THE DAILY VERDICT — FRIDAY FOOD TRAIL
Friday, 23 October 2026
Day 296 of 365 · Week 43 of 52
IN SEARCH OF A PADSTAL
✍️ Riaan M. Odendaal
Somewhere along a South African road, somebody has put up a sign promising fresh bread.
That is a fairly effective way of interfering with a journey.
Add homemade pies, and the arrival time becomes negotiable.
When I started looking for a proper bush pub, I mentioned that there were still padstalle waiting along the N7.
They are still waiting.
But what makes a padstal a padstal?
Does there have to be a farm behind it?
Must somebody on the premises have made the jam?
And if it has a wine list, a children’s playground and parking for forty cars, has it become something else, or simply a successful padstal?
The name suggests something modest.
A stall beside the road.
Somewhere the produce of the district meets the people passing through it.
Fruit in season. Vegetables. Something baked. Something bottled when there was more fruit than could be eaten fresh.
There is a practical relationship there.
Somebody has something to sell.
Somebody else has slowed down enough to notice.
One documented example comes from Montagu. The museum’s history of Die Kloof Padstal begins with a small stall selling local apricots in 1982. At a later stage, fruit was sold from the original building using an honesty box.
Die Kloof Padstal opened under that name on 1 November 1994. Fresh and dried fruit were joined by crafts and refreshments. Farmers delivered produce, local people supplied their handiwork, and the stall also became an informal information centre.
I rather like that last detail.
You could stop for fruit and ask somebody about the road.
Of course, a padstal can grow. A few chairs become a garden full of tables. Coffee acquires a machine with more buttons than the car you arrived in.
I see no reason to hold that against it.
I would still like someone behind the counter who can tell me where the pumpkins came from.
That is what interests me about the idea. The possibility of asking who made the jam and getting a name. Of finding fruit that tells you something about the season, rather than only the price per kilogram.
And somewhere beneath the pastry, I would like to find enough filling to justify the stop.
A hand-painted sign can attract my attention. The pie has to persuade me to come back.
There is room on the Food Trail for these places. Some may be little more than a counter and a few crates. Others may have grown into destinations of their own.
I am curious about what is on the counter, who put it there, and what happens when you ask a question instead of simply paying.
Perhaps you pass a padstal regularly and have never pulled in.
Next time, give yourself a few minutes.
Ask what came out of the oven that morning.
Buy something for the road.
Whether it gets all the way home is another matter.
AND IF THEY ASK, TELL THEM RIAAN SENT YOU.
