A road trip to a small, student-centred town doesn’t hold much promise for the sampling of good food, but when my oldest friend Kate and I drive to Grahamstown to go to the twenty-first of another friend of ours, we get to have at least one meal that fulfils the criteria of being both tasty and suited to the whole college town vibe.
In the space of a day and a half in Grahamstown, we hear the story of House of Pirates five times, read the same story another time – on its menu, in grammatically horrifying form - and visit the place once. It’s safe to say that people like it here. Here’s the shortened version: Three guys start a pizza business from their room, do well, are forced by authorities to shut it down, rent a tiny shop, do well, buy a house, struggle to get a liquor licence, succeed in getting a liquor licence, and start the restaurant and bar that is House of Pirates. It’s more inspiring when someone in Grahamstown tells it.
Our first visit is on Friday at lunchtime, when the parents of Kate, the birthday girl, take us and Kate’s sister and her boyfriend out for lunch. We arrive at twelve and find that the kitchen only opens at twelve thirty, but our friendly waitress settles us at a table outside in the sun and keeps our drinks coming until it’s time to place our pizza orders. The wait gives us some time to take in the place: it’s a little Victorian house painted in black and white, and fitted with a stripper pole inside, to fit the pirate theme.
We also end up needing the time because of the amount of choice that the menu offers, and the fact that Courtney’s dad seems a little confused by the option of ordering half pizzas, rather than whole. Luckily for all of us, Courtney is as officious as ever, and insists that we all order halves (“A whole one is just too much!”) but get the double bass option (“The bases are just too thin otherwise!”). Her advice is sound – at just R2 extra, adding an extra base to your pizza means that it keeps the crispiness that the Pirates are so proud of, but also gives the impression that your half pizza was a whole meal, and provides the added bonus of the spread that sandwiches the two bases together. Kate hates this, and says once we’re out of earshot of the paying parents that mayonnaise and pizza should never meet, but I love the taste.
Maybe our difference of opinions has something to do with the different toppings we choose: I go for the vegetarian (R25 for a half, R47 for a whole), and Kate opts for the more interestingly named ‘Getting fresh with an Italian’ (R29 half, R59 whole). Kate’s is one of the most expensive pizzas on the menu, but she’s somewhat disappointed. She thinks that her toppings – rosa tomatoes, basil, rocket, feta and salami – would have done better on one of the focaccias that House of Pirates also has on offer. My pizza comes topped with pepperdews (that’s their choice of spelling), feta and olives, and there’s something very novel about eating a vegetarian pizza that doesn’t involve mushrooms. Other favourites around the table are the Salty Sea Dog, featuring olives, salami, feta and garlic (R27, R54) and the G-spot Deluxe, with bacon, avocado and feta, (R29, R59). It’s explained for the uninitiated that Grahamstown often gets called the G-Spot, so the name isn’t as rude as it sounds.
The sun, the pizza and the people I haven’t seen for ages leave me feeling very happy that I made the effort to be here for the weekend, and even that I might be back. But I might fly next time.
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