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Are Foreign Visitors Being Ripped off at our Airports? ZA Confidential investigates Cell C.

Are foreign visitors being ripped off after they fly into South Africa?  It has been well reported that some are targeted, followed from the airport, and then robbed when they get to their destination.

However, can there be a scam involving something as everyday as a SIM card?

I am not saying that fraud is happening.  But I have every reason to believe it is possible.

I was recently at ORT to meet a friend who was flying in from Istanbul.   After he finally emerged from the bureaucratic checks, he needed to get a local SIM card.   The MTN shop had sold out, there was a big queue at Vodacom, so he went to Cell C.

Now George is no ordinary international jet setter with an excellent taste in friends.  He runs an IT business, knows a hell of a lot about cyber-security, and can spot a potential scam.

He was concerned that his identity was not recorded, as is required, during the transaction.  The SIM was fitted in his phone but the credit-card sized plastic holder from which it was extracted was kept by the salesman.  It was only after we had navigated several buggered escalators to the car park that he realised this, and insisted on returning.

When he asked for his plastic, which he is adamant contains enough information for an insider to cancel the SIM and grab the data, he was told he didn’t need it.

Once again, I am not saying there was fraud.  I am just very suspicious, and clearly proper procedures were not followed at this shop, and the same may be happening at other outlets both at ORT and at other SA airports.

So what does Cell C have to say for itself?    I asked for their comment and here is an (edited) version of their responses.

“Yes, it is a requirement under the Act (RICA) to obtain the personal information of a customer before a Sim Card can be activated on a mobile network. The same applies to Non South African citizens or individuals who do not permanently reside in South Africa. In order to activate a SIM, a customer must provide his or her full names and surname, identity or passport number and address where the person will reside while in South Africa. If an employee is found to be in breach of this process, the necessary action will be taken. In order to investigate this matter, we require the MSISDN of the affected customer.”

I did put them in touch with the customer.  I also asked why the plastic on which details of the SIM were printed had not been given to the customer, and this is what they replied:

“The customer should be given the choice to keep or discard the Sim card holder, The store employee should therefore have asked the customer if he wanted to keep the card holder. We will investigate this matter further.”

So, Cell C, is there a scam?

“We are not aware of any such scams. The information printed on the card alone cannot give you direct access to information as the cell number is not printed on the card. Nonetheless, we will investigate the matter further.”

It has been a week or two but I have heard nothing further from Cell C.

As I said earlier, I am told that if you are on the inside, and a crook, you can do a lot of things with just the PIN and PUK numbers.

As a footnote, my mate was back at the airport later in the same week, topped up his data, but was again not asked to identify himself.

He had been asked on his initial visit to the shop how long he was staying in the country.  This may have been polite chit chat, but it might have been more sinister.

George and I smell a rat.  If it is just Micky Mouse inefficiency, it is still a worry.

Tweet of the Day:

Mark Twain (@TheMarkTwain):  A person with a new idea is a crank until the idea succeeds.

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Can we Toque. Marble Restaurant, Rosebank

For a sex maniac, the thrill is the next liaison; for the serial killer, it is the next victim; and for me it is the next new restaurant.   I too often get set in my ways, and too rarely venture out to new places.  It doesn’t help, either, that I am always broke.

So when my foolish corporate communications chum Axxx offered to make up for a cancelled meeting by offering me lunch in a venue of my choice, I drooled a bit, and then opted for Marble.

I had heard about it, as a trendy spot in Rosebank for the well-heeled, and had read a number of differing reviews of the place, which had almost put me off.   However, I always like to see for myself how well a restaurant delivers.

Getting to it is a challenge.  Unless I was missing something, there is no on-site parking, and the street outside the building had no space.  Even though I circled the block, I saw no parking entrance, so dumped the car a short distance away.  This was fine by daylight, but I would be nervous after dark.

After a short lift ride with a charming lady who did not allow my presence to disrupt her cell-phone call, I was greeted and shown to a very big bar area, with outside wrap-around smoking tables on the terrace.   It is a good, vast space and I assume it throbs in the evening, as do many of the clientele.

The barrier between the bar and the restaurant proper is filled by a pornographic glass-sided wine cellar, and there was an excellent array of spirits behind the bar.   No problems in choosing something brilliant, even if you might need to invite along a bank manager to fund it.

The service was attentive, as it should have been as I was the only customer, but the music was loud and unpleasant – putting the ‘din’ in dinner.  I had not stepped out of an elevator to be tormented by elevator music, albeit with an African groove.

As Bxxx was late, I asked for a glass from the extensive offering of sparkling wines, would not risk funding one of the French champagnes, and settled for a local bubbly.  It was not chilled enough for me, was a bit heavy, and not very refreshing or nice.    It tasted like one of those drinks you get at a wedding or party when the hosts ran out of budget before they chose the booze.  I did not finish it.  Sorry Cxxx.

The attire of the clientele ranged from smart business suits to the clothes one would wear for a heavy session of gardening.  There was a good mix of black and white customers, and people of several sexes.

Dxxx finally pitched, and we were shown to our table in a really vast space, a bit like an airport waiting lounge, or hotel lobby.   However, I had a good view of the wine cellar, and was happy.

The waiter brought some bread for the table, and did not giggle when I jokingly asked into which orifice of the table I should insert it.  The bread was indistinct.  A bit naan-ish, a bit pita-like, and it was served with a pool of yogurt and a lump of butter.  OK, but not memorable.

The chef came to say “hi”, seemed friendly, but was a scruffy bugger. Better that, though, than some so-called celebrity chef who is never in his restaurant, and instead wanders the globe making crap TV travel and cooking shows.

The menu was limited, but the choice was fine.  I selected the prawn starter.  The prawns were very well cooked, but they were overpowered by a spicy sauce and too much salt?  Too much something, anyway.    There was some lovely stuffed Indian-ish bread.  I would happily have had that alone, but it really was FAR too salty.  By far.  A lot of salt.  Too much.  Heavy handed with the salt.  An a-salt on the senses.  You get what I am saying?  Don’t chefs taste their food before they send it out?

My hoist Exxx had the tuna starter.    There was again a reasonable quantity of food, with avo, some sort of jelly and cream cheese.  He said he would order it again.  So would I, from the look of it.

I, of course, demolished my starter in seconds while Fxxx lingered over his.  Waiters twice tried to pluck away my redundant plate while he was still eating, but I put up a noble defence.   I find this practice rude, but I know some customers don’t understand that polite service does not involve highlighting the greed of people like myself.

One five-star element to the service, which I wish one found more often when dining out, was the waiter approaching us after the starter to ask when we wanted him to serve the main course.  Redemption.  Brilliant.

As we were both driving, and there was no prospect of mutual seduction, we each had just a few glasses of wine.  My white was perfectly chilled, and the red recommended by the sommelier was at a perfect temperature.  I had asked for a few ice cubes just in case, but was able to send them back.   I wish more restaurants had brilliant sommeliers like him.   I wonder if he is available for adoption?   Gxxx had a few glasses of a different red, and enjoyed them.

His main course was a superb ribeye steak, which he raved about.   It was generous, and he had some to take home to the dog, or the wife.  Not sure which.

I had some delightful seared tuna on a bed of thinly-sliced pineapple.  It came close to brilliance, but again it was overpoweringly spiced.   It was also not very warm, but I suppose if you hardly cook a lump of tuna it is going to stay cool.  I, too, could not finish all that was offered.

I opted for the cheese board, as a canny way of getting Hxxx to buy us a few ports, or whatever the EU allows us to call our superior fortified wine.  A real treat on both counts.    Four slices of delicious local cheeses.  The relishes were interesting, but really not necessary.  And it was served with the naan-pita bread from earlier.  Why?  And why not a cheese trolley in a restaurant of this size?   I know there are expenses in keeping a stock of perfectly aged cheeses, but the rewards are immense.

He gorged himself on desert, and purred with contentment.

So what do I make of Marble?    I enjoyed the experience but there are flaws in the cooking.  I suspect this could be because it is regarded as a place to see and be seen, not to eat and be eaten.  Well, you know what I mean.

Would I like to return?   Happily.  If someone else is picking up the bill, and I can pick up the sommelier.

Government sabotages its own investment incentives. And why today’s breakfast was a disaster.

Incentives:

A lot of people are suspicious of government officials, so we must raise our hats to senior dti bureaucrat Garth Strachan.   He blew the lid on his department’s justifiable frustrations when it tries to support business and grow jobs, only to see such efforts being demolished by other government departments.

The venue was a discussion on a slightly dodgy World Bank report (is there any other kind?) which gave a lot of attention to tax incentives in SA.

Quite why there was not equal attention to all the grant incentives puzzled most of the audience at the Wits Business School, a place where finding a car parking space is as difficult as tuning in to a white presenter on 702.

Strachan was reacting to the Manufacturing Circle’s boss Philippa Rodseth, who had politely understated that there is “not always alignment” between government departments and officials when it comes to incentives.

Strachan responded, agreeing that a lack of policy coherency in government “is a very big constraint.”

He said that the dti is trying to grow the renewable energy sector, but “another part of government says we will not connect it up to the national grid.”

He appeared to be referring to the foot-dragging by Eskom in signing up agreements to take power from new greener independent producers, something which government and the regulators seem powerless (every pun intended) to over-rule.

The casualties of this?  Strachan said there are five component manufacturers in the renewable energy sector, who have been supported by the dti which “are closing their doors” because of uncertain demand.   Wow.

As we head for the budget on the 22nd of February, it would be wise to look carefully at the government’s buffet of incentives, to ensure that when they are offered to uplift a company, there is not some grubby civil servant lurking under the table to knee the recipients in the dangly department.

After all, it is not the State’s money which is being squandered.  It came from taxpayers.

 

Timing:

Your man on the streets of Sandton stormed out of a breakfast meeting today.   It was at the office obelisk of law giant Webber Wentzel, and involved a round table discussion on women in power.   Not the dominatrix stuff, but the oil and gas stuff.

There were three problems:  The draw card was one of Africa’s richest women Isabel dos Santos, whose spectacular success we assume has nothing to do with her parentage.    On arrival, we were told she was a no-show.   Then the breakfast turned out to be muffins, sandwiches and skewers of fruit.  All were great, but they weren’t bacon and egg.   Just as Brexit means Brexit, so breakfast should mean breakfast.  Misleading advertising of the cruellest kind.

However, I would have struggled on had I not arrived before 8am for an 8.30 event which had still not kicked off at 9am.

The rudeness of the organisers is unforgiveable, and my only regret is that I didn’t snatch a pile of muffins on the way out, for a mid-morning top-up.

 

Tweet of the Day:

Fin24 (@Fin24):   Trump has called on his countrymen to “buy American and hire American.” – tinyurl.com/zjsr8b8 #Trade pic.twitter.com/vyJZUwok6W

 

ZA Confidential is a subscription newsletter.   To join the elite, to invite us to events with edible food and drinkable wine, for sponsorship discussions or any other communication, please contact:    zaconfidential@gmail.com    

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Some thoughts on Brexit and SA, and on a couple of Rosebank Restaurants

Brexit:

It has been encouraging to see that our trade and industry (dti) minister Rob Davies has finally popped up in London to discuss Brexit.    The European Union is this country’s main trading partner, but once the British blow their final raspberry at Brussels, we will need a new, bilateral, trade deal with the UK.    It may be that what we have already with the rest of the EU will be preserved with the countries which stay in the bloc, removing the need for another few decades of wrangling over, say, what we call our port and sherry.

Britain itself is a valuable and traditional trading partner of South Africa, and our current trade relations with the country were soured to some extent by the fact that they were negotiated under the (fiercely protectionist) forces of Europe’s Club Med – the EU countries around the Mediterranean which are direct competitors for our wines, fruit and veg.

So what does Red Rob need to achieve?    First of all, he needs to hang on to what we have got.   The UK market is going to continue to be an important one and we need to preserve our current access for exports, and then to improve this.   Going back to Port and Sherry – will a post-Brexit Britain need to abide by EU rules on the naming of agricultural products, under the Geographical Indicators framework?  If not, our marketing efforts will receive a boost, as our ports and sherries (along with our other armoury of brilliant booze) can compete fiercely in terms of quality against the plonk from Spain, Portugal and elsewhere, and may well also be highly price competitive.

So Red Rob has a lot to gain.

It would be wonderful if he can return from London with a schedule for trade negotiations with the Brits, if necessary barging aside upstarts like Trump.

Of course, it won’t be plain sailing against the nation which won back the Falklands and defeated the Armada.   There will be lobbies from sectors of the UK economy which will want a tougher deal with SA – I can think, for instance, of the automotive industry.

South Africa has a good track record in trade negotiations, a good set of skilled officials, and a minister who may not be widely admired at home, but who has shown integrity and grit on the world stage.

Let’s just get a bloody move on!

 

Some Rosebank Restaurant moans:

One of life’s real pleasures is to eat, drink and be merry.    However, for me the merriment is dependent on the eating and drinking.     If either is sub-standard, merry becomes misery.

That is why I have been so angry at two very expensive restaurants in Johannesburg which failed to deliver to standard.

I went with a client to the Rosebank Grillhouse, and our meal was horrid.  The food was well prepared, the service friendly and efficient, but there was something small and living on my friend’s plate.

This was whisked away, his meal was replaced, but the magic was gone.   Neither of us had much of an appetite after that, and this rather expensive meal is one I will be happy to forget.

There is a Koi restaurant in the nearby courtyard, and some chums from the media division of one of the big banks were foolish enough to offer me lunch there.

They even more foolishly let me choose the wine, which was wonderful, but the prices were very high.

For a starter I had two (oversized) skewers of meat, seasoned in a Japanese style.  Fortunately, there was wine on hand, because they did not taste nice.

I then had some duck and pancakes.  The duck was very dry, making the dish less than enjoyable.

All in all, the food was sub-standard and the prices charged for it were excessive.  Another eat, drink, and be miserable experience.

I will soon be going to one of Rosebank’s newest and most fashionable restaurants.  Watch this space. …..

Tweet of the Day: Sarah Britten Pillay (@Anatinus):   Remind me never to rush to get to a doctor’s appointment on time

ZA Confidential is a subscription newsletter.   To join the elite, to invite us to events with edible food and drinkable wine, for sponsorship discussions or any other communication, please contact:    zaconfidential@gmail.com    

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Don’t be distracted. The sugar tax must be opposed.

It has been worrying me for a while.  What do you do when there appears to be a big contradiction between a fundamental belief of yours and the behavior of bunch of people you really admire?

The easiest solution is to keep your head down, and hope it all blows away.

Which is pretty much what I have done, apart from a tweet or two, in the big debate over the SA Institute for Race Relations (SAIRR) and its funding by Coca Cola.

Some hysterical hype-prone journalist (aren’t we all?) sparked the controversy, with a piece revealing that the SAIRR, which had produced a report condemning the planned sugar tax, was being funded by the most evil of the sugar pimps – Coca Cola.

The conclusion drawn by many is that the SAIRR report was crap, the Sugar Tax must be introduced, and the SAIRR is so compromised it could take over the running of the SABC.

I, on the other hand, would prefer to take all of this with a pinch of salt.

As any informed person will know, think tanks like the SAIRR depend on donations to function.  As the Coca Cola people are operating as a legitimate, tax-paying business (I hope) there is nothing wrong with them funding the SAIRR.

Does this mean that sugar research conducted by the SAIRR is tainted?  It might be – if the institution were not run by people of the highest integrity.  Its boss Frans Cronje is one of the most impressive individuals with whom I have ever engaged, was a regular guest when I anchored a successful radio show, and remains a highly respected commentator on the troubles of this troubled country.

It is utter crap to suggest that he would ever allow the research of the SAIRR to be tainted or purchased by the soft drink barons of Atlanta.

If an SAIRR report says the sugar tax will not do much to improve health, but will be a sneaky way for government to further pick our pockets, that is good enough for me.

So, what lessons are there in all this?

It may be that the SAIRR was naive, and should have been more upfront about its funding, better at realising the political sensitivity of the sugar debate.  I remember when my economist hero Tony Twine wrote a report on fracking, which I seem to recall had been funded by Shell, this was seized upon by the greenies, who suggested the funding made the research invalid. What Bollocks.

However, I am sure that in future there will be more transparency about research funding, despite the risks of the abuse of such info by vested interests and even by interests who don’t wear vests, and that this will prevent mischievous journos (aren’t we all?) from writing naughty pieces.

And maybe, just maybe, South Africa’s business and diplomatic communities should become a bit more appreciative of SA’s truly independent research institutions, should better fund them, transparently, and enable them to better demonstrate their independence from any one source of support.

For my part, I shall continue to oppose the sugar tax.  Once again it is an example of the bullying nanny state pretending to look after our best interests while grabbing our sweet money and kicking sand in our faces.

 

Tweet of the Day:

Shit Jokes (@ShitJokes):  I had sex with a hooker last night. I must have been pissed. I can’t even remember going into the rugby club..

 

ZA Confidential is a subscription newsletter.   To join the elite, to invite us to events with edible food and drinkable wine, for sponsorship discussions or any other communication, please contact:    zaconfidential@gmail.com    

Follow us on twitter:  @zaconfidential

 

Eskom: Don’t be Ridiculous

Headlines can often inform, although sometimes they mislead.   On occasions, they can amuse.  A recent one in Engineering News was a belter. It reported that power parasital Eskom was desperate to land new industrial customers.

Those of us who have lived through the load-shedding (Eskom-speak for blackouts) nonsense which accompanied Eskom’s recent failures to keep the lights on will find it laughable that this useless utility has veered from asking us all to save power to a new situation where it is begging people to buy more of the stuff.

Of course, we all know why Eskom has a bit of extra capacity at the moment.  The economy is growing at an annual rate of under 1%, so demand is subdued.   When (if?) the economy picks up, demand will soar, and Eskom will be once again begging its customers to curb their consumption.

In the future, we will need more generation capacity, and government seems determined to spend a few trillion on a new fleet of nuclear power stations.  This will no doubt delight anyone who owns uranium mines in South Africa (the Guptas) and anyone who can get his or her grubby little hands on a share of the tenders and cash envelopes which will surround the nuclear deal.   If you thought South Africa’s arms procurement process was a charter for crooks, you ain’t seen nothing yet.

Of course, not everyone agrees that nuclear is the best way forward.   A recent report by the CSIR state research centre casts doubts on the cost-effectiveness of nuclear, and suggests it might be cheaper to instead invest in gas and renewables.  Less scope for corruption, so less enthusiasm from government.

One bit of advice which might be of help to South Africa’s industrial customers is to do as much as they can to reduce their reliance on Eskom – to adopt new energy-efficient technologies, to generate their own power wherever possible, to locate new plants where there will be supplies of (Eskom-free) gas.

For Eskom to be begging for new custom is a bit like Samsung saying that its phones and washing machines are great bargains.  Just don’t plug them in or rely on them for anything other than decoration.

And what about Eskom?  Well, the sooner it is dismantled and private sector expertise is brought in to run efficient and functioning generation units and transmission grids, the better.   A well-managed supplier of elecricity may even be able to win new business without begging for it.

 

Tweet of the Day:

The QI Elves (@qikipedia): Word of the day: WHIPMEGMORUM (Scots) – a noisy quarrel about politics

 

ZA Confidential is a subscription newsletter.   To join the elite, to invite us to events with edible food and drinkable wine, for sponsorship discussions or any other communication, please contact:    zaconfidential@gmail.com    

Follow us on twitter:  @zaconfidential    

Mini Budget Interesting. For All The Wrong Reasons

Rarely has there been a budget event where the budget itself was such a side issue.   Admittedly, today’s mid-term budget review has none of meat of the February budget itself, where idiot accountants salivate over changes to what they call ‘sin taxes’ – those evil levies on booze and ciggies, soon to be joined by a sour assault on sinful sugar as well.

However, Finance Minister Pravin Gordhan did have a lot to say about the economic climate, where the growth trend has slipped from around 4% a year to 2% – and will reach just 0.5% this year.   The result is that spending will need to be trimmed, revenue will fall from projected levels, and debt will rise even faster. Not to mention some more tax hikes.   Which he alluded to, but did not spell out.

Unusually, Pravin was joined at his budget news conference by the minister in the Presidency and the higher education minister, as the three agonised in harmony about the current plight of our students. All promised lots of action and sympathy (though not for the rioters) but clearly there is not the extra cash for everything the students are demanding. This is going to be a big political juggling act, as there is this big gap between the aspirations of the students and the ability of the State (we taxpayers) to fund them.    Nonetheless a few multi-billion figures were sloshing around, which should pay for plenty of petrol bombs, booze and drug orgies, and whatever else today’s students list as necessities.   There may even be more lectures, assuming that not all the lecture halls are burnt down, along with libraries and other symbols of capitalist oppression.

The non-education elephant in the room is, of course, the now open row within different factions of the ANC, with the Finance Minister himself facing criminal charges related to his time as SA’s top taxman. He made it to mini-budget day; whether he will make big budget day in February is anybody’s guess. He certainly did not hide his concerns about the general environment, although he insisted it is not preventing him and his loyal officials (I assume some of them must be loyal) from doing their jobs.

Oh, I nearly forgot the third elephant in the room – which is, of course, the ratings agencies. SA is in danger of a downgrading to junk status, which will not only hit investor confidence, but is also likely to push up the cost of existing debt.

Pravin tried hard to sound confident (hampered by a cold) and in charge (hampered by all the knives being plunged his back).   We should know soon enough whether he won much admiration on the ratings front.

As with the assassination of Lincon, details of the mini-budget may be forgotten by history amid all the wider whirlwinds on the larger political and economic stage.

The budget detail will matter, and most of that will come in February.   I wonder what odds the bookmakers are giving on Pravin delivering that speech?

Why Are So Many Conferences So Awful?

Sitting and waiting recently for a conference to begin, noticing that once again a keynote speaker from government wasn’t going to pitch – a depressingly frequent occurrence – I started working on a list of things the organisers of such events should consider. It doesn’t take a lot of extra money to get it right, but it is truly astonishing how few events are well planned and hosted.   For what it is worth, here are a few ideas from one who has suffered frequently at conferences and presentations which have been awful.

1). Half an hour before this latest conference was due to kick off, there was still no one from the organisers to hand out badges, copies of the agenda, and to meet and greet.   Given the unpredictability of rush-hour traffic, it is quite usual for people to start to trickle in early, and someone should be there to absorb the trickle.   A failure to be on duty in good time is both lazy and rude.  What then annoyed me even more was the late start.   It is a discourtesy to people who can and do turn up on time to delay the proceedings for the benefit of the latecomers.   Ministers and government officials tend to be the worst offenders, but journalists are pretty terrible as well.

2). When the agenda did get handed out, it did not contain the full names of the speakers, some of whom were substitutes, so I had to often guess their names. Topics seemed to be juggled around as well.   This was not acceptable.

3). Once it all got underway, most of the presentation slides were in such a small font they could not be easily read. Why are speakers so blinkered? Why do they clutter their slides instead of giving clear and simple bullet points?   Something which looks OK on a computer screen may be really challenging when it is projected on to a larger screen in a large venue.

4). The event was held in an auditorium with no visible power points. To add insult to injury, some goon handed out free notepads and pens. This is the 21st century, you people! Phones, tablets and laptops have replaced papyrus and ink. Now give me a phone or a computer, and I will come to all of your conferences, and may even decide not to complain about the crap coffee.

5). It was difficult to take notes on my tablet, as the tiny pullout table was too small for my IPad, let alone my laptop. I know it is called a laptop, but I really don’t want it resting on my crotch for hours on end.   The seating was in an auditorium, and not at rows of tables, the latter being my preferred arrangement for those of us who are planning to follow the proceedings, and not those who pretend we are MPs in the parliament chamber, and quietly doze off.

6). It was almost impossible to hear at least one of the speakers as their mike skills were poor.     And the content of some of the presentations overlapped. It was clear that not a lot of work had gone into preparing for this conference, which meant that it was less valuable than it should have been.

7). The MC was awful, as is often the case. He failed to properly introduce the speakers, and seemed keener on telling bad jokes than on keeping things running smoothly, or announcing changes to the schedule. I do hope that taxpayers’ money was not wasted on paying him a fee (it was a government event). Mind you, it is seems to be a growing trend for MCs to indulge themselves at the expense of the audience. And yet the organisers of such events appear indifferent to this poor performance. Maybe they are spending too much time raking in the cash?

8). The food was not to my taste, but others seemed to enjoy it. Catering at conferences can be good but is usually dire. Even when a lot of corporate money is involved, the organisers appear oblivious to the difference between good and evil. No wine was offered with lunch, which was a shame as I really could have done with a drink. Mind you, I recently attended an evening function and was told there would be no booze until it was over. Not my idea of hospitality.   There seems to be a belief that drink is a danger, whereas I tend to regard it as a social lubricant. Let’s face it, the Cape wine industry is one of the wonders of this country, and no opportunity should be missed to support it.

9).   People can’t always listen to every presentation during a conference, and certainly can’t copy down every point in a gabbled slide presentation.   Where speeches and presentations are available they should be speedily posted on a website, or if access is to be restricted, they should be e-mailed to delegates.

That’s all for now.   See you at the next conference. I will be the one sulking in a corner, gobbling my take-away pizza and taking large glugs from my hip flask.

Tweet of the Day:

Shit Jokes (@ShitJokes): I’m not saying I hate you, but I would unplug your life support to charge my phone.

 ZA Confidential is a subscription newsletter.   To join the elite, to invite us to events with edible food and drinkable wine, for sponsorship discussions or any other communication, please contact:   zaconfidential@gmail.com    

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When a fine Diner fails to deliver

Reading some of the reports of the troubles Samsung is undergoing with its fire-prone phones, I am once again reminded of my biggest problem with South African restaurants: a lack of consistency.

It is great having a fine brand and a fine reputation, but it can be destroyed in…well….a whoosh of flame.

My recent Jo’burg dining experiences have included two visits to the Morningside centre, where there are several restaurants, some of which have delighted me in the past.

When my partner in wine Michael Olivier and his even-more charming wife were recently in Jo’burg, we went to a place called the Green Peppercorn, where I have in the past had splendid food.

Now, I doubt they knew that there were two food writers in our party. The service could not have been more annoying, and my own dish should have been hot, but wasn’t. That was after we waited far too long to give our orders, and then again for the food to arrive.

An expensive, but underwhelming, meal for five badly hit my budget, and I am afraid this is a place I will avoid in future.

Similarly, with its neighbour Pomodoro, a place where there is some pretention over its fine Italian food, which may be Italian but falls short of fine.

Steak Tartare (not necessarily an Italian favourite) was made with beef which was too fatty, the vitello tonnato had dry meat in a not-inspiring sauce, and the less said about my pasta dish, the better.

Once again, a restaurant which can deliver, because I have eaten well there before, but which let me down, and don’t get me started on the service – which had trouble itself in getting started.

It is not easy to run a restaurant, and I have every respect for someone who can do it well. But fine dining ain’t cheap, and if I don’t dine fine, that is it.   Farewell.

Now I know there are some food writers in South Africa who shower praise on the most unspectacular joints, and appear to have their heads stuffed into the less fragrant cavities of the restaurant traders.

I therefore caution you about any restaurant which sounds too good to be true.

And when you do find somewhere which really pleases and impresses, tell your friends about it.

After all, we all want gastronomic experiences…..on which we can dine out.

 

Starbucks

Having waited a while for the queues in the new Starbucks store in Menlyn Maine to die down, I finally gave it a try today.   Certainly, the quality of the coffee was on a par with those I have drunk on several Continents, even though it took a little while for the coffee to be brewed.     There is a Virgin gym just above the Starbucks with a coffee shop which is distinguishable only by its inconsistency. Guess where I will be getting my morning coffees from now on (queues permitting)?

 

Rob Davies

I may have been a little harsh on Trade and Industry Rob Davies when I wrote recently about his daft plan to raise the legal age for boozing from 18 to 21.   I still believe this is an unworkable law, and like all such legislation, it will bring the law into contempt.

However, I do accept the Minister’s sincere and rightful concern about the dark side of alcohol use.   I was also heartened when he recounted a tale of a spat he had with the Brits over booze bottles.

Apparently, London was insisting that more SA wine should be imported in bulk, to be bottled in the UK, adding to employment there and reducing jobs in SA.

Rob Davies said he countered that if the Brits did that with our wine, we would do the same with their whisky – and I can personally attest there is a healthy demand for the water of life in Sunny SA.

Britain backed down, although I believe we still export too much bulk cheap crap at the expense of the overall image of our wine industry.

I do hope that during the consultation period on the Booze Bill there will be much constructive engagement.

Alcohol does have the potential to destroy lives, but, by God, it can also make many lives so much richer and more enjoyable.   7 days a week.

Let us all keep a sober perspective on this issue.

Cheers for now.

 

Tweet of the Day:

Last night I lay in bed looking up at the stars in the sky and I thought to myself: where the heck is the ceiling?

Shit Jokes

 

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Bearded Nanny Cracks Down on Booze

 

I remember fondly my days as a student. It was a time of great freedom.   Unlike school days, there was no one to tell my when to go to bed, how long to study, which jacket to wear. Or how much to drink.

It was a liberating time, and there were casualties from drink and drugs. But very few.   For most of us, it was an integral part of moving from our teens to adulthood.   Beers in the bar and neighbourhood pubs were a delight, the very grown-up sherry and port at the debating society, the vile wine you took along to friends’ parties.

By 21, I was almost through university.   The fun continued, but needed to be balanced by a bit of real studying and then real work.

But then I was not living in the nanny state which is the Utopian dream of our (teetotal) Trade and Industry Minister Rob Davies.

In his briefing today on public consultation on new liquor (and gambling) legislation, he made passing reference to the impact of the booze business to growth, employment and exports, without really seeming to understand the impact of wines and spirits, beer and cider on our general quality of life.

Not for nothing were record sums spent at the recent Cape Winemakers’ Guild Auction. Not for nothing will we all be flocking to the Sandton Winex expo later this month to sip and spit, enjoy and chat, live and laugh.

That’s the trouble with nannies; they are too bloody intent on spoiling our fun.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t approve of people driving when drunk, or (in most cases) murdering their spouses in drunken rage.   But if you want to get pissed, you should be able to do so without some bearded spoilsport – who himself admitted during his briefing that he is fond of going to bed at 9 pm – sucking all the fun out of your glass and replacing it with milk or water.

In suggesting that South Africa might raise the legal age for purchasing alcohol to 21, Davies seems to believe that the Peter Pan pleasures of sobriety well past puberty are good for all.

What bollocks.   If you apply his logic, a couple can get married well before they are 21, shag like rabbits, have several kids. And still be banned by Red Rob and his sober police from having a glass of bubbly at their wedding.

Don’t say people are old enough to go off and die for their country, but too young to have a beer.

This nonsense would never work in practice, and nor should it.   People between 18 and 21 are adults. They should be treated as such.

To say that a higher drinking age works well elsewhere ignores our tradition and our own adherence to civilization.

Beheading people is a good crime deterrent in Saudi Arabia.   That (arguably) does not mean it should be applied in Pretoria.   And while some other countries find dogs and horses to be nutritious, I don’t want my butcher to expand his range that far.

Despite the Minister’s best efforts, there are some pockets of common sense in the new draft regulations.   The introduction of civil liability for those who sell some more booze to someone who is already drunk and who then goes on to some horrid accident…seems to make sense.

But good luck in pursuing a case.

I am less impressed with his ideas for tighter zoning, and for restrictions on the hours when booze can be sold.

If it is that harmful, then ban it. If not, as with ciggies, you should be able to buy it around the clock.

I just worry about the forked tongues of our ministers who on the one hand praise the SA booze business for export achievements, while at the same time emphasizing its evil side.

Rob Davies wants comments from all strands of opinion, and I hope that the wine industry and other interested parties can be articulate and united enough to put forward a robust case.

And now, please excuse me. I need a drink. (And make it a double).