I have never written a restaurant review before. In fact, after you finish reading this, you may argue that I still haven't. And that is because my evening on the Malachite transcended any dining experience you might expect to hear about. Before I did the dinner cruise, I made a mental checklist of things to take note of. But this blog is not just about the menu or interior design. It is something more difficult to describe. It has to do with the atmosphere, feeling and personality. The Zambezi River is like a stained glass window – you can't take it all in with one glance, and every time you look at it in a new light, a unique detail is revealed. This river has been my neighbour for as long as I can remember, but I now realise that I still haven't seen the full picture.
I stepped on board and felt the tension melt from my shoulders. As I gratefully accepted a chilled flute of sparkling wine and a cold face towel, I felt my vision sharpen as my mind exhaled trivial thoughts to make room for the exquisite scenery around me. The bar is on the top deck, and spilling out in front of it are deep armchairs, and plush scatter cushions. The neat leafy pattern complements the rugged landscape, creating a soothing symmetry between onboard and outside. Bowls of mixed nuts and puff pastry sat on the table, begging to be dipped into while you enjoy the first sip of wine.
I never even felt the boat leaving the jetty. It silently sliced away from land and carried us towards the setting sun. A platter of amuse bouche was brought over by a smiling waitress. While we savoured cups of cauliflower gazpacho, dates wrapped in bacon and bruschetta garnished with avo and cream cheese, something started to shift on the banks of a nearby island.
It was subtle at first. A puff of dust rose over the tangle of bushes. Then slowly, granite boulders seem to roll onto the banks of the river. The elephants emerged, one by one, trailing their trunks across the glassy surface, as though testing the temperature of the water. Despite their enormous size, they broke open the calm river with the effortless grace that they move across the land with. A gentle ripple encircled the herd, then swept further away as they began to swim. From our high vantage point, we saw them sink deeper, the water painting their thick skin dark grey. Everyone stopped chewing. I think I stopped breathing. It quickly became apparent that they didn't just intend to cross, they wanted to enjoy the water. Dipping below the surface into a watery world we couldn't see, then coming up to draw patterns onto the mirrored surface. As the sun sunk below the horizon, the elephants' trunks and tusks became black silhouettes as they played where the last rays touched the Zambezi.
As the herd moved on to Zambia, we made our way downstairs. Flickering candles stood on each table, dancing in the gentle breeze to the sound of water lapping the hull of the boat. The world outside had turned a deep purple. I have always appreciated the way that the Zambezi fine-tunes our sense of sight, making us hyper-aware of any movement and the chance to spot wildlife. But there is something incredibly liberating about stripping this sense away. We could hear the deep grunt of hippo all around us, but we couldn't see them. We shared a space with the unknown, and the sense mystery that this created was exhilarating.
We sat in a cacoon of rich aromas, but unless you walked right in front of the kitchen, you would never know it was there. Plates of food materialised on the table, each more intricate and beautiful than the last. I ordered a duck breast salad to start, followed by Zambezi bream and a cheeseboard. Sometime between these courses, the boat came to a stop, and we bobbed under a tent of stars while we ate. I didn't feel like I was a fifteen-minute drive from home. I felt like we were in a navy blue world that the rest of humanity was yet to discover.
I once read that a mind stretched by new experiences can never go back to old dimensions, and that is what the Malachite did for me. It showed me the limits of what I thought I knew and reminded me that there is more to the Zambezi, the wilderness and Victoria Falls than I can ever imagine. Experiences like this stir something deep inside you, an emotion reserved for unexpected encounters with nature
that surpass all expectations. You won't step off the boat with a restaurant review or a menu to recite. You step off with a story to tell about the food and the experiences that intertwine with the meal to create a truly sensory memory.
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