There are meals that simply fill a hunger, and then there are meals that linger in memory long after the table has been cleared. Our evening at Flames Restaurant, perched high within the Four Seasons Hotel The Westcliff in Johannesburg, felt like the latter—an experience that unfolded slowly, deliberately, and with an attention to detail that made the night feel layered and whole. There was the setting, of course, with its sweeping views over the city’s northern suburbs as the lights began to flicker on in the dusk. But more than that, there was the sense that every element of the meal had been designed to echo that view—measured, balanced, and quietly striking.
We had arrived still in work mode, which meant the evening opened not with wine but with a complimentary glass of non-alcoholic sparkling Rooiberg, paired with an amuse bouche that worked perfectly as a palate awakener. There’s something to be said for a restaurant that treats this first gesture as more than just formality; here it felt like a genuine introduction, setting a rhythm for what was to follow. The sparkling rooibos, crisp yet earthy, carried a South African note that grounded the international polish of the terrace.
Alongside the sparkling Rooiberg, we had refreshing creations that match the elegance of the food. The Toucan Sam—a mix of lemon juice, Monin passionfruit syrup, fresh granadilla pulp, and lime wedges—was a standout, bright and tropical without being cloying. The Summer Boo, equally vibrant, carried a layered sweetness balanced with citrus, making it as considered as any crafted cocktail.
Starters took us further into that rhythm. The grilled Patagonian squid arrived delicately charred, carrying just enough smokiness to balance the sweetness of the flesh. It was served with a black garlic dip—inky, fragrant, and surprisingly mellow—which lifted each bite into something both rich and clean. There was restraint in the portioning, but not in the flavour, which spoke to a chef confident enough to let the ingredients stand forward without unnecessary distraction. It was the sort of dish that invites conversation at the table, with its contrasts and textures sparking comment as much as enjoyment.
Before the transition to mains, a palate cleanser of citrus sorbet was served, sharp and cooling, offering a momentary pause. It refreshed the senses and allowed the flavours of the starters to settle, creating a clean canvas for what was to follow. This thoughtful interlude underscored the restaurant’s attention to pacing and flow, ensuring each course carried its own weight while linking seamlessly to the next.
The mains brought more complexity and a touch of theatre. The roasted pork belly was the first to arrive, its crisp crackling breaking with an audible snap that gave way to meat both tender and generously layered. On the plate, a cauliflower and pea puree provided gentle sweetness, while charred brussels sprouts offered a bitterness that sharpened the dish. What surprised us was the pairing with grilled prawn—an unexpected companion that not only worked but felt essential, its lightness cutting through the richness of the pork. An apple-ginger salsa and a glossy périgueux sauce tied it all together, creating a dish that moved confidently between earthy and bright.
The Chalmar beef fillet offered something more classic, but with the kind of execution that reminds you why classics endure. Cooked to a perfect medium-rare, the fillet carried depth of flavour without needing heavy embellishment. The pomme purée was as smooth as one could hope, while the chargrilled vegetables brought necessary char and texture. A green peppercorn sauce, spiced but not overwhelming, ran its warmth across the plate, adding just enough lift to make each forkful feel complete. It was a dish that embodied balance—luxurious yet familiar, refined without losing heart.
Desserts arrived as a gentle ending, though not without their own sense of indulgence. The tonka bean basque cheesecake was unlike the dense New York versions we often see; here, the texture was light, almost airy, with the tonka adding a faint vanilla-almond note that lingered on the palate. The blueberry compote gave it freshness, while the candied orange added brightness and just the right measure of bite.
Alongside it, the Belgian chocolate and hazelnut bar played the opposite role—rich, dark, and unapologetically decadent. The snap of chocolate gave way to a creamy centre, the hazelnuts echoing with roasted depth. Served with vanilla bean and frozen yoghurt, it was indulgence tempered with freshness, a final flourish that felt like both statement and farewell.
What stood out across the evening was not only the food itself but how it was served. The staff moved with that delicate mix of presence and discretion, attentive without ever pressing too close. Each dish was explained without rush, and recommendations came across as genuine rather than scripted. The terrace, filled but never loud, seemed to echo that same equilibrium. Flames may sit within a five-star hotel, but the restaurant never once felt inaccessible or overly formal—it carried a warmth that made the evening flow as naturally as the courses themselves.
By the time we stepped back outside, the city stretched beneath us, its lights glowing faintly against the night. The meal had been more than a sequence of dishes—it had been a crafted experience that tied together setting, service, and cuisine in a way that felt seamless. For travellers seeking not only a taste of Johannesburg but an experience that elevates it, Flames offers exactly that: a meal worth lingering over, and a memory worth carrying long after the night is done.