We are a nation of goats this summer. If not goats, then we are all singing the tragoidia, the goat's song. We are keening, we are sad.
Jacob Zuma, the former deputy president of the country, has been charged with rape. His trials start in February in Johannesburg. Later in the year he appears again, this time on charges of corruption in Durban.
It is a terrible fall from grace for a man who - without an education or the privilege of class connections - raised himself to the position of deputy president. There is no joy to be had from the fall of Jacob Zuma. There is no joy to be had from the tawdry spectacle that is unfolding before us.
It is just pure tragedy. It is tragic for Zuma and it is tragic for us. We never thought we would be here. Part of the unsaid, unwritten, psychological compact of our political leaders pre-1994 was a belief that we could build a democracy, flawed as it was, that would not repeat the many mistakes made by leaders to the north of the Limpopo.
We thought we would be spared the ignominy of corrupt leaders. We thought we would be spared - as Nelson Mandela proved - the embarrassment of leaders who feel entitled to their positions. We thought we would not make the same mistakes.
We were naive, of course. But there is no law against travelling with hope.
So here we are. In a way, I feel like the battle within the ANC and the tragedy of Jacob Zuma's fall from grace have diminished us. We are doing the tragoidia.
Worse still, my very good friends and fellow foodies, Jan and Karen Newman, are leaving Johannesburg for Cape Town. So more of the goat's song. Indeed, so deep is their Johannesburg friends' despair this week that there is no debate about what needs to be done. We have to eat, and eat well.
So, without a shadow of doubt, to Assaggi.
Assaggi is the best restaurant in Johannesburg. Were it not for the tragic events of the past two weeks, its name would not have appeared on the pages of the FM. I was hellbent on keeping it for Stephen Priestley, Mpho Seboni, Thero Setiloane and four or five of my closest friends.
The food that comes out of proprietor Giancarlo Peroni's kitchen - with his mother and business partner, Luciana, egging on the kitchen in her inimitable, Italian-sexy style - is always fresh and devastatingly tasty. It is great food in a great restaurant where you can enjoy great company. This is one restaurant that gets five stars from me any day.
Except the evening we were there. Jan, Karen and Jan's sister, Cally, are already waiting for us when we arrive. The lights are way too bright - even brighter than they usually are.
It is the day of Zuma's appearance in court for rape - a swift drink down the gullet would be more than welcome. But the only sauvignon blanc available in the house (apparently Luciana did not want to have her cellar full when she shuts for Christmas) is definitely corked. Even if it is not corked, says Cally, it is so warm it should not be served. We send it back.
This is not the first time this has happened at Assaggi. Jan and I love lunching there. The problem is that you ask for a dry white and without doubt it is warm. There is nothing worse than lugging ice into your wine at lunchtime. It is uncivilised. The wine should be chilled.
But that is all you can complain about. The waiters at Assaggi have always been brilliant and the service is always seamless.
Jan and Cally share a steak tartare to start, which they enjoy. My lovely wife, who has the same, agrees that it is good but misses the brandy that usually comes with it as a mixer.
My beef carpaccio , however, is excellent.
I come to Assaggi for the spaghettini aglio olio. The pasta itself is perfectly cooked every time. People think spaghetti is the easiest thing in the world to cook. It is not. Not everyone - not even chefs - can achieve the springiness of a well-timed pasta. Assaggi gets it right.
I have had the pleasure of Assaggi's baby chicken, too, and it is overwhelming.
Karen and my lovely wife have the veal, a huge favourite at Assaggi. They are not disappointed, either. As Karen puts it, it is when you tuck into the food at Assaggi that you forget the world outside. It is simply divine.
And that, I agree, is all you need to relieve the Zuma blues.
