Words by Grant Nirenstein
Cafe Zoe does not announce itself loudly. Tucked inside the Chiropractic Collective on Hudson Street, Cape Town, it operates with a quiet intensity, a compact, finely tuned workspace where every movement behind the bar is deliberate. At the centre of it all is Joshua “Joshy” Chitongo, owner and barista, whose approach to coffee is marked by certainty and conviction. He speaks about it in much the same way he speaks about his faith, with discipline, instinct, and little patience for anything that falls short.
Josh comes from Kariba, Zimbabwe, a small town on the Zambian border near Lake Kariba, where tiger fishing tournaments draw crowds. He remembers the place through hospitality. “Kariba is more like a tourism area,” he says, recalling his early work as a waiter at hotels like Caribbea Bay and Sun Hotel. That grounding in service has never left him. Even now, years later behind the bar in Cape Town, when he laughs about the strangest order he has ever received, a matcha mixed with a shot of espresso, his instinct is respect. “As baristas, we are not there to implement our preference to anyone. We’re just there to listen to what the customer wants and we do it.”
Josh arrived in Cape Town in 2011, joining his older brother who was already here. His first job was not glamorous. It was construction and painting, and it was hard. After about six months, he found his way back into restaurants and, eventually, into coffee shops. The pivot was sparked by a single cup.
A friend named Sam made him a cappuccino that changed everything. Josh had been drinking supermarket coffee at home, but Sam’s cappuccino was different, and Josh became obsessed with learning to recreate it. “All I wanted was to make a cappuccino for myself,” he says. The training was informal, patient, and hands-on. “We did it for a whole week,” he remembers, a simple beginning that became a career.
Ironically, the cappuccino no longer features much in his own life. The last time he made one for himself was “maybe more than eight years ago”. Why? Because it hides the truth. “It’s too frothy to taste the actual coffee,” he explains. Milk-heavy drinks blur quality and mute flaws. Josh’s current holy trinity is sharper: cortado, pour over, and flat white.
For Josh, coffee comes down to clarity, which is why he gravitates toward naturally processed beans. Natural coffees, he believes, keep more of the farmer’s work intact. “I feel like the natural gives you more of what the farmer has been doing.” Washed coffees, by contrast, tend toward “clean”, lighter, more restrained profiles. Natural coffees announce themselves. “When it’s fruity, it’s so intense that you cannot miss it.”
That same clarity shapes his views on roasting. Dark roast is not a preference. It is a warning sign. “Dark roast for me, no. It’s not even an option.” He links darker roasts with low care upstream, followed by roasters who burn the bean until all the good stuff is gone. The result is a charcoal-like aftertaste that some mistake for strength. “They think the coffee is strong, whereas it’s not. It’s just burnt.”
His craft sharpened with formal training when he moved to Merkava in Somerset West under owner Calvin Botes. That is where he says he perfected his game. He still remembers the signature chocolate intensity of Merkava’s coffee, so pronounced that a customer once accused him of adding chocolate to a cappuccino. “You don’t need to be listening very hard,” he says. “It’s just there.”
By that point, Josh was already showing signs of exceptional ability. He is an extremely talented barista, not only in terms of technical execution but in his sensitivity to balance, aroma, and consistency. What sets him apart is an instinctive understanding of how small adjustments affect the cup, a kind of talent that reveals itself quietly through repetition and discipline.
Josh credits several figures for shaping his approach. One is Ollie, whose presence behind the bar left a lasting impression. “His energy behind the bar is amazing,” Josh says. Ollie’s technical mastery, understanding of coffee, and generosity as a person set a benchmark. “As a human being, no one beats him.” For Josh, Ollie represents what is possible when skill and humanity coexist.
Then there is Winston from Cedar. Like Ollie, Winston operates at the highest level of mastery, but his reputation has been forged through competition. Josh points to Winston’s success as a competitive barista who has won titles and represented South Africa on the world stage. “I don’t think anyone carries it quite like Winston.” Beyond accolades, it is Winston’s instinctive understanding of coffee that sets him apart.
Even with skill, Josh insists coffee stays alive. The cup changes with the day. Grind changes with the sun. “In the morning there’s no sun. In the afternoon the sun is right there by our grinders, and we know we have to shift our grinds again.” He tastes maybe eight cups a day for quality control, a habit that creates its own dependency.
At Cafe Zoe, he runs coffee like a curator rather than a factory. He is capably assisted by his wife, Oprah, whose presence behind the scenes is integral to the rhythm and consistency of the operation. They are not roasters. Instead, they rotate coffees from different roasters to keep things exciting. The classic stays steady: chocolate, nutty, full-bodied familiarity. The progressive is the playground: fruity aromatics, medium body, coffees that aim for 8.5 to 10 out of 10. “You cannot separate specialty coffee from aromas,” he says.
Ask Josh for his top roasters and you will not get a neat list. Bluebird earns admiration for humility and exceptional pour-over selections. Yellow Jacket earns deep respect for grind and growth. Josh worked with them when they were still operating on a two-kilogram roaster, roasting through the night to fulfil his orders. Cedar is hard to beat for pour overs. But for milk-based coffee, his number one is a hidden gem in Monte Vista: Bean Authentic, where owner Martin personally oversees the roasting. “I’ve never seen anyone that comes close,” Josh says, speaking of balance, sweetness, and aroma.
Faith underpins everything. Josh opened Cafe Zoe in 2020, two weeks before lockdown. It should have been a disaster. Instead, he improvised, emailing customers, selling vouchers, and surviving on community support. When things remained uncertain, he printed flyers and went office by office with buy-one-get-one-free offers. “They realised, ‘Oh, this coffee is even better’,” he says, and they became regulars.
“I’m a Christian,” Josh says simply. “My faith is always in the Lord.” Prayer and inner peace carried him through uncertainty and growth. Today he operates in Hudson Street and runs a second shop in Lansdowne called Proper Coffee.
He is opinionated, as coffee people often are. If he could ban one drink, it would be the latte. “It’s too milk. It’s a baby drink.” Decaf, in his view, is fake coffee, though he concedes the taste can be there.
Latte art, however, matters. “We are living in an Instagram world,” he says. “It is a way of marketing.” Josh is quietly proud that he can do both: brew a great cup and finish it with art.
If he could serve coffee to anyone, living or dead, it would be a cortado, because the art becomes visible in the cup. The guest would be his pastor, Pastor Chris Oyakhilome. The design on top would be a seahorse, chosen for balance.
In Josh’s world, coffee is not just a product. It is practice, attention, aroma, service, and daily discipline, grounded in craft, sharpened by taste, and held together by faith.
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