Boerewors Rolls with Mrs. Ball's Chutney: Fancy Hot Dogs with BBQ Sauce (SOUTH AFRICA - part 1 of 1)

Before being let loose in lively city of Cape Town, we were instructed to eat a Boerewors roll with Mrs. Ball's Chutney sauce by a South African native and shipboard guest. What are they and how do you pronounce the name? Are the two immediate questions that should spring to mind. Boerewors (boar-er-vorsh - I take unscientific liberties with the pronunciation guide) rolls are hot dog buns filled with a spicy, minced beef cured sausage, usually topped with sliced grilled onions and your condiments-in-a-squeeze-tube of choice. Which brings us to Mrs. Ball's Chutney sauce, essentially a Westernized Indian take on American BBQ sauce (ie: spicy! smooth, and highly processed). Ten Rand ($1) will buy you one of these quick bites on the street while 30 Rand and a hungry wait is the going rate for a mediocre (stiff and lukewarm) boerewors at the strip mall fast food joint.

Distinguishing from the township experience I outlined in my previous Namibia post 2 of 2, street food is not a dominant food means for locals in Cape Town. To better understand the street food dynamics of this highly developed city I should first describe the impression of the class structure I gathered during my short stay. The city is very much socially and racially split between unbelievably wealthy white tourists and citizens, and predominantly destitute, native blacks. A small "middle-class"of sorts is composed of the "colored"community including Muslims (colonial slaves from Indonesia), those of mixed race, Arabs, or essentially everyone else. This middle class will be our target group of interest, the consumers of popular street food, and I will refer to them as the "locals"(as opposed to the native black locals, or African-born white locals). For the most part, mainly locals and edgy tourists are "wealthy"and adventurous enough to participate in the street food scene in downtown Cape Town.

BOEREWORS IS KING
Despite the Mediterranean influence of chicken shwarma and falafel in a pita present on several vendor menus, boerewors definitely reigned supreme amongst street food patrons. At one location our local guide marveled over the newest offering of double boerewors in a roll (apparently an innovative thing?). Within a walkable distance in the heart of Cape Town, I counted three unique boerewors stands: a standard small push cart at the mouth of a crafts square, a Halal-advertised shwarma and boerewors double operation, and an evening hotspot on the sidewalk of Long Street (the Center Street, Broadway, Main Avenue, what have you, of Cape Town). The last and greatest of the three was recommended to me as the "best food you'll find at this hour on this street,"and reminded me of the evening food stalls of Southeast Asia (bonus points in my book). A queue crowded around the two butting, collapsable tables and grill and curled down the block. As we shuffled slowly forwards towards the smoky scent of sausages and charred onions, we watched the iron chef production unfold in front of us. The boerewors are procured from a mysterious location below the table, sliced lengthwise, and flipped onto the coal grill for a few minutes per side. A traditional soft hot dog bun encases the reddish-brown link, with the open slit facing up in anticipation of a mouthful of caramelized onions. Farther down past the grill master and cashier, a plastic bottle lineup of sweet mustard, ketchup, sweet chili sauce, Mrs. Ball's chutney, and an unidentifiable pale green salsa of sorts are ready for squirting in unregulated, artistic combinations. "They all taste the same after awhile,"confided a neighboring local at our indecisiveness. I cradled the boerewors in a scrap of paper and nabbed a gluttonous bite of tender, juicy, flaming hot sausage cushioned by the air-filled bun. Sticky sauce and onion-oil dribble added texture and a neutralizing sweetness. Even by my preference for all meats unground, the boerewors made an unabashed statement.

While waiting for my food, I managed to conduct an interrupted conversation with one of the three vending assistants (in between her rubbernecking the police activity of a pick pocketing brawl, and slicing a crate of pearly onions into a less pristine paint bucket). This marked the sixth year of the hopping sidewalk operation. Through her broken English, I gathered that their opening hours ran until 5AM and that a (city?) permit was required to conduct business. She could not explain why their boerewors were so popular in competition with the fast food storefronts currently obstructed by the long chain of patient customers. However the satisfaction of my midnight snack summed up my opinion (this coming from a near-herbivore, mind you). Simple, good food with all corners intact; fresh onions slowly grilled, 100% meat packed with spices, and a league of customers willing to keep their grumpy girlfriends waiting for a boerewors roll.