The true cost of aesthetically pleasing establishments is our tastebuds.

Eating out in Johannesburg is often a 50/50 risk, which will still cost you an arm and a leg whether you are satiated or not. One thing about this city, is it’s ability to use its beautiful veneer to draw you in. Looking like one thing while being something else, usually something incongruent with what lurks behind the shiny procelin. It’s an art, really, one which I can respect in certain situations. Just not on my plate, please.

The day had started off pretty well, I drank a green juice and a flat white on the mini road trip that was my drive from Pretoria to Johannesburg. I had timed my drive to our book club meeting really well, and no traffic formed against me prospered. I drove under several purple canopies to boot, thanks to Jacaranda season, all seemed in alignment for more good things to unfold as the afternoon went on. But, “not on my watch”, said the uncooked food in the kitchen at Besos, waiting to ruin my day.

Walking in was an experience, naturally. They created a little walkway filled with greenery, which leads you into the restaurant. It was giving tropical oasis, I didn’t feel like I was in the little shopping complex I parked in just three minutes ago. Inside, the beige, cream, wood and soft lighting of it said, “welcome, relax”. The girls and I were dressed to the nines, ready to sip on some wine and yap about the book of the month.

Not one of us had a meal we could speak kindly of, even though our orders ranged from breakfast meals of eggs, salmon and sourdough, to heavier steak and chicken dishes. I had what they called a Gnocchi stack, which ended up being two very bland crumbed chicken schnitzels with equally unseasoned basil pesto plonked on top. Oh nkosi yam. I force-fed myself at least half of it before calling it. The best thing I ended up having was the Springfield wine we shared, a difficult one to mess up. The very average experience our palates then saw us swiftly settle our bill and head elsewhere for cake and coffee to wash down, or rather wash away our lunch.

Unfortunately, this is an all too familiar experience in Joburg: well-curated, photo-ready spaces and overpriced, basic food we all could have made at home. I say overpriced because I can’t tell you the last time I had a main meal that was under R200. It’s easier to swallow the pricetag when the food is worth it, but when it isn’t, oh, the penny pincher in me comes out. Which is why I have now come to adopt a system that distrusts any posts speaking of “new hidden gems” and simply frequenting tried and tested staples in the city.

The underwhelming encounter reminded me of a music event I really enjoy but have had to boycott for the past two years because they insist on hosting it at a restaurant (if we can call it that) infamous for terrible service and even worse food. This can’t be life. Only patronising vetted establishments and eating the same, safe meals over and over again as a trauma response to beautiful spaces masking bad food. Give us, us food Joburg.