21 December 2007 FOOD FOR THOUGHT Just fire the Peech By JUSTICE MALALA

My friend Tshepidi Moremong, a hot shot at one of the country's leading private equity outfits, is a tough cookie. But even my jaw dropped when she told me how she walked into the kitchen at Bistro@The Peech and demanded an explanation. "My food was late and it was terribly done, as well," she told me. "I have had enough of this sort of thing, where we just sit there and don't speak up against bad service." Bistro@The Peech Hotel 61 North Street, Melrose, Johannesburg Tel: (011) 537- 9797 Nelson Mandela Fabulous Good Thabo Mbeki Jacob Zuma Tshepidi went on to ask the chef how he could, with straight face and full dignity, serve food of the standard he had just plonked in front of her. "I was shocked that they could serve such bad food," she fumed. "You must go and see for yourself." Me, I like my friends in business. Their motto is simple: put up or shut up. It is nothing like our politics. The outgoing president of our country, Thabo Mbeki, has not fired a single minister from his cabinet. Oh, I lie. He has. He fired the one deputy minister, Nozizwe Madlala-Routledge, who achieved in the space of just three months more than the entire administration had achieved on HIV/Aids in 10 years. But, you know, sometimes sense prevails. By the time you read this, Mbeki will be history. Failure on Aids, Zimbabwe, crime, education (a recent study found that we were last in numeracy and literacy in the whole wide world) and a plethora of others finally did him in. In charge will be our friend Jacob Zuma, lustily singing "Awu Lethe Umshini Wami" with no care about economic policy. With his usual woolly thinking, he is likely to call for the death penalty or dream up a few ways to bring discredited characters like Paul Ekon and Baleka Mbete into his cabinet. Which, I think, is Tshepidi's point. It is the bottom line that counts. The bottom line in government should be uninterrupted electricity, proper roads and sanitation, good schools. Not under Mbeki, and certainly not under the looming Zuma presidency. Given that Zuma's chief strategist, Mo Shaik, is hinting that Trevor Manuel is going to be fired, things are not looking good. We should be even more scared that a character like Shaik thinks he can choose the cabinet. For all this, we have Zuma to thank. He is so indebted to every crooked Tom, Thabo and Schabir that every cabinet position will be filled for him before he can blink. Too depressing to ponder. My friend Winston Skosana and I have missed out on the end-of-year round of office party invitations. Plus, he has been away in London and Paris. So I suggest the Bistro@The Peech because, well, I have to see it for myself. It is not all bad. Those who have stayed in its well-appointed but unfussy rooms swear by it. It is young, it is funky. But the restaurant... I know things aren't kosher when I call to book. The voice says hold on. "I need to ask the executive chef if that is okay." After a moment she says : "Just come." No names put down. I walk in and tell the young lady at the door that I am meeting a friend. "Okay," she says brightly, and leaves me standing there. Eh? No questions about reservations or anything. Sloppy, very sloppy. I sidle in and there is a bunch of funky young people with large 1970s disco glasses hiding their faces from each other. They have taken over the space outside the dining area. Winston had arrived before me and is squashed between all the youngsters, looking ill at ease and grumpy. "I have been here 10 minutes and no-one has even asked me what I am doing here. No service, nothing. Who recommended this place?" he fumes. Twenty minutes after I tell the waiter that we are waiting for our table, I want to walk out, too. We call him over. "I am just waiting for the party people to move inside," he says. Then he continues to serve them without even trying to hustle them away from the tables at which they are smoking and chattering away. The young lady who serves as maître d' has by now disappeared or, when we do see her, is deep in conversation with a dreadlocked guy in Converse All Star. We fume, we wait, we give up. I am way too cross to judge the food properly, I am afraid. I have smoked salmon, Winston has lamb chops, and we run out of there as soon as we can. Someone should be fired, starting with the maître d'.