The Best Seafood Dish You’ve Never Heard Of
The Best Seafood Dish You’ve Never Heard Of—Found Deep in the Namib Desert
I crest a ridge on the desert road, 10km out of the small Namibian coastal town of Luderitz — there, hardly 100m in front of me, is a magnificent Oryx. Desert adapted and the national symbol of Namibia, the skittish antelope is endemic to the area, and always tantalisingly out of reach of my short 40mm camera lens.
This one is different — Regal. Unafraid.
He straddles the middle of the road, imperiously locking eyes with me.
I cannot believe my good fortune in bringing the car to a quiet halt, less than 50 meters from him. Fumbling for my camera, heart pounding, I dial in my settings and gingerly attempt to lower the electric window.
That unexpected sound is unfortunately enough, and in a clatter of hooves he bolts, leaving me utterly crestfallen at the missed photo opportunity.
Haunted by “the one that got away,” I roll into the dusty, windy town of Luderitz at lunchtime. The cry of gulls and smell of the ozone-rich ocean air pulling me out of my despondent reverie — the editor of the travel magazine I pitched before departing had been unequivocal — we need wildlife photos to publish.
“First time in Luderitz?” The hostess of Alta Villa, asks me. The quaint guest house overlooks the ocean and is my home for the next few nights.
“Go enjoy the Cataplana at the Greek Fisherman, and you won’t eat anywhere else in Luderitz,” she tells me with a knowing smile.
At first blush, the idea of an earth-shattering traditional Portuguese meal in the deep Namib Desert seems unlikely, but after the Oryx incident, I need a glass of wine and a good meal. On arrival, the convivial atmosphere at the Greek Fisherman immediately cheers me. Bright sun streams through the fishing nets erected to give shade to diners, and I meet the proprietor, Francisco Carvalho, a passionate Portuguese transplant who arrived two decades ago in Luderitz with his father’s clam-shaped “Cataplana” copper pots and never left.
“The secret to the Cataplana,” he says, “is in the use of fresh ingredients — lobster, squid, prawns and white fish — all sourced daily from the local harbour, together with simple staples of garlic, onion and pimento”. The result is a dish simple in preparation, yet deeply complex in flavour. The deep red colour from the pimento sets the senses alight well before the first sublime mouthful.
The copper pots may have since been replaced by Francisco, but the exquisite dish remains a gastronomic delight, and I fall into deep conversation with Rob and his wife seated next to me — we recognise one another from an earlier stay at the Fish River Canyon Lodge, and quickly share histories and backgrounds — our different origins swept away by our shared meal and a glass of Chenin Blanc.
This becomes a theme of the rest of my Namibian journey — the meeting of many of the same people and families in the dusty destinations of the Namib Desert, the connections becoming deeper with shared experiences and meals. People that we may otherwise never have had the good fortune to meet.
Luderitz, usually shrouded in fog and wind, had crept Into my heart and provided a balm for the “One that got away”. Satiated with good food and even better company, it was however time to leave — this time, for the towering, ochre sand-dunes of the Sossusvlei, 500km north.
