Peter is… my saving grace…

Peter & Mariana Esterhuizen in the kitchen of Marianas, which put Stanford firmly on the foodie map.

Very few people get to choose the lifestyle they want to lead and actually manage to hang on to it.  But Peter & Mariana Esterhuizen have achieved just that.

The fact that Marianas is named as one of the top country kitchens year after year has less to do with it the lifestyle Stanford affords.

“Mariana  and I were at school together,” Peter recalls, “but we actually met when we were three years old!  So it’s been a long relationship.”  They were married in Stanford in 1981, because Mariana’s parents had a holiday house at nearby De Kelders, but at that stage they had no thoughts about moving to Stanford.

Then in 1983 they had their first uninterrupted three week holiday, at De Kelders, and started thinking about moving from Cape Town to the country.  They looked at all the small towns, like Barrydale, which have become so popular with city people since then.  Their criterion was “What do you do on a Sunday afternoon when the wind blows and it’s miserable?”

The next challenge was how to make a living in a small town.  Mariana worked as a translator at Parliament and Peter was in the music industry.  Then Mariana’s father suggested to Peter he might need to learn a trade and so he learnt to be be an electrician at an adult training centre, culminating in an intensive apprenticeship at the City of Cape Town.  Stanford proved to be a good spot to ply his new-found trade.

Mariana devoted her energies to planting vegetables and before long she had a glut of produce.  And that led them to the weekly Hermanus market which at that stage only had ten stalls, eight of which sold food.  They spent twelve years at the market and it was there that they established a loyal client base that was second to none.

“The market was a party… and hard work,” says Mariana.  “We gave people what they wanted — organic vegetables, pesto, tapenade (long before it was seen anywhere else in SA), pies and breads.  When we got to the market each week, we’d find people already waiting for us and by the time we finished unpacking the van, there were nine people abreast and 15 deep.  We sold out in two hours!  After three or four years we had a cult following.  I was really proud of that market.”

Regulars like Gerrie Heynecke would arrive with a bowl to be filled for lunch back home for his guests and family.  “It was all very social.”

She names Hennie & Jennie van der Bijl with their fresh asparagus and home-made butter,  oom Boetie Arendts who sold fresh vegetables and cooked soup for lunch on a Primus stove and Kathleen Barendse , a third-generation veteran who had started at the Old Harbour market, as the mainstays.

“There was camaraderie and good products,” she says.  Peter was the chair of the traders’ association.  Then the municipality, due to pressure from prospective traders, created more stalls and the squabbling started.  It became more of a fleamarket and when they left after 12 years there were 280 stalls with only two selling food.  “They wanted to preserve history but they killed the heritage.”

Either Peter or Mariana walking the dogs is a frequent sight in Stanford.

Life in Stanford itself was also rather special.  “In small towns one gets involved in community activities.”  Stanford had its own municipality with a mayor and five councillors.  It was controlled by the Nationalist Party, who played hardball and dirty during elections but were magnanimous in victory.  Things got done in the town quickly and pragmatism was the rule of the day.  It was a happy town pre-1994 and the new era of super-municipalities.

If municipal politics in the ‘old days’ was a religion for some, for others it was an anti-establishment sport with a social conscience.  Mariana and a few others stood as independents.  For the first democratic elections, when they realised they needed a logo, a symbol of a tree was hastily scribbled… and they became known as the “Boom Party” and “were trashed by the Nats,” she recalls .

When the Stanford Transitional Council was being established in 1992, the challenge of bringing diverse groups together met a snag.  Peter, Mariana and Gavin Carstens, with an interpreter, headed off to De Kop (the Black squatter camp) to find a solution, and asked to speak to someone in charge.  Back in town, at the following meeting, they were accused by the late Jan Stander of creating both the ANC Women’s League and the ANC Youth League!

After almost 30 years in the village, between them Mariana and Peter have served on virtually every committee that addresses village affairs.  Listening to the stories is like a roll call of people who influenced the village — Dick Metcalfe, Mike van Rijn, Brigadier Laurie van Vuuren, Jan Stander, Henry Gibson, Willem Appel, Naas Bojé, Gavin Carstens and Hermie Lategan.  Village issues were fiercely fought and sometimes ended in the Supreme Court, with bon vivant Advocate Allie Blommaert taking on one of the cases.

When author SJ du Toit (two volumes of Stanford Stories) won an award and was invited to Johannesburg to receive it.  She was extremely excited, but could not afford the expense of travelling to Johannesburg.  That evening Peter and Mariana went to the local pub and put R100 on the counter and asked others to join in.  SJ’s ticket was covered and property agent Jill Smith found a place for SJ to stay.   Stanford is a village that looks after its own.

And what about Marianas, the restaurant?  The change 13 years ago from the deli in Owl’s Barn — selling lettuces and quiches, with a few deli goods, and catering for the odd table — to a restaurant took a fortnight.   It has been voted the top country kitchen in SA and Rossouw’s Guide rates it highly for consistency.

Eat Out describes it:
Food:
There’s a lovable quirkiness to the menu at this Stanford institution, yet the dishes that flow from Mariana Esterhuizen’s small kitchen are as homely as could be. Ingredients are sourced locally or straight from her own herb and vegetable garden. Tuck into slow-roasted ‘skaap and dinges’, tender ‘oink neck’, a wonderfully light gruyere soufflé, or her justifiably famous chicken pie made from the most liberated of free-range birds. Delightful country cooking where nothing will disappoint.

Wine:
A small yet carefully selected list of estates, both local and from further afield, with a handful available by the glass.

Service:
While Mariana cooks up a storm, her husband Peter welcomes guests and explains the day’s dishes. There’s a warm, personal touch that’s missing from so many eateries.

Ambience:
A quaint home-style restaurant with a few flourishes. By and large it’s a relaxed setting crying out for languid lunches.

And…:
Reservations are essential, especially during holiday periods. (RH, October 2011)

Marianas is only open from Thursdays to Sundays between noon and 4pm.  Wednesdays are preparation days in Mariana’s kitchen at home — across the vegetable garden from the restaurant.  And Mondays and Tuesdays are Peter and Mariana’s weekend.

At the end of a very long interview, and much wine, Mariana spoke about the glue that holds everything together — Peter’s amazing ability to welcome guests and put them at ease in a signature way that few people ever achieve.  “Peter is… my saving grace…”