The funny thing about road trips to faraway places is that they completely skew your perception of time and distance. Whereas a 100km journey would once have been considered a long haul, you scoff at the meagre mileage, eager to clock up the kilometres to get to the oasis of your final destination.

Thanks to this phenomenon, I was quite taken aback by the significant stretch between Cape Town and Swellendam on my recent outing to the historic Overberg town. Usually it would be one of my first pit stops on the way to the Garden Route. Or one of the last on my way back, bleary-eyed and irritated with my co-passengers. Thus, I cant claim to ever have paid the town the attention it rightfully deserved.

Anyway, after a 220km drive, Im not only quite pooped, but also famished, having severely underestimated how long it would take to get there. A sizeable wedge of fudgy pumpkin-and-fig cake comes to the rescue at the De Kolonie. As Im finishing my tea, a packed tour bus stops across the way, disgorging a load of camera-wielding foreigners. A smart decision on the tour company’s part, since this leafy stretch is not only the historic nucleus of town, but proves to be quite the epicurean epicentre, as my subsequent meanderings confirm.

Next door, the quaint Oppi-Stoep offers passers-by oak-shaded alfresco seats, light meals and delicious cakes; across the road, Mattsen’s Restaurant attracts meat-eaters with chefs specialities including deboned pork neck and carpetbagger steak; and behind it Herberg Roosje van de Kaap tickles the taste buds with its fusion of French and Cape Malay fare.

I linger a bit longer at a cheery orange building with yellow garden umbrellas called African Shades. Manager Wynand le Roux tells me that exotic game is a main attraction on the menu, which offers the likes of crocodile burgers and warthog sarmies. Not feeling quite that adventurous, I opt for the open West Coast snoek gourmet sandwich served on farmstyle wholewheat bread with apricot jam and caramelised onions. Delicious.

Ambling westwards, as Swellengrebel seamlessly curves into Voortrek Street, I pass pretty riverside coffee shop La Belle Alliance where a nimble-fingered muso is giving his accordion keys a workout to the tune of a French ditty, much to the appreciation of the diners crowding the outside tables. Swellendam stalwart Koornlands is also in this neck of the woods, but since its only open in the evenings and Ive already made dinner plans, I have to be satisfied fantasising about the offerings on the black sandwich board menu, which advertises the likes of duck lasserre, ostrich lasagne and kudu fillet.

I finally make my way to The Old Gaol Restaurant on Church Square. The menu brims with boerekos treats such as roosterkoek filled with homemade jam and farm cheese, and good old-fashioned chicken pie. I decide to try the traditional milk tart that Ive heard so much about. Baked on coals in a copper pan, the cinnamony slice arrives at my table still lukewarm, swimming in cinnamon sugar and sporting a crumb-based crust and a much denser filling than the home-industry version I know. Washed down with another pot of tea, its the perfect way to end off the day.

For dinner Ive reserved a table at La Sosta. Booking is essential, since the number of patrons queuing for Gianni and Cristiana Minoris authentic Milanese food far exceeds the number of tables available in this tiny guesthouse-based trattoria. As Im deciding between the homemade tagliatelle with lamb ragu, springbok fillet with truffle oil and camembert sauce, and sole with white wine and lemon butter, two hulking ooms arrive sans booking. Years at the helm of an Italian restaurant must have endowed Gianni with a sixth sense when it comes to anticipating customers’ needs, because shortly after patiently explaining that the restaurant doesnt do pizzas, the duo surreptitiously sneaks out. Theyre definitely missing out, I think to myself later as I indulge in my meal of flavourful lamb ragu, followed by a dessert of rum-soaked melon, plum and pineapple carpaccio.

I end off my stay in Swellendam with a breakfast of spongy French toast topped with bacon and honey at the newly opened Mint Deli. Headed up by Rentia Froneman, the bright white industrial space houses a bakery, which churns out everything from featherlight croissants to decadent German butter cakes. Plus, it has an open kitchen so diners can watch the chefs transforming the predominantly organic produce into lip-smacking treats.

Preparing for the long road ahead, I order a cappuccino made from the delis secret house blend, and wait for the caffeine to kick in before I hit the road. Luckily, this time around, Im armed with a bellyful of Swellendams best to sustain me on the long drive home.

By Annette Klinger