In memoriam of the late great Michael Winner, Andrew has been commissioned to fill the void left by the nation’s greatest restaurant critic in the style of ‘’Winner’s dinners”. Food on the Hoof - Maritina’s Cafe

As a child, the Goat had always been my second favourite animal. Back home in Yorkshire however, my appreciation had extended no further than their excellent dairy products, and commendable ability to eat everything within sight.  Today however, I was looking forward to turning the tables on this tenacious eating machine, and Maritina’s Cafe at Buswelu Corner seemed like the place to go.

James was first through the door, and almost immediately exclaimed ‘Duck!’, years of training at the hands of Yorkshire’s many “Duck or Grouse” signs saw me hit the floor. Finding myself staring at a pair of webbed feet however, I realised there had been a fowl-up. With some confusion, our feathered friend greeted us and showed us to our seats. I decided a joke might help break the ice (Q. How do you turn a duck into a soul singer? A. Put it in the oven till its Bill Withers...), but I’d picked my audience poorly and he waddled off to a box in the corner from which some singularly hostile stares were broadcast. Apparently the phrase “customer is king” has not yet reached Buswelu.

The Sous-Chef came to take our order, and I plumped for the ‘Wali Mbuzi’ (Rice and Goat), and Geraldine ordered the same. The speed of service was excellent, and it was not long before I found myself face to face with a steaming bowl of goat (No really, I think there might have been some face in there). A tedious fad with which all those familiar with Masterchef will be aware of is the “deconstructed” dish (for example: a deconstructed Lemon Meringue Pie might consist of a Lemon and a pile of sugar). This dish suffered from the opposite problem; the goat was not deconstructed enough – to the point that I found a fully working knee joint submerged in the murky depths of my bowl. Nevertheless the overall effect was good, and the unhusked rice complimented the copious amounts of cartilage well.

I left satisfied, but unable to shake a slight feeling of cannibalistic guilt as I digested my fellow beard-wearer.

*EDITOR’S NOTE: Please insert your own Goat/Nanny/Kid/Africa puns, as several had to be censored from this piece.*