Ezio De Biaggi was 19 when he arrived at Cape Town station in 1972 as an apprentice chef, at the end of a southern odyssey which had begun at a hamlet near Lake Maggiore in northwest Italy.
He had flown to Johannesburg and then caught the train to Cape Town. This is a seemingly unremarkable feat, until you factor in his lack of English. Though, whether any English would have helped him is debatable. He was bound for the banqueting section of the Heerengracht Hotel, which he found without difficulty or English — it was situated across the street from the station.
It seems odd for an Italian to have been travelling to Cape Town in a Dick Whittington-esque search for streets paved with gold. These days the journey is usually in the opposite direction. But 1972 was the start of the commodities boom and a surge in the price of gold and other minerals. The mining-heavy SA economy boomed; R1 bought $1.40.
De Biaggi learnt his onions, his accented English, and the restaurant business at the Heerengracht and then The President Hotel in Sea Point until he was headhunted by Emiliano Sandri to manage the La Perla restaurant in Sea Point in 1978.
Sandri had been a waiter on the Blue Train before he started La Perla on Waterkant Street back in 1957. La Perla began as coffee shop near modelling agencies. This is usually a sound strategy in the food and beverage industry. The exotic style and aroma of an Italian cafe, serving real ground coffee to beautiful models in sunglasses must have been a joyful shaft of cultural renaissance for 1950s’ Capetonians living under the isolationist cloud of apartheid’s cultural censorship. Sandri was a fine-looking man, imbued with a continental style Cape Town’s ladies adored. He clearly also had nose for a golden truffle.
By 1978 La Perla encapsulated la dolce vita. Sandri had moved it to a seafront site in a new Sanlam building on Beach Road in Sea Point in the early 1970s while segueing the cafe into an Italian restaurant. There was a glamour and an exotic Mediterranean modernity about sipping on Campari with a slice of orange while looking out at a magnificent sunset over the Atlantic with Louis Prima ditties supplying the soundtrack. And then dining al fresco on fresh seafood platters with cold white wine in the company of the beautiful and the damned.
By this stage Sandri had become friendly with Anton Rupert, who brought his jet-set international friends to La Perla. These included Gianni Agnelli, the suave owner of Fiat and Ferrari, François Mitterrand and every celebrity or notable performer who visited Cape Town during this period.
Chris Barnard had also become a regular while his social cachet as a medical miracle worker ran hot. I am not sure if Barnard brought his flame Gina Lollobrigida to La Perla. She was the most beautiful woman in the world and must have been exhausted after being pursued by a relentless relay of Howard Hughes, Prince Rainier and other notorious rakes of the era. But it seems appropriate that he did. Whether Mitterrand was accompanied his mistress or his daughter remains a mystery.
Word spread and Capetonians flocked to La Perla, perhaps hoping that some of the urbane sophistication would rub off on them. Table bookings were not (formally) permitted, so there were often queues of people dressed up in jacket and tie and formal evening frocks waiting in lines on the street outside. De Biaggi served them cold white wine while they waited, and tables were turned as quickly as possible to accommodate all comers. Crayfish sandwiches were a popular choice, particularly for customers coming for a fashionable dinner date after the theatre or the movies.
The waiters at La Perla were unique. They were mostly of Indian descent and smartly dressed in black trousers, white shirts with a black tie and a white tuxedo jacket. Anything was possible and their service was outstanding.
There are many stories about the high jinks that took place La Perla in the late 1970s and 1980s. They cannot be regurgitated in a form that doesn’t appear both dated and mildly depraved. But it is likely that these were the slightly more refined precursors to today’s, high-living Atlantic seaboard set.
Customers came to La Perla for the views, the vibe and the celebrities, but they came back because of the outstanding customer service, the food and De Biaggi’s emotional intelligence. The best salespeople have a few notable characteristics. They always give something of themselves to the customer by investing the time to establish trust and loyalty, whether by remembering their names or what they drink, or just going above and beyond without requiring reciprocity.
Once they have connected with their customers, and trust is established, loyalty flourishes. It is also easier to have hard conversations once you have developed a relationship with someone. Like how to placate Sol Kerzner, when “his” table is not available, with a bottle of Johnny Black placed in the middle. Or how to ask a high-powered businessman to continue his monologue in a quieter voice, to satisfy the big hitter behind him who is complaining. Dealing with a room full of egos, all intensely competitive and used to having what they want, is harder than running a nursery for toddler Trustafarians. But De Biaggi managed it effortlessly.
De Biaggi has an ego-free master’s degree in emotional intelligence. He acquired this calmness from his grandfather, who liked to annoy his impatient wife by drinking a carafe of red wine at each of the two bars in the village after De Biaggi had been sent down the hill to call him for dinner. When they finally made it home, he allowed the diatribe to wash over him while he eased up the stairs to wash his hands before walking slowly down again, and then taking his place at the head of the table with a smile.
De Biaggi left La Perla in 1995 when an opportunity arose to buy a share of his friend Franco Zezia’s place at Magica Roma in Pinelands. While he loved La Perla, a share in the upside was the dream. Pinelands lacks the pizzaz of Sea Point and the venue has none of the geographical seafront advantages of La Perla, but the loyal customers De Biaggi had developed at La Perla followed him to Pinelands even though it was a dry suburb at that stage. Word spread, as it does when quality is offered, and business has boomed ever since.
I have been eating at Magica Roma for 20 years. It is not a place to be seen at by the arriviste. I doubt it appears much on Instagram in generations Z’s obsession with advertising their experiential materialism. You can’t taste the food posted on social media or assess the quality of the produce it is made with.
We went for dinner at Magica Roma last week. De Biaggi greeted my family with a big smile, everyone received a hug with a meaningful squeeze at the end. After that he removed the menus from the table. We were going off-piste. Our meal would depend on what was in the larder.
De Biaggi then fielded questions about the availability of fresh clams, porcini and Cape salmon. The pony-tailed Zezia waved from the kitchen, Lisa Veck was at the helm behind the till, while Marco Savoia came over to discuss the price of Tesla stock and Elon Musk’s dystopian carry-on. He had brought a couple of glasses of prosecco and a fistful of Fanta. We laughed about a former client in the fixed-income industry whom he named “Meesta R186”, and who is having the last laugh on his yacht in the Mediterranean.
If you look carefully, you may recognise Christo Wiese eating unobtrusively in the corner with his old friends and colleagues. Afterwards they will play matches for the bill, like they did at La Perla for many decades before this. If you know your onions, you will notice other financiers and well-known business figures quietly getting things done out of the limelight.
The restaurant is packed and hums with chat. Waiters bustle as they serve food and wine. Before long we are presented with a primi platter of parma ham, grilled calamari, a smattering of tricolore and some aubergine. It disappeared sharpish, before I had had a chance to savour the taste of the ham with the prosecco.
A secondi of porcini pasta is next — expertly cooked with butter and parsley and only a hint of garlic to allow us to taste the mushrooms. Finally, we had a piece of firm geelbek on a bed of spinach — lightly seasoned and delicious. All the dishes have been small enough to lead us into the next one. There was time between the courses to talk and let everyone have their say. We reminisced about old birthdays and celebrations that have taken place here. At some point Marco appeared with a new grappa he has found while the others decide to share some terra miso.
Magica Roma closes for three weeks in December, at the height of “the Season” when increasing numbers of hard-currency tourists pour into Cape Town off cruise ships, aeroplanes and automobiles in search of good food. Lesser establishments leverage this period, driving staff harder to haul in as much of the catch as possible. Not Magica. It is more important for them and their staff to get some rest and indulge their families during the traditional holiday period. Their customers will return in droves in January.
We left satiated and smiling after a delicious meal cooked with love in an ancient tradition. We hadn’t gorged like Romans — we had dined like Italians, on marvellous food served in a warm familial environment by a wonderful and enduring team who have made it their business to get it just right. If all goes well, we will return many times.
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