Part 13. Rock Around The Clock

A recipe for International Pease Pudding, a blessing from Uri and an annoying court case.

Here we go again. Now, if you read last weeks instalment, you’ll know that we had our first two days of opening, one was calm and tranquil, the next was a cocktail of fun, carnage and chaos, a lethal cocktail. That was a Saturday, the next day was obviously Sunday.

We decided that we should open on a Sunday, due to the simple fact that a lot of other restaurants didn’t. These losers were missing a trick, we could capitalise on this. So, as usual, we met our Keanu at the door, opened up, and got ready for our second onslaught, we were ready for action, we were troops today. So, loads of extra prep, stock those fridges to the max, and get the Hostess Trolley filled with plates. Braced.

From memory, we did four covers. Great eh. Now we were the losers. Maybe that’s why the other restaurants didn’t open, maybe we should have capitalised on their experience. So we did one more Sunday after that, just so those other restaurants could laugh at us, then no more Sundays.

Well, back to the liquor license, again. Hang on, would you like a quick story? Yea you do. Story has it, many years ago, in the north west of England, around the Carlisle area, there were a lot of quarries. And in these quarries, lots of Irish chaps were employed, they probably chose the job out of necessity, times were hard. They blew up the rocks, cracked stone and generally worked very hard. And after their back breaking work, these chaps would pop to the pub for a quick beer or seventeen. Back then, pubs could open whenever they wanted, and for as long as they wanted, perfect for the thirsty workers. Then, the next morning they would turn up for work, a little on the rough side. Now, the rich quarry owners didn't mind this, but what they didn’t like, is half drunken, bleary eyed labourers, using the dynamite incorrectly and blowing up wrong parts of the quarry, or falling asleep on the job. So, they pestered the government about this, after all it was costing them money. Well, as the quarry owners were rich and powerful, and as the country needed rock for building, it was agreed that public houses in the area would have time restrictions put on them, therefore reducing the amount the workers could drink, therefore increasing productivity. It was a great success, and eventually the scheme was rolled out across the country. Opening Hours.

And hence, one morning when we were setting up, at about day four or five, there was a group of people at the door, five of them. These official looking people informed us, in a stern tone, that they were from the council. As part of the liquor licence, they wanted to have a look around, all five of them. We were a bit worried, what did they want to see? Were we doing something wrong? Did they want to see loads of paper?

Actually, none of the above. They chatted rubbish for a few minutes, then started to pass comment on the decor, they loved it. They stroked the tables, sat on the chairs, and flicked through the old Country Life magazines, wishing they’d bought that mansion house for seventeen grand in 1972. Then they chatted a bit more, then left. That was it. I mean, we were confused, what was the point, nothing happened. Had we done something wrong, or right?

Well, half an hour later, the phone rang, and it was Donkey Boy, our liquor license solicitor. It turned out that the council gang were happy that we wouldn't be selling Moonshine or organising illegal raves. So did that mean that we could eventually have that license? Not quite, next thing they wanted was for me to go to a court hearing on Friday. Jesus, it didn't stop. The time slot they allocated was 11am. Now that time may sound pretty OK with you, but if you're preparing lunch in a restaurant, that’s the worst time. But what choice was there, we needed to get this finalised, it had been haunting us for months. Donna confirmed with Donkey Boy that I would be probably making soup, but I would defiantly be there.

So, Friday arrived, as it does every week, and at around 10:30am I turned the lunchtime soup off, tidied myself up, and walked over to the courts. Now I have to admit something here, although I’m quite hard, I was a bit nervous about doing this, no idea why, what could they do to me. When I arrived, they took my details and pointed to a set of double doors down the corridor, which was approximately four miles away. Nervously I strolled along the corridor, wondering what was going to happen, my imagination was giving me a helping hand. Will I get away with it, will they just let me off with fifty hours community service, or will they make an example of me? It’s life, I know it.

I stood outside the doors for a moment or two, until a bloke popped his head through, and beckoned me in. He pointed me in the direction of a small wooden table, which I stood behind, and I glanced quickly around the room. There was about six people in all, they were sat at benches in front of me and up front was a judgey type person, waiting to send me down. One of them confirmed my name and asked if I was here to apply for an alcohol license. Obviously I said yes, then they asked me what type of restaurant it was. So I explained that it was a vegetarian restaurant, but it wasn’t the usual type of place, the only heard the vegetarian bit. So, did they then ask about opening hours, types of drinks to be sold, staffing levels or security systems? NO. They just started chitter chattering about the fact that it’s nice to have a variety of restaurants in York. Then they started reminiscing about some of their favourite restaurants from over the years, while I’m stood waiting to hear my fate. Well, after five minutes of idle gossip, they remembered I was still there, and decided I was OK. I can recall the sentence, “well, we can’t see any problem with this case, so the license is granted. And we hear that you have some soup to make, so we’ll let you get on your way.” They all had a little chuckle at that, but I didn’t, months of palaver for something which ended in a little get together and a five minute chin wag. I was released, and I hurried back to the restaurant, in a bit of a huffy.   

So there we go, thats how alcohol licences were granted twenty years ago, I hear it’s much easier now.

But hey, there’s more important things going on, Uri Geller was joining us that evening. There was a special menu to prepare, a grand table to set, and a red carpet to roll out. So, after I had ran back to the restaurant, gave Donna the good news about the license, we did a lunch service, happy people, no Mr Upholstery man today, we closed up and started. Our Keanu gave us a hand, and as usual he had several pairs of hands, he was polishing glasses, slicing onions, folding napkins and turning water into wine. We wanted to make sure this went well, we had an opportunity to prove ourselves here. The day rolled on, and the presence of Uri could be felt, an aura was forming over Swinegate. And at 6pm, the time was right, candles were flickering on the table, cutlery glistened and our Keanu was back in Bond mode. Uri and his people arrived, their eyes glanced approvingly around the restaurant, and surprisingly to us, they wanted to shake our hands. Keanu liked this bit, “the name’s Keanu, Our Keanu”.

Then we got down to business, Donna poured wine and drinks and I knocked up some gear in the kitchen. Then, dishes were served and we attended to our lovely guests. Compliments were given, and we accepted them, everything was running immensely smoothly. Then, as the meal ended, chattering continued and Jonathan Cainer stretched his legs and wondered around the room, flicking through the Country Life magazines, which were, as you remember, hung on the wall. As I walked past he collared me to show me the country mansion which was on the market for seventeen grand in 1972. “If only we knew how much these properties would fetch all these years later” he wistfully stated. Strange I thought, couldn't he have seen that in the stars?

As the evening continued it was obvious that this was some kind of business meeting, although about what, we couldn't work out. But whatever it was about, it seemed positive. And towards the end of the evening Uri turned his attention to us, he was surprised to hear that we’d been open for less than a week. Then he asked for a plate. Now, if you haven't worked in a restaurant, being asked for a plate, after the meal has finished, is strange one, didn’t make sense. But then when Uri told us why he wanted a plate, it did make sense. Well, kind of. “I’m going to draw you a picture” he proudly told us. Donna and I got the feeling this was something we should feel privileged about, the rest of the table were waiting for our reaction. So, we said things like, “oh great, thank you”, then hurried into the kitchen to fetch a plate, and to tell our Keanu. “A picture of what?”, he was baffled also. I told him he had to go and pose, but he didn’t believe me.

So we gave Uri a clean, white dinner plate, he took out some Sharpies (other brands are available) and started to draw. Nobody could see what he was drawing because he kinda positioned his seat in such a way, you know, like angled away from everyone. So, a few people talked to each other but mostly they watched Uri, and the anticipation built, Uri’s eyes scanned the room as he doodled. It took about ten minutes, our Keanu left his washing up to have a nosey, got bored then went back. Then, just as everyone’s eyes started to glaze over, Uri announced, “Vanilla Black, with food this good, you will be very successful”, and he turned the plate around. Now, his guests were impressed, they stared and pointed, picking out certain elements, we were a bit bewildered. We didn’t want to seem ungrateful for this one off piece of artwork, Uri was chuffed with it, we just didn't know what it was, or what to say. There were eyes, a Griffin, we thought, little boxes with lines flowing from them, stars, and other random shapes. It had the words, Vanilla Black somewhere in the middle, we understood that bit, but the rest was just like cave drawings to us. Uri presented it to us and told us not to sell it, apparently his work was selling for big chunks of dosh on Ebay. And then he stood up, held up his hands, and turned, looking around the room at the same time. He told us he was looking for the best wall to hang it on, the place where it would provide the best energy.  And then he stopped, “there”, he firmly stated as pointed to a wall. He told us all that this position was the best, the prime location for for the plate and the energy. I assumed he chose this particular wall because it was the only one without a picture or a clipped edge mirror on it, but what did I know.

And there we go, Uri had given us his blessing, and we had an original piece of artwork. We were mentioned in the local paper the following Monday, probably the paparazzi, big time for us. Our Keanu wasn’t impressed with the plate, and we never hung it on the wall.

A recipe now. One of the inspirations for the dishes at the restaurant has been northern foods, you know, chips ’n’ gravy and all that. My mother is staying with us for a week, and a conversation came around to something called Pease Pudding. An explanation for posh people who won’t know what it is, a North Eastern dish of yellow split peas, cooked in ham stock until mushy, then it’s left to go cold, and served as a side with a meal or in a sandwich. There’s a bit more to it than that, but basically, cooked, mushy, pulses. So, we’re taking Pease Pudding and giving it an international flavour. In the recipe it’s served with an egg which has been cooked in fried onion oil. But you can serve it with whatever, meat, cheese, charred veg, Can’t be bothered to go on. Brown lentils take longer to cook than red lentils, so stay with it.

International Pease Pudding and Fried Onion Egg

Serves a few people, fairy free.

Ingredients

1 Large onion, peeled and finely sliced

60g Brown lentils, soaked overnight in cold water

1 Tomato, finely chopped

1tspn Curry powder

1tspn Garam masala

1tspn Ground ginger

1tspn Ground cumin

500g Water

1tspn Tomato purée

Eggs, however many you need.

Salt and some oil, any type.

Method

-Add a little oil to a saucepan, then cook half of the onions until just starting to brown.

-Then add the lentils and the spices, fry for 30 seconds to toast the spices a little.

-Then add the water and chopped tomato and leave to simmer. Stir now and again, and add more water if they go to dry.

-In a frying pan add four tablespoons of oil and fry the rest of the onions until golden. Then turn off and leave so that the fried onions infuse.

-The lentils should be cooked at about 30 minutes, or thereabouts, taste to check. If there is lots of water left, simmer for a little longer to remove it, we need it to be quite dry.

-When they are cooked, and have hardly any liquid left, blend with a stick blender, keep a little texture, then add the tomato purée and half a teaspoon of salt. Taste, add more salt if needed. Cool, then add to the fridge to chill.

-When completely cold you can do the egg, if you want.

-Remove the fried onions from the oil, drain. Then heat the oil. Use the fried onions as garnish.

-Add the egg and cook as usual, baste a little with the oil to get the flavour on top. Season with a little pinch of salt.

-Serve your pease pudding with the egg, or whatever you have chosen, meat, cheese etc. Oh, I wonder if it would be good with fried Halloumi.

-Eat it

Well then, join us next week as other things happen. Thanks for having a little read, Andrew and Donna.