In 49 BC, Julius Ceasar, we imagine, must have raised his hand to his brow and inspected the shallow, reddened river that lay ahead of his army marching across northeastern Italy. The Rubicon was the boundary between Italy and Cisalphine Gaul, and by leading his army and crossing it, Julius Ceasar broke the law that a general could not lead an army out of the province to which he was posted, and committed himself to civil war. Crossing the Rubicon is, metaphorically, since then, a point of no return, a threshold after which nothing remains the same.


The Pan-Seared Reef Cod; Warm Smoked Salmon Bagel; the Roasted Duck Salad, which was fresh and light, but lacking in memorable flavour and the Chicken Liver Pate, a toothsome combination of tastes and textures 

At Cheval, little do my dinner companion and I know that our Rubicon lies in the row of neatly arranged, pink swirls of Chicken Liver Pate atop discs of toasted bread topped with a sprig of mint leaf each. Or within the light golden, crisp, fried brie of cheese. So, when we pop the Warm Fried Brie (R345) into our mouths, let the cheese fill our mouths and allow the combination of guava vinaigrette-pineapple salsa to unabashedly flirt with us, we know we are almost there. The Pate, too, commands all our attention with its smooth texture; when the cherry compote and date puree leave a lingering aftertaste, we know we crossed our Rubicon.