Daisy Jones spends a high-protein night out at Boschendal. Fortunately she's not vegan Never mind the food, it sounded like fun, going to Boschendal wine farm at night for a three-course meal, walking from one (undisclosed) venue to the next. It was billed as a "roving dinner". Our host was resident beef farmer and butcher Mark Muncer. The evening was bound to feature beef. But Muncer and The Werf executive chef Christiaan Campbell went large.For starters, guests were served raw beef, tartare style. The little hill of meat - an extraordinary colour, like pomegranates - sat on a board topped by a couple of flakes of parmesan. There was a salty flatbread nearby. But no boiled egg. No capers, no anchovies. No olive oil.Even for an adventurous eater it was a daunting prospect. Just raw meat, really.I needn't have hesitated. It was superb. Muncer's pasture-raised Angus cattle feed on about 16 different types of grass. They spend almost all their waking hours not locked up but padding about and munching on their carpet of green, under the sky. When Muncer slaughters a beast - only eight a month are killed - its flesh is hung for a full four weeks.Campbell had prepared the tartare with nothing more than salt, pepper, egg yolk and olive oil. The flavour of the beef was so rich, and so perfectly seasoned, we guessed that there'd been an addition of Worcestershire sauce. We were wrong.story_article_left1On the way to The Werf for our second course, Muncer told us the best beef tartare he'd ever eaten was made with olive oil alone. "But that was extremely special meat."The second course featured platters of steak. They were somewhere between a blue steak and bloody roast beef: thick slices of meat, bright red to the edge. Serving myself, I dripped blood on the table. Campbell cooked the beef at 55°C the whole afternoon - "at least four hours". The big surprise was the fat, neither crispy nor wet - white, and packed with complex flavour. Campbell has no qualms about serving Muncer's beef like this. "There are no toxins in this fat."Also on the table were roasted marrow bones. The marrow was almost impossibly delicious: cooked with a seasoning of cracked pepper and salt flakes, it was rich, silky, fatty - like the red meat equivalent of a live oyster.A quick palate cleanser - peach sorbet with Primitiv vodka, served by candlelight in the manor house - before we moved to the old wagon house (now the farm deli) for our main course.Campbell and Muncer served us more beef, but again prepared in a way that was new to us. Here was a shallow dish of rich, meaty jus, herbed gnocchi and rounds of shin. In the centre were petals of smoked short rib. The shin was meltingly soft, the rib not over-smoked. The syrah we drank with the dish cut through the Sunday-lunch richness of Campbell's main.Boschendal didn't stick to the red-wine-with-red-meat formula throughout the meal. The tartare - which, incidentally, was served alongside cured, raw pork neck (coppa) and the Lebanese raw minced lamb dish kibbeh nayeh - was paired with a partly wooded chardonnay.Muncer's butchery had been open for just three weeks at the time of the dinner. In it, he works with free-range lamb from the Karoo, free-range pork from Grabouw and beef from the farm. He sells cuts, sausages and biltong to the public. His cured meats will be ready for sale soon, and plans are afoot for a facility where he'll work with "the fifth quarter" of the cow - the head, tail, organs and forelegs. Muncer is passionate about his cattle, and the difference that his ethical, back-to-nature approach makes to the meat. "It's all about soil, rainwater and sunshine. This" - the meat in the butchery - "is just the by-product."For event dates and news, visit Boschendal.co.za..