By the time summer arrives in the Timbavati, nature has moved into a new rhythm.
Summer is the season that asks for ease – it’s far too hot for meals that make you feel heavy. We reach pretty high temperatures, and food needs to feel like a relief – something cool, something simple, something that doesn’t ask too much of you.
In the kitchen, we strip things back. No long cooking, no heavy sauces, just fresh ingredients and quick hands. Everything we make now is light and bright – one, two, three, done – because the season itself asks for it.
Why This Summer Menu is Different
Our new summer lunch menu came from two places: the season, of course, but also a shift in what our guests want. People are travelling with a different mindset these days. They want fresh, they want healthy, they want something that feels good – and they want choice.
Choice has become the real heart of this menu.
We realised that guests weren’t avoiding certain dishes; they simply wanted room to decide for themselves. Maybe today it’s chicken. Tomorrow it’s veg. Maybe they love a dish but want it without the short rib. Or maybe they’re starving and want to build something a little bigger.
So we created a menu that flexes. If you want to swap protein, you can. If you want it lighter, we can make it lighter. If you want a vegetarian version of something that’s usually meaty, we’ll make it.
It’s a menu that simply acknowledges that everyone eats a little differently – and guests have appreciated that freedom.
The Dishes That Tell the Story of the Season
Between you and me, choosing one dish to share is like choosing a favourite child – impossible. When Hannah (Tanda Tula’s food consultant) and I tested this menu, it was the first time in years that not a single dish fell off the list. Not one. Everything we cooked went straight on the menu.
There’s a shredded beef short rib wrap, scented with harissa and tucked into a feather-light tortilla with cabbage slaw, hummus and tzatziki. It sounds simple, and it is – but the flavours are cooling and layered, the kind of lunch that works perfectly when the heat has settled on your shoulders.
Then there’s the dish I can’t stop talking about – the pork piccata. You take pork neck steaks and cook them gently with butter, white wine, garlic and lemon until they’re soft and golden, and then serve them with a stone-fruit salad of peaches, nectarines, tomatoes, homemade ricotta, and a few spears of asparagus. Everything about it feels like summer: the sweetness, the brightness, the acidity. I’ll happily defend that dish as one of my personal favourites.
Of course, our guests have decided on their own favourite: the club sandwich. There are days I send out five before lunch is even halfway through. Homemade ciabatta, aioli, lettuce, tomato, chicken, bacon and parmesan – tall, messy, layered. The vegetarian version with fried aubergine is so good that even the meat-lovers order it.
The tandoori-style chicken skewer dances between warm spice and cool yoghurt. It’s a joyful dish – the crunch of vegetables, the soft heat of turmeric and curry, the tang of the yogurt. And then there’s the one Hannah only took one bite of before I finished the rest: the salmon zoodle pasta. Baby marrows turned into noodles, tossed with basil, tomatoes, peppers and cream, topped with smoked salmon. Guilt-free pasta, gluten-free pasta – call it what you want. I call it delicious.
And the Wahlberg’s chicken salad – a twist on the old Waldorf. Lots of fennel, cucumber, celery, lemon yoghurt, and soft seared chicken layered on top. Fresh, textured, and cool. On a hot day, it hits every note exactly right.
The Garden Is Part of the Story
One of my favourite parts of summer is the garden. There’s something grounding about seeing the aubergines pop a second round of flowers, or watching the green peppers come in faster than we can harvest them. Our sorrel is out of control this year – we pick it every day and fold it into the lunch salads.
We’ve got cauliflower sprouting, the lettuce is settling in, and the herbs never seem to rest. It means something to tell a guest, “What you’re eating came from just outside that window.” People feel a connection when they know where their food comes from. It matters to them, and it matters to us.
A Summer Way of Eating
When you look at the full day of meals, the pattern becomes clear.
At high tea, guests don’t want platters and piles – they want a single sweet bite that gives them a lift before the drive. One little treat. Something small to put a bounce in the step, and then they’re off.
On the vehicles, we keep it classic. Homemade chips (and trust me, the rebellion when they’re missing is real), a good biltong, and not much more. Snacks on drive aren’t meant to be a whole meal, they’re meant to be a familiar comfort, something people look forward to when the sun starts dipping.
Breakfast is the one thing I don’t change. Every time I’ve tried, guests have marched straight to me and asked where the bacon is. The bush breakfast works. It’s hearty, warm, nostalgic, and no matter how health-conscious someone is, they forget that entirely when they smell sausages hitting the pan.
What has changed is this: We now bake our own bread, we squeeze our own juices, and we make everything we possibly can from scratch.
My philosophy: If it comes from this kitchen, it should be made in this kitchen.
Evenings That Belong to the Fire
Dinner follows a rhythm of its own. Some nights it’s plated and elegant, while other nights it’s shared – tapas-style bowls that allow people to pick and graze and go back for seconds if the mood strikes. And then there’s the ‘braai’ (African version of a barbeque), which needs no explanation. There’s nothing quite like smoke and fire under the Timbavati sky.
We don’t fix what isn’t broken. We evolve it slowly, adjusting flavour profiles and techniques as global trends shift. And that’s where collaboration becomes priceless – working alongside Hannah brings fresh eyes into a kitchen that lives far from food capitals, and it keeps the creativity alive.
Summer in a Glass
If you want to know what tipple guests are reaching for this summer, you ask Smiling Lubisi. He’s the one chatting to people by the pool, on the deck, in the boma – the one who somehow knows a guest’s favourite drink before they’ve even asked for it.
According to Smiling, this is the summer of the Aperol Spritz.
“It’s refreshing, bright, and it just looks like summer in a glass,” he laughs. “People see that orange glow passing by, and suddenly everyone wants one.”
Around the pool, he says the staple favourite is still a classic Pimm’s. Lots of fruit, lots of ice, and the kind of drink that settles you straight into holiday mode.
What Summer Means at the Tanda Tula Table
Summer is a generous season here. Long days, warm nights, cold white wine, icy beer, bright salads, stone fruit still warm from the sun, slow lunches, fresh cocktails, and dinners that stretch out under the stars.
Food tastes different in summer – not because the recipes change, but because life changes around them. The bush is alive, the light lingers longer, and people relax.
And for me, there’s nothing better than seeing someone take a bite and feel exactly what the season is trying to say: Lighten up. Slow down. Savour the moment.
That’s what this menu is built for.
