Northern Snippet

10 of the most annoying and frequently fielded questions.

2012-01-26T13:36:00.000-08:00

I wish I had a pound for every time I'm asked one of these pearls:

1.'Is that the menu?'(pointing at the blackboard)
No, its my shopping list for tomorrow.........

2. 'I'm not going to look at the menu, Ill just have a burger..'
No you wont because we don't farking have a burger....

3. 'I have a dairy intolerance what can I have?'
Protracted conversation .....followed by:
'Excuse me you've forgotten to bring some butter for my bread..'

4.(entering via the tradesman's entrance)'Are you open yet?'
No..... that's why the front door wouldn't open when you tried it repeatedly and you had to make a circuit of the building in order to seek out an alternative means of access.

5.'Telephone caller:'We're coming for lunch today-do we need to book a table??'
No....but saying as you've already made the effort to pick up the phone and ring us you might as well give me your name and tell me how many of you there are,then I can keep you a table.....

6.'Is there another menu?'
What?You mean a secret one that we don't bother to show anyone because we don't want to sell anything on it?

7.'What's fresh today?'
Nothing. Frankly,its all past its best and will pass through you like a bloody steam train if you're lucky..

8.'Can we sit at that table there?'(pointing at the table with the clearly visible reserved sign).
Why not....I just reserved it for the hell of it.

9.'Is that *all* you have for vegetarians??Really poor show...'
There are a choice of 8 main courses,of which one is vegetarian.Therefore one eighth of the menu is vegetarian.Were I to visit a vegetarian restaurant for dinner would I be given the same choice?Methinks not.*smug face*

10.'Haven't you got any scampi??'
SCREAM...........

Outraged Pub landlady chooses Lucky dip wine then freezes Chablis for regular customer who absconds without paying..

2012-01-18T14:18:00.000-08:00

Really old picture of a very nice bottle of wine

There are certain aspects of the hospitality industry that I really don't like.In fact at times certain practices can be downright unpleasant.
I heard of a practice other day that I hadn't come across in all my years in catering.
There's an independently run restaurant that serves really nice food and has quite a decent wine list.
Within the wine list there's a certain wine which although cheap at wholesale price(around £4) has been marked up to in excess of £30.
Its known as their 'lucky dip' wine.Though not lucky for the unsuspecting customer who inadvertently orders this particular slurp.
Now I know how difficult it is to make a food business profitable and I know lots of restaurants rely on wine sales,furthermore its obvious lots of restaurants sell the all wines on their list at grossly inflated prices right across the board.
The thing is people know about these places and they know wines at 'such and such a place' are a rip off.
The point is the wines are all rip off's, there's no cheating,no hidden agenda-these are our prices its up to you if you pay them..
However,to surreptitiously hide a single wine within a list at a massively inflated price amongst other fairly priced bottles smacks of trickery and deceit.It shows a complete lack of respect for the customer and in fact takes delight in their ignorance.Its left a very sour taste in my mouth I can tell you.I can imagine the sniggering behind the scenes when this item is ordered.
I've eaten in this establishment a few times and I have no idea which Bin is the offending bogey prize.
I wont be eating there again.

In other news,following the usual post Christmas recovery period, I've wasted too much negative energy chasing up an unpaid food account.
To be honest I'd forgotten about it until someone decided to have the periodical clear out of all the assorted messages and notes that systemically get stuck to our check board.
The bill goes back to last July.
The chap who owes us the money likes to think of himself as a regular.Visiting perhaps once a month,bringing various business colleagues for lunch, one of those particularly discerning diners who commands utmost respect due to his forethought in taking time to ring ahead instructing us to 'put a couple of bottles of your finest Chablis in the freezer'.
On the day in question ,he was overheard mentioning to his companion that he'd forgotten his wallet.
'No matter I'm a regular here-my credits good'.
The conversation was relayed back to kitchen.
Chef tutted,'there's three of them there,one of his friends can pay'
After a leisurely lunch following which Cognacs and coffee were consumed in the garden,the usual 'gambling for the tip' charade was played out,which involves a member of staff calling heads or tails,at which point Mr Big Shot tosses a one pound coin,which you then scrabble around on the ground to pick up,if you win you get *drum roll* £20 tip.If you lose you get whatever coppers he has in his pocket.Without fail,EVERY member of staff despises this game.It makes them feel like they're begging for a Good Boy Chocolate Drop like some obedient little pet pooch and lets be honest,none of them is really feeling the need to acquire a wet nose and glossy coat.
By the time came for the bill to be paid,the afternoon shift change meant that different staff were in place.Mr Big Shot informed the member of staff who presented the bill that he had arranged with the lunchtime girl that he could come back with his credit card tomorrow to settle up.
Which was actually untrue but in theory would have been OK.

There's a couple of good reasons why one should never give credit on food.
1.Food is a perishable item,so it goes without saying that once its been served/consumed there's no option to repossess the goods.
2.Running a restaurant is essentially a cash business.Dealing with small suppliers we don't ask for extended credit terms therefore by the time your meal is served we've more or less paid for the ingredients and will be out of pocket if you decide not to pay.
3.There comes a point after someone has consumed a meal,no matter how delicious it is,that the urge to go back for a repeat performance becomes less appealing than the call to pay the bill for a meal so long back that the memory of it is hazy at best.

Its no great surprise that we've never seen him since.Which actually in my opinion is tantamount to theft.

As it happens one of the girls had observantly spied Big Shot and his compadres departing in a van conveniently emblazoned with livery advertising a certain local business,which she duly noted.

Tip:If you plan to do a runner,its a good idea to either
a.use anonymous transport
or
b.park up around the corner out of sight..

I'm currently ringing the business daily in an attempt to solicit payment for the now outrageously overdue bill.

Chef summed up with usual brevity:

'If I'd have known he wasn't going to pay I'd have made him drink house wine NOT farking Chablis..'
Indeed...

Its a shame the diner/restaurateur restaurateur/diner relationship isn't always equally respectful.Certain parties are giving all of us a bad name.

New Years Eve at Fawlty Towers

2012-01-04T15:26:00.000-08:00

Regular readers of this blog may be aware of the traditional New Years Eve fireworks display at the inn.
I'm must confess to being a tad nervous about the wisdom of the whole operation, this year in particular the warning klaxon was deafeningly loud following Chefs return from the annual Christmas Eve trip to the fireworks wholesaler.
Seemingly, fireworks are graded with each additional point denoting an increase in explosive quality.My attention was drawn to one particular box which I was informed had it been 'one point higher' would be 'classed as munitions'.
The wholesaler(eyes gleaming) informing Chef that it would be 'like Beirut over *small market town* once that one goes off' and could he let him know how it went??
Anyway first things first:

Yours truly was in charge of puddings and Petit Threes.
The Pear and chocolate trifle took THREE Days to make.Well,not three entire days,the whole thing was made in stages over the course of three days obvs..

Pear jelly

Which set the pears poached in Calvados perfectly,despite the copious amount of pear cider I added to the mix..

There was a slight worry concerning fridge space with every available orifice packed to the rafters in preparation for the biggest night of the year.
Chef had the bright idea that we'd pack the trifle glasses back into boxes and stack them up in one of the dessert fridges.
I required 52 trifles,10 diners having opted out and requested ice cream instead.
The glasses came in boxes of six so erring on the side of caution I went ahead and made 54=nine boxes.
I diligently counted and recounted them.
Come the night and with two tables left to go,I noted I was left with only 7 trifles.With a table of seven and a two, my razor sharp mathematical skills alerted me to the shortage...
No I cant be(frantically recounting),I definitely made 54....
There must be some left in the fridge..
There were none.Increasingly panicked I extended my search to further fridges,finally the missing box of trifles being located on the top shelf of the veg fridge.
The Apprentice having moved the box to accommodate his own prep work.(Every Chef will sympathise here,there's a constant kitchen battle for bench/stove/fridge space)
We all breathed a huge sigh of relief.Just the last minute vanilla cream and decoration to pipe onto the required two trifles and we were on the home straight.

I opened the box.
What The Apprentice had failed to mention was at which point in the preparation process he had taken the decision to transfer the box to its alternative location.
Which had in fact been two days prior...
If there's two things fundamental(and non negotiable) to a Pear and Chocolate trifle its pears and chocolate.These six were clearly lacking,in fact completely devoid in the chocolate department,having been rudely shifted following the addition of the vanilla custard(note non use of the term Crème Anglais)layer and prior to the chocolate sauce layer...

Chef was most displeased.
'That's an elementary mistake,not checking and double checking your quantities'
Though on observing my obvious distress and look of complete devastation quickly countering 'its not the end of the world though...'

There's a code of conduct employed in the catering world on occasions such as this.
If you make a mistake and are lacking in a particular ingredient/component of a dish,what you have to do is make sure that all the dishes on each table look exactly the same.The same applies with glassware, cutlery etc,each complete table must look the same despite perhaps being different to the surrounding tables.
With nine guests to serve and only seven complete trifles it was obvious the two *different* trifles had to be sent to the table of two,hence leaving seven identical creations for the last remaining table,the seven.
Seemples.
Well, that's the theory anyway...

Completed trifles

This is where things went badly wrong.
In my guilt, I decided to compensate the two diners for the lack of a chocolate sauce layer,by being overly liberal with the chocolate squiggles and pear crisps which I'd made to decorate.By the time Id finished with these two they were the Katie Price and Peter Andre(on their wedding day no less...) of the pudding world.Its a good job Chef hadn't brought sparklers back from the wholesalers..
This had the opposite effect of drawing attention to the trifles rather than allowing them to blend in with the ones which had already been served to the other diners.
To compound matters,would you believe the two on the brunt of the pudding fiasco happened to be possibly the only teetotallers out on New Years Eve?
Furthermore,being fully Compos Mentis due to the lack of the benefit of even a whisker of an alcoholic beverage,and being the last but one table to be served,these two had fully enjoyed the opportunity of witnessing the rest of the diners being served with their puds and having ample time to take in the attributes of said pudding in its full glory.
Presently,news filtered back to the kitchen that Hercule Poirot and his missus were holding the offending trifles up to the light,brows furrowed in puzzlement at the lack of a promised (and greatly anticipated) chocolatey saucey indulgent layer.
They sent them back.
As luck would have it, the seven had asked for a brief respite before their puds were served so the seven complete trifles were still lined up and available on the bench.
'Just take two of those' I say despondently.. 'tell them there's been a mistake..'
There was nothing else for it I had to front up to the seven,confess my misdemeanour and offer them a choice of any other puds we had in the fridge.
I cut a sorry figure as I sloped off into the dining room,oven cloth in hand to face my retribution.
Conversely,they opted for the incomplete trifles,the two who were served the sub-standards were later overheard to say 'there's meant to be something missing from these but I cant see what...'
Sigh...

The Petit Threes went off without a hitch.
I cant stand Truffles, they make me want to barf,but I compliantly made 100 of the bleepers for the punters..heavily laden with Grand Marnier..

I always get the shitty jobs..

'You're so impatient' said Chef 'why didn't you wait until it had firmed up,then you wouldn't have been in such a mess??....'
Quite.
Chef said he could have eaten the Rum and Raisin fudge until he was sick.
I think that's a compliment...

Petit Threes.

Before long it was midnight, fireworks time..
Chef was stationed over at the far side of the green awaiting the shouted 'count down' which in fact served two purposes:

a.To whip the crowd up into a frenzied anticipation of the promised entertaining display and culmination of the evenings festivities..

b.The signal to light the fuse on the first box,thus heralding a spectacular display to welcome the New Year..

This short film begins immediately after the countdown...please be patient..

'I hope its not a damp squib....'

I told you there was more....

Next year its Sticky Toffee Puddings all round and a couple of Catherine Wheels nailed to the fence...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

The Strange Case of the Fillipino Blackberry Farm

2011-12-13T08:08:00.000-08:00

Background context
An acquaintance of ours is in the process of purchasing a prawn farm in the Philippines.

Chef:Did you see that story in the paper this morning about the people in Indonesia that were crushed in a stampede to buy half price blackberries?

Self:No.....Can you not get them over there?

Chef:Well they were selling them off cheaply,people were knocked unconscious and injured.

Self:That's what Acquaintance should be doing.

Chef:What??

Self:That's what Acquaintance should be doing,planting a blackberry orchard.

Chef:Eh??What are you on about??

Self:Acquaintance should plant a blackberry orchard.Instead of the prawns.He could clean up.

Chef:EH?? Are you serious??I'm talking Blackberrys not blackberries,you know like the one you've got in your hand right now....

Self:..............oh! (manic laughter)

Chef:You klampet(tears rolling down cheeks)I can see the headline now 'hundreds trampled underfoot in mayhem to secure half price punnet of blackberries'

Bargain punnet

Self:............................

Chef:I think you need a holiday.

Personally, I think Blackberry is a silly name for a mobile phone.....

The Children from Hell

2011-11-21T12:43:00.000-08:00

I'll thcream and thcream until I'm thick...

Sometimes I wonder whether diners fully understand the purpose of a bookings system.
You see, contrary to popular belief the booking system isn't actually for the convenience of the diner.
Its for the kitchen.
Think about it.
What miraculous cooking invention do you think we have in the kitchen that would enable us to cook for a whole evenings bookings should they all choose to rock up at the same time(8o'clock)??
The booking system enables the kitchen to cope with cooking a diverse range of dishes,to order and more importantly hopefully send the finished dishes out to a consistent standard and to the satisfaction of the customer.
Its clear lots of diners don't get this.Many will come in without a reservation,which is fine (but please have some flexibility),then when you politely explain that we cannot accommodate due to being fully booked they will look across at empty tables and say 'why cant we sit there?' with no thought that in,15,30,45 mins there will be a people sitting at the table who have had the foresight to ring ahead and book.
Strange though it may seem we do actually want diners,without them we would be bankrupted pretty quickly.
Yes,surprisingly we don't want to turn you away,we want your cash.
Which brings me to the anathema of the vacant table.
The availability of a table doesn't mean you can sit down and order immediately.Making a table reservation isn't a strictly accurate term,what you are actually waiting for is your slot in the kitchen for the food to be cooked.
Which brings us to the most common problem.
Diners ringing to reserve a table at a specified time will often be offered an alternative time should their preferred slot be unavailable.They will then accept the alternative time,but invariably arrive at the time they originally requested,be this early or late.
This is very rude.
It usually causes least inconvenience to the perpetrators,with tables being booked later who have had the decency to turn up on time bearing the brunt of any delay.

Last Saturday night we were very busy.
At 6pm a table of five arrived who were not due until 7pm.Their original request had been for 6pm,I know this because I had taken the call,I had sensed they were a tad disgruntled at not being able to be accommodated at their chosen time. Grandpa,Grandma,Mother and two girls aged around 10 years.
As the table was ready they were seated and served drinks.
As I walked past at around 6.10pm,Grandpa called me over and requested I take their order.I politely explained that their reservation was for 7pm and the kitchen was very busy with orders but I would fit them in as soon as I could,hopefully before 7pm.
Now at that point I could have taken their order,but they would still have had the same wait time for food.Experience has taught us that its better not to take orders too early otherwise you get into the 'I ordered over 40 minutes ago'scenario.This is best avoided at all costs.
What is the point of a bookings system if you don't adhere to it??

Unbeknownst to Table 6, one of the girls was on her break and was eating within earshot of the table.
Grandpa was not happy.'We've already been sat here for 10 minutes' he grumbled.
'Lets be as awkward as possible when they come to take the order' said one of the velvet dressed girls'they're not getting away with treating us like that'
It was agreed I would take the order.
For the record,I am not anti child,I am a mother myself.I like it when parents bring out their children to eat.
It was before 7pm.
I aprroached the table.

Precocious child:'At last...We want the steak(pointing at sister)but cut in half on two separate plates,not one meal with a spare plate,do you understand??'
'What vegetables does it come with?'
Self:'It comes with watercress and roasted tomatoes'
'I don't want any of that'
Self:I tell you what we have a sandwich steak on the bar menu,how about I do two of those for you instead of cutting one in half'
'What's a sandwich steak?'
SELF:'Its a rump just as the same as the one on the menu,just a smaller one'
Then why are you calling it a sandwich steak?Is it a sandwich??We don't want a sandwich..we don't want it in a bit of bread,we want it on a plate,I told you that before..and how much will it be?'Rolling eyes.
Self:'Yes that's fine we can do it exactly the same,on a plate with chips,would you like a sauce?'
'I don't know,I don't know what the sauce is,how should I know(tutting)what is the sauce??' Then without allowing me to answer: 'look,put the sauce in a separate jug and we'll make up our minds when we see it...'
Self(smiling):'How would you like the steak cooked MADAM?'
At last a fleeting flicker of panic,She didn't know how to ask for the steak to be cooked.
Mother came to the rescue'both medium'.
The rest of the table rattled through their order uneventfully.
As I retired from the table I overheard 'well she wasnt very clever was she..'
At some point they had managed to swap their dining chairs for two high back antique Chinese chairs which are really only for decorative purposes.
As I took out steak knives for the table the two girls grabbed theirs and bizarrely thrust them up and down in a stabbing motion whilst rhythmically repeating 'look, sharp, knives'
This unsettled me somewhat.
As we took the meals out,a loud voice emanating from one of the thrones was heard to say 'here come our miniature steaks,they had better be up to standard....'

The adults made no attempt to silence or apologise.
I recounted events to Chef later.
'you should have told them to get out, they're interviewing for the ugly sisters in town..'

Road Trip

2011-11-01T13:45:00.000-07:00

I recently accompanied Only Daughter on a brief road trip over the border.
Experiencing gale force winds and biblical rain(typical tartan weather),we decided to break up the journey with an overnight stay,heading straight for the dining room on arrival(lets get our priorities right..),it was busy with proceedings already in full swing.

Don't be misled,I snapped this photo at breakfast,we were first up and RAVENOUS,note clutch bag centre above fireplace.

We were met with a strange mismatch of an identity crisis.The obligatory high back(faux)leather dining chairs teamed with cast iron bar tables(watch your knees on the iron legs) and patterned bench seating a remnant from the days this was clearly a bar not a pseudo posh pub hotel.

'Look over there' says Only Daughter,'someone's stuck a handbag to the wall'

'That's a sporran' I say

'Really?Its huge,looks more like a clutch bag'says Only Daughter.

Rudolph kept a watchful eye over proceedings.

The menu boasted the usual suspects,fish n chips,steak and ale pie,Steak n chips,Bangers and mash.
A pleasant Polish fellow came over to take our order.
There then followed a lengthy wait for food,in the interim a slice of (Co-op?)bloomer and some butter appeared at our table perhaps to stave off the hunger pangs.

Supermarket slice.

As we waited,OD noticed a strange coincidence.The dining room was manned by two be-suited chaps of Eastern block origin,assisted by a very able young Scots lass who exclusively delivered drinks.
Every time an order was taken by either of these two, they then disappeared behind the swing door to the kitchen never to reappear for several minutes.
'They're cooking the food' said OD 'they're taking the orders,then going in the kitchen to put the food in the stove'
Self:'No......'
We both observed the next few orders being taken,then the disappearance into the kitchen despite the very busy dining room.We were both mesmerised.
OD was highly amused.
I must admit it did seem that the waiting staff were putting the food on.

The elderly couple at the next table requested their bill.Twenty minutes later the same was not forthcoming,the lady donned her coat(always a sure indication to bring over the bill).She sat for a few more moments then stood up muttering to hubby 'I've lost patience..'

Pastry crust displaying crumpled paper bag characteristics,please note a similar effect can be achieved by leaning over a mirror(over 40's only..)

OD opted for the pie.The sad bit of parsley perched atop the sallow and wrinkled pastry crust said it all.As the unappetising crust was declared inedible and flipped off,a congealed glutinous interior was revealed.Clearly insufficient time in the oven to break down the gelatinous gravy.

'Just pick out the meat' I say 'It'll be fine'

OD is not a fussy eater.The meat required the teeth of a far more primitive specimen than she to masticate.

Steak and chips,a minimalistic presentation.

Not very attractive but in fairness the actual steak was nicely seasoned,it had a bite of a bite but was quite tasty.It was advertised as sirloin.Looked more like a sausage.

The presentation was basic to say the least and did nothing to dismiss OD's theory....

We passed on puddings,we had far too much empathy with the waiting staff/chefs to impose even more pressure.

We retired to our room to catch Inspector George Gently,me with a small Talisker and OD with a consolatory packet of Cheese n' onion crisps.

View of Ben More

'Look' I say as we traversed the long corridor to our lodgings,'There's Ben More '

'Where?' replies OD(looking around nosily) 'Who's he..?'

Self:'.................'

We had just settled down when an unearthly buzzing disturbed our relaxation.OD was quicker than the Quickest McQuick in Quick town.Out of those covers and into the hotel corridor in her PJs, I've never seen her move so fast.

I stood still maintaining some sense of decorum in my M & S Winceyettes,observing the monster hovering in a circular motion before alighting on the wall light above OD's bed.I grabbed the very useful hotel information directory(which obviously I had previously read from cover to cover including the very important fire evacuation procedure....)I swatted the critter with a force previously unseen.It dropped to OD's bed and took refuge in the pillow case.

I flung the pillow into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

OD tentatively re-entered the bedroom.

'Its your turn' I say'Its trapped in the pillow slip-go in there and whack it with the hotel directory'.

OD retired back outside leaving me with no choice other than to re enter the bathroom .The force with which I tackled that pillow was phenomenal.Norman Bates( EE EE EE EE) didn't have a look in..

Flushed with success I exited the bathroom and beckoned OD's return.

'NOW its your turn.Dispose of it down't loo please...'

Several flushes later and the creature refused to die,still swimming determinedly but unable to get airborne.

'Cover it with loo roll and close the lid' I say 'just in case it escapes.'

Finally.'Its gone;' shouts OD triumphantly.

Thanks to the mobile I pad which Chef had kindly provided me with, we were able to identify the intruder as a Carrion Beetle otherwise known as an UNDERTAKER BEETLE due to its habit of capturing and burying small mammals then subsequently making itself a cosy nest inside...

OD was inconsolable.'What if there's a nest of them under my bed??

'Don't be ridiculous' I say(convincingly)..then stayed up all night keeping vigil whilst reading ODs current book of choice..

OD slept like a log.

Next morning,propping my eyelids up with matchsticks I encouragingly advised OD there was nothing like a good Scottish Breakfast...

Microwaved bacon.

How wrong I was.

Microwaved bacon.A plastic wrinkled sausage which had clearly been flung in the deep fat fryer ,eggs as rubbery as the wellies we needed to make the hasty foray to the pick up.And self help toast via the automatic machine which provided the most entertainment of our stay due to burning every slice.

Sigh.

I was asked if everything was OK as we checked out.
We never complain.
Didn't you mention the smell of gas in the bedroom corridor?...enquired OD.

Now here's the thing.

This place has an AA rosette for food.What does that mean??
We wondered how long it had been since the AA Inspector had chanced by.
Continuing with our journey.

Palm tree in the rain

Further heavy rain

Next day there was a break in the clouds.

Spot the deer

If you look closely you can spy two deer in the above photo.

Perfect light for artists methinks

Stunning scenery

Seriously,autumn is the best time to visit Scotland, gold and garnet across the landscape, dramatic weather and stunning scenery.

On my return an email popped into my in box from the hotel we'd visited.

Asking for feedback on our stay.

I replied very politely that the room and the staff were very good,but the experience as a whole was let down by the standard of the food(I even e-mailed the photo of the bacon).

To date no reply.

Perhaps they were only looking for positive comments.

Sigh.

OD remains convinced the Chef had been locked in the walk in freezer and the waiting staff had forgotten to let him out....

Pub landlady saves difficult diner from nasty fall,sustaining superficial injury and some positive feedback.

2011-10-14T07:56:00.000-07:00

A combination of new staff,guilt that I may have neglected her of late and a feast of bookings has resulted in me spending more time back at the Inn this week.
Saturday evening brought the usual crowd of diners,most very pleasant,amidst whom there was the usual louder than anyone else,attention seeking individual,effortlessly exuding a sense of smug entitlement and in possession of an overbearing self congratulatory manner. The sort of individual who demands obsequious service and gets right up the noses of all staff who come into contact with him.
Endless searching questions designed to catch one out whilst at the same time demonstrating his encompassing knowledge of wines and all things culinary.
You've met him haven't you.Or perhaps you've sat at the table next to him.Speaking in a loud booming voice just to make sure that the whole room is party to his conversation.Then when he makes (in his opinion) a particularly amusing comment he smiles and nods at all around him,basking in the glory.
I first noticed him swinging back on his chair,arms hitched over the back rest before I even took the order.
As things began to hot up,the lady at the next table decided to ditch her cardigan,as she did so the books atop the newspaper rack sited on the wall directly behind her table were inadvertently displaced.
They fell to the floor with a such a ear shattering clatter that Foghorn Leghorns dialogue was momentarily drowned out..
Irritated that the commotion had diverted attention from Himself,Leghorn looked over at these most unassuming of diners and just as their main courses were delivered to their table,snorted and shouted loudly:
'Well that's got to be embarrassing for you,trying to wreck the joint,eh??'
The poor woman's deep scarlet complexion could not I'm afraid, on this occasion, be attributed to her wine intake.Sadly her head was kept compliantly down for the remainder of the meal.
Leghorn continued to swing back on his chair,his full and not insignificant bodyweight supported by two legs.
As I delivered starters to the table next to the fire,sited directly behind him,disaster struck. I was met by the unmistakable sound of splintering wood,as the chair buckled under the sustained pressure.In a knee jerk reaction,I held game terrine and soup(!) directly above my head whilst my right leg splayed outwards,propping the lower half of Leghorns chair,which had detached itself from the seat, upright.The upshot of this being that the seat of the chair flipped upwards, deckchair style with Leghorns bottom wedged firmly in the collapse.Being on the XXL side of Large, Leghorn was well and truly trapped, knees nearer to his chest than I'm sure they had been in many a year.
Well.
I think that's called Karma.
Two of his companions(now there's a word you never see used in general conversation,other than in restaurant reviews)were obliged to unceremoniously manhandle him from the wreckage.
Reader,I must confess I may have held my leg firmly in the wedge position a little longer than was absolutely necessary,at least long enough that the pleasant couple who had earlier experienced the unfortunate book incident and its aftermath,had the chance to enjoy the whole sorry spectacle.

Unsuitable swing exhibiting impact damage

How the mighty have fallen.
Almost worth the impressive bruise injury which I'm currently sporting.

Colourful bruise injury

And finally.
How can one justify an unashamed toot of ones own trumpet?
Given the spate of complaints letters received recently and which to be fair I've publicised in unadulterated form on here,I propose that I am permitted nay entitled to redress the balance a little,in the interests of providing an alternative(and unbiased..?) view point.
Yesterday the following letter appeared in our local paper.A regular alerted Chef via text message in the early afternoon.
I quote:
'Statistics show that 60 pubs a week close down in Great Britain.There are many reasons for this shocking state of affairs-poor service,no welcome,expensive frozen food,overpriced liquid and lack of ambience and atmosphere just to name a few.
Just recently whilst travelling to (insert next county) we decided to stop at the (insert pub name).We walked into a real pub with a lovely atmosphere and a great welcome.
We had a gorgeous home made meal at a fair price.On looking around this lovely hostelry,we found out that all produce was locally sourced.
We were delighted at this because the(insert pub name)is helping to support the local economy and give us value for money excellent food.
This pub has certainly got the wow factor and it makes you feel you want to go back again.We definitely shall go back.'

charming positive feedback

As Chef said we couldn't have composed a more complimentary endorsement had we penned it ourselves.

Ah well,onwards and upwards!

A Bientot!
Mags x

Whatever you do don't dip your Cock-a-leekie in orange,it hurts.

2011-09-18T14:16:00.000-07:00

I've been incommunicado.
To say things have been a tad fraught is an understatement.
The times they are a changing.
In a radical U-turn,having decided that perhaps a career in hospitality might suit her after all(though not working for ones parents, apparently..),I deposited Only Daughter a la Tartan Isle last week.She's been brushing up on her Polish with the thoughtful phrase book which Chef kindly tucked into her back pack as a leaving gift..
The Apprentice made a safe return from his long planned trip.Having blown six months wages on a five day extravaganza in the Big Apple during which he dined on Hanger steak and was wowed by the service at Brasserie les Halles(yes, he's been reading Anthony Bourdain),visited the Museum of Modern Art(his first love),ate numerous bagels and hot dogs,and attended Rock the Bells.Quite a change from last years modest sojourn.
And the highlight of the trip?? I quote: 'skateboarding the length of Fifth Avenue in and out of the traffic..'
Sigh.He's always been,well.Different...
Ones fingers were chewed to the quick of ones elbow for the full five days..
So,that's the terrible twins taken care of.
The Sensible One has returned to uni to continue his Food Technology course,having decided after a summer spent behind the bar and in the kitchen,that perhaps he would be well advised to give the practical side of the food industry a wide berth.Maybe a career in Food Journalism or Food Development.
At least one of us has some sense..
Back at the ranch things are uncharacteristically quiet.
Its business as usual of course.
Down at the pub we've been talking autumn foods,game,stews and hearty puds.My favourite time of year.
Last week Pubchef knocked up a hearty soup.
Prior to writing the days menu,I enquired as to the nature of the days soup.
'Cock-a-Leekie' responds Pubchef.
As an afterthought I strolled over to the steaming stock pot and peered inside.

Self: 'That's not Cock-a-Leekie soup'
Pubchef:'Yes it is,in a round about way..'
Self:'No it isn't.I can see plenty of Cock(!) but no bloody Leekie'
Pubchef:'Call it Cock-a-Leekie.it sounds better'
Self:'No it doesn't,it only sounds better if it is bloody Cock-a-Leekie'
Self:Is it a thin soup?'
Pubchef:'no not really'
Self:'I cant see any prunes in there..'
Pubchef:'People don't want prunes'
Self:How do you know??If someone orders a Cock-a-Leekie soup,what they expect is a properly made Cock-a-Leekie soup,resplendent with leeks,prunes and plentiful Cock. Not some bloody imposter..'
Self:What's in the soup??
Pubchef:Lentils,vegetables,~~Cock~~ chicken.
Self:(folding arms)So its not Cock-a-Leekie soup is it?What we have here m'lord is a Chicken and vegetable broth.
I rest my case, your honour.
Pubchef:You can't call it that,it doesn't sound very good.
Self:Why not??That's what it is..its not about how it sounds its about how it tastes..
We compromised on Chicken and Vegetable soup..
I made some fresh bread rolls to accompany,recipe from Shaun Hills Merchant House Cook book.As Shaun himself says 'perfect for tearing and sharing.'

Shaun Hills perfect baps

Helped out by the inclement weather, the Chicken and Vegetable Soup flew out.
A couple of days later the soup was almost gone.
Towards the end of a particularly busy lunchtime service Ems appeared in the kitchen and requested a quick bowl of soup for lunch.
'Great' said Pubchef 'that's the last gone'(every Chef loves it when any particular menu item gets used completely without discarding any,gives a welcome warm glow..)
I wandered over to the pan and absent mindedly tasted the last dregs of the soup.
I frowned.
'I can taste orange..'
Pubchef:(nonchalantly)'There is a bit of orange in there'
Self:'What????You put orange in a chicken and veg broth?'
Pubchef:'Well,not exactly orange,orange zest,just a bit'
Self:So all week hungry diners have been ordering a hearty Chicken and veg broth but what they've actually been troughing on a is a bowl of steaming but lumpy Lemsip???'

Clasping my hands to the top of my head,lest it explode like the pressure cooker it is,I bent over double from from the waist and stayed there momentarily whilst I gained some semblance of composure.
At that point,right on cue, Ems returned to the kitchen complete with empty soup bowl.

Ems:'Well,that was ...different'
Self:'In what way??'(Nodding overly enthusiastically..)
Ems:'Well it tasted of..oranges....'
Reader,you would have thought that we had rehearsed it.
I looked at Pubchef with raised eyebrows,palms upwards,shrugging shoulders and shaking ones head vigorously.

One is aware of exhibiting increasingly exaggerated Fawltyesque tendencies.

The Pub Landladys Greatest Hits...

2011-09-16T02:50:00.000-07:00

I haven't done a meme style post before.
The lovely Elizabeth on Food (beautifully written,photographed and informative food site-go have a look)nominated me to take part in the My seven links project.
The idea is to provide links to 7 blog posts under the following categories, don’t over-think it, and pick five other bloggers to do the same:

Your most beautiful post
Your most popular post
Your most controversial post
Your most helpful post
A post whose success surprised you
A post you feel didn’t get the attention it deserved
The post that you are most proud of

So here they are:
The Pub landlady's greatest hits..

1.My most Beautiful post.
Hmm tricky.I specialise in dodgy mobile phone photos,if I'd had the ~~balls~~ courage to use a decent camera I'm sure My L'Enclume post would be the most beautiful,but I didn't so bearing the current trend for foraging, instead I choose Look at the size of my Boletus,have you ever seen better looking 'shroom?

2.My most popular post.
Ordering off menu
Not sure if this is the most popular or whether its had more views just because its been on here a while.Or are you lot ALL intrinsically awkward???

3.My most controversial post.
People Love bad food.
They do honestly,read this its irrefutable proof.

4.My most helpful post
Im a bit stuck on this one.Helpful?Can I find a helpful post??These questions are making me think my blog is a little bit one dimensional...
I know,how about this one,could be useful if you're looking to dodge a parking fine..worth a punt at least..

5.A post whose success surprised me.
Pub landlady cleans up soot damage left by Southern Comfort drinking coalman at Jamaica Inn
You cant beat a bit of toilet humour can you?

6.A post I feel didnt get the attention it deserved.
Chefs Nuts
Given the reaction to Chefs Ass,Im a tad disappointed,nay surprised that Chefs Nuts didn't solicit the same respect..

7.The post I am most proud of.
I wouldnt say proud was the word,its all just a bit of a larf innit?But I think Im going to choose Northcote Manor,simply because Nigel Haworth and Craig Bancroft both read it,took it in the spirit in which it was intended and actually THANKED me for writing it.I knew they had a sense of hunour.

So thats it The Pub landladys Greatest Hits/Misses.
So now over to these five far flung faves(no pressure BTW..):

O Cozinheiro este algarve

Hestias Larder

Legend in his own Lunchtime

Gin and Crumpets

How the hell does this work?

Conversation with a potential employee.

2011-08-31T15:12:00.000-07:00

We're recruiting staff.September sees the departure of the summer workers off to university.
One of our girls has actually found a 'proper' job having worked for us since she was 15 right through university.Chef says its the end of an era.
I suppose therein lies the problem,most British workers still view hospitality work as a stopping off point en route to a permanent job,its a shame that its still not viewed by many as a career option.Though admittedly the long and unsocial hours aren't a great selling point.
I've trawled through a weird and wonderful array of CV's.
It struck me that perhaps some of the applicants could do with a few pointers on how to successfully apply for a job.
Obviously this is just my personal opinion of course.other potential employers may have different criteria.

1.Keep it brief
One or two pages max.Any CV longer than this goes straight in the bin.Its not that I'm not interested in you,you understand,its just that I DON'T HAVE TIME TO READ IT.

2.Check your spelling and grammar.

3.Keep the information relevant to the application,giving some indication that you have actually researched what the job is and what qualities are required.
For example I'm not really interested that you are 'qualified to use the St Tropez ultimate air system and have a level 2 certificate in Jessica manicures' or that you have '6 months small animal care experience',whilst the kitchen staff(and sometimes the customers for that matter)may sometimes act like animals,we are not recruiting a zoo keeper.

4.Include contact details(surprising how many don't),keep it sensible for example:if your email address is on the lines of 'pink iced buns@ mail.co.uk' its probably time to make a change,unless you're applying to a lap dancing club of course.

5.It may be a good idea not to be overly liberal with the truth if you want to give yourself a chance of even making the interview stage.For example 'I have had many jobs but as yet have never managed to hold down a full time job' or 'I have no relevant experience but am willing to give it a go and see if it works out' or even 'mostly I like to just sit at home,watch TV and relax,much like anyone else'....... does not exactly instil me with confidence in your enthusiasm or energy levels..

Today I rang one of the applicants I'd selected for interview.

Self:Hello I'm *me* from the Inn,I'm ringing with regard to your application for work.

Applicant:Ah yes.... the BAR JOB..

Self:Would you be able to pop over for a chat one afternoon next week?

Applicant:Should be OK,when were you thinking?

Self:Would Wednesday afternoon about 2.30 be OK?

Applicant:Make it a bit earlier?

Self:No I'm sorry I'm over at the pub every lunchtime so I'm only back at the inn between 2.30 and 5pm.

Applicant:How about Monday?

Self:No I cant do Monday

Applicant:Friday?

Self:No I'm sorry I'm very busy on Fridays I can only do Tuesday,Wednesday or Thursday.

Applicant:It shouldn't take long, I'm a medical student,taking a year out.

Self: Oh????I'm very sorry but I just cant spare any time on Friday

Applicant: Oh that doesn't work,that just doesn't work for me AT ALL..

Self:Gulp

Applicant:Tell you what lets just leave it till the following week,Thursday afternoon,3pm, OK with you??

Self:...........................................................

And I thought there were over 2 million people unemployed in this country.

Where's my farking Brussels??

2011-08-28T13:41:00.000-07:00

You know that thing about waiting forever for buses,then all of a sudden three arrive at once?Well,brace yourselves,we've had ANOTHER complaint.The following is an exact transcript of a letter which arrived this week.

Handwritten letter

[Yes,a great little pub.However after eating there for Sunday dinner we wont be going back,having invited friends making a party of seven and all having the Sunday Roast,we thought the order was wrong and that they gave us child portions;each plate consisted of 3 roast potatoes which could of been one cut into three,(excuse me, but you missed out the new potatoes)6 slices of carrot,2 peices of brocolli,some cabbage.Two slices of meat and one small yorkshire,the plate was not Big(its 12 inch actually) but there was plenty of room(only were it to be piled vertiginously high) for the likes of,brussel sprouts,Turnip,parsnip,(in summer?whatever next..)cauliflour,MASHED potatoe and YES another yorkshire!!!(or maybe one of those giant stuffed ones?)for 9.50 it was a disgrace!!the food should have come in abundance(eh??) PTO

Insufficient Sunday roast displaying small Yorkshire

There was no mustard or Horse Raddish or anything for that matter,no hang on there was salt and peper(Oh you were looking for those little sachet things,the ones which you can help yourselves to and take some home for later..) we asked for some mustard.Two bowels arrived(surely not,I must apologise for that) spoon in each and with a blob of mustard stuck on the end (ouch)All for seven people,the three tables put together all AT Different levels and the creeking chairs "well" (now I know who you are, you're Mr Winner aren't you?)no one ordered desert( I wish you had its farking freezing up here at the moment) we saw other diners with there's and for £5 so "forget it"!!

All this about localy sorced produce....

my wife cooks a better Dinner from Morisons (However the meat was nice)

Consolation nice beef.

(really??I would have thought you would have preferred your beef well done.)

shame about the rest..."it could have been great"

PS I'm angry I didn't say anything when we were there.

PPS you will have seven people telling others the same.]

Squiggly illegible signature

(no address)

SIGH..I put it down to the weather,its dampened everyone's spirits..

Or maybe its time to bite the bullet and go all branded chain pub..

BEWARE:shiny tables,raw steaks and insufficient quiz sarnies.

2011-08-16T14:44:00.000-07:00

Last week we entertained the mother of all complainers at the Inn.
News filtered back to the kitchen that trouble was brewing long before the order was even taken.
Mr and Mrs Angry asked to be seated in the small garden room and were dismayed to see that two(the larger ones) of the three tables had already been reserved.
'Oh' said Mrs A 'I thought you couldn't reserved tables here?'
Sensing her disquiet it was suggested she might prefer an alternative table inside the pub.
'No, its too dark in there,we'll stay here'
To cut a long story short two lemonades and two steak sandwiches were ordered,then subsequently sent back to the kitchen as they were too rare.The steaks were redone(well done) sent again,eaten,then the bill was paid and they left.
Later that afternoon I received a very irate phone call from this lady remonstrating about her dining experience.
These were her main issues and my responses:

1.The table was too shiny and had obviously been polished with FURNITURE POLISH.This is a Health and Safety issue and is very dangerous as drinks could 'slide off the table into peoples laps'.
The table is over 100 years old,an old Britannia bar table made in Sunderland and lovingly polished by a succession of landlords,resulting in the attractive deep mahogany patina.The table has supported many drinks over the years,very few of which have slid off by themselves.

Dangerously polished table exhibiting potential slip hazard.

2.The steak sandwich was raw and this is 'very bad practice as a pregnant woman might eat it'.
( Last time she came the steak sandwiches were lovely and were all cut up into little slices,about a year ago..)

All of our steaks are Eblex standard and are locally sourced from a small independent supplier, many of which come from his own farm.We could buy cheaper but prefer to support the local economy and enjoy a better quality product.We sell hundreds of these sandwiches,our standard is to serve them medium rare,unless diners specify otherwise.
As such they pose no health risk.
(we have been here 4 years and have NEVER 'cut the steaks up into small pieces' therefore it must be at least five years since she last visited)

3.The plate was cold.
The plate was cold as the sandwich is served with a salad accompaniment,were the plate hot ones salad would be limp and wilted, giving cause for complaint

4.The bread roll was cold.
The inside of the bread roll is toasted, the outside is not.That's just the standard, though if any diner were to request we toast both sides we would be happy to oblige.

5.There was no more than a teaspoon full of fried onions on the steak
The fried onions are not the main component of the sandwich and as such no valid complaint can be made over the quantity,the steak is 6oz as specified on the menu.Had more onions been requested then these would have been forthcoming.

6.There was a disabled person having difficulty negotiating the unsatisfactory access,with staff offering assistance otherwise she would have asked for a discount on the meal.
The Inn was built around 1740 and retains many original features.Being built into a hillside there are many levels and steps to negotiate which does not make access ideal for less able customers.Our staff always make this information available over the telephone for diners who check ahead,they always also offer assistance if necessary.As it happened this particular customer had been spoken to on the phone and was happy to deal with any difficulties he might experience.I was pleased the staff had been helping him.

7.She did not experience £19.40 worth of enjoyment.

This is a tricky one.How does one quantify in monetary terms enjoyment value?
To be perfectly honest we're in the business of selling steak sarnies,not enjoyment.Though admittedly, hopefully enjoyment would be a side product of the eating experience.
I've been giving this a lot of thought and am considering introducing an AA Gill type guide on our menus.
Its proving almost as complicated as the Duckworth-Lewis method,its so bloody subjective,I mean, enjoyment of a steak sandwich for a committed omnivore is on a completely different scale to that of committable vegan...
I've managed to come up with a potential rating system though:

* (0-20 pounds sterling) find a fiver in an old jacket pocket at the back of the wardrobe
** (20-30 pounds sterling) drop the bandit
*** (30-50 pounds sterling)modest win on the premium bonds
**** (50-75 pounds sterling)unexpected windfall from an unknown relative
***** (100+ pounds sterling)100-1 outsider comes in on the geegees.

I spent over half an hour on the telephone apologising that Mrs A hadn't enjoyed her dining experience and attempting to placate her, at the end of which she demanded a 'written response' otherwise she would report us to Environmental Health,and also Visit Northumbria as it was 'disgraceful that visitors to the area be subjected to our food'.(I was a bit bamboozled by this,does that mean its OK to subject local people to it??)
Now normally with any genuine compliant,I would offer a refund or in some cases a gift voucher.The tone of this telephone call however was confrontational and threatening.
Chef was of the opinion that we should not be intimidated by threats therefore we mulled our response over the weekend.
On the Monday morning we received a phone call from our local Environmental Health Officer advising us that they'd been contacted by Mrs A about the 'raw' steak.Chef was informed that Mrs A had been advised that there was 'no risk'.The lady from food services told him that they were obliged to inform the food outlet when they receive a complaint,valid or no.The EHO commented to Chef that Mrs A was incredibly irate..
Next day a letter arrived by recorded delivery headed thus:

'Supply of Goods and Services Act 1983'
'I demand a refund within 7 days due to the goods being unsatisfactory'

The seven day period has expired.I wonder what the next move will be.Lets hope it doesnt make the local press..
Chef says she hasn't a leg to stand on as shes consumed the evidence...
Is there any other business where customers can consume the goods then express dissatisfaction??I mean imagine if she purchased the very same steaks herself from the same butcher,rustled up a tasty tea for her and the hubby,then went back the next day and asked for a refund because the 'enjoyment value' wasnt attained??
Its just not going to happen is it?

Next day the sun was shining brightly,the garden was packed and our usual number of covers increased two fold.As a consequence Chef was up the wall, with fifteen checks on the board.Further diners continued to appear.We had to advise all new orders that there would be a wait for food of around 40 mins.
At this point a certain well known sports person tipped up and was duly advised of the wait.He enquired if there would be a similar wait if he had a couple of cold starters.
Of course there wouldn't be.
Presently, the cold starters were sent,following which an exceptionally angry lady loudly mouthed off that she had ordered first and we were offering preferential treatment just because he was famous,and it was an absolute disgrace.She was sitting on the table directly next to sports person who obviously took everything in without comment.We all cringed in unison.
Now, well known sports person pays us a visit every week and on two occasions over the past couple of months has been turned away as we haven't had a table for him.On his intial first visit a couple of years ago he also went away empty handed when the particular barman working became starstruck and was momentarily superglued to the floor and unable to move.I was quite annoyed at the time.So actually Im surpised he returns at all,especially with no grudge borne.
Chef is very strong about everyone's money being the same.
It must be awful being famous.
By the way The barman is now working in London as a photographer,I hope he's overcome his nervous disposition..

In other news, I helped out at the fortnightly quiz over at the pub last week.
We provide a few tasty treats for the quiz people,sandwiches and the ubiquitous triple cooked chips(though I'm loathe to call them so on the menu).
Anyhoo,I was approached at the bar by a brusque chap with a dozy looking Labrador(not the farting one).
'Are we getting sandwiches tonight??'
Self: 'Yes'
Chap 'Well,where are they???'
Self:'We'll be putting them out in the interval'
Chap(voice audibly raised in annoyance)'well,we're up to round five now'
At this point he raised his palms upward in Jesus type pose(but not a genuflecting one), eyebrows raised and gesturing in disgust.
I resisted the desire to sarcastically retort:
'Bless me Fadder fur oi haf sinned...'
He then approached the quiz master who compliantly called a break.
The coal man at the bar,a man of few words, smiled a knowing smile 'some of these lot don't come for the quiz,only for the sarnies...',then smirked and went back to his Southern Comfort and Lemonade.
The sarnies were duly despatched.I stepped aside and witnessed the stampede to the table with Rude Chap heading the pack.Twenty minutes later I noticed he was still grazing on a small personal buffet of sandwiches which he'd placed in the middle of his table.
As I cleared the plates, Rude Chap anticipated my approach,picking up his plate and proferring it with arms stretched over his head in a flag like manner with his back to me..
Dear Reader,you must know that I walked away and left him sitting there with the plate in mid air..
He was first to leave, almost before the quiz was over,his parting shot a brief:
'there weren't enough sandwiches tonight'
This is fundamentally wrong.How can there not be enough sandwiches when they're bleeping free??????
Complimentary sarnies are a privilege, not a right and as such may be withdrawn by the management at any time.

Next week I plan to vary the offering by providing a small bowl of olives and a ramekin of plain crisps(preferably past their best before date)....

Its the least I can do.

PS.Our steak sarnies are the Biz.

Biff and Chef Eat Owt/L'Enclume

2011-08-02T11:07:00.000-07:00

We've had a little break away. Effecting an even brief escape from the business requires careful planning,organisation and team work.
Having selected and ironed some suitable clothing, I delegated Chef to retrieve the travel bags and insert said items, prior to departing for Sunday lunch service at the pub.The plan was to make as early a departure as possible after lunch service was over at both pubs.
On my arrival back at the Inn Chef was itching to go,informing me that the bags were packed as promised and stored safely in the pick up.
We headed off immediately.
Forty minutes later we were joining the M6.

Self:You found the overnight bags OK then?
Chef:No I didn't bother,I didn't think it was worth trawling around the attic for the sake of one night,I just used some carrier bags.
Self:What??You mean you packed our *stuff* in flimsy Tesco carrier bags??
Chef:No of course not..
Self:Thank God for that..
Chef:I used Waitrose Bags for Life...
Well isn't that just great..
I wondered if there'd be anyone else staying at L'Enclume in a pick up and with no suitcase...

Cartmel is a quaint little village which we were quite fond of by the time we'd driven around it four times in search of our lodgings.Someone was relying on I pad/phone directions but hadn't factored *no network* into the equation.

We weren't staying at the Gift Shop BTW

Finally we noticed this unobtrusive little sign which helped us on our way.

Lets not draw attention to ourselves

I needn't have worried,Chef managed to find a discreet parking position for the pick up..

We were greeted warmly and asked if we needed help with our luggage.
(Sharp intake of breath..)

'No thanks' said Chef 'we'll just go straight to our room..'
(Audible sigh of relief..)

We made ourselves comfortable, then Chef nipped out for our *shopping* once the coast was clear..

We'd already identified this place as perfect for pre dinner snifters on our earlier extended tour of the village.

Perfect watering hole within walking distance

Notice the dark red FWD vehicle.Every 5 minutes the alarm was going off resulting in a chorus of 'ahhhs' from the outside drinkers.Amusingly, we could still hear this disturbance back at the restaurant 40 minutes later.Sounded like a TV audience in training.

I don't carry a handbag BTW

One Bombay Sapphire and Fevertree tonic for me and Chefs requisite fizz of choice later and all earlier stresses were long forgotten.
It was a beautiful night,and more delightful pubs tempting us to seek them out, but we arrived politely on time for dinner.
We were offered white or pink Champagne.I chose pink.

We both had white.The duck scratchings and cheesey prawn crackers more than made up for it.
Chef wondered if we could ask for more.
We're not a the local Chinese, I say.
He did however enquire if he was 'allowed' to smoke in the garden.A pristine ashtray appeared forthwith.The Sommelier advised with a knowing wink that he would leave it there.
I didn't notice anyone else having a fag.
We opted for the twelve course tasting menu which they had kindly agreed to adapt to cater for our awful dietary requirements.We asked the sommelier to bring us some glasses of wine to match the meal.
By the way I forgot to mention,I loved this place before we even arrived after receiving a confirmation e mail containing the following beautiful prose:

'Monsieur shall be eating no fish nor shellfish and Madame being coeliac'

Made our conditions seem positively attractive.Well nearly..

Bullets

Firstly an amuse bouche.As the plate was put down the waitress looked momentarily confused 'bear with me one moment' before another member of staff came over and carefully swivelled the plate around until the smoked eel croquette was conveniently close to myself and Chefs vegetable one now correctly positioned next to him.
Despite the shape I'm sure they were intended for oral insertion.

'I wonder if Ill get through this one alive' said Chef....
Delicious.

Look what's in Simon's sack tonight!

Waverex Peas with crab and calamint.Or in Chefs case no crab. Apparently the teeniest and sweetest peas.I love spider crab.I grow a lot of mints, but never calamint.Must get some.

As we chatted I noticed a couple we'd seen earlier at the pub.I drew Chefs attention,they were just out of his line of vision.I described the chaps camel suit.
'Oh the chap with the grease spot in the centre back of his jacket' said Chef.
'Yes that's the one!'
We always make the same observations..

Pickled purple Azur,crushed flesh,sour cream and golden cups.

This picture doesn't bely the taste explosion that it actually was.Its a Kohlrabi, often grown for cattle feed.What a waste..

Chefs bread

Gluten free bread

Special mention for going to the trouble of making my bread,it contained pumpkin seeds,it was as good as the real thing. I've e mailed them to ask for the recipe*hopeful face*

Chef clocked a Frankie Valli look alike seated at a table nearby.Dressed completely in white including,suit,shirt and slip on shoes with NO SOCKS.

His companion was partially hidden by the alcove in which they were seated.We got a clear view when she got up minutes later en route to the loo.Chefs' mouth fell open.~~'Internet order?'~~ 'Its good to see true love knows no boundaries..'
Mr Valli was sporting an ill fitting *toop*
'That'll be stuck to the ceiling later'quipped Chef..
As I glanced down to check out our own chosen foot attire,I warmed momentarily to Chefs' muddy(I forgot to pack my good shoes)Merrells.

Celtuce heart in beef broth,fresh cheese,mussel dust.

I thought they were trying to confuse us with this one,but it is a type of lettuce with a celery type stalk,exactly as the name implies.The beef broth was intense and satisfying.Chef asked if it would be OK to dip his bread in.

I was only buttering my bread...

Beware of large bowls and dainty cutlery.Do not,I repeat do not leave go of them at any time unless you are finished your meal...

Snow balls cooked in clay,smoked egg,lettuce, fermented apple.

One of Chefs faves.I can see why this earthy style of crockery was chosen(very 70s/80s)but I had to ask Chef not to scrape his cutlery as I was squirming, it had the effect of nails down a blackboard.

Ancient tubers,ground unicorn horn,misted with faerie breath.

This dish was beautiful,despite the presentation the flavours in the food are indeed the real attraction.
'That's how a potato should taste'said Chef.

Minidor yellow with duck sweetbread,corn cream summer savory

Hats off to the unfortunate kitchen slave tasked to harvest these little blighters.Not exactly a high yield to the duck..

Thankless task

Charcoal grilled varna leek,scallop,red orache and nasturtium butter

Though ploughing admirably through the lovely(and surprisingly reasonable priced) wine selection,b'now Chef was a tad thirsty and fancied a refreshing beer.The waitress kindly brought us the drinks menu.No lager.Only Pale ales.

'Maybe they're short of fridge space' I say..

Modest refrigeration facilities

Chef could barely conceal his disappointment at the lack of his favoured beverage.'I don't think they like that matching' I say.

'But its all about personal choice' said Chef.

Radish stew with coastal greens and summer leaves,hay cream

As we were eating this I observed a disturbance at the next table.'I just cant eat this I just don't like the flavour.I just don't like it AT ALL'

I overheard the waitress very politely offering a supplemental course.

'That's ridiculous' said chef 'its unrealistic to expect that out of twelve courses you'll like absolutely everything.'

We did...

Salt baked hake,kale greens,bay shrimp,cherry belle

Cherry belle is the radish, don't make the mistake of trying to politely cut this up as the diner on the next table did,unless you wish to retrieve from the floor.I recommend consuming whole.

Yew tree Herdwick Hogget,turnips,cider and chenopodiums

This was the course the diner at the other table didn't like.The hogget was fantastic.The sauce was quite sharp.Chef said the flavour was verging on the taste you get when you reduce a stock too far and get that burnt bones taste.

They couldn't have burnt the bones,could they?Nah..

I liked the waiters description 'its not a lamb and its not a sheep' Hehe.

What is it then?A goat?
As we tucked in, a diner from the garden room area passed by en route to the ladies room. Applying Fake Bake in a darkened room is an ill advised decision.

'Herdwick mutton?' said Chef..

Supplemental course:CHEESE

This is where things went wrong.The cheese on the right smelled and tasted remarkably like cauliflower.Thankfully I like cauli.

Supplemental cheese led to:

Bad idea..

Supplemental port.

And a reluctance to continue with three more remaining courses.Instead we asked our very accommodating waitress to choose just one.

Untypically good quality photo

Compressed strawberries and crispy sheet, sheeps milk and sorrel.Served on a lovely smooth plate.
Did I mention I treated myself to the promised new camera?

During our meal there was a couple sitting nearby who flashed(camera flash obvs) their way through the entire meal.I found it a bit disturbing.I think I'm going to stick with the unflatteringly taken surreptitious phone photos.Its more me.I waited until there was no chance of upsetting anyone before snapping these.

Lavender milk and cupcakes

And coffee in view of the actual anvil.So good I drank the whole pot and was up at 5.30am.

Perhaps we did outstay our welcome

Chef was on a roll.'Are the pubs still open?' he enquired ..

This has gone on a bit hasn't it, I'm boring you.Shall I just cut to the chase?
Simon Rogan is a very clever Chef.Our two favourite dishes contained neither meat nor fish protein.
Chef said the cooking was at another level.Definitely 'exceptional cuisine,worth a special journey'

On my return to work I described to Pubchef ,in glowing detail, the wonders of our gastronomic experience.
Then this:

Knickerbocker glory with foraged beer garden viola.

Its just not happening is it....? Sigh.

PS the potato dish:Heritage potatoes in onion ashes,lovage and wood sorrel.

Holy Cow!

2011-07-20T02:20:00.000-07:00

I've noticed lately that this is becoming an increasingly unusual sight round these parts.Plenty of sheep and beef cattle but a herd of Fresian dairy cows contentedly grazing lush pasture?
Wheels has recently completed two weeks work experience on a local dairy farm.
Our attendance at the farm for interview was required prior to commencement of employment.
The farmer showed us around the state of the art facilities which included a cosy TV room,boot room,office with a lot of technical equipment and THE COW SHED.
The stench hits you like a brick wall as you enter this building and sends you reeling,nostrils curling,eyes a watering.I tried to ignore my discomfort,trying not to breathe too deeply, nodding with interest as Farmer Giles explained the routine of the working day and expectations of any work experience student.
Namely:

1. Effort
2. Don't be afraid of the cows

As we looked around it was explained that there were two identical cowsheds each housing 500 cows.
A huge fan blasted air around the building with stalls for the cows in uniform rows along each side and down the centre of the structure.

Self:When do the cows go outside?
Farmer:Oh (disappointment evident in voice)everyone asks that question..

It transpires that the cows never go outside.They are all tagged and monitored by computer.Farmer Giles informed us that keeping them inside enabled more efficient care,bedding was always clean, food and fresh water constantly available.They were also safe from any outside environmental infections.
Keeping a close eye on the herd also made it easier to identify through behavioural changes and temperature variance when individual cows were ready for 'bulling'.
Throughout this conversation Wheels was on the periphery listening to bits but more engaged with the animals,than the intricacies of the farming policy.
Farmer Giles informed me that the cows were happy.
As we drove away with our Health and Safety document and a list of required clothing which included the necessary waterproofs and wellies(no investment needed on that front, mandatory uniform for a Northumbrian winter),I asked Wheels if he was looking forward to the forthcoming experience of work.
Wheels:Yes,I'm not afraid of the cows,but why did the Farmer think I would be bullying them?
Self: What????
Wheels:Didn't you hear him say the reason they kept the cows in the shed was so they could monitor any bullying?

Sigh.Protracted conversation on the mechanics of bulling accompanied shortly afterwards by one very red young face.

As the work week progressed several things became apparent:

a.It didn't take long for Wheels to become immune to the fug which hung around his persona (even after showering) like an invisible but deadly mist.Despite constant sibling interaction on the lines of 'you stink' the retort 'its organic'implied an affectionate tone almost like the aroma had
become a cherished old friend.

b.Tuesdays were a good day as Farmer Giles wife baked Lemon drizzle cake and invited the lads to have a cup of tea around the Aga.

c.Wheels was actually very suited to the job.One morning his task was to identify(by their number tag) and isolate 5 individual animals from 500 identical looking cows.It took him 3 hours,he was quite proud of himself.

d.Working long days in a manual environment was tiring.On one occasion when I collected him he was barely able to converse.I commented 'its hard working long hours isn't it? Now you know how I feel'
The response:'You're an adult you can cope with it....'

On the Thursday afternoon he was quite animated,excitedly describing being shown the action of inserting ones arm up the cows jacksy to establish condition.Farmer Giles had then invited him to perform the procedure himself , he had willingly obliged.
Wheels:Farmer Giles gave me ten out of ten because I was the first work experience student they'd ever had who'd agreed to do it!

Self:(lips pursed, wincing visibly)Well done....!

Secretly I wondered if this had been a 'long stand' moment.

The rest of the afternoon had been spent with 'Dirty Dave' mucking out and hosing down the stalls.Quite an anti climax after the high point of the morning.
Uneasily,given his interaction with youths in the course of his work, I enquired why Dirty Dave was 'dirty'.
Dirty Dave being a seasoned professional performed the arm-cow-jacksy procedure without the benefit of the shoulder length glove.Following which he plunged his hand into the deep reaches of his overall pocket,producing a half eaten Terry's Chocolate Orange,greedily breaking a piece off and eating, prior to offering around,
Self:Did you take a piece????????
Wheels:NO of course not..

As we left the farm for the final time,I couldn't help but wonder.If the cows were happy inside,never to feel the sun on their backs or fresh morning dew under their feet,why were they all straining to get their heads out into the daylight?

And why has no one ever thought about marketing 'free range milk' ?
No offence to the farmer,making a profit from dairy farming is clearly a challenge, but though a simplistic view I'm inclined to believe that Cows belong in fields..
And whilst we're on the subject, why do we have to have homogenised milk?Why are we obsessed with making every product look uniform.?It actually might not even be very healthy and personally I liked the top of the milk..
Rant over.

ON a lighter note,these events reminded me of a trip to Southern Ireland a few years ago,where there were cows a plenty all over the place,including on the roads,in gardens and on one occasion in a pub.And tractors driven by juveniles and general disregard for Health and Safety rules.On one occasion a couple of children flagged down our car and told us to wait at the side of the road as some cows were being driven this way.After 5 minutes or so had passed and no sign of any cows,Chef set off to investigate.Moments later he reappeared red faced and running at a speed that would surely have facilitated overtaking Usain Bolt.

At his heels were this lot,as you can see he was so fast the shutter speed failed to capture his image.
I've never seen him move so fast.

Wheres my farking Chorizo??

2011-07-12T12:45:00.000-07:00

Lately, its come to my attention that the line between a good and badly run establishment can be very fine indeed.
You see,Pubchef indisputably produces really tasty grub,yet his own business hadn't taken off.This puzzled me somewhat.
Over the course of the last few weeks I've had an inkling of a uncomfortable feeling that I might not be able to take a step back as was my initial intention,once the new business is up and running.Established.
We've introduced a simple menu of pubby type dishes at the New Pub,tasty but not overcomplicated.Decent ingredients,cooked with no undue fuss or unnecessary adornment.
Northumberland sausages with Chorizo and bean stew have been a good seller.Rustic and filling.Good for the farmers.
Last week I noticed that the new batch of stew which Pub chef had just cooked looked a little different.Slightly lighter in colour,a pale orange rather then the deep spicy red achieved when the chorizo releases it spicy oils..I commented. Pub-chef was indifferent.
Later that night, following a reasonably busy service the final order of the night was checked on.As the sausages were dished up I noticed a different aroma emanating from the steaming bowl,it smelt slightly sweaty,fatty even,not the expected spicy whiff.
I investigated.
Self:Is that streaky bacon in the stew??
Pub Chef:Yes,yes it is.
Self:Why??
Pubchef:Because there was no Chorizo left.

Now if there's one ingredient fundamental to a Chorizo and bean stew (other than the beans of course) its the farking chorizo.
What is the point in putting Chorizo and Bean stew on your menu and then dishing up an imposter,a bacon and bean stew which bears no resemblance to the advertised dish??
Now in actual fact the bacon and bean stew was very tasty,there was nothing wrong with it as far as a bacon and bean stew went,but as a Chorizo and bean stew it undoubtedly fell short of expectations.
Self:Why didn't you tell me it was a bacon and bean stew and I could have written it on the menu as such.Now we've misled all the diners who've been searching belligerently and in vain through their food for promised Chorizo nirvana.
No response.
Pubchef is selectively deaf.

Later in the week pub-chef knocked up a gratin potato type dish with an additional ingredient: good old Cheddar cheese.It looked and tasted very good.
Later Ems came to check the spelling of Dauphinoise.
Self:Why do you want to know that?
Ems:To put it on the menu.
Self:Eh?We dont have any Dauphinoise potatoes.
At this point Pubchef chipped in:

Yes we do I've made some

Self:No you haven't, that's not Dauphinoise potatoes.
PubChef:Yes it is, in a round about way..
Self:No its not,put on the bloody menu what it is, there's no Dauphinoise potatoes without Gruyère and cream.Cheddar and milk does not a Dauphinoise make...

Surely its obvious that raising customer expectations in this way is asking for trouble?Anyone ordering a Dauphinoise is interested in the creamy fatty Gruyeresque decadence and is surely going to be disappointed when the dish falls short in the required ingredients?

You see the difference between a good and bad place can be very simple indeed.

Its attention to detail.

Last Thursday Pub chef went off on holiday,a cruise around the Med,no doubt looking forward to a break from my constant ~~bossing him around~~ vigilance and helpful suggestions.
We've had a really busy week at both pubs.
Part time Chef who lives in the village is working full time whilst Pub Chef is away.He's a bit of a dude,plays in a band and is encouragingly receptive to my helpful suggestions.He dodges around the kitchen in trendy Converse trainers.I was looking forward to the two week break and cessation of hostilities.
In fact this week was heading towards our busiest ever at the new pub with only Sunday lunch to go.
I love Sunday lunch service,its the easiest of the week(albeit the busiest) it has that Friday feeling,you know the one you get when you work normal hours?
I was just loading up my car having pilfered a few extra puds from the apprentices fridge at the Inn,when Chef appeared, phone in hand 'you've got a problem'..
The stoves had cut out at the New Pub in the height of Sunday lunch prep,roasts still in the oven and veg yet to be cooked.
By the time I arrived at the pub half an hour later it was obvious Sunday lunch was not going to happen.
Ems had to ring all the bookings(over 40- trade building up),and explain that we'd had an unforeseen equipment failure.The promise of free drinks for re booked tables softened the blow.Somewhat.
Part time Chef rescued the part cooked pork joints from the oven and took them home to finish the cooking.The beef remained deliciously rare..
We cobbled together a limited menu of starters and roast sandwiches,fish and chips(hurrah for the fryer),just in case any walk ins decided to stay despite the lack of a Sunday roast.

Blue Peter stove.

We found this little electric hot plate which was an absolute godsend and produced a hot soup and a couple of warm salads.
The kitchen had a war time feel,a keep the home fires burning in the face of adversity spirit,we were feeling quite proud of ourselves there was even a frisson of excitement when a table of six ordered.We even had a short sing song.
We managed to serve over 30 covers,we were buzzing....

Now you may be wondering what the problem was with the stoves.
If there's one thing fundamental to a fully functioning kitchen other than a Chef and a stove,its fuel to run the stove.
Surprisingly,in country areas there is often no mains gas supply.Indeed,*some* kitchens operate with the assistance of bottled/tanked gas.
Of course in any well run establishment measures would be in place to ensure the status of the tank/bottles were monitored weekly to ensure an adequate supply was in place at all times.
Some would say it was the responsibility of the Chef to ensure that all equipment within his kitchen was serviceable and fully functioning.
In fact Pub-chef had commented to me only a couple of weeks earlier how embarrassing it would be for those cooking,should gas supplies to the kitchen run short...

That's one big fat detail to fail to notice.The words 'hoisted' and 'petard' spring to mind..

I might be in the corner for the foreseeable future

Serendipitously,a text arrived to my phone from Pub chef at 11.30am, just half an hour before Sunday service was due to start:
'Just enjoying a G & T on the deck,overlooking the bay at Cannes'

You don't think?? Nah he wouldn't....Would he??

Chef was not amused.

Public service announcement:Visit Northumberland.

2011-07-03T13:47:00.000-07:00

Kielder Water is the biggest man made lake in Europe,construction began in the 70's and finished in 1982. It was widely accepted that the valley would take ten years to fill but in practise it took only two.Perhaps the planners were still suffering after affects of the heat stroke incurred during the long hot summer of 76..
Constructed initially to satisfy expected increased demand for water in a booming UK economy(a novel idea-got that one wrong too),its now also a major tourist venue attracting over a quarter of a million visitors each year enjoying the wide range of outdoor activities on offer.
Interestingly, Kielder is also the least light polluted place in Britain[citation needed, I've heard Chef mention this but couldn't find corroboration on the interwebs,but I can confirm its very dark up here..]so if you fancy a bit of stargazing there's no better place,also there is an observatory so it must be a good spot.
Ooh and LOOK at this,it also has the freshest air in England,well it did in 2003.
Last Monday on the hottest day of the year so far,we flung our bye cycles in the back of the pick up(it has its uses after all) and headed up to Kielder with the Chap for some fresh air and exercise.

Looking out over Kielder Water.Looks a bit gloomy but it was steaming hot.I find it quite an eerie place,strange to imagine that a whole village lies under this lake complete with station and church.

Plashetts station ,now submerged.

A few years ago the water levels dropped and some of the tips of the buildings were exposed.

Water levels adequate today

We followed the curve of the dam,some stunning views,great tracks for cyclists.

Looking down from the dam,this is the point where the river emerges.
The Chap was flaggin a bit by now,it was exceptionally humid.We wondered why he kept stopping and lying down on every available drain cover.Eventually we realised it was a valiant attempt to cool down in the pleasing updraught.Hes not daft,well it blew Marilyns skirt up didnt it?

Chef ended up carrying him under his arm.. he looked distressed.
Despite the quarter of a million visitors we didnt see a soul throughout our visit,well not until we arrived back at the car park.
There were a couple of seniors sitting in their Porsche doing the Times crossword, whilst tucking into some cream cakes.
Just as we got to the car Lady Senior emerged from the Porsche to dispose of her Marks and Sparks meringue box in the car park bin.
Unexpectedly The Chap went for her,luckily I managed to restrain him just in the nick of time.
I dont suppose I've told you about the Chaps' behavioural problems.

Hes just a pussycat really..

Well,I wouldnt really call them behavioural, more phobic.He has two phobias,the first is gentleman( or women) sporting facial hair,specifically moustaches.The second is TARTAN.If he happens to glimpse either of these two abominations the metamorphosis from cute friendly doggy to baying Hound of the Baskerville guardian of the Gates of Hell is a sight to behold.
Now Lady Senior being blissfully unaware of the Chaps' disposition had no qualms whatsoever in striding directly past wearing the nattiest pair of tartan trews ever.
In the commotion and in an attempt to salvage some plausible excuse for the Chaps' disgraceful behaviour I shouted:

'Im really sorry, its because he doesn't like your trousers..'

Which actually was intended as a statement of fact and in no way as a personal insult or affront or indeed any opinion on the validity of the tartan trews(though personally I wouldnt have been seen dead in them).
Though admittedly,I could well have chosen my words more carefully.
Lady Senior looked angry.
Chef motioned the slice off your head by the neck with your hand action(shut it),then the head gesture to the car.
We beat a hasty retreat before further damage ensued.
Though had Lord Senior fancied giving chase to defend his Ladys' honour, I wouldn't have fancied our chances in the pick up...

Lunch
Not far from the reservoir is this lovely pub.We stopped for refreshment.

Its just as nice inside as it it out,cosy and traditional,unspoilt and in a stunning location.
As we approached the bar,the Chef came out from the kitchen and served our drinks.
We chose our lunch from a blackboard in the bar.
For me:A Ploughmans with local cheese.
Having noticed sirloin of beef on the menu Chef cheekily asked if he could have an off menu beef sandwich.
I pulled him up on this, reminding him of one of his favourite mantras:
'If they want to write the menu themselves, why dont they stay at home and cook it themselves'
Apparantly on this occasion it was permissable as 'the beef will have been left over from Sunday lunch and they'll be wanting rid of it'
We retired to an outside table to enjoy our drinks.

Ginger beer pour Moi,Fosters for Chef and a mineral water for the Chap.

Self:Im really looking forward to my lunch

Chef:Whys that?

Self:Didnt you notice how clean and tidy the Chef was?Im going to be confident about eating his food.

Chef:Ah yes, definitely not a skiprat.

We both commented on how good menu the menu read and how we were spoilt for choice.
The food arrived.Cue Family fortunes wrong answer fail horns.

Ploughmans

Theres nothing actually wrong with this but the last time I saw a tomato cut like this was on my mothers buffet table in 1977.She used to painstakingly cut the tomatoes into crowns like this then scoop out the pulp,mix it with grated cheddar and chopped onions and refill the shell.

Stufffed tomatoes.

There was always way too much filling to fit back in.During the 70s everything had to emulate a Vol au Vent.You had no chance of getting onto a buffet table unless you were stuffed.Particulaly heinous were the hard boiled eggs with the yolk scooped out and then mixed with sardines in tomato sauce then forced back into the void,left on the buffet to develop a crusty skin.Otherwise known as bombs,for some reason they always ended up on the carpet...

Beef sandwich

The bread was compacted so flat that I wondered if our ex apprentice had found his way up here.

Theres a lesson to be learnt here,if youre not that great at cooking,BUY GOOD ingredients,then do as little as possible with them.The good local cheeses which I felt by passing my stomach and going straight to my thighs and the decent beef made this an ok lunch.

Perhaps Chefs' time would be better spent learning to make some home made chutney and simply cutting the tomatoes in half.

Chef said it was a nice menu but in practice poorly executed.

As we sat at the table I noticed an iron cross in view of the garden.

I sent Chef over for a closer look.A memorial for two German pilots who lost their lives here when their bomber crashed during the war.

Chef summed with things up with typical brevity.

'The locals must be friendly'

We might go back next Monday.

Have you ever visited Northumberland?

Its not all about Lahndan you know..

POSTSCRIPT

Last weeks disappointing lunch reminded me of this place which we visited last year.Thought we'd pay it another visit yesterday to see if the Ploughman's was still as good.

There must be half a pound of cheese on there.

It was.Simply presented,a menu of twelve mainly local cheeses to choose from.Pickles,Branston(no reason why not) and a decent bit of bread.No time wasted on silly presentation which adds nothing to the dish.

If only they'd ditch the butter portions.

Home baked ham and cheese sandwich.

Ploughmans with 2 local cheeses.
Ham & cheese sandwich.
2 Packets of Tyrell's crisps.
1 pint Fosters
1 Appletiser.

Total Bill: £15.60

UNBELIEVABLE VALUE.

Blooming marvellous!

2011-06-21T08:02:00.000-07:00

This week ~~we've~~ I've been busy with floral displays at both pubs,I like to make a big effort.The gardens at the Inn are stunning,though every year I seem to forget the inordinate amount of extra time (which I can ill afford to spare) spent with the ritual watering.

Did I mention we're on a water meter?

Further evidence of excessive water expenditure

The gardens at the New Pub are looking reasonable but not quite up to the extent of the required floral impact.I returned to the garden centre to source yet more blooms(Id exceeded the budget already but Chefs recent motor vehicle expenditure has afforded me a degree of flexibility...)
Id spotted a flat roof at the back of the pub which was crying out for some colour.
Last Thursday evening just before service I nipped out to place the final touches in situ.
Please note a lightweight garden chair such as this one does not, I repeat does not, make a suitable ladder.

Inappropriate ladder showing impact damage

Just as Id lifted the second box into position I lost my balance.I endeavoured to jump clear of the chair but friends,unfortunately my chunky kitchen clog had become trapped in the slatted seat.As I sprang clear like some latent gazelle( I know an optimistic picture),the chair flew into the air still attached to my foot.I rolled to the ground (at last my Pony Club training proves invaluable)with the chair still clinging on for grim death, feet skyward,flailing on the pavement,sited conveniently directly next to the now busy road awash with teatime traffic.
A number of cars slowed down to ~~help~~ enjoy the spectacle,I even solicited a couple of jovial toots of the horn.Adrenalin hauled me back to my feet as quickly as Id fallen, projecting a nonchalant image fiddling with the blooms and standing back in feigned admiration, stoically keeping my back to the traffic until I was absolutely sure no driver remained who had witnessed the debacle.
But actually Ive cracked my elbow..

The offending window boxes

I seem to be spending an increasing percentage of time on my backside lately.

Continuing synchronistically on with the bottom theme ( all will be *revealed* later),I've been meaning to treat myself to a new camera.
The extent of my photographic skills verge from mildly unflattering to downright offensive,unsurprising given that in the main most pictures(including all on this blog) are taken on my mobile phone.Recently I sought the advice of the good folk of Twitter, the consensus confirmed a Panasonic Lumix would indeed ideally meet my requirements.I've been admiring the functionality and practicality of the product on line and dropping subtle hints in favour of an early purchase.
The other day I happened to notice a camera case lying next to the bookings diary at the Inn.
I was informed that a customer had left it over a week ago.
'Has no one rang for it?' I say.
Apparently not.
You would not believe the quantity and diversity of personal items that people discard at the pub.As a general rule I store items for a couple of weeks then any that remain unclaimed are offloaded at one of the many charity shops in our local town. Me and Oxfam are *like that* .
Sadly, valuable items are generally claimed within a couple of days.
As an afterthought I casually picked up the camera case and opened it.
Would you believe it dear readers?An actual PANASONIC LUMIX camera ,the very object of my desire,was fortuitously contained therein.
Mahoosive dilemma.
Conscience wrestled me momentarily, then bade me surrender the camera to our local police station.
I was advised that should the item remain unclaimed,within a specified timescale it would be returned to my personal possession.Huzzah!
I'm tentatively sitting out the qualification period with nervous anticipation.
This afternoon I was regaling the tortuous nature of the camera situation to a couple of the girls and was met with an uncharacteristical stunned silence, followed shortly afterwards by three panic stricken faces.
It transpires that the contents of the camera had been viewed on many occasions over the course of the last week and had been disparagingly noted to contain photos solely of train stations and varying train and engineering parts.
Working on the premise that the owner of the camera would no doubt return to claim his prize at some point very soon,certain parties had deemed it appropriate, nay even a favour, to supplement the interest and indeed the variety of the existing portfolio by taking photos of a certain persons bottom.
I'm reluctant to disclose whose posterior in particular was captured on film but it seems Only Daughter was central to the plot.Clearly,the possibility of m'self handing in the evidence to our local Plod had not been factored in to the equation.
Ive been feigning absolute disgust and have suggested that the resultant investigations may culminate in a 'bottom identity parade'.
(This conjured up a mental image of a Toulouse-Lautrec painting featuring a row of Moulin Rouge Can Can bottoms ,I tried to source this picture but I'm afraid I must have imagined it).

Imagine a row of these

Chef makes a far more convincing bottom via this Fentimans drip mat.

Secretly though I'm moderately concerned and am keen to know what the craic(snort) is with this?

Is it a criminal offence to photograph ones derrière for the personal perusal and delectation of ones diners??
I sought Chefs' expert advice:
'Well..' (scratches chin thoughtfully)'that depends...'
Self:'On what??????'
'on the individual attributes of the bum in question......'

Obviously...

Car Wars and Nee Bloody Craic

2011-06-14T14:31:00.000-07:00

Things have been a tad hectic.In fact last week was our busiest week ever at the Inn.
The Apprentice made a return to the kitchen a couple of months back..I decided to keep this piece of information under wraps for a while for fear of another disastrous outcome but thankfully he seems to have learned his lesson.To be frank I'm afraid he and Chef may have been spending too much unsupervised time alone together.Last week they went halfers on this:

I call this 'Ironic parking'

Its a *classic* [sic] old wreck car. Note the backdrop, I'm sure the irony of the parking location escaped Chef.
A 'project' for the winter months during which time it will undoubtedly be restored to its former glory.
The fact that the Apprentice has yet to obtain a driving license nor a competitive insurance quotation has not deterred his enthusiasm.A constant stream of equally impressed mates have relaxed contentedly in the capacious leather seats whilst simultaneously admiring the smooth up/down action of the electric aerial.The discovery of the Valet Park button was a particular high point,an invaluable feature which allows one to lock ones valuables in the trunk prior to passing over ones keys for polite parking.Now all we need is a valet to park it...preferably as far away as possible from our in demand parking spots.
The purchase of a new set of tyres has already incurred an investment far in excess of the value of the car itself.
Yesterday morning I was awoken at 6.45am to the sound of a strange squeaking noise,now there is undoubtedly an abundance of varied wildlife round these parts, in fact last week we played host to an uninvited squirrel in our kitchen, but this repeated eee eeee eeee eeee sound was a new one on me.I squinted sleepily through the early morning sun to observe Chef and The Apprentice out in the car park with soapy sponges and buckets in hand,lovingly washing their new acquisition PRIOR TO STARTING WORK.
To be fair I've never seen either of them so happy.
In Chefs own words :'I've never been this excited since the day I met you..'
Quite.
I happened to mention that Id need to sort out my own transport arrangements for the winter months,mindful of the daily drive up the hill to the New Pub.
Then today this arrived:

Corrrrect.
A pick up.
Which will be perfect for me during the inclement winter conditions 'when the dray cant make it up the hill and I have to go and collect the kegs myself..'
How thoughtful.
And all I had in mind was a new set of snow tyres...

Come the end of the week we were both exhausted, but only Sunday night behind the bar to go prior to a well earned early finish and rest.
You know when people are asked what they like best about running a pub, invariably they will respond 'the craic'?
This 'craic' mullarkey is mentioned on nearly every pub web site( come down and enjoy a pint and some craic with the locals),in fact we are actually guilty of propagating this myth ourselves.Admittedly the craic can be brilliantly entertaining but what every web site fails to mention is that not all craic is good craic.
In fact lots of it is mind numbingly boring.
There's a chap that comes into the bar on a weekend.He's known as 'nee craic'(pronounced knee) and not to be confused with the similar Scots equine 'nae craic' which can be heard just over the border.
Why is he known as Nee Craic? Because he has Nee bloody craic...
Now here's the strange thing.If the bar is packed,Nee Craic goes home,but if the bar is empty he stays as late as he possibly can sipping his half pint of ale,each of which can last him 45 minutes at least.
Predictably Nee Craic turned up this Sunday.By 10.15 most had departed leaving Moi,Chef and Nee Craic.
Chef was having trouble keeping his peepers open so retired to the comfortable bench seating in front of the fire.
I have a well rehearsed routine which I employ in this situation:

1 Find a task to relieve the monotony,usually polishing glasses.
2.Encourage Nee Craic to impart a run down of his week(which is exactly the same every week) which keeps him going on his own then I can add the odd 'oh yes' or 'really' at appropriate intervals.Culminating in the Friday morning decadence of the sausage sarnie at Tebay services.All delivered with monosyllabic tedium.

Presently, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Chef nod off, and begin to emit soft snoring noises.As Nee Craic leaned over to feed the fire with yet another log(obviously in for the long haul tonight), I seized my opportunity deftly launching a damp blue cleaning cloth in Chef's direction which conveniently caught him full face.He looked momentarily disorientated then smirked with obvious pleasure at his misdemeanour before snuggling back down.
I kept on with the polishing,making some effort to talk over the top of Chefs impolite punctuations.
11.15pm:
'I see two dogs got through on Britain's Got Talent'
(Slow and deliberate sip of half pint)

'One singing'
(Further definitely unpregnant pause.Further slow sip of the ale).

'One dancing'

Dear God.
As Chef says he could send a glass eye to sleep.

Show you my drains.

2011-06-01T14:50:00.000-07:00

The drainage saga continues.
The kind chaps from Dynorod have kindly inserted an inspection camera into my drain and established the root cause of the persistant blockage.

Et voila:

A collapsed pipe.The carefree turds float along merrily until they arrive at said obstacle then,due to the volume of water not being high or forceful enough(due in some part to the modern day water saving ~~flush~~ trickle) some of the little buggers become trapped underneath, then gradually the solid mass increases with every new arriving turd failing to breach the dam:
Result:BLOCKED DRAINS.
Seemingly the only solution is to dig down under the pavement,a distance of 2.5 metres and carry out said repair.
Seemples.
Not quite.
a.We need permission from the council(cue deafening alarm bells) to dig up a public pathway.
b.There is some confusion over responsibility for the work ie us or the council.

Now a word of warning dear friends.
If you ever experience a blockage such as this,never ever try to sort it out yourself first.Why?
Let me explain.
Over the past couple of weeks we've paid for various plumbers/Dynrod to jet/rod the drains ourselves.We have also rodded the drains ourselves on numerous occasions.See below:

On the occasion of the Bank Holiday blockage,Ems' Ma and Pa kindly helped out.Pa descended the manhole cover and vigorously rodded the drain.Presently the sludge spluttered and cleared and as the pit of the manhole was revealed it was duly noted to be littered with pebbles.
Pa was of the opinion that they needed to be painstakingly extracted to avoid an exacerbation of problems.
Due to the 'ole being a tad snug and Pa no longer being as svelte he used to be, bending over in the restricted space to pick said pebbles out was clearly not on the cards.
I love, nay ADORE my whites, they absolved me once more.
Pa's eyes alighted on Ems 'youre skinny you'll fit' Nodding enthusiastically.
Ems: Nooo, i cant.. (tears)
Ma:'Ill do it.' Raised eyebrows.
Ma strode over with purpose,starfished on the concrete, then dove head first into the manhole(stern farming stock)
Ma:'It stinks down here'
Pa:Well,it will do, people have been shitting down there.'
Moi:'What if she's overcome by fumes and falls in??'
Ems:'Dont breathe!!'
Ma:'EH what do you think I am ??A fish???'
Me:'Quick grab her legs!'
I'm no atrtist but I think this gives an idea of the scenario.

Folllowing the camera jobby (no pun intended) and report from Dynorod we contacted our local council for permission to carry out the repair.On their first visit they inferred that the work might in fact be their own responsibility despite the problem being in the private sewer prior meeting main drain, due to some caveat covering pre 1916 properties.
Great methinks-when can you sort it out??
Not that simple.
Why? because the council cant see any problem with the drains because they are clear.
'Yes' I say,' we've rodded them repeatedly ourselves'.Nodding overly enthusiastically.
'Ah' says council man.'Thats where you've gone wrong.You should have called us first then we could have logged(no further pun intended) the problem.'
Council man was an irritating little balding sort with blatantly obvious control issues.Hoisted by his own petard.And loving it.
'But I have the Dynorod report' I say.'See??' Pointing at the incriminating photo,'I've paid £175 for it'
Hopeful face.
'No' says smug council man 'you need to wait until the drain gets blocked again,then call us out.Then after two or three visits we will log a problem then we may well instigate further investigations,possibly even a camera to see what the bother is.'
'Eh?????'
Later I recounted the days events to Chef.
'Well you know what to do tomorrow dont you??Lift the cover and make sure the bleeper is blocked.'
Chef expressed a retrospective desire to shove the bleepers' baldy napper down the drain himself...

Beam me up Scottie, there's no intelligent life down here..

Fuhrer bars crisp eating Goldendoodle,in flatulence incident.

2011-05-19T01:20:00.000-07:00

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death..
Alfred,Lord Tennyson,1854

Regular readers of this blog will be aware that I am well versed in the treatment and despatch of badly behaved customers.
However,over the last couple of weeks my customer service skills have entered a whole new and completely unexpected area of expertise,which has forced the introduction of a new policy at the pub.
Previous landlords,in keeping with the country theme,had permitted,nay encouraged,canine companions to accompany their masters to the pub.
Not wishing to make too many changes outright,we decided to reserve judgement,go with the flow and monitor how this panned out over the first couple of weeks.
We've experienced quite an assortment of pooches in this time.Not unsurprising considering there aren't that many pubs round these parts offering dog lovers the benefit of this privilege.
Things came to a head last Monday.
The Inn being a food free zone on a Monday,teatime found Chef ensconced at the bar at the New Pub enjoying a leisurely beer whilst awaiting my emergence from the kitchen.Deciding we'd do lunches every day at the New Pub had proven ill advised from my perspective, in terms of the time off stakes.
No matter,by 6pm I had joined him and was sipping a well earned beverage.
At this point a middle aged couple entered the pub with their much loved pooch in tow,a Goldendoodle no less. (that's a cross between a standard poodle and a golden retreiver FYI,a breed yet to be recognised by the kennel club but popular with owners suffering allergies due to the minimal hair loss-I know this because they told me so..)
Fido lay compliantly down on the floor just behind our bar stools,the owners purchased a couple of ales,some snacks and then took a comfortable seat by the fireside.
They then proceeded to toss crisps across the void for their beloved pet,who scoffed them greedily.
At this point a gentleman from yon side of the bar traversed the room en route to the little boys room and tripped clumsily over said dog.He laughed a tad too hysterically then made a big show of petting Fido enthusiastically in an effort to hide his obvious embarrassment.
The owners chuckled amusedly: 'Fido, loves to lie in awkward places'
Does he indeed.
Ems intelligent assessment of the situation surmised an ill disguised hint might solicit the required reaction. Channelling her very best Marcel Marceau she negotiated the hurdle that is Fido, stepping slowly and pointedly over the dozing mass.
And again.
No reaction.
Presently, what can only be described as an exceptionally odoriferous odour enveloped myself and Chef as we sat innocently at the bar.Our eyes met simultaneously and accusingly in horror.Then as realisation dawned,our gaze drifted down at Fido lying contentedly on the floor.
The Cheese n' onion crisps had wrought their revenge.
Nostrils curling,Chef smirked,calmly stood up and retired outdoors for a fag.
Fido slowly and deliberately raised himself to his feet and strolled nonchalantly over to his owners side.
Leaving Moi sat alone at the bar,enveloped in the fug.
Predictably,an exceptionally smart couple timeously entered the pub and approached the bar for drinks.
Dear friend,I have no need to describe how this looked.
My burning cheeks compounded my unfounded guilt.
I fronted things out momentarily, then bid a hasty retreat outside, proceeding to berate Chef for his lack of support.
'Eh?Did you see how many cheese n onion crisps the mutt had downed?I wasn't going to hang around when there was clearly going to be another of those in the departure lounge'
Action was needed.
We've introduced a DOG POLICY.

Lets hope the bleepers can read.

As luck would have it,the day following the introduction of the Dog Policy,the flatulent Fido returned.
Being a 'food service time' I was conveniently out of sight in the kitchen.
The owners failed to notice the prominent notices pinned at both entrances.
Ems drew the owners attention to the signs,explaining the reasoning behind the policy.
'But dogs have always been allowed here,THIS IS A COUNTRY PUB..' Angry faces.
(Well not always,in fact the pub was closed for over 10 years,but lets just draw a veil over that..)
They agreed to finish their drinks then leave.
Ems suggested they might like to sit in the garden,it was after all a beautiful sunny afternoon.No,Fido would be cold apparently,despite the custom made fur coat he was wearing...
Ems explained,by way of a consolation that they were welcome to bring Fido along during 'non food service times'
'No,No that's not going to work for us,we wont be back.'
The gist of the conversation was relayed back to the kitchen as each food order was sent.
Presently, as time passed,it became apparent that despite being informed of the new policy Fidos owners were reluctant to shift.
On a brief respite in orders I decided an appearance in the bar might be in order.
On catching sight of Your Truly the owners stood up,marched over to the bar,remarking loudly:
'Come on Fido( glaring at me not at Fido) lets go,you're BARRED..'
Then in an audible aside:
'BLOODY,FUHRER.'
One is becoming increasingly thick skinned.

PS Sorry about the lack of an Umlaut couldn't work out how to do it..

This is the one that nearly never was..

2011-04-24T15:33:00.000-07:00

A couple of things happened last week (not very interesting ones so I wont bother to elaborate) which had me a tad fraught and questioning the actual wisdom in posting these ramblings. Whilst pondering the absurdity of life in general I chanced upon this in one of those ~~shops which sell cheap imported repro tat from China~~ quaint little antique shops in our local town.

I've hung it on the wall at the New Pub.Its my new mantra.
So,ever onwards and upwards...

Discussions re what type of menu to put on at the New Pub have been our main thrust.Though we've a successful formula at the Inn,we were conscious that the New Pub is only 11 miles away and not wishing to dilute our audience if you get my drift,Chef came up with a novel plan.
Well,says he,we already know that people love bad food,so how about we do exactly that,but do it properly?Pub grub,homemade pies,fish and chips.Mass market stuff with broad appeal,but it'll be the best bad food they've ever tasted..
A fanfare to the common man..
So we've employed a new Chef.Following our previous form with the younger generation, we decided to go for a more *mature*applicant.
He's been around the track a couple of times, had his own place in the past,classically trained and knows how to do things properly.I think he just wanted something non too taxing with not too much pressure,a bit of a wind down..
Needless to say I don't think he bargained on the 70 odd hungry diners who tipped up unannounced on our first Friday night.
To be fair he didn't flap,just kept his head down and ploughed through it,with me plating up AND doing starters and calling the checks.I'm sure he enjoyed it though,I may even have seen a twinkle in his eye..

We've been getting along quite famously.
Though admittedly last Thursday I did have to tell him his balls weren't big enough.

Ice cream ones of course..

Apart that is,form a couple of little niggles...

Lets consider Chips.
I'd set the standard a little bit having done the kitchen on my own the previous couple of weeks. Home-made chips blanched off at low temperature then crisped off in the fryer at a high temperature once the check comes on.This produces a nicely cooked crispy chip which is pleasingly golden and easy on the eye.
On the first night with PubChef, I duly noted his chips weren't as crisp as one would have liked.

'I think you need to crank up the fryer a wee bit' says I.
'No' slowly and with deliberation 'the fryers OK as its is' says he..
Hmmm...

That night as I related the days events,Chef advised caution.
'You want to be careful you don't ~~piss him off~~ upset him,otherwise you'll end up doing the whole lot on your own...'
At this point my Violet Elizabeth tendencies came to the fore,I may even have stamped my foot.
'But I WANT crispy chips'(folding arms petulantly)
Chef grinned.
'Well' said he 'you know what you need to do don't you??'
'Already done Chef,already done..' says I (triumphantly)
'You turned the fryer up when he wasn't looking???That's m'girl..'

Desperate times call for desperate measures...

His reluctance to use the temperature probe is also a slight bone of contention.
Lets be honest there are two schools of thought with this one.There's the 'I can tell if its done by the touch of my finger' Which is true.To a certain degree.But to me its more about making sure that the food isn't overcooked than checking that its cooked(though obviously high on the agenda is not picking off ones diners with a tasty but suicidal E-Coli casserole..)
If his pinky can tell him whether a piece of fish is at the optimum 50 degree temperature(look away now EHO Inspector) when the protein has just set or if its gone beyond this by a couple of degrees then he's a much better Cook than me..
As Chef said he's probably too old school for a probe,even when Chef did his training(he's 40 FYI) the full extent of temperature testing involved inserting a skewer into said item,then placing the skewer on ones lip-if it burnt twas done..
I think we'll have to agree to disagree on this one.
Anyhoo,as I said to Chef later,I do like a good probing....

In other news in the spirit of embracing the local community Ems and I decided an entry to the fortnightly quiz held at the New Pub was in order.
We looked forward to the picture round and subsequent shining with our worldly knowledge of current events aided in no small part by Ems encyclopaedic knowledge of all things *sleb* due to her ongoing subscription to Grazia.
Then this.

Need I say more?

PS I don't dare publish Chefs eagerly awaited daily missive via the text message to the landline medium on this particular subject....

Pub landlady cleans up soot damage left by Southern Comfort drinking coalman at Jamaica Inn

2011-04-05T12:45:00.000-07:00

I bumped briefly into our butcher this morning for the first time in a couple of weeks,due to the inordinate amount of time I'm spending at the new pub.

Hello stranger!Hows it going up on the hill?? says he. *knowing big wink*
Self:Not bad thanks
Butcher:Interesting eh?????(Folding arms slowly,relaxing one leg and waiting for the gory details)
Self:Yes its great thanks,loving it....(lying through teeth)

To be honest I'm afraid the New Pub might be a bit more of a challenge than I had first anticipated.I haven't yet furnished you with the full story..
It was reopened a couple of years ago following a lengthy campaign by villagers to prevent it being turned into a residential home,having been closed for more than a decade.In the two years since the reopening two or three landlords have passed through...

Over the last couple of weeks I've seen things that never in a month of Sundays did I expect to see in a pub..

On the first night a fellow strolled up to the bar, black from head to toe apart from his ginger hair which was teazled into a Gummidge inspired style and the large gold signet ring on his wedding finger.
'He must be the coalman' I whispered..
'I didn't know coalmen still existed' said Ems
Self:Well of course they still exist,where do you think we get the bleeping coal from???
Thankfully,Tesco Direct have yet to infiltrate that particular market..
He smirked and offered his hand to me.I knew it was a test.I rose to the challenge then feigned an excuse to depart to the kitchen to wash ones hands after failing to inconspicuously dislodge the damage onto the seat of ones ~~arse~~ jeans.. .
Surprisingly he was a double Southern Comfort and lemonade aficionado. Well blow me down with a feather, I didn't see that one coming.By the end of the evening, being well oiled and a tad unsteady on his steel toed boots,he stotted in a side to side motion down my previously buffed back passage steadying himself all the while on my newly painted Burnt Verdigris walls..Sadly a black smudge frieze on a wall doesn't do it for me.Thank gawd for Cif.

Then,last Saturday afternoon a middle aged couple approached the bar.Swarthy looking types, faint hint of a moustache.
Conversely the husband was clean shaven.Ordering themselves a couple of ales,they took a cosy seat by the fireside where the wife produced her KNITTING from a very large Tapestry bag then,proceeded to knit for the next hour and a half.Not a word was spoken.Now I wondered what the crack was with this, so I googled knitting and apparently these two are bang on trend as knitting is once again a popular pastime amongst the rich and famous.Though to be honest I cant see Gwyneth Paltrow sizing up a half finished garment to Chris Martins back in a pub..Truly not a sight one sees very often..

I don't regard myself as a city slicker,the Inn is undoubtedly in a rural location,but it is almost within spitting distance of a small market town.The New Pub locals regard *small market town*as the bright lights.We had to put the prices up(one has to make a profit) there's been a bit of opposition, feedback has been on the lines of: 'but them's *small market town* prices...'
I've been feeling like the landlady at Jamaica Inn,every time the front door opens I'm beginning to hear a howling noise as the wind blows,yesterday I swear tumbleweed followed a customer through the door.
'Its blowing a hoolie oot thar' says he.That's the other thing,its windy.All the time...
Today someone asked to order a *nosebag* and no it wasn't for his horse..
And men wear *strides* not trousers round these parts..

Anyhoo, apologies in advance that toilets/drainage seem to be a recurring theme,but yesterday we had another little incident.It appeared the water wasn't draining away from the upstairs loo.Following prolonged efforts with plunger and rubber gloves,still no joy.
I decided to leave it and returned to the kitchen to do some lone prep for lunchtime(following last weeks sacking).Ems Mum had kindly brought some duck eggs down from the farm so I thought I'd knock up some Duck egg and smoked bacon mayonnaise for the sarnie menu.They were so bloody fresh I was having difficulty peeling them and was muttering incoherently to myself when I felt a drip of water plop on my head.
To cut a long story short we had to call out an emergency plumber as the water was seeping through the joints in the soil pipe from the loo sited conveniently directly above the kitchen.
At £80 call out plus £40 for every 15minutes thereafter I was hoping the problem would be resolved quickly.
I left Ems to deal with the plumbers(dour chaps not much crack).Presently I heard excited shouts with my name interspersed in the din.
I ran from the kitchen with the half peeled egg still in my hand.
Plumber:'COME HERE YOU'VE GOT TO SEE THIS'
I gingerly peered down the manhole cover and witnessed a six inch wide solid mass slowly emerging from the waste pipe.
Ems was on the periphery of the activity whimpering,silent tears rolling down her cheeks.
Plumber:I've never seen anything like it,its this long(stretches arms wide at full length)at least ten feet,compacted right up the soil pipe,at least a couple of months worth there.'
He was quite animated unlike his demeanour on his earlier arrival.
Well at least someone had some job satisfaction..

From the comfort of his provincial though close to civilisation kitchen, with wall to wall hotcupboard,tattie rumbler and hot lamps,Chef was blissfully unaware of the dramas that were unfolding far off the beaten track.

When news filtered back to the ranch, the old text message to landline chestnut was called into play once again.

'Oh dear...there was a big fat sausage in the loo pipe'

I fear the lady from Masterchef is the only thing that's keeping us going at the moment...

Hard boiled egg anyone???

History teacher sacks Kitchen Hand and promotes self to Head Chef

2011-03-20T14:48:00.000-07:00

You know that saying 'it never rains but it pours'? Well folks,last week we experienced a veritable monsoon.
Worryingly I lost track of the date and time in a frenzy of relentless cleaning,trips to the tip and Fired Earth paint(Chef valiantly attempted to steer me towards the B & Q own brand but obviously failed).
The refurbishment has not been unproblematic,for example:

Bubbling drains backing up under the floor of the gents and making an unsolicited entrance through the grate on the floor.Lately I seem to be dogged with toilet troubles,though the request that one of the tradesmen 'buff up my back passage ' did lighten the mood somewhat..
A central heating system stuck permanently in the 'on' position resulting in a full tank of oil 1000 litres (don't ask how much)being burnt in a week

Dysfunctional kitchen equipment including:

an oven door held closed by a hard spile (who says men cant multi task?)

Fridges running at a balmy English summertime 18 degrees.
Freezers packed to the rafters with 'food waste'.This in particular made me very sad( and for all you grammar pedants I'm not talking about the offensive apostrophe usage).

As did a whole freezer dedicated to that doyen of English culinary hospitality: the venerable Yorkshire pud.

Some conveniently individually cling filmed

Some free falling

In the midst of the mayhem and the twice daily drive between pubs,something had to give namely the 45 minutes spent blow drying ones fairly long and very thick hair.An unplanned stop at the local hair salon and the request for something a bit shorter and less labour intensive resulted in a cut verging dangerously on the functional and tidy rather than the aesthetically pleasing.You know the sort of cut women of a certain age adopt when they've given up trying?
On seeing the new look Chef smirked and acerbically quipped 'you look like a history teacher'.I think that's a compliment..
On the plus side the hairdresser was delighted,as apparently people with hair like mine are the reason she was 'starting to develop weightlifters arms'.
Despite all this the new pub is slowly starting to take shape.

Told you there was a potential cosy corner..

We've inherited a 'Chef'(and I use this term folks in the loosest possible sense) whom I tasked to thoroughly clean the kitchen and dispose of all the foodstuffs therein.This Friday we managed to put on a very limited menu,just some light dishes and sandwiches.'Chef Manque'offered to knock up his secret recipe red onion marmalade to go with the pate.The other ingredient being Orange Cordial.This also made me very sad.
I've been watching him like a hawk,trying to prevent his hands coming into contact with any of the food items..his hygiene practices were imaginative to say the least.My eyes alighted on a couple of plastic nozzle topped bottles stored in the under counter fridge.You know the squeezey ones with which some Chef types like to squiggle on the plates(not my style at all).One containing Raspberry Vinaigrette,the other Mustard vinaigrette,both with snotty deposits around the bottle tops,similar to the stuff you find on a well used ketchup bottle.Ick.
'We wont be using these' I say tipping the contents down't sink.'Can you get them cleaned please'
Two minutes later I witnessed him with the nozzle in his gob,red cheeked and forcefully blowing the darn thing like a bugle.Which of course may well have been an appropriate accompaniment to the plethora of microwave pings which he had been accustomed to hearing.
'There must be a mustard seed caught in the end' says he.
Christ Almighty.
If I hear one more time about his Sticky Choccy Mocha Cake with Butterscotch sauce and white chocolate sauce and a drizzle of raspberry coulis, I might well ram the offending creation right up his bleeping jacksy.Along with the 'smoked salmon on a bed of creamy mashed potato,topped with a cheesey mustard sauce'(its lush,flies out)..
He's also been late for every shift.
He had to go.Being Sunday and Chef catering for 100 plus diners at the Inn, it fell on my toes to impart the dirty deed.
Our accommodating veg supplier offered to call over to New Pub as back up just in case he kicked off.I love it when ones custom is so valued that suppliers go that extra mile..'all part of the service' he said.
I declined of course.
I lay in wait for him this morning, hoping he would be predictably late as usual.He was.
Telling a thirty five year old that you have no confidence in his ability or commitment to do the job to the required standard isn't an experience I enjoyed.He left without much fuss though.Phew.

Later I felt a whole lot better when on my hands and knees I pulled three pans out from under the sink with food waste growing in them.Gawd knows how long these had been there.
Enough penicillin to treat the population of the local hinterland and beyond.

The lazy bleeper had it coming,its people like him that give cheffing a bad name..
Presently I received a text message of support via the landline (no mobile network at the New Pub) from Chef. Imagine this if you will, read in the Masterchef voice over mode:

'Hurrah,hurrah the troll has gone'

Cheered me up no end..

Oh and one other thing. I've had an unexpected assistant who has diligently painted with new found fortitude following his unforeseen five day ~~suspension~~ exclusion from school due to(and I quote):
'standing outside the assembly hall window,pulling faces at the Year 9 students participating in orchestra practice,whilst smoking what appeared to be a spliff'
I kid you not.
The shame.

How to get rid of your customers

2011-03-02T14:55:00.000-08:00

Running rural pub isn't a bed of roses.Frankly without a decent food trade you haven't got a flying feck of making it pay.
With that in mind theres a couple of pointers you might just want to bear in mind should you ever fancy chancing your luck in this trade.

Dog cage featuring bowl and niffy blanket

Firstly,try siting a feature dog cage complete with feeding bowl and assorted canine accoutrements directly in front of the bar.Does this cry out to you 'come and eat here'??
A complete no brainer.

How about this?Fancy a tinkle on the old joanna?

Potential cosy corner

A bad photo. I've managed to make this look better than it actually is.Note the plastic plant pot proudly displayed in the central position,the plant(a cactus)shrivelled and dusty, these plants are NOT attractive.Though it and the piano made cosy bedfellows .Perfect choice to see off your customers with a subliminal sign see below:

Traditional two fingered send off

or the modern one(limp) finger salute

Or how about a quick game of Scrabble to sharpen up your brain skills?

Clutter central

Not a terrible idea,but to be sure of success please stack tatty boxes untidily in FULL view on a WINDOWSILL,illuminated by a tasteful bedside lamp.

Or how about a game of pool?

Delightful Pool view

Site your gaming table in full view of the dining area.Make sure there's some random table tops and other assorted junk in view,it will take the diners minds off any inconsistencies in the food.As will the disturbance of the flashing lights and nudging noises emanating from the pinball machine,any diner returning after this experience would have to be particularly determined.

Strict adherence to the above will guarantee a high success rate.If customers continue to frequent your establishment perhaps you may need to resort to the following initiative..

Following our observations above,we tootled down to the nearest village to have a quick shufty round the other local hostelries.
There were two pubs,the first looked a little scruffy,paint peeling from the signage,but encouragingly some attractive looking lamps in the window.Love a nice flocked lampshade,swings it for me every time.
Approaching the bar we were greeted warmly by a jovial chap sporting one of those darts type shirts.You know the black short sleeved epauletted ones which flap in the breeze around the midriff area,skirted on the underside by a pair of low slung black polyester trews?
I requested a cup of coffee.
Darts Man being a surprisingly perceptive chap, advised apologetically :

'Its only filter coffee I'm afraid,none of those fancy coffees here pet'
'Thats ok' I say 'Filter coffee's fine'
'Take a seat and Ill bring it over' said Darts man.
What a canny fellow I think.
Chef and Ems had beers.

We sat down in a quiet corner to plan our offensive with the new pub.10 minutes later my coffee still wasn't forthcoming.

'I wonder if he's forgotten' I say.
No sooner had the words escaped my cake ole than Darts man appeared with a tray bearing a nice cafetiere of steaming hot coffee and some spanking clean white crockery.

'Sorry about the wait' says he 'I'd ran out of milk so had to pop over to the Co-op to get some for you'.
My instincts were affirmed,what a canny fellow.

'That's no problem' I say.
The coffee was lovely.
Though to be honest I wouldn't have chanced a meal here.

The next pub was smarter in a branded chain pub sort of way.There was a bit of a Bet Lynch type behind the bar,though not as attractive as the telly version if that makes any sense.Stern and unwelcoming.St Michaels finest square print patterned blouse in shades of Jade green and Cornflower blue,lots of gold chains,gypsy earrings and overpowering perfume.Probably miffed because we'd disturbed her tea and Hob Knobs.
I threw caution to the wind and ordered half a lager.Another beer for Chef and Ems.
We took a cosy table next to the fire.There was a table of diners but disconcertingly two Chefs ensconced at the other table chatting.Not a good sign at 1pm.But then again not really much prep to do if there's only a freezer bag or two to snip open.
Ems noticed there was lippy on her glass so went to change it.Bets eyes narrowed as she tipped the contents into a fresh glass but disappointingly no apology was proferred.
We leant forward to continue our clandestine discussions.

'Oh no' said Ems 'There's lippy on this glass too...'
'Just go and ask her for a straw' I say..then in a quick change of heart: 'no go and ask her for a clean glass, you've paid for the drink you're entitled to have a clean glass to drink it from...'
Nobody should accept poor standards.

I watched Ems politely point out the offending red lippy.Bet picked up a glass from the shelf and thrust it towards her.
'Here do you want to inspect(heavy emphasis) this one before I tip your drink in???'

'No' said Ems, channelling her best Oliver Twist voice 'Id just like a clean glass please'

Bet made a big show of holding the glass up to the light,frowning disapprovingly as Ems returned to the table.

'I think she needs some new Geps' said Chef.

It appears there's not really much competition round this neck of the woods.
Good.

This is the one where we finally lose the plot.

2011-02-27T13:16:00.000-08:00

You know in these times of austerity and widespread economic hardship we consider ourselves very lucky indeed to be at the helm of a successful business.We heard a couple of weeks ago that the pub has finally made it into the last of the guide books which we weren't in(toot toot)
So a very comfortable position for us,time to kick off our shoes,sit back a little,rest our heads on the antimacassars and toast our toes in front of a roaring fire.
A chance to feel a welcome respite from the pressure and enjoy the fruits of our labour,perhaps even take up a HOBBY.( I do actually have one in mind for when I retire, its a bit controversial might tell you about it at a later date..)
Actually no..
You know when you are chasing something and the anticipation is such that you can constantly feel the excitement of getting close to your goal,but its just out of your reach and there's the danger that you might not quite make it?
I think its called adrenalin.(Or maybe the build up is invariably better than the main event,if you get my drift).
Then when you finally get there,it all feels a little bit,well FLAT...
We should be feeling like Charlie Bucket after he's discovered Willy Wonka's Golden Ticket,but what we actually feel like doing is going in search of another ticket..

Chef summed things up with typical but accurate brevity:
'That's it then..Its all a bit boring now isn't it'
Followed by:
'What are we going to do next ?'

Rural pubs are still closing at a rate of knots.Anyone entering this business in the current climate would need their head examining.

A glance at the trade press and its easy to find some amazing bargains just crying out for someone with a bit of enthusiasm(well to be honest you need more than enthusiasm,a bit of expertise and some spare cash wouldn't come in wrong) to snap them up..

(Its becoming a tad obvious where this is going isn't it..)

Imagine if you will,a rural pub,even further off the beaten track than this one, which is about to close its doors.A dying business,just waiting for someone to breathe new life into it.
Imagine balancing two businesses,one a thirty minute drive from the other,setting up one(this is the bit we're particularly interested in), whilst not taking ones eye off the ball with the other..now that would pose one hell of a challenge.

We pick up the keys in two weeks time.

I think there's a fair chance we're a couple of serial business start up offenders,hopefully this one wont be the first to go pear shaped...

Bizarrely I found this today,amongst the selection of antique books which I have scattered around the pub for customers to browse:

No one admits to leaving it and its certainly not one of mine..
Do you think its an omen??

So if things go a bit quiet on here for a while,you know why.
You can follow ~~the chaos~~ developments on Twitter @mynewpub ,if you're interested...

Friction in the ranks

2011-02-20T13:53:00.000-08:00

There's a run down pub in a village not very far away from here that's recently been purchased and has been the subject of quite an extensive refurbishment.
Today, I eavesdropped Compo,Clegg and Foggy having a good old chinwag about the money that's reputedly been spent by the new owners.There was a lot of sniggering going on,lots of nudging and secretive whispering followed by raucous laughter,which needless to say sparked my interest.In truth, the comment which made me sit up and listen was the reference that 'it was obvious that one of the new owners hailed from the Big Smoke,due to his mode of attire'.

I was intrigued to discover which item of clothing in particular identified this fellows origins so precisely.Apparently the dead giveaway were the 'crumpled cream slacks' which are only ever seen on chaps from the Big Smoke ...

To put this observation in perspective,we are actually in the heart of Johnnie Boden/Fat face country here,so anyone wearing something even remotely cosmopolitan would be viewed as controversial.In fact on a Friday evening I would be very surprised if you looked around the bar and didn't manage to spot the same(current season of course) Fat Face sweatshirt at least twice.

Ahem,how can I put this diplomatically.. the gist of the conversation centred on the hilarity and exquisite aptness that these particular two gentlemen incomer owners had purchased a pub so named: 'The Queens Arms'.

This week saw the erection of the new pub sign:

The sign has caused a bit of an uproar,with some villagers even citing the outrage as treason..You probably cant make the out the detail from this picture but the tat on Lizzies arm appropriately depicts the name 'Phil'.

One of the partners has been quoted as advising that the cartoon represents his mother,his fathers name being 'Phil'.(Before you ask- no his name isnt Eddie)
The article in the local rag outlining the blasphemy contains the best quote I've seen in some time,possibly ever.
The local squire landowner(a Major no less),and regular customer of ours, was quoted thus: *dons raspberry corduroy pants,tan suede brogues,sucks in cheeks and adopts exceedingly plummy accent*:-

'some of our villagers are JOLLY CROSS..'

How I wish worldwide conflict could be resolved so politely..

Personally though not offended, I'm baffled at the audience a sign such as this seeks to target.Certainly not the betweeded ladies/gentlemen(of which there are plenty in these parts) who grace our fireside.

For some reason instead it evoked the memory of this particular gem:

BTW:We're off to check out the opposition next Monday.

What I ate on St.Valentines Day

2011-02-17T00:53:00.000-08:00

8am-Mug of Earl Grey tea,bowl of yoghurt with blueberries
(I know out of season but special offer in Waitrose)

11am-2 Cadburys Creme eggs(80p each now-can you believe that?) and a bottle of Lucozade in the car on a 40 mile round trip up the Dales to view a pub

3pm-A bag of Salt 'n' Vinegar Hula Hoops,a Galaxy Ripple and a Cappuccino (back at home).

As you can see basically nothing eaten all day (other than trash),so ready for a good feed..

6pm-Newcastle Quayside for drinks,looking at The Sage across the river.

The Millennium Bridge at night

7.15pm-We arrive at the restaurant politely on time,we like this place, treated our staff to their Christmas meal here.Quite a raucous evening(hope we're not recognised).
We were offered the regular menu or the 'Valentines Special Menu' (see below).Due to our line of work its the first Valentines night we've been out in twenty years, so we decide to treat ourselves and opt for the special.

Chef is allergic to squid,so we requested they leave this off the platter(just in case of fatality).We cheekily asked if we could have a couple of crispy chicken wings instead from the regular menu.

Chef enquired if the beef was served medium rare.

'It can be if you like'replied the waitress.

'Yes, medium rare please'said Chef.

We sat back to enjoy our drinks whilst waiting for the seafood platter starter to arrive.A chilled Chablis for me,Becks blue for Chef(driving again-he pulled the short straw).

The seafood platter.

4 scallops,3 shell on king prawns,two chicken wings(bottom left-cropped off photo),half a lobster.Bowl of rocket salad.The small white pot is the Calamari which was sent anyway-I wondered if the waitress hadn't realised that this was the squid Chef was allergic to.Sadly it was of no use to use us, I couldn't eat this either as it was breadcrumbed(gluten allergy).

We frowned quizzically in unison, as a small bowl of 4 turned (torpedo shaped)potatoes and some greens arrived at the table (just out of shot on the photo).

'Thats a bit weird' says I.

'Mmm indeed,yes' said Chef,tucking in anyway..'probably meant for another table..'

I allowed Chef to gorge the lions share of the platter as I was looking forward to filling up on the rib of beef.

I politely consumed:

1 prawn
2 Scallops
half of a half of lobster(2 bites)
1 turned potato
greens

We sat back and awaited our rib of beef with anticipation.Presently,I nipped out to the loo.As I returned I observed the waitress was back at the table with menus.

'Would you like any desserts or coffee?'
'What??'said Chef....'what about our main course??'
Short stunned silence....
'But the seafood platter was your main course..'
'I thought it was a bit weird that it came with a bowl of spuds' says I..'but we asked you if we could have the beef medium rare and you said Yes that's ok...'

The waitress gave us a look of horror, then with out a word ran to the safety of the bar and didn't return to our table for the remainder of the evening.
A ~~hard faced bitch~~ different waitress was despatched to our table.
'Ill just explain what the sharing desserts are' she advised condescendingly.......'because its quite complicated..'
'Its ok' said I, sheepishly, 'we're not stupid....'

We didn't bother with the sharing dessert.The evening had become a tad flat b'now.

Pannacotta

Rhubarb trifle

8.30pm-Just over an hour after our arrival bill £74.50 paid, but sadly hunger not sated....

9pm- back at home,Chef felt sorry for me and made this.

And I ploughed my way through half of these.

Question:-Are we a couple of planks? or would you have made the same mistake??

There's a valuable lesson to be learned from this experience.Always instruct staff that if they're unsure of what any diner has ordered to clarify at the table and not to make assumptions.I mean, did she think we were enquiring after the rib of beef out of polite interest??

Had we been informed the seafood platter was a main course:

a.we wouldn't have ordered it in the first place(would have preferred the beef)

b.we would have ordered starters.

c.we wouldn't have gone away disappointed

d.she wouldn't have cost the restaurant in lost revenue.

(Oh and one other thing,why didn't she offer us something else when she knew we were still hungry???)

Next year we're going to open for business as usual and fleece some unsuspecting diners instead..

much simpler.......

Service!

2011-02-13T12:13:00.000-08:00

I'm not really one for reality TV programmes but I've really enjoyed watching Michels Roux's service.Aren't Michel and Fred Sirieilx such brilliant ambassadors for the industry? So much enthusiasm, professionalism and patience with the trainees,I hope the programme helps to raise awareness in this country of Front of House service as a possible career choice rather than just a stopping off post to something else.

I once met Monsieur Albert Roux, albeit briefly.
Many years ago I worked at a country house hotel.The Sous Chef was a nasty piece of work who made the lives of all the waiting staff a living hell. At the time Gary Rhodes was at the height of his TV Chefdom.Sharing a name with his idol was a constant source of pleasure to Gary Sous Chef,predictably, his hair was pimped up in a similar fashion.God I hated him with a passion.
I'm a strong believer that if you wait long enough,the opportunity will present itself to give individuals such as this their come uppance.
News filtered up from reception late one afternoon that Monsieur Albert Roux would be arriving later that evening.Never being one to miss out on an opportunity for self promotion,Gary Sous Chef conscientiously offered to stay back late after service in the event that the great man might require any manner of refreshment.
He spent all evening preparing a plate of canapes,consisting mainly of smoked salmon and cream cheese pin wheels which were a staple on every buffet at the time.Quite basic stuff really.There were a few other bits and pieces, nothing notable.The plate of delicacies was placed in the fridge with a damp tea towel on top to prevent the treats from drying out.(Yes folks, that's how those assorted buffet sandwiches are kept moist prior to being displayed on your buffet..the Chef will hold a clean(hopefully)tea towel under the cold tap,then wring it out and place carefully over the top of the flat of sarnies.Delicious).
That evening I wheeled the plate of delicacies up to Monsieur Roux's room on a linen clad hostess trolley(country house hotel style).Later, I returned to collect said trolley and when arriving back at the kitchen, as expected Gary Sous Chef was waiting eagerly to check the contents of the plate(yes that's also what we do,check your plates to see if you've left anything..).It had all been eaten.His face was beaming with contentment,he actually flashed me the first smile Id ever had from him,he was positively basking in the reflected glory of his success and fishing for further positive feedback:
'What did he say??Did he like them???'
My chance had finally come.I looked up at him and smiled.I held his gaze,just for a minute to prolong his agony.I spoke calmly and in even tone:

'You bloody idiot,do you really think that a man such as that,coming as he does from the very Temple of Gastronomy is going to be impressed by your bloody stupid poncey salmon sandwiches??Is that the best you can do??The reason he ate them is because he's been travelling all bloody day and he's bleeping starving.Alternatively, he may have binned them in the room to avoid upsetting you,Id have a word with the chambermaids in the morning if I was you...'
Past experience taught me that I had around ten seconds before he exploded.I counted down from ten in my head...

10,9..
look of disbelief beginning to register on his face...
8,7
breathing becoming short and laboured...
6,5
Starting to fill up with colour,face twitching uncontrollably..
4,3
visibly shaking with anger now,not much more time to go,but I stayed as long as I dared..to enjoy the moment...
2,1
lift off....

I ran ,feet barely touching the non slip safety flooring to the refuge of the fine dining restaurant.
I could see him through the port hole in the door.He didn't dare cross the line between kitchen territory and front of house.He looked like the Incredible Hulk shaking his fist at me,beetroot red though, not green.I strolled around a bit in his line of vision,glancing up periodically and smiling contentedly,I may even have waved at him..
I steered well clear of the kitchen for the next few days,staff meals were an absolute no no, just in case he pulled the laxative trick.
I survived the next few days on dried out leftover banqueting meals courtesy of the Alto Sham.It was worth it though,it may well indeed have been my finest hour...

Service standard can have such an impact on the eating out experience. I'm not saying outstanding service can make up for a bad meal but it definitely softens the blow, as Fred rightly said in the programme:
' if you smile you can get away with anything'.
Well almost anything..

Last Monday we ate at a local pub where one of the Masterchef semi finalists *may* in fact be Chef. Rather than post a negative review,I thought we'd just use the experience as a positive learning curve..

We didn't have a reservation but being a Monday we just headed out on the off chance.
Approaching the bar we were asked if we would like a table.A good start.It was 6pm and wasn't busy.We purchased a drink and were left standing at the bar like a couple of spare parts.After about 10 minutes we were shown to a table.Now at this point there were very few people in the pub,and no one ordering food.

Lesson 1:
Always get early diners seated quickly so that you can get an order to kitchen promptly, thus avoiding a backlog later.Easy.

Seated at the table we were presented with a menu and asked if we would like to 'order a bottle of wine for the table'.(for the table?? what an odd turn of phrase..)
'No' I replied 'Ill just stick to glasses' Chef was driving(his turn).
With the delay,at this point our drinks were almost finished(no flies on us).
In addition to the printed menu,we were informed there was also a specials board which we could choose from(in the bar)so trudged back to the bar to look at it.
We enjoyed a further 10-15 mins chat before our order was taken
Lesson 2:
If there's a specials menu not visible from the seating area,make sure you point this out to your guests prior to sitting at the table(we observed this happen twice more-some of the diners were elderly and moderately infirm)..Or here's a novel idea, why not get the waiting staff to advise diners personally at the table of the specials,providing an opportunity for some dialogue???

By now our drinks were quaffed,frustratingly we were sitting with vacant glasses.
In the time we'd sat at the table waiting for our order to be taken four more tables were seated.The dining area was quite large,yet the staff chose to seat everyone at the top end of the restaurant on tables sited cosily together.So close, that once chairs were pulled out waiting staff could not negotiate the gap between without asking diners to shuffle chairs in.We were in the middle of the melee,surrounded on all sides.
The waiting staff(we observed 8)were all congregated at the other end of the restaurant unable to see easily what was going on.It was a game of two halves,'arry.We wondered how long it would be before we were offered another drink.After 20minutes with empty glasses I was parched.Chef wondered if he should make an expedition to the the bar to procure another round,but didn't fancy attempting the narrow space between the tables.He stayed put.The waiting turned into a test of how long it would be before we were offered a beverage.
Lesson 3:
Make sure your staff are positioned so they can easily observe what is going on at diners tables and don't crowd everyone into one area if you don't need to.

As we played the waiting game,we observed staff speedily take orders from all four tables that were now seated, in the space of about 5 minutes.Lets think this through.Though there's more space and usually more staff(except in ours) in a commercial kitchen, why cause unnecessary pressure?Imagine plating up meals at home for 20 people when you could choose to do a few at a time.The same principles apply to a commercial kitchen, I often think people surmise all meals are in the oven cooking just on the off chance the local rugby team might stop by for dinner.Oddly, they're only cooked if someone orders them,so if 20 people order meals at the same time inevitably there will be a wait.Seemples.
Lesson 4:
Stagger the orders in order to avoid the kitchen being in the shit and subsequent unhappy diners.

By now we were seriously considering squeezing past the other diners to solicit a drink,it had got to that stage where one was beginning to regret cutting off ones nose to spite ones face(I mean I only get one night off per week what's the point in going thirsty just for the sake if a stupid test?)
At this point a waitress came over to tell us that our food wouldn't be long.Yes you've guessed it we had been waiting a while *obviously* since all the orders had been checked on together..I was just about to order myself a drink when she spotted the empty glasses and offered.Thank God.We'd sat for 35 minutes at this point..
Lesson 5:
Offer additional drinks to guests a regular intervals.Its the easiest way to increase sales/ensure the profitability of the business- I never refuse a drink if its suggested..

For a further 35 minutes we amusedly observed diners at the tables around us becoming increasingly agitated due to no meals appearing and during which time the eight waiting staff remained at the far end of the room with no interaction with the guests.Every time the kitchen door opened 20 heads turned with eager anticipation,we heard the phrase 'this must be ours' muttered repeatedly. Coincidentally, I once worked with a girl who took great pleasure in purposely doing exactly this.By the time she was finished with her guests they were more akin to a Centre court crowd at Wimbledon than a restaurant full of diners.Tres amuseant..
Lesson 6:
Don't keep going into the kitchen if its not to collect meals,this will only heighten the sense of disappointment for diners as their hopes are repeatedly raised,then dashed.

Our meals came out first.This is mine.

Savoy overload

At this point Id like to go back to the comment made by Fred :
'If you smile you can get away with anything'.

And Chefs:

Rare steak?......methinks not.And look at all that cutlery on the table-we hadn't even ordered a pud...

Now, if we'd had attentive service and an all round enjoyable evening then perhaps the meal I was finally presented with might have seemed a little better.It certainly wasn't disgusting,
The lamb chops had obviously been cooked 'Sous vide'.They were very tender(almost sponge like in appearance) though not particularly tasty.The fat was white and flabby. I've been reading up a bit more on this subject and have had a few conversations on Twitter about this cooking method. I've come to the conclusion that it has its place though we're still undecided as to whether it will suit our style of cooking.Clearly on this occasion the vac pack and waterbath hadn't been used correctly,the meat was unseasoned and it certainly needed to be finished off in a pan to crisp.I wondered whether the Chef had been forced to cut corners due to the checks all coming on together and whether he'd been forced to compromise standards in order to get the meals out in a reasonable time.Maybe he cut out the last important(but vital) stage of the cooking process and simply snipped the vac bag and placed the lamb on the plate.The temptation to do this under pressurised situations must definitely exist.
As one Chef said to me the other day:'you cant replace skill with equipment'.And if the equipment isn't being used correctly then its there's no point.

Full marks to the Chef though for picking up on the fact that I'm anaemic..

Finally,
Lesson 7:
Having the proverbial 'more staff than customers' doesn't guarantee good service. Far better to have four well trained staff who are kept busy,than eight who are standing idle. If staff look busy diners will be more patient and it will buy an up-the-wall kitchen valuable time...

Rack of lamb cooked in the conventional fashion,outside caramelised,pink in't middle.

PS.This is the lamb dish which we had on our menu last night,not wanting to blow ones own trumpet,but I know which one Id rather eat..

Chef's Ass

2011-02-06T13:40:00.000-08:00

Calm down.This isn't what you think it is,if you've stumbled by as a result of some dodgy internet search then I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed.Lets just take a moment to admire John Wayne's statuesque pose whilst you sling your hook.

I had a bit of a panic on yesterday lunchtime.We couldn't get the door to the pub open which when you think about it is quite fundamental to the success of the business.We messed around pulling at the door in case the torrential overnight rain had resulted in it swelling and the lock not turning(even going out via the back door and coming round the front to give it an almighty kick) but despite prolonged fiddling the key still refused to turn.By five past twelve there were around twenty people queued up outside who ordinarily might have been amused by the comedic shenanigans but given the gale force winds and rain I'm sure there were better ways to spend ones Saturday lunchtime.
In desperation I sent for Chef,perhaps his brute force might effect a result.As he stepped up to the oche I glimpsed a momentary look of dismay on his face as he clocked the increasingly impatient punters queueing orderly outside.He glanced briefly at me then calmly took hold of the handle and effortlessly pushed open the door.
The reason the key wouldn't turn was because it was already open,in fact it had remained unlocked ALL NIGHT.

It was obvious Chef was now questioning the wisdom of last nights late poker game and subsequent unsatisfactory short sleep.
You see, normally he is the responsible one in our relationship,he follows me around turning off electrical appliances,locking doors and has only recently convinced me to stop leaving my car keys in the ignition 'just so I know where they are'.(serial car keys misplacer).He's very organised and meticulously plans ahead, unlike Moi who much prefers to let things happen,on the odd occasion I have witnessed the phrase 'daft as a ships cat' directed at me.
Unsurprisingly, he always takes responsibility for battening the hatches at night.
So in a rare and unexpectedly welcome role reversal, I was strutting around the kitchen with an unbearably smug face and Chef was uncharacteristically quiet.
By late afternoon the Karma police had caught up with him,clearly all was not well.

I sensed by his waddling gait that there was indeed a problem.
I suspected he may be suffering a particularly shockingly severe case of Chef's Ass.
What's Chefs Ass I hear you say?

(NB Also known in the trade as Chefs A*se I've avoided this word in an effort to avoid being inundated with Chef fettish interweb surfers of which there must be MANY judging by the search words which have brought ~~weirdos~~ individuals to this blog in the past few weeks..)

Well let me tell you, Chefs Ass *big wink* is no laughing matter.
Chefs Ass, *adopts serious face* is an occupational hazard of the busy Chef,which strikes without impunity or warning.A debilitating and quite painful condition usually occurring following extended periods endured in hot and sweaty kitchen temperatures, the resultant chafing twixt the cheeks of the ass causing extreme soreness and discomfort.

'Everything all right' (smirking).

'yes fine' (clearly not fine..)

I snapped this sneaky photo as Chef plated up at the pass.Please note,adopting a John Wayne stance is not his usual Modus Operandi...

Later that night my suspicions were confirmed(YESS!!) as I went to turn off the light in the Gents loo and something caught my eye just inside the cubicle.The sprinkling of fine white powder visible on the floor(no not that sort of powder,that sort of thing doesn't go on in this neck of the woods..)was a dead give away.

You see,the only product that successfully relieves the symptoms of Chefs Ass is a liberal dusting over the affected area with cornflour.The silky properties of this particular store cupboard ingredient both soothes and lubricates the inflammation,allowing the delicate surface skin to recover.

(BTW I've often wondered if Custard powder, preferably Birds,would do a similar job..has anyone ever tried ??)

Now here's the puzzling thing.In over ten years of working in searingly hot kitchens, I've yet to be stricken by this condition.Chef might try to suggest that its because I don't work so hard as he does,but I'm sure there's a much more scientific explanation.It may be something to do with gender and perhaps the physical attributes of the respective male/female ass.Possibly the wider child bearing female hips afford some protection in that the cheeks aren't forced together so closely, thus reducing friction.Or perhaps its to do with a gentleman's hind quarters being firm and (ideally) muscular whereas a ladies derriere(how can I put this politely) being an altogether more peachy proposition?

What do you think?

I'm particularly interested in feedback from any female Chefs out there,am I a freak or working in this industry should I just be thankful that I don't have those elusive buns of steel?
I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Politically incorrect post

2011-02-01T15:18:00.000-08:00

Chef tells me that Andy Gray has been the Face of Sky Sport Football for 20 years,that being the case,I cant imagine that in the whole of that 20 years there hasn't been another occasion when he and Richard(wax m'hands please) Keys have been overheard to enjoy a similar blatantly sexist exchange of views.

(BTW has anyone else noticed that Marcus Wareing seems to be similarly challenged,on the hair front?

Sporting arms reminiscent of an AW10 Shearling jacket must pose a potentially dangerous fire hazard in any kitchen,worthy surely of a mention in the legally required Fire Risk Assessment.Makes me wonder how much cooking he actually does given that our lower arms are permanently hair free due to being singed on a daily basis.Though he could possibly be wearing gauntlets at the stove...)

Not that I'm condoning their Neanderthal banter,of course,but the publication of Gray and Keys' conversation must be viewed as a timely occurrence with perhaps more focus on monetary matters than any real outrage from Sky Sports.Gray was ripe for the flick,I hope he's the first male victim of the ageism on telly vendetta.

Coincidentally, I used to work in professional sport and in my experience their exchange was moderately mild compared to some of the conversations I've witnessed,and I'm not just talking of the male contingent here.A particularly memorable occasion which springs to mind being a back office discussion following a visit from a representative of a well known lingerie company, tasked to kit out the team with some trendy smalls(or not so small as later proven).The ensuing discussion debated the comparative attributes of various members of the team,with one notable individual being singled out for particular ~~praise~~ attention due to apparently being(Yeee-haaa!!) 'hung like a donkey....'.

In consideration of the vociferous and often over enthusiastic language interactions which occur regularly during particularly fraught times,in the event of our kitchen being bugged, Chef says we'd have no other option than to sack each other..

We experienced our own little politically incorrect incident last Sunday.In the midst of the usual manically busy lunchtime service this note was passed to the kitchen.My apologies in advance for any offence caused by the terminology,which is clearly outdated.To be fair the chap who penned this will have had no intention of it being bandied about the internet,but given that he's already retired, the danger of any resultant sacking is nil.

I posted the note on twitter,off the cuff, as it had given us a laugh.As a result I've unexpectedly received pressure from certain parties to post a photo of said 'hot chef.'
There is no way I would dare post a photo of Chef for public perusal as:

a.posting pictures of Chef on line has landed me in trouble before.When facebook first became popular I created myself an account,but had no friends so(as you do), I created a profile for Chef and then made friends with myself.Subsequently Chef was inundated with e mail notifications of friend requests from an assortment of ex colleagues,school friends and other random people that he had no recollection of.He was actually quite ticked off,instructing me to take the thing down immediately lest people think him ignorant for not replying.

b.he knows I write this blog but is blissfully unaware of the content or even that he features heavily in a starring role.In addition, he doesn't agree with Facebook or Twitter(I have enough friends-why would I want any more??)so would be most displeased to find his portrait up here.

Image is so important isn't it?I was once asked to provide a current photo with a job application and was so enraged that my physical appearance might be a factor in securing me the post that I cut a photograph of an attractive model from a magazine and stuck it to the application form.When I arrived for the interview I could see the interviewer glancing quizzically and repeatedly at my application form, with furrowed brow.
So, in the spirit of this little escapade and by way of a consolation, I thought I'd source a couple of tasty Chef pictures instead from the interwebs.

[cough]I've always had a bit of a thing for The Great White.Though lately admittedly he and I haven't exactly been seeing eye to eye. In the past I've overlooked his inept and at times tedious overuse of the word 'proper' within his menus,though he must be held responsible for the gut wrenchingly distasteful use of this word on many gastropub menus:
'Proper Prawn Cocktail' [sic] ick....

An example of the offending usage seen here in the form 'properly'

Which appeared in here...

FYI this apparently is the 'proper' way to garnish smoked salmon..

Lets also draw a veil over his Shepherd in the Nativity play period and just thank God he drew the line at the dressing gown..Ditto the Knorr stock cube episode..and please,don't even mention turkey twizzlers...

If I'm honest his main attraction was always his applaudable reluctance to answer the call of TV Chefdom and his somewhat enigmatic maintenance of some semblance of anonymity.

That and the Bob Carlos Clarke photos.

Has there ever been a hotter Chef?

Pity he failed to identify his USP....

In other news and continuing synchronistically with the non PC theme, we've advertised for staff and have intriguingly had an application from one Mr David Brent.
Cant wait to ~~check out his moves~~ meet him for interview.
More later...

Wee Rabbie Burns (Inn Style)

2011-01-29T08:14:00.000-08:00

We hosted our annual Burns Supper last night.

A relatively casual affair,consisting of Haggis pie,comprising a pastry crust filled with Macsween's haggis,topped with mashed tatty, served up with Neep Crush(inspired by the Royal Family Christmas Day Carrot Crush).Obviously lubricated down by copious quantities of assorted single malts,which in truth was the whole point of the evening.
A slightly down-market menu,though not as desperate as the concoction produced by a particularly docile Chef I once came across, who failed to fully research the constituent ingredients of that traditional Burns Night treat Cranachan.Choosing instead to mix a box of Scotts porage oats with freeze dried raspberries then baking the mix on a flat in the oven until a dried gooey mess,which stuck in ones craw,he served up his creation with a dollop of synthetic cream and inventively renamed the dish Cranacake....

In keeping with the tawdry theme,just to give you a flavour, here's the Toast to the Lassies:

O Lassie art thou sleeping yet,
Or art thou awake and wantin' a bit?
The Viagra has worked-see the size o' it,
And I would fain be in,jo.

O let me in this ae night,
When ma cock for once is big an' tight;
Ye can even keep oan the light,
O gonnae let me in,jo.

Thou knows am gettin' on in years,
And impotency has caused us monie tears;
So I drown ma sorrow wae strong beers,
But I would fain be in ,jo

So I bought a wee packet oan e Bay,
A kings ransom I hud tae pay;
And I swallowed them awe today,
So for Chriss sake let me in,jo.

and the Reply to the toast to the Lassies:

O tell na me 'bout yer pain,
For it only fills me wae disdain;
This neet for sure yer gettin' nane,
O I widnae let ye in,jo.

Ye've wasted money on stupid pills,
In the hope o' gettin yer kinky thrills;
But ye'd better a paid money bills,
For I wouldnae let ye in,jo.

I tell ye now this ae night,
Tho' yer cock's as big as a bulls delight;
Ye can wank away for awe yer might,
For yer gettin sweet FO, Jo.

So go take out yer ancient Razzle now,
And wank away tae some filthy cow;
Jist get oot o' ma sight any how
Cos yer damn no' gettin' in ,jo.

We're quite a classy lot aren't we?

In an effort to redress the balance and claw back some semblance of a reputation,this arrived today;

in spite of our rudimentary latrine arrangements..

Cheerio!

Hands off Chef!

2011-01-25T15:00:00.000-08:00

Annoyingly,I've noticed the topic of menu plagiarism and even the possibility of copyrighting particular dishes,cropping up quite often lately.

But can a chef expect to have copyright over dishes which he includes on his menu?

Not many dishes are truly innovative.Almost every dish has been done before in some way,shape or form,lots of very similar combinations of ingredients brought together in slightly different formats and with ever greater technicality.Things go out of fashion,people forget about them, then the person who resurrects them perhaps with a *modern* slant is credited with inventing the dish.

The fact is there are flavours that go together and there a flavours that don't.If a flavour combination works then the likelihood is that at some point, some Chef somewhere has happened to notice this before. Any Chef genuinely discovering a brand new flavour combination truly has hit Chef Recipe Jackpot.

Q
A case in point:Sticky Toffee Pudding
The late departed Francis Coulson of Sharrow Bay Hotel, Lake Windermere, is widely acknowledged with inventing this dish in the 60's/70's. But visit any pub/restaurant in the North of England and they will probably have reputedly the 'original Sharrow Bay recipe' included on their menu.Nearly every kitchen will have a chef who has worked with a chef who worked at Sharrow Bay ,at some point, or knows a chef who knows a chef etc,etc.The Chefs who have actually worked at the kitchens of Sharrow Bay are sworn to keep the secret recipe to themselves.(Obviously we do have *the* authentic recipe on our menu as Chef actually did once work with a pastry Chef who once worked at Sharrow Bay...)Actually randomly,Chef once cooked dinner for Francis Coulson...
The point is that similar pudding recipes can be found in many vintage cookery books.

Exhibit A

Vintage Cookery book-Post war containing recipes contributed by readers.
Note page 56:Recipe for Date Pudding

This recipe is practically identical to the Sharrow Bay recipe,the only noteworthy deviation is the use of 'best dripping' as opposed to 'best butter'.But,your average thrifty housewife living in post war Britain is hardly likely to be in a position to whack the household's full weekly ration of butter into one pudding..
So what is this recipe doing in a book published 20 years or more before Francis Coulson invented his famed dish?
The fact is all recipes evolve,different Chefs develop different variations taking ideas and inspiration from other recipes/Chefs/menus.
What Sharrow Bay actually did was reinvent old dish,breathing new life into it by coining a zippy new name 'Icky Sticky toffee pudding',thus bringing it back to popularity.They marketed it successfully and established a trend.

How about then Noma,recently voted Number One in the Worlds 50 best restaurants,Rene Redzepis award winning restaurant is seen as inspirational and cutting edge, bringing Nordic cuisine to the forefront.
A welcome move in the absolute opposite direction from the molecular gastronomy trend,Noma's cuisine is a step back to the roots of food,with more focus on vegetables,less protein and less actual cooking.Working with Food Historians to research old techniques and ingredients.So, though innovative in the sense that its not the type of food that has been served recently, if at all, can he really claim copyright(or would he even want to)?I don't think so,how can we be certain that Fred Flintstone didn't plate up a similar feast(well,perhaps not as artistically arranged) prior to fire and the cooking pot being discovered?And wouldn't he of course be eating a more vegetable based diet( and rutting around on the forest floor for roots,berries and leaves) because he didn't have the expertise to render some proteins edible? Interestingly he'd also be eating exclusively seasonal and local food.Exemplary.
Any Chef worth his salt now wouldn't be seen dead without the latest must have Cheffy fashion accessory: A Foraging Assistant. And perish the thought of admitting that you haven't physically gathered at least some portion of your menu personally,whilst preferably sporting a fetching Burlap tunic fixed with twine and flip flops fashioned lovingly from a couple of 28 day aged reindeer chops, all the while embracing ones inner self,at one with Mother Earth.The food you subsequently create thus elevated to an homage.

Please though,lets not regress too far into the realms of the raw,whilst a committed omnivore, biting the ~~head~~ life force out of a still moving prawn doesn't really blow my skirt up.Of course it will be the freshest prawn you've ever tasted,of course it will evoke 'essence of the sea',why wouldn't it? its still bloody alive.
And I bet Fred and Barney ate it once,out of necessity, before they thought up the only true innovation,fire and the cooking pot,that opened the recipe floodgates and set us on the journey which elevated us from other mammals.

Whilst its unacceptable to nick another Chefs expression/personalisation of a dish in the written format(ie the method),or a brand name which I came across here,the idea of copyrighting ingredient combinations is wrong on so many levels.How can any Chef be so pompous as to think he can 'own' an ingredient combination??

Any ~~Twanker~~ Chef complaining about this is has surely missed the point.

I don't need to tell you what this is,but its playing JUST FOR YOU..

A few years ago before we had the pub,we owned a small restaurant.In the next village there was a hotel with a Chef/Owner.We used to eat there from time to time,the food was good.The Chef though didn't do much to ingratiate himself with his public.He actively sought out publicity and was unfailingly arrogant,once giving an interview to the local paper which contained the clunker of a quote that he was "educating people in the North East about what good food was". Insulting your diners in this way is not an overly salubrious method of customer retention.As a result Chef Manqué was always unfairly slated by reviewers and eventually sold up.
I digress,he never came to eat in our restaurant(clearly didn't want to give us the idea we were good enough to be graced with his presence) but would often send members of his staff on scouting missions.Obviously,we recognised them(donning swathed scarves and sunglasses indoors wasn't exactly conducive to inconspicuousness).Whenever they came we would ponder which dish from our menu would appear next on his.It gave us a laugh,obviously he rated our food(that or his ideas font had dried up), in any event his execution of each dish was always slightly different to ours.It gave us a warm glow and a sense of achievement to see dishes from our menu find their way onto his..

Isn't that the whole point of cooking? About creating flavour combinations that hopefully people will enjoy and if you're really lucky,will want to go away and recreate for themselves?

If they don't, then surely its a Big Fat Fail.

The idea of Dish Plagiarism is absolute bollocks.

I rest m'case y'r honour...

PS Startlingly,Noma(English meaning) is: 'a gangrenous disease caused by malnutrition'.
I'd still like to eat there though.

An Inspector calls.

2011-01-18T11:28:00.000-08:00

Today, just before lunch service,a message came through to the kitchen that there was a gentleman caller here to see me.
I recognised him immediately,I wouldn't call him a regular but he does lunch with us from time to time.When accompanied by his wife he will partake of a modest sandwich and a cup of tea,as a lone diner amusingly his meal of choice will always consist of:Sausage and Mash, a couple of pints and a Bread and butter pudding.We always refer to him as Mr Bangers.You might want to make a note of that before you take the decision to make a particular favourite dish your permanent choice.
Below is a transcript of the conversation which ensued.

Mr Bangers:Hello.Just wanted a quick word.
(Directing me over to a discreet spot in the corner of the bar)
Self:Yes...
Mr Bangers:Well,a couple of weeks ago my wife and I came for lunch and both had a Ham and Pease Pudding sandwich,which we both really enjoyed.So last week my wife brought her friend for lunch and they both ordered the Ham and Pease pudding sandwich.The first time we had the Ham and Pease pudding sandwich there was at least 5mm of Pease pudding and three to four slices of ham.When my wife and her friend received their sandwiches my wife noted that there was no more than a whisker of a scraping of Pease pudding ,2mm maximum, and nowhere near as much ham as we'd experienced on our previous visit.This was very disappointing for my wife as she'd recommended the sandwich to her friend and indeed had made a special trip to here to experience it again.Very disappointing..

Self:Oh I'm really sorry to hear that,if your wife had just mentioned to one of the girls when she was here,there would have been no problem whatsoever in redoing the sandwiches and adding some more filling..

Seemples.

Mr Bangers:No...she shouldn't have to do that, that's not the point,(shaking head with vigour)I just wanted to let you know that there's a problem here(nodding and smiling self righteously)with consistency.....Yes, its just not there is it??? Just not there......

(No,far easier to make a special journey back to the pub at a later date to draw attention to the misdemeanour)

This is what I wanted to say:
Well, our sandwiches are all hand cut to order,the ham is cooked in our kitchen then hand sliced with a knife.The Pease pudding is also homemade.With all the will in the world there is no way that every slice of ham will be exactly the same thickness nor the Pease pudding spread exactly the same on every sandwich.If uniformity is your bag then perhaps you might just want to take a short sojourn down to Tesco and purchase a Ham sandwich there.I can guarantee the ham will be sliced so thinly that you will imagine it has been done with a razor blade,but more importantly each sandwich will have been weighed and passed through several factory processes prior to packaging.There will also be a sell by date which might mean the sandwich you consume may have been prepared 2-3 days prior.Yum.

This is what Chef said to me:
You should have told the bleeper he was lucky as we must mistakenly have been overly generous with the original sarnies.

This what I actually said:
No you're right.I'm very sorry.

I bowed my head contritely and walked the walk of shame back to the kitchen.

The Ham and Pease Pudding sandwich is £3.95

I didn't make this up.

PS The Beef Police have paid us another visit this week,again requesting an inspection of the raw product prior to ordering.Chef says its only a question of time before the beef passes the inspection,we go ahead and cook it,then they accuse us of surreptitiously cooking an alternative joint....
We've also had a visit by TWO Michelin Inspectors who chose to experience the Cotes de Boeuf for two.They did not inspect the raw product prior to consumption.

We're feeling a tad under the microscope this week.

Vote now please,your country pub needs you!

2011-01-15T14:15:00.000-08:00

I have a dilemma ,dear folk of the interwebs, I need your assistance.
But first,please be patient whilst I fill you in with a little background information.
During the recent the festive week,we gave ourselves a bit of a break from the kitchen,with no food being served at the Inn from Christmas Eve right through until New Years Eve.

To be honest, this year December takings have been down so drastically due to the prolonged arctic conditions, we really shouldn't have afforded ourselves this luxury, but we did, its a chance for us to do the bar and get a feel for what the customers are thinking.

On Christmas Day we open the bar at lunchtime from 12-1.30pm, put out some tasty edible treats and offer everyone who comes,local or not,a glass of Champagne.Actually the Champagne(and I'm talking Champagne here,not cheap Sparkling wine) is on tap;-nobody buys any other drinks.Most make an impressive effort at consuming their own bodyweight in chipolatas before rolling home late and with less appetite than they should for their Christmas dinner.
We enjoy it,its a nice thing to do.

There's a regular who comes into the pub daily..he partakes of a couple of pints lunchtime and evening.He's quite good for the craic,a bit of a character.On Christmas Day he appeared as usual but refused to participate in the Champagne swilling ritual saying he 'didn't drink it'.
I sensed immediately there was a problem. I mean who the heck doesn't like gratis Champagne???

The Saturday prior to Christmas this chap had booked in with his extended family(fourteen of them) for his constitutional once yearly meal at the pub.I wondered if therein lay the problem.I asked him if he'd enjoyed his meal the previous Saturday.Yes, he said the meal was 'fine'..Hmmm not exactly gushing..I probed a little deeper..The floodgates opened forthwith...His intention was to give Chef a 'bollicking' as he had not seen fit to grace the dining room with his presence in order to socialise with his guests.Bearing in mind that we served over 100 covers that day,the chance of an exit from the kitchen,brief or otherwise, to interact with the punters certainly wasn't on the cards.The fact that this hadn't happened had clearly been festering with Regular Drinker all week.He was quite forceful in his view, in fact he was full of hell,irate even.At this point Chef wisely walked away from the conversation in the interests of preserving his buoyant Christmas Day cheer..
Unfortunately I wasn't as clever,I pursued the debate.I enquired if he had been looked after well. Yes he said the girls were 'very good indeed' but not the same as 'the owner'..
The actual words he used were he was: 'lacking the personal attention a regular customer should command'..
With difficulty I managed to contain my anger which was bubbling up assisted in part by the glass of lunchtime fizz I'd already consumed on an otherwise empty stomach.
I cant remember my exact words, the gist was along the lines of people coming here because they like Chefs food, not because they want to have a bloody conversation with him..I cant be certain,but I may have called him(eek) a snob..
To be honest I don't mind admitting that he may have hit a bit of a raw nerve here. Our initial plan had been for Moi to look after Front of house with Chef obviously in charge of the kitchen, the perfect business combination.. Over time its proved easier to find decent Front of House Staff than it has to find suitable candidates for the kitchen.
So gradually, due to the business becoming busier, I've undertaken increasingly more cooking, eventually ending up in the kitchen permanently, through default.The problem is I'm actually now too good at it,I'm fast at the service side which is essential in a pub kitchen(you can get unexpectedly hammered at any time),so as a consequence I like to think I'm a hard act to follow...
I wonder if Regular Drinkers expectations are a reflection now of the state of the industry.Most experts when asked will tell you that its impossible to run a food business without a public profile.Chef has always avoided (like the plague) any press activity, preferring instead to concentrate on what he does best.Cooking.
We've still managed to achieve a successful business.There are a lot of Chefs who take the first opportunity for an early exit out of the kitchen, whilst still running their businesses,inevitably the standard of food isn't consistent.
But maybe diners expect to canoodle with the Chef and be seen to be HIS FRIEND.Maybe they expect that now because they think it gives them kudos..maybe it makes up for any shortfall in the food stakes.Whatever the reason,the fact is that at some point every business has to prioritise,right or wrong, we've chosen the food as ours.
End of.

I believe Regular Drinker's issues stem from the way the pub has changed direction over the years,come inside and it still has the traditional pubby atmosphere,but without the food, in our rural location,it wouldn't be a viable business.For the previous owner the drinkers were the mainstay of his business,he had little food trade,as a result the business was deeply in debt.In fact we were asked to take over at very short notice prior to the sale being completed.So,contrary to being grateful that his local drinking hole has been preserved and indeed improved(we are now able to sustain six real ales on the bar instead of the previous three)whilst countless pubs up and down the country are closing faster than a camels ass in a sandstorm,Regular Drinker feels he's not as important as he was,he's no longer Top Dog.
I've been told that when I'm out of earshot,he'll often tell customers coming into the bar looking for food; 'Oh, the food's VERY expensive here'..
On the plus side, he's stopped trying to call the shots by telling us what dishes we should be putting on the menu, that was becoming a tad tiring.

Over the three years we've been here, we've continued to stock a particular cask ale for Regular Drinker's benefit because he's been drinking it for fifty years.It costs us around £30-£40 per cask more than any of the other ales we stock partly due to the Progressive Beer Duty.We still charge the same price for this beer as we do for the others we sell,despite that fact that the other beers are in fact subsidising it.

Chef worked out that over the course of last year it had cost us over £5000 more to buy in this beer than one of the local ales.

(If that isn't personal attention I don't know what is...)

With the increase in VAT duty and also several other brewery increases which we've absorbed over the past year,we were well overdue an increase in prices.I knew Regular Drinker would kick up a fuss so made a point of letting him know *personally* today.He was predictably unreceptive,despite the fact that I reminded him that we were still cheaper than the majority of the pubs nearby.
His ungracious attitude has made me ponder what route we should take.
Shall we increase the price of his beer, charging proportionally more for it so that the other beers no longer subsidise it?Or maybe we should decline to stock it?

So, in the spirit of this Bulls Lug of a business model(which conjured up images of my youngest playing football as a five year old,when all 22 players would chase the ball around the pitch for 90 minutes like a swarm of bees, because they couldn't grasp the concept of tactics or playing positions),I'm interested to hear your feedback,so I've installed a couple of vote buttons at the top right of the blog.

Lines will close next Sunday at 7pm,votes cast after this time will not be counted etc etc...

Vote now please.Your feedback is important to us.

PS There wont be any profit share..

Play Foggy for Me....

2011-01-11T10:47:00.000-08:00

We savour our Monday as its our day off and a well earned rest from the kitchen.We don't serve food but keep the bar open, more as a courtesy to the regular daily imbibers than any inclination that we may make a profit.
There's a group of three oldsters who meet up on a Monday lunchtime,they love Mondays because their chat isn't disturbed by the inconvenience of the incomer diners who ensure the pub is viable. They're also assured of a seat at their preferred table by the fire.
For the sake of press privacy lets call them Compo,Clegg and Foggy.

Foggy,suffered a mild stroke last year and with the subsequent resultant abundance of free time whilst convalescing at home,he's become dangerously au fait with t'internet and social media and has just recently treated himself to the pinnacle of mobile communication.An i-phone.

Yesterday, on returning from our usual bracing walk with The Chap, I wandered into the bar to toast my ass at the fire and dry off my soggy feet,loitering for a while to see if there was any worthwhile craic to be found.
Clegg was more animated than usual,recounting with obvious outrage the sequence of nuisance phone calls which he'd apparently been receiving.He was planning to make a formal complaint to BT as lately the calls were becoming increasingly abusive.

What do they say? enquired Compo,intrigued,
Clegg: They're just abusive,rude and offensive
Foggy:Yes but what exactly are they saying??
Clegg:Its a woman she's just very insulting...
Foggy:JUST TELL US EXACTLY WHAT SHE'S SAYING..
Clegg:Well sometimes they're very late at night..

The other two visibly leant hungrily forward into the table, eager to take on board the juicy decadence of anticipated details.

Compo and Foggy(in unison):Yes....go on..

Clegg(enjoying the unexpected centre stage status his anonymous harrasser had brought him):Well,last night the phone rang at twenty past eleven,I was just getting ready for bed...

Compo and Foggy(again in unison and practically nose to nose) YES........spill the beans, Old Boy

Clegg:She said: 'Shame about The Toon tonight,pity you watched it,YOU OLD GOAT...'

At this point Foggy's pint beat a vigorous, hasty exit via his nostrils,catching Compo and Clegg full face with the boozy spray.

Foggy(several minutes later on regaining control of his faculties)You silly old fool,that was me!!It wasn't anonymous, didn't you know ? They give the number of the sender at the end...
Clegg:I didn't hear the end I was too busy telling her to shut up.....

There then followed a protracted and involved conversation endeavouring to explain the minutiae and indeed the actual possibility of sending a text message from a mobile phone to a land line and the resultant automatically generated female voice which ultimately imparts the message to the recipient.This to a couple of outright novice technophobes, who were struggling to comprehend the concept of such an action.

In frustration, Foggy retrieved his prized i-phone from the deep reaches of the pocket of his tweed jacket.
'Look I'll send a text now to your land line'
He demonstrated,deftly picking out the required letters with fingers now nimble through frequent practice..'There its done'

The three of them sat there for a while in silence,contentedly sipping their pints, enjoying the moment, whilst pondering the enormity of the newly acquired knowledge.

Clegg broke the silence:By the way,what message did you send?

Foggy:Oh just 'I love you'

As the fog cleared and realisation dawned,Clegg stood up,abruptly downed his pint and as he beat a speedy retreat to the door, shouted:
I'm off Nora's at home and she knows about the abusive calls...

Nora being his frail 76 year old wife who would no doubt have already taken delivery of Foggy's latest bombshell...

Sometimes I just love my job...

Warning:substandard food on offer.

2011-01-08T08:33:00.000-08:00

I've worked in this industry for some time now and I thought Id seen/heard pretty much everything,but today I heard something that absolutely flabbergasted me.
Living in a rural area its especially important to support local producers and even if you don't give a flying feck about food miles it actually makes good business sense.The thing is everybody knows everyone else and its not long before the person who you buy your logs from/supplies your coal/cleans your windows/does your plumbing/supplies your meat etc,returns the favour by bringing or recommending friends and family for a meal.They like to return the trade,keeping their custom with people who support them.Its not rocket science.
We've always used local suppliers not only for ethical reasons but also because generally you are getting a better quality traceable product.I think there's a point where this changes the higher up the eating establishment chain you get when the local priority switches to wanting the best possible top quality specialist product regardless of its origin or price.We aren't in that bracket,but buying local isn't necessarily cheaper and you also cant expect to be given a uniform product, for example as you could identical steaks from a catering butcher.
We buy all our meats from a local butcher who also farms his own cattle and sheep.If he needs additional stocks to meet demand he buys from the local mart,exclusively from local farms.The meats on our menu are always from farms within approx 10 mile radius of the pub.We could buy cheaper but as long as you price right there's no problem.
Last year a young couple bought a closed pub the other side of the valley,refurbished it and had a big opening PR drive about using local suppliers.The chaps father,a farmer helped out with the purchase.
This morning our butcher arrived with our meat order and happened to mention that this particular couple were no longer buying meat from him.'What?' said Chef, 'where are they buying from??'
It turns out they are now buying all their meats from a national DRY GOODS SUPPLIER (you can get anything from them if you ask for it..).
This week the butcher had bought two of the fathers cattle from the Mart so gave Pub Couple a ring saying 'I've got some of your Dads meats on, can I sell you anything?'
Unbelievably he was told 'no thanks we can get better prices from DRY GOODS SUPPLIER'.
I'm absolutely dumbstruck.
How on earth can you expect other people to support the local farming community when as a farmer and shareholder in a food outlet yourself, you're not prepared to pay the price for your own bloody meat.
I'm actually embarrassed for them.

Our location away from the coast makes it harder for us to buy local fish.We aren't in a position to nip down to the fish quay and browse what the day boats have brought in, which in essence was what we used to do when we used the local fishmonger.He had two shops,one in the next village and one in the nearest town.Chef used to call in early each morning and have first pick of what had been landed before the shop opened.The shop in town closed first,then last year the shop in the next village followed suit.The fishmonger still operates but its increasingly difficult for us to buy from him due to the way we write our menu.We cant give him a standing order as the menu changes too often and he isn't buying in lots of stock for us to choose from as he now doesn't have the shop outlets.In effect most of the time all we can get is salmon or maybe sometimes cod.He concentrates on the food markets,the wholesale side of the business has been scaled down,the interesting products are kept back for the farmers markets as they can command better prices there.
So we've had to look further afield for a more commercial supplier,we still buy day boat produce and try to stick to sustainable fish.
Today the girl from the fish merchants rang and offered Chef some very reasonably priced kippers.We've had kipper on the menu this week so it made sense to buy some.'I can do you a very good price' she promised.
As an afterthought Chef enquired why it was so cheap,'because its past its sell by date' came the response....'What??' said Chef 'what do you expect me to do with them??'
'Can't you freeze them?' came the reply.
Chef is pleasingly deadpan at times: 'Yes,I can freeze them,but when I take them out of the freezer they're still going to be bloody out of date aren't they.........'

It just makes you wonder what's being served up to you at your local doesn't it?
Eating out is actually a bloody minefield.

The Sorcerers Apprentice

2011-01-05T15:01:00.000-08:00

I have some sad news.Brace yourselves. I'm sorry to report that The Apprentice's guest appearance in the kitchen came to an unfortunate untimely conclusion today,following protracted discussions regarding his dubious timekeeping.
We've learnt over the years that its very rare to find staff who excel in all areas of their job description.Some are good with customers,some very well organised,some proficient on the bar.The secret is to place people on their strengths,thus achieving a balanced and well rounded team.
There are however,certain aspects which are non negotiable.Turning up for work on time and ready to attack the job in hand is a fundamental requirement .Over the past three months the number of occasions the Apprentice has presented himself for work timeously can be counted on one hand.Sometimes its only been five minutes,other times longer,the point is nearly always late,mainly due to his inability to part company with his beloved bed.Which is a shame as he is actually good at the job.
I read somewhere that teenagers actually do physically need more sleep.

The Sensible One has been home from university over Christmas,what do you think he was looking forward to most on his return?A nice home cooked meal perhaps?Seeing friends and family? No, the thing he was looking forward to most was a 'good nights sleep in his comfy bed'.

Hmmm too much partying methought,but no, he likes to sleep with the window open which is optimistic in the centre of a busy city when being a country boy what you're actually accustomed to is complete silence save for the odd moo or baa.Seemingly the fire alarm goes off most nights and in addition he's been a tad unlucky with one of his flatmates.On first arrival at the shared accommodation on overhearing music emanating from a particular individual's room,and in the interests of extending the arm of friendship,The Sensible One approached the room in question and politely enquired what the lad was listening to.
'I have Aspergers,go look it up on Wikipedia' came the response just prior to the door being impolitely slammed in his face.Unfortunately Aspergers boy goes to his room at around eleven each night and screams for a couple of hours..So a peaceful nights sleep was the order of the day for homecoming..

I digress,The Apprentice was informed last week that if he failed to show up for work on time again, his kitchen career would inevitably be prematurely curtailed.This morning he presented himself 40 minutes late.Chef was seething and informed him in no uncertain terms that his services were no longer required.
The thing that worries me most is that if he cant fall out of bed and into the shower then walk down the stairs to work and manage to arrive on time,what chance has he got of holding down a job in the real world?
I suppose you should never employ friends or family..
Following lunchtime service it transpired that the Apprentice had wisely made himself scarce and will no doubt be keeping a low profile until stormy waters have calmed.

With our now fastly burgeoning reputation as the Rose and Fred West of the culinary world due to our apparent inability to retain the youth element of our kitchen workforce, can I just decry this with the qualification that we do in fact have an excellent record of staff turnover.Most who come to work for us don't want to leave,one of the girls has just told us today that despite buying her round the world ticket (due to leave in Feb) she now doesn't want to go.Chef has told her she doesn't have to leave if she doesn't want to but I'm persuading her that she will regret it forever if she calls the whole thing orf..So that's another drama we've been dealing with...

In addition,having both picked up the Aprentice's workload today, bad kitchen Karma has resulted in Chef sustaining a very nasty cut which has required him to wear a surgeons glove on his hand all day.He never cuts himself.Not the best start to the New Year.

On top of everything else, I've had that disturbingly annoying Katie Perry song on the brain today,probably due in part to my giving an overly enthusiastic rendition of it at the top of my voice during the wee small hours of New Years Day following one or three well earned sherberts after service,you know the one:

Cause baby you’re a firework
Come on show ‘em what you’re worth
Make ‘em go “Oh, oh, oh!”
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Whilst the Apprentice may not be a firework, he may well be shooting across the sky once my well aimed toe comes into contact with the seat of his lazy arse..

Quite serendipitous when you think about it.....

Happy New Year from Up North

2011-01-02T08:54:00.000-08:00

I thought I might give you a little flavour of our New Years Eve at the Inn.

First the menu

To start a glass of this

First Course:Veloute of leeks with roasted chicken

or Spanish meats with Manchego and roasted figs

Fish Course:Pan fried red mullet with rosemary butter and roasted fennel

The picture taking fell by the wayside at this point, due to things becoming a tad fraught,67 main courses of sirloin steak or rack of lamb to get out of the kitchen pretty much all at the same time..I did get a quick pic of the racks a la pan though,before the proverbial shit hit..

This is the bar just before midnight

And after we'd evicted the punters to view the fireworks!

So here's ~~the fireworks~~/how to watch the entire evenings bar profit go up in smoke,if I were clever I should have set this to some music perhaps a bit of Ravel or Vivaldi.But I'm not, so you'll have to make do with the banal background banter and idle chit chat.

What this video failed to encapsulate was the sight of Chef legging it after a firework missed his heed by inches,despite the instructions to retire to at least 50 yards safe distance.All of which I was blissfully unaware of being at a distance very secure from the threat of any danger myself,of course.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Brawn

2010-12-18T08:13:00.000-08:00

Earlier this year we were invited to provide some recipes for a regional cookery book.Always one to keep his head down and get on with the job in hand(i.e cooking some decent food and making some cash),Chef greeted the news with dubious enthusiasm verging on outright contempt. When he discovered Id already committed to do it,I was greeted with an infeasibly highly raised eyebrow which momentarily faded into his hairline(and that's quite high BTW.....)followed by a nervous twitching around the corners of his mouth,obviously stifling a smirk; it wasn't long before I realised why.
Though we cook everything from scratch we never measure anything,which clearly is a fundamental problem when you're writing a recipe..Listing the ingredients was straightforward,but breaking this all down into an coherent written instruction with exact measurements, isn't as simple as it sounds.Not wishing to embarrass myself by providing the readers with a mouthwateringly tasty recipe which in practice didn't actually work(my pet hate), I spent bloody ages perfecting the recipes we eventually contributed(thankfully only three).Hence I have major respect for those recipe testers who do get it right.
Though we have a vast collection of cookery books which we dip into daily,making any savoury dish will rarely involve following the precise recipe but using simply as a reference for the ingredients.Most dishes are cooked and tasted with seasoning/ingredients adjusted as we think necessary.
Obviously baking (being a science) of course is the exception. Whereas cooking is an art......
Of the sleb chefs, in my experience a significant proportion of their cake/pudding recipes ~~are pants~~ just don't work.I have a theory that some of them sabotage their recipes by planting a minor booby trap adjustment just so that you cant recreate their perfect pudding at home,thus safeguarding their position of hierarchy.Culinary sheisters.Yes its you I'm talking to,YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!
(NB One of the exceptions is Gary Rhodes,I know he may be a tad annoying to watch on telly, but his pudding/cake recipes ALWAYS WORK)
If we're looking for a traditional pudding recipe we tend to look to the older books.If you're using one of these, its best to follow the imperial measurements as the conversion to metric can sometimes alter the finished result.
This is one of my favourites,I found it a few years ago in a second hand book store.

Its a signed first edition copy by Maura Laverty who was an Irish author and playwright.
This is the old gal herself in a 1960 news cutting folded carefully into the cover of the book.

As a preface to each chapter there's an amusing little anecdote of old Ireland, from which I have gleaned almost as much pleasure as trying out the recipes:

'The Foley's were married nearly a year before Sheila discovered that a wife's first duty to her husband is to cook him the kind of meals he likes,and that no marriage can really be happy unless a man is happy with his table treatment..'

table treatment????,the mind boggles....in triplicate....
similarly:

He finished his pint.'Aye Indeed' he said 'A woman wont ever be happy till you let her see who's boss.'

Ahem...Cough....I think we'll just draw a veil over that..

I came across this recipe for Brawn in her book. My Grandma was partial to a bit of pigs cheek and used to make this when we were very young, we would never tire of the sight of the pigs ears sticking out of the stock pot which always solicited prolonged sniggering.
Pigs Ears are one of those things that are just inherently very funny.A while back Chef had the bright idea that he would include crispy pigs ears on our bar snacks menu.I stumbled unexpectedly upon a surreal but very serious conversation he was having with the butcher on the lines of; 'Well..how many ears can you keep me in per week??'
Butcher 'well I can do you at least 60 pairs a week..'
I wondered WTF was going on..
Next day the sample ears duly arrived,each pair intriguingly connected by a thin strip of skin much like a pair of ear muffs.As soon as I clapped eyes on them I commented that there was no doubt in my mind that Chef would be wearing a pair before the morning was out.
He didn't let me down...

The ingredients in this recipe are few,lots of versions include carrots,celery, parsley and the like, I've made many different versions and have found this one to be actually very effective made in this way.Authentic,simple and true to its roots.
Its really the old version of ham hock terrine isn't it?

Maura Laverty's Brawn

1 Pigs Head
1/2 oz salt
1 wine glass cider
2 bay leaves
1/2 oz peppercorns
6 whole cloves
(That's cloves..talking of making a recipe idiot proof,a friend of mine once spotted this ingredient in a recipe and added 6 whole heads of garlic to the dish..)
Method
Prepare the head by cutting off the cheeks and ears.Put all ingredients in a heavy saucepan and add sufficient cold water to barely cover.Simmer for 2 hours or until the flesh falls away from the bones.Strain off the liqour into another saucepan and boil rapidly until it is reduced to 1 pint.Pick the meat from the bones,discarding any fat and gristle.Pack the meat into a bowl and pour over the reduced liquor.Leave to set.When cold and firm,scrape off any fat which may have settled and turn out.

*We line a terrine with cling film and wrap the brawn up,its easier to turn out and you can place a weight on top to compact,which also makes it easier to slice into portions.

P.S. This week I'm pleased to report the addition of a new word to my vocabulary.The word 'nu'(pronounced 'noo') is a teenage colloquialism usually employed as a greeting and can be paired with the word 'son' to form the greeting 'nu son'.
Definition: 'hi how are you/hows it going'.
I've witnessed three of my teenagers demonstrating this particular linguistic nuance when answering the telephone over the past week.I wonder if its exclusive to the Northern dialect..Have you heard of it???

Bah Humbug

2010-12-14T10:03:00.000-08:00

This time of year brings out the worst in people.

Or perhaps its only this time of year that these particular people come out of the woodwork.Gawd knows what they do the for rest of the year,most probably sit in front of the telly planning the intricacies of next years festive excursion.
We had the pleasure of the first exceptionally demanding Christmas diner today.With a party of five who by chance happened to be acquainted with another table of six people who were booked in at the same time.It was his idea the two groups should come together in the spirit of the season and dine together.Admirable.We asked if they wanted separate bills.'No' says the instigator 'just put it all on the tab and we'll sort it out at the end.'

During the meal he repeatedly made himself known and not in a good way.The type of person who asks for things when they're already on their way.Looking for problems and all the while feeling important because HE KNOWS YOUR JOB MUCH BETTER THAN YOU DO.
Towards the end of the meal he committed the ultimate blasphemy.He stuck his hand in the air and waved it around flag like until he caught someone's eye, then rudely gestured them over.This is tantamount to knocking on the bar for service but unlike the person who taps rudely on the bar for attention you cant pretend not to notice this particular performance.
'Can we order some coffees?' Note the absence of any polite P word.
Perchance,I happened to be out front on this occasion and had the personal pleasure of the summons.I was a bit peeved that the waiting staff hadn't offered coffees already.But they had.Two minutes prior to this.He didnt want them then, but now he did.
Quite an assortment of coffees,espressos, cappuccinos(all decaffeinated)lattes and for HIM a Macchiato,which I'm sure he only ordered because he thought we wouldn't know what it was.
(BTW Can someone please explain to me the point of a decaff espresso??)
I sent the first of the batch of coffees over,the cappuccinos and lattes.As the waitress put them down on the table HE piped up 'I ordered a decaff Machiato??'
~~'Well as you can see we only have one bloody coffee machine so we can only make 4 bleeping coffees at a time,so stop being so bloody impatient'~~ 'Yes, its on its way' replied waitress.
I could hear this exchange from the coffee machine.For some strange reason I made the Macchiato last....
As his coffee was put down he asked 'is it decaff??'
Waitress: 'Yes its decaff'
Him : 'are you sure???'
Waitress:'yes its decaff'
Him:'Honest????'

Will someone just tell him to STFU?

When the bill was presented HE came swanking over to the till requesting that the bill be spilt into:
Food only, then split into 5/11 and 6/11,with the wine being added to the 5/11 and all other drinks added to the 6/11.Then (wonders never cease)a tip of 10% added to each.
So what he actually wanted was two separate bills,as discussed previously.

He stood over the girl who was trying to make this calculation,chipping in with the odd sarcastic 'is there a problem???'
If you've ever been in this situation you will know that even a simple calculation can become problematic in these circumstances.
He continued to invigilate over her then proceeded to instruct her as to how best to make the calculation,finally resulting with two separate bills.'Are you happy with that??'he said smugly.
A simple mental calculation on my part told me that the two revised bills did not add up to the amount on the original bill.
It was naughty but I kept schtum.
I knew he had erred in our favour, proferring a far more generous tip than anticipated.
There is a God..
I may refrain from posting on here over the festive period as I seem to have a dearth of Christmas cheer.

You see the trouble with customers is they are exactly like meals,sadly the bad ones are far more memorable...

The debacle of the Green Beef

2010-12-10T13:38:00.000-08:00

I'm uncommonly disgusted and angry tonight.Probably due to a combination of unrelated but intrinsically linked incidents which culminated into one big time meltdown today.
I'm not normally tired.I don't need much sleep,I can manage on 5 hours per night with no ill effects.Having twins who were never in synch(still aren't)but woke alternately every two hours for the first two years of their lives was the perfect training ground to cope with my current status.
Once you get into a profession like this its all about the routine.Every good Chef has a routine which must be adhered to at all costs.Having a routine and being organised helps to keep the pressure from boiling over,if the routine is broken, devastation and chaos will undoubtedly follow.The routine is the constant which guards the fort from invasion from the enemy,the stuff you have no control over.The diners.
The routine means that even when you're tired you can function because you know what to do without really thinking.
This last couple of weeks I've been off the treadmill due to the snow,the usual 16-18hour days have dwindled due to the shortage of customers. I've been lucky to have worked a 9 hour day never mind the usual.The routine has been unexpectedly broken so getting back into the usual flow feels a bit odd,in that I'm a teensy bit uncharacteristically tired.
So today, an incident which would normally have only effected a momentarily raised eyebrow, a heavy sigh and a despairing shake of the head had us both fizzing.

Over the years we've both seen quite a lot of unsavoury practices in hotels and restaurants that would put you off dining out for life.Lots of them a result of pressurised situations.
Want to hear a few?
About 15 years ago I was offered a job in a 5 star country house hotel.I was a duty manager.Some of the practices I saw there were cringeworthy.There was a swanky cocktail bar where diners were taken to peruse menus and have a quiet drink or cocktail pre dinner.There was a pianist in the corner,thats the type of place it was.Every table had a silver plated nibbles receptacle containing peanuts,olives and cocktail onions.The diners would enjoy their nibbles then swan off to the restaurant for their meal.The nibbles would be left out on the tables till the end of the night.This was a place where the bar didn't close until the last guest went to bed,often 3 or 4am.Last thing at night the receptacles were collected in and the remaining contents scooped out and returned to large containers in the still room ready for recycling the next night.By the end of the night they looked sweaty and obviously you will know about men and peanuts..God knows how many times the bloody things were in and out of those containers.If you stayed there for a week chances are you hand your hands in the same peanuts every night.

In the same establishment old fashioned afternoon tea was served in the cocktail bar,one of the those posh treats that people bring their maiden aunts out for on Mothers Day.Served on a three tier stand.Dinky cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off,home made cream cakes, scones and preserves served with FRESH CREAM.All the stock was brought up from the kitchen on a trolley and stored in the still room at the side of the bar until required.The cream was in a sealed container and was portioned into individual ramekins as needed.The first day I was there I noticed the cream was being served the way you prepare a soufflé for the oven.You know when you flatten the surface with a palette knife then run your finger around the rim of the ramekin to help the soufflé look tidy as it rises.I strolled into the still room to see who was responsible for this unusual presentation style.The perpetrator was a chap who had originally began training as a chef then had decided Front of House was his forte.He was a barman.I watched him slowly run his index finger around the rim of the ramekin,then stick his finger (practically down to the knuckle) into his mouth lasciviously licking to remove any excess cream, prior to moving directly on to the preparation of the next unfortunate ramekin....Nooooooooo.Obviously I stopped him,but he'd being performing this procedure every afternoon for 6 months...

Then there was the place I worked where the Chef was filthy,an alcoholic and smelled of death permanently,his Sous Chef was a nice enough lad but sweated profusely, probably due to the increased workload he endured as a result of the Head Chefs permanent dysfunctional hangover.When he was under pressure there were always unfettered beads of sweat running down his forehead following the outline of his nose and slowly plinking, slow motion into the dish he was preparing.It was hypnotising.I never ate anything there in the two years I worked there.
The diners never needed any additional salt on their meals either...

On another occasion at a very good hotel as I was waiting at the pass to take some meals, something in my peripheral vision caught my eye.I saw the Chef de Partie who was doing starters drop a cooked Quail on the floor,glance furtively sideways, then pick it up,dust if off with his oven cloth,then go ahead and compile the finished dish.The Head Chef clocked this at the same time that I did.It was a Saturday night,the kitchen were up the wall, checks were piling on and tempers were frazzled.The proverbial wire was about to snap.Cooking another dish would have meant discarding the rest of the starters(which were ready to go) and the main courses which had already been put on to cook to coincide with the starters being finished.This restaurant had 2 rosettes.The Head Chef knew Id seen it.It was face off at the pass.He held my gaze steadily and through gritted teeth,lips unmoving in a straight, thin white line hissed 'if you don't take it they'll have to wait another 20 minutes and the whole of the rest of the night will be a total f**k up and it'll be your fault and YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WILL TAKE THE FLACK'
I took the quail to the customer.The only defence I have is I would rather have eaten the quail than the cream with optional extras...

So,when we opened our own business we made a promise to each other that we would never compromise or send any food which didn't meet our required standard or more importantly that we wouldn't eat ourselves.
Over the years we've stuck to this despite the problems it can cause with delays etc if anything goes wrong.
As I've mentioned before I'm a bit Howard Hughes about hygiene anyway,probably because of all the stuff I've seen in the past.
Anyway,today a couple came in for lunch and ordered the only dish which we always have on the menu.Its a Cotes de Boeuf.A beef rib served with chips,watercress and Bearnaise sauce.Quite a standard really but its one of our most popular dishes.
When the waitress took their order they said they wanted to inspect the raw piece of beef first to "see if it was marbled to their satisfaction."
'WTF is going on' said chef...Begrudgingly he cut the single rib from the joint and sent it out into the dining room on a silver platter for the diners to inspect.

At this point my Howard Hughes tendencies kicked in..'what if they decide they don't want it and send it back after THEY'VE BREATHED on it????'
A couple of minutes later waitress returned with the affirmative nod to go ahead and cook.It met their meticulous standard.
We both trundled around for a while muttering in unison about the audacity of it all.
When the beef was ready to be served we vented our frustrations by standing in front of it and repeatedly giving it the 'V' sign until the waitress collected it.It was a lovely bit of beef and didn't deserve this, but it made us feel better.

When the dishes were cleared the exacting couple were surprisingly complimentary about their meal.It was proclaimed delicious..'Much better than the last one we had here which was GREEN..'
When this information filtered back to the kitchen we were livid.
'That's the last bleeping time I'm sending raw bloody meat out there to be inspected..what the heck do they think they we're doing..this isn't one of those places where there's half dead lobsters swimming around in a bleeping tank slowly eating themselves from inside, waiting for some unfortunate diner to save them from a fate worse than the slow death they're currently suffering...' said Chef..
(Not sure what the relevance of that was...)

Sometimes you have to draw the line.Availing raw ingredients for inspection by ones diners prior to it being cooked isn't really a feasible option.At the end of the day we are a pub,not a bloody zoo.

There's only one question Id like to ask. If you'd been served a piece of GREEN meat would you really want to return to that establishment for a second helping??

I'm so bloody disgusted I might actually move to Tunbridge Wells.

Chestnuts roasting on a open fire,Jack Frost nipping at your... nether regions.

2010-12-08T12:17:00.000-08:00

We've been busy despite the snow.Though not with customers.Christmas decorations are up,the place is nipping clean,to be frank,you could eat your dinner off the floor if you were so inclined.

I had a vision of the beams becoming a starry sky,well stay with me here,yes I know they're red,maybe in practice a starry Mars sky.Working on the premise of course,that one can never have too many fairy lights.

We've battled constantly with frozen water-pipes in the kitchen,which has kind of hampered progress, problem finally solved by placing blow heaters strategically in front of the of affected areas and impatiently waiting for the thaw.

There's another seasonal problem which has been giving me far more cause for consternation this week.
The Gents loos.Actually the title 'Gents' is flattering in the extreme,the sign on the door boldly decrees MEN.It takes stoicism to persevere with these but they're a bit of a feature now and they've served well since 1850(I know that because some thoughtful brickie carved his initials and date in the pointing).Besides,I have another far more important reason to retain them...
The man from Michelin paid us his first visit only a couple of months after we arrived here three years ago.In his post repast 'chat' he sneeringly suggested that we might want to do something about the unconventional toilet facilities.In fact he wasn't complimentary at all.He actually told us that the only reason people would come here was for the food .What a bloody cheek,I mean I thought that's what they were meant to be inspecting??So much for surroundings and other associated luxuries only coming into play at 3 Michelin star standard.
Chef smiled through gritted teeth...'I suppose he prefers to inspect the swankier places down the big smoke..~~Knob~~'.
So since then we've been determined to hang onto the Thomas Crappers and retain our entry in the Red book.

Known locally as Ice Station Zebra,you have to be a hardy sort to avail yourself of these conveniences during a Northumberland winter.Last year, I decided to give the lads a bit of a treat,we installed a heater and attractively tiled the walls and floors.I confess I did have an ulterior motive,the floor being concrete and concrete by its very nature being an absorbent material and men being inclined to leave their calling cards on the floor, you can imagine during warmer climes the place did generate quite an odoriferous whiff.

Anyway back to the thing which has been narking me somewhat.
The chaps have been leaving the toilet door open,which kind of defeats the object of the heater.I mean were they born in a field??Yes probably.
So,last Friday I pinned the following cheeky but(I thought) humorous notice on the door in the hope it would grab their attention invoking the desired result, ie a closed door and a welcome absence of pee on the floor.

But no, the door is still left wide open,and to add insult to injury tonight I found this note pinned underneath my notice.

Some people just have no respect.....

PS Couldn't resist showing you this picture of the shed during last weeks blizzards.I wont be going in there for a while..

Variables, winds and snow from the North

2010-11-29T14:02:00.000-08:00

A ~~picture of the wintry landscape~~ perfect illustration of one those unpredictable variables I was telling you about previously.Its the morning view from our window.

Always one for a challenge,Chef convinced me to venture out for a little sortie in the 4 x 4.We boldly went where no man had gone before,well not before the snow plough came round anyway.
Resulting in a veritable drought of customers,we're haemorrhaging cash, business currently as brisk as a Mr Whippy at the North Pole.
So I've been at a bit of a loose end.Chef advised taking advantage of the unforeseen respite and suggested a welcome bit of relaxation and rest.Difficult for someone who finds sitting still so problematic that she hasn't been to the cinema for around 20 years.,.(actually that's a lie, I have been once, last year in Singapore which was a completely surreal experience which I might tell you about at a later date).
I needed a project.I've been wanting to have an attic clearance since we moved here three years ago.Last Saturday I tackled the job.
I uncovered a treasure trove of old books which kept me up there for about 8 hours..
Second hand book shops are my guilty pleasure, which is slightly weird as I'm a bit Howard Hughes with library books,probably since my Dad told me not to get books out of the library as YOU NEVER KNOW WHO MIGHT HAVE SNEEZED ON THEM..
No matter,I'd struck old book jackpot with this find.
I've picked out a couple of loosely on topic gems for your delectation and pleasure.

A 1947 copy of A book of Inns.Mostly South Eastern Inns,gawd knows what this was doing in a rural attic in Northumberland..The pic on the front is the White Lion Hotel at Eye.Its now White Lion House:

'Looming over the small market place is the extensive rendered frontage of White Lion House, which until 1987 was the White Lion Hotel. Now divided into houses and flats, the gateway into its yard has a unique arched sign above proclaiming a ‘Posting Establishment’. Next to this, in the hotel’s former off licence, is a secondhand bookshop, the unambiguously named Eye Bookshop' Suffolk Tourist Guide.

Sadly I'm sure many of the other Inns featured will have suffered a similar fate..
Found a nice little bit of prose in here which I might use on the web site.It seems to be a bit of a trend to do this doesn't it? Or do you think that's a bit naff?They're usually Hilaire Belloc quotes.
Anyway this is a William Combe :

'Along the varying road of life
In calm content,toil or strife,
As morn or noon,by night or day,
As time conducts him on his way,
How oft does man by care op'ressed,
Find at an Inn a place of rest?'

Unless they've been converted,to apartments of course..

Next up(in the manner of X factor)its:Helpful Hints for Sommeliers and Wine Waiters.

The stylish medallion our handsome model is sporting is known as a 'tastevin'.An historical tool of the trade which was latterly worn as a Medal of Honour to denote Sommelierly status, I've yet to see a wine waiter wearing one of these.If you ever do ~~you might just want to shoot them~~ Id love to hear from you.Actually I've found one for here it'd look perfect with a LBD and some vertiginous heels.Ideal teamed with the silver plated Crumber which I was gifted many years ago by a work colleague.Just what I'd always wanted..
Couldn't date this book but there's a section on food matchings,the wines are exclusively French, no sign of any New World vinos.

Going off subject here its:The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam.

A 1914 copy inscribed on the inside cover: 'To Miss Fletcher with love from PSD. 1, Sept 1923'

.How mysterious and polite,very Downton Abbey..I wonder what happened to them.What a treat:

'Awake!for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the stars to Flight!
And Lo!The Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultans turret in the Noose of Light'

I'd swap this for the Crumber any day....

Finally(something for everyone)a 1938 copy of Harrow School Song Book.

Rousing stuff.Nowt like a good sing-song in times of hardship and adversity.
Actually this made me feel a bit teary due to the inscription and photo on the inside cover from a dashing naval type named Martin,signed to Dorothy.

And then on the next page a photo of them on their wedding day..

And you thought I was all dissing diners,double entrendres and diatribes..
Normal service will resume in the spring.