off guard in
his quieter moments when he got
serious and took time to listen and
to talk. He wasn’t perfect, and he
was no saint. There were times we
wanted to wring his neck, like when
he’d never answer his phone or
bother to reply to an email. But he
always made things right…eventually.
His bacon sandwiches smothered in
re