Part 23. Hot In The City

Jack Dee, sticky pudding bowls and lots of sunshine.

Before we start, Tony Cannelloni said that even though he never existed, shouldn’t he get some Likes. So if you like him, stick a Like at the end of the post.

Hello to you, and welcome back. Right, it’s the year 2005 and it’s summer time in the historic city of York.

We’re still on our mission to prove that we we’re not just another veggie restaurant knocking out Serenity Salad, Butterbean Balti and Pasta al Forno, yea, pasta bake to you.

Some people were getting it, some weren’t, and strangely, it was a lot of the vegetarian crowd who were confused. “Stop stepping out of line, give us the bean burgers back.”

But already we had a loyal following, the regulars who would return weekly and knew our names, and the new diners, who wanted to know our names. This was a good feeling.

Anyway, it’s a sunny Saturday morning and we are gearing up for lunch.

Donna and I were already at the restaurant, Donna was setting tables and I was preparing the bean burgers!

First through the door on this balmy Saturday is Tricky Vicki, she’s always early, so when she knocks on the door, we know it’s her.

“Hiya Donna, alright? Oh it’s nice and sunny out there, and town is heaving, it’s gonna be a busy lunch. Where’s Andrew, in the kitchen?”

Immediately I jump out from behind the screen at the door while loudly shouting, “Hello”

A perfect game of Shockers there, it must have been, because Vicki looked horrified and did an involuntary juggling demonstration with her shopping bag.

“Stop it will ya.”

I go back to the bean burgers in the kitchen and Donna shakes her head.

Next at the door is Blackhead, she’s always a little early too, it’s 11:50am. She doesn't knock because she can see Donna and Tricky, so instead she gives one of those little fast waves, with the hand only moving a few centimetres side to side.

“Oh it’s nice out there today. Hiya Donna, hiya Vicky.”

Blackhead receives a couple of hiyas back. Then, and because she’s terribly polite, Blackhead pops her head in the kitchen to say ‘hi’ to me.

“Rosie! What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here, it’s Friday. Oh no, Rosie, you should be at school. You’re gonna be in so much shit, they’ll think you're nicking off (that’s truant to posh people). Oh no, Rosie, I’m gonna phone the school and tell them you’ve arrived here instead. Oh yea, and I’ll tell them that you’re drunk, and you’ve been doing drugs, and there’s four Lambert and Butler hanging out of your mouth. Big trouble for you lass.”

“Hello Andrew.”

She would never bite back would our Blackhead, this disappointed me, but I persevered.

Always last at the door was our Keanu, never late, just not as early as Vicki or Rosie.

But today, our Keanu had someone with him, Bud. They knew each other because they happened to share student accommodation. So when we asked our Keanu if he could find a washer upper, he pulled Bud out of the bag. Or more likely, out of bed.

So the two of them sauntered in and Bud was introduced to us. He reminded me of a young Jack Black, but with glasses. Everyone did that polite thing when they first meet someone, you know, how are you, where are you from blah blah.

Then me and our Keanu showed Bud to the danger zone, the wash up area. Keanu explained what Bud needed to do and that was it. Nothing much more to tell him really. Oh, apart from where everything lives. That always happens when a new kitchen porter starts, you have to tell them where every item needs to go. Now if you haven't worked in a kitchen you’re possibly thinking that it’s no big deal.

But you have to imagine, there could be fifteen pans, numerous knives, pastry cutters, rolling pins, chopping boards, three hundred mixing bowls, sieves, whisks, grate……….

So throughout their first shift, they stand in front of you holding an item, “Where does this go?”

I chatted to Bud, it’s important to make new people feel welcome. It turned out that Bud was studying something to do with TV or radio at university. Something like that anyway. Bud wanted to be a comedian, or write comedy. I assumed that he wouldn't become funny until he received his degree, but no, he was already funny. There was a bit of Jack Dee** about him.

I liked Bud, we all liked Bud.

So Bud cracked on and kept those pots right down to sea level, all the way through service. No more sink Buckaroo for us. It was beautiful, we actually cried a little.

Service had started and me and our Keanu were racing through orders. Plating up the salad of beetroot, spiced cucumber and raspberry vinegar syrup. Dressing the spaghetti with lemon oil and sprinkling on the white Stilton and toasted almonds. Desserts were hitting us, out go the Eccles cakes with cinnamon ice cream.

Meanwhile, out front, Vicki, Blackhead and Donna are welcoming new and regular diners. They're chatting to tourists who were in awe at the sun baked cobbled streets of York, explaining dishes to people and taking orders, which were then passed to the kitchen. Then re setting tables in readiness for the next diners, some wandered in confidently because they'd been before, others would almost tip toe in, looking for a friendly face to help them.   

Back to the kitchen. Bud is doing great, but our Keanu and I are running out of stuff. So in between plating, we’re making extra dishes and getting them cooked. So, as is always the case when you’re running around, things get forgotten.

“Keanu, what’s that smell?”

“Dunno, maybe it’s Bud.”

“No, it’s something sweet, pass that lemon oil will ya.”

“There you go. Oh yea, I can smell it now.”

“Cheers. There’s nothing in the oven is there? Stick your head in and have a look.”

Our Keanu opens the oven doors, “Oh shit! Have you seen these?”

“What, there’s nothing in the oven is there?”

Our Keanu pulls out a tray. On it are ten miniature pudding bowls, we used to make little fruit crumbles (so old fashioned, very cringy), but the juice had spilled over and turned into fruit toffee tramlines down the sides.

“Keanu, what have you done?”

“I didn’t put them in, you did.”

“No I never. Or did I?”

Then our Keanu remembered who was to blame for the mess on the baking tray. Obviously, it was Tony Cannelloni.

“Keanu, what’s wrong with him, he messes up every day.”

“I don’t know why we employ him.”

“You have a good point Keanu. Hey Bud, do you like Tony Cannelloni?”

Bud was a bit lost by all this talk of the imaginary Tony Cannelloni.

But he replied anyway, “I hate him”

But we didn't have time to make more, so we had to clean the bowls up as best as possible and crack on.

Now, about an hour and a half into the service Donna came into the kitchen and told me that a lady on bed 7 wanted to talk to us both.

Not sure why, but the immediate thought is always, ‘what’s gone wrong.’

Me, “Is she ok?’

Donna, “Yes she's really nice and she has said lots of positive things about the dishes.”

So I straighten myself up, asked Bud if I looked ok, he replied, “Million dollars mate” and I went over the border.

If you think this is OK and fancy buying us a coffee, you can click this button and drop three quid into the Starbucks till. If not, no problem.

For a minute I forgot where table 7 was, as I glanced around I looked outside and caught sight of Cheeky Little Elvis over the road, he was smoking and waving. I wanted his job.

Then I remembered, table 7 was in front of me. Donna came over and introduced me to a lady who told us she was the food editor of Yorkshire Life magazine.

The three of us chatted and the nice lady was very complementary. She explained that the reason she had visited us was because the decor caught her eye when she was passing by a few days earlier, at first she hadn't realised that it was a vegetarian restaurant.

She liked the old tables, the beautiful wooden flooring and the retro standard lamps. How’s that? We had managed to create a restaurant which did’t look like a hippy cave and we’d done it with very little cash.

Then she discussed the food, she asked where the ideas came from, why we didn't follow the mung bean path and asked about the evening menu. Because the food was my bit I started to answer, but something threw me off stride, and that don’t happen often. I wanted to know what she had eaten so I could tailor the response accordingly, and when I did a quick scan, there on her plate was a pudding bowl, complete with sticky spillage down the sides. Now, it didn’t look bad, but it wasn't how we wanted it to look. So a quick brain detour and I started to tell her how we liked to keep the homely, rustic touches, such as letting the sticky fruit run over the pudding bowls, just like mothers used to when we were all kids. She seemed to like this. Good eh?

So we waved the nice lady off and got back to work but thought nothing more of the chat.

“Hey, our Keanu, looks like Tony Cannelloni did a good thing with those fruit crumbles.”

Our Keanu, “Really? I’m glad he works here. Hey Bud, what do you think of Tony Cannelloni?”

“I love him.”

So the Saturday lunch service was coming to an end. Donna, Tricky and Rosie had the last few diners finishing their drinks and they were laying  tables for the evening service. Our Keanu and I were prepping the evening menu and marvelling at the clean sink area, telling Bud he was great.

“Yea, I am.”

Our Keanu got in touch and sent this. An example of the lunch menu which we’ll talk about next week.

Then just as the last people left, another couple stepped into the restaurant. Blackhead politely explained that we had closed, but they wanted to talk to the owners. It was all go!

So Donna and I greeted them and listened to their speech. It turned out that they were from a certain animal rights organisation and they wanted us to put some leaflets in the restaurant, as well as a few posters. They were holding a road show and visiting cities around the country, informing people that eating meat was wrong.

We declined their kind offer of a bundle of leaflets and the posters of pigs in pens. However, they were surprised, plus, they weren't happy about this, I mean, it was their restaurant after all.

“But all the vegetarian and vegan restaurants across the country have been helping us.”

So, because Donna is the nice one, she explained that even though we agreed with some of their beliefs, we didn't want to be seen as a stereotypical vegetarian restaurant. The practice of dictating to people wasn't what we agreed with, people need to be allowed to make their own choices.

Did they accept this? No.

So I tried. “Let us explain. If we put posters up in the restaurant showing images of animal cruelty, meat eaters are less likely to dine with us.

Did they accept this? No.

So I tried again.

“Are you asking any meat restaurants to hand out flyers and put up your posters?

The response, a confused “No.”

“But what's the point of putting this material in restaurants where most of the diners are already vegetarian? Surely you should be putting the material in a meat restaurant, because those people are the ones eating meat.”

And you know that thing that happens when people don't have a logical and relevant answer, so they do the next best thing? They became irritated, almost angry.

Their response, “So you're not going to help the animals?”

Oh here we go!

“Let us explain, again. We attract a lot of people to the restaurant who are meat eaters. They visit us for the food, not the ethics. So if we put up posters showing harrowing images and tell them to stop eating meat, there’s a strong chance they won’t come back to us. Nor will they change their eating habits.

If you forcibly tell people to change their life choices, chances are, they won’t.  So imagine, tonight, a meat eater comes to us because they like the food. They see the posters, roll their eyes, then they go back to their favourite meat restaurant and eat a chicken. When you look at it like that, we’re actually doing more for the animals than you actually realise”

Guess how that went down!

Then we locked the door and Tony Cannelloni gave us all a high five.

Then a nice thing. The following week a letter arrived, it was telling us that we had been nominated in the category for newcomer restaurant of the year, 2005 by Yorkshire Life magazine.

Now this was big news to us, you see, this was around twenty years ago, vegetarian restaurants weren't even regarded as real restaurants back then.

Next week it’s all about food, and maybe tomatoes.

This was freaking us out a bit, none of this was in the plan. We didn't even have a plan.

Right, thanks for ploughing through all that. Next week its all about food food food.

Cheers, Andrew and Donna

**In the early days of his career, Jack Dee had been struggling through the comedy clubs trying to get that big break, but getting nowhere. He made the decision to give up and go back to his day job. He had committed to one last gig in a club somewhere. He couldn't be bothered to do it, he’d given up. So when he arrived, instead of jumping on stage and singing out his usual gags, he just recited out the jokes in a monotone manner, obviously he just wanted to get that last session finished. But the audience loved it, they actually found this accidental deadpan stance funny. So there you go, that’s how he found his style.