Die Naguil Kroeg en Eetsaal (Paardevlei Precinct, Somerset West): 3/5

 

A tale, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing

www.dienaguil.co.za

When	Food	Service	Ambience	Cleanliness	Value	Overall
Feb ‘26	3	3	1	3	3	3

“Saggies praat is duivelsraat.” Ja, nee. Fok! That’s straight from the website. Really. (Not the exclamatory interjection, obviously.)

Recently opened, Die Naguil Kroeg en Eetsaal is causing quite a buzz locally. We went early on a weeknight and were lucky to snag a table near the kiddies’ play area. Some patrons—not “diners” (this is decidedly not somewhere you go to dine)—might have found that off-putting. No need; the children are fine. In fact, it was heartening to see them, toddlers to pre-teens, kicking balls, playing on swings, running about, generally having fun, not a device in sight.

No, it’s not the children, it’s the adults who create the vibe. And by that I mean loud. Very, very loud. Die Naguil has all Sturm und Drang of a Wagner opera (good title, The Night Owl) marked ff < fff, cresc. molto. This is not somewhere you go to be seen; it is somewhere you go to be heard. Several nearby tables were vying to outshout each other; Señor el Senior Partner (SESP) and I exchanged silent glances—speech would have been futile.

The website promises “not your ordinary bar and restaurant … [it is a] joint where good times and great food collide.” [My italics] Clearly, we are not the target market. I eat out for “the food, the sociability, the ambience, the view.” Die Naguil courts the raucous end of the people-with-a-taste-for-life spectrum. Guardian Peak Winery and Grill this is not.

As a pub and dining hall, large-screen TVs abound (not a plus in my book, though on this occasion, mercifully, none was in our direct line of sight). The décor is stark—black upon black—consciously speakeasy-inspired. Paardevlei is the latest incarnation of a Bellville and Paarl establishment, apparently. Prediction: either the novelty will wear off and we can all return to peace and quiet, or, more likely, it will begin eating (forgive the pun) into the market share of other strident pub-and-grill enterprises proliferating in the area.

On to the fare.

Naturally, there’s an extensive range of bottled and draught beers and cocktails—except when we ordered the listed Stella, none was available, neither bottled nor on tap. A temporary glitch maybe, but surprising nevertheless. We defaulted to Heineken, which arrived accompanied by a glass full of ice. Ice! In beer? Who in South Africa drinks beer with ice?

The food is run-of-the-mill pub grub—but as always, how it’s done is the key. We can judge only by the two dishes we ordered (surprise, surprise, we haven’t yet returned for further research).

First, a positive: the onion rings accompanying both mains were crisp and tasty; small mercies are not to be sneezed at. On our waiter’s recommendation, SESP chose the battered hake and chips. Perfectly satisfactory, he said, though it was the portion size that garnered the warmest praise. The chips, which I sampled, were of the standard-issue, mass-produced variety. My side of mixed vegetables—butternut and creamed spinach—was better. But, South Africa, please won’t someone come TFU with an alternative?

I ordered the prego roll. To give it its due, the steak was tender. Unfortunately, it was smothered in a sauce that, while chilli hot, lacked any other discernible flavour. In short: full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

By the end, we’d had enough noise and didn’t even look at the dessert menu. We paid the bill and fled. The prices? Bog standard.

Die Naguil knows exactly what it wants to be: exuberant, high-spirited and unapologetically loud. If this is what you want when you eat out, go for it. We, on the other hand, will seek quieter pastures.