At last, some home-made pasta

Empty and abandoned for many years after this interlude, a generous grant in the 1990s was to transform Kopje House into a thriving cultural centre, which today houses the National Gallery in Mutare, and more recently, Kopje House Café.
Monty Bowden, a patient at Umtali hospital in 1892, when it was still in the mud hut stage, is on record for being England’s youngest cricket captain ever. After playing Test cricket in Cape Town in 1888 at age twenty-three, Bowden travelled north to take up farming in Rhodesia. A few years later, having fallen off a cart and being trampled by his own oxen, he was admitted to Umtali Hospital, where he passed away. Marauding lions, roaring in the night, were kept at bay by an armed guard, who patrolled the hospital from dusk until dawn.
No longer the domain of dedicated nurses in starched uniforms, or a dormitory for schoolboys, Kopje House now provides a meeting place and centre where local and visiting visual artists can exhibit their work. Kopje House Café, a few metres away from the National Gallery, serves tea, coffee and cakes, and a limited selection of tasty, well-cooked meals.
Two Sundays ago, after a weekend in the Bvumba Mountains, George and I drove into Mutare’s city centre.  I had wanted to visit the historic Mutare Club, which is said to offer not only great hospitality, but also exceptionally good oxtail stew. Unfortunately, being a Sunday, the Club was locked and barred. It was close to lunchtime, so I suggested visiting the Green Coucal, a restaurant recommended by a fellow food writer. 
None of the passers by I asked for directions had heard of the Green Coucal. After driving endlessly up and down the hilly streets, we happened upon 122 Upper Third Street, where a prominent sign read: Kopje House Café, Now Open!
The minimalist interior was spacious and restful. Original Oregon pine window and doorframes gleamed warmly against white painted walls, accentuating white tablecloths with brown and black overlays. Large over-stuffed sofas with comfortable cushions were pushed against the walls, and the menu, chalked up on a board fixed to the wall, was easy to read.  George and I chose a table on the verandah, and waited while the lone waitress served fluffy omelettes, fillet steaks and crisp garden salads to a large group of patrons seated inside.
We both ordered homemade fettuccine with fresh tomato sauce, which was served remarkably quickly, considering the lone waitress seemed also to be the lone cook in the kitchen. The pasta was tender, correctly cooked al dente, and tasted as though it had been made with the very best ingredients. Some establishments serve shop bought pasta tasting of cardboard, and garnish the dish with pre-grated cheese from a packet, which tastes like another variety of cardboard. At Kopje House Café, crisp Iceberg lettuce and tomato salad seemed to have just arrived from a famers’ market, and the freshly grated cheese topping, although not Parmesan cheese, was tangy and flavoursome.
Tableware was smooth and white, with never a chip, crack or finger print in sight. If restaurateurs realised the effect a cracked teapot spout, a chipped teacup or a grubby plate had on the average diner, they would run quality control checks before every serving.
As we paid our bill and left, the patrons at the table inside were excitedly discussing an exhibition to take place at the National Gallery. It must be a hundred years since the last lion roamed the grasslands surrounding Kopje House, and fifty years since a schoolboy devoured a midnight feast in the Kopje House dormitory.  May the National Gallery and café on the kopje flourish well into the next century!
Kopje House Café
122 Upper Third Street
Mutare
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