Durban’s bunny chow: a street food born of necessity and heritage

As a young boy growing up in Durban in the '90s, going into town with my family to do the week’s grocery shopping or pay bills was a Saturday ritual. 

My grandfather, in particular, enjoyed walking the length and breadth of the CBD in search of the “best bargain” - even if the extra kilometre or two of walking only saved him 10 cents on that product. 

Those kids and grandkids who braved the Saturday ritual with him knew that they would have to carry parcels and tire their legs. However, the reward at the end of the gruelling day was wolfing down a bunny chow in one of the many arcades or side alleyways of the Durban CBD.

There was the iconic Patel’s, Victory Lounge and the lesser known Pinky’s Hash and Dash. These places were anything from a fine dining experience. It was noisy, with orders being shouted out and plates clattering.

But people would flock to them for their fix of the iconic meal made of unsliced, hollowed-out bread that was filled with a delicious curry of blended spices, with its gravy streaking down the side of the bread as it arrived at your table piping hot.

This is my earliest memory of eating bunny chows, which began a lifelong love for the dish and the never-ending quest to establish who does it best.

The humble bunny chow may have started in Durban in the 1940’s but it has cemented its place as part of South Africa’s food heritage - and is increasingly finding a global audience eager to try it.

The bunny chow was shaped by both necessity and exclusion. According to folklore, workers and golf caddies needed food that was quick, cheap, and portable, and hollowing out a loaf of white bread, filling it with curry, and sealing it with the bread “plug” solved the problem.

Who exactly was the first to do this depends on who you speak to. Some say the Grey Street (now called Yusuf Dadoo Street) cafés like Kapitan’s or Victory Lounge were the first to do it. 

Others say the Indian caddies at the Royal Durban Golf Club were the first. But what is indisputable is that apartheid laws did not allow for races to sit together and therefore made take-away service the only option for many. So a hollowed-out loaf of bread was simply the most practical way to serve a curry.

The name, however, is less disputed, according to several publications.

The word “bunny” is said to have come from bania, a North Indian merchant caste prominent among Durban’s take-away owners, and “chow” is slang for food.

The classic bunny chow comes in quarter, half, or full loaves, with fillings like mutton, chicken, sugar beans or broad beans, cooked in Durban curry. 

You eat it with your hands, starting with the plug, tearing the bread walls as you go along.

Do not, I repeat, DO NOT eat a bunny chow with a knife and fork unless you want to be mocked.

The dish is meant to be fast, communal, and messy. It is a deliberate break from restaurant formality.

To eat a bunny chow is to eat a part of South Africa’s rich food history. It is quintessentially South African and tells the story of our ugly past - where people were excluded from dining in some restaurants - while at the same time celebrating the rich diversity of our home on the southern tip of Africa.

IOL