Now, after typing it, I realise that the title basically sounds like a racist AC/DC cover version, but before you cast your phone aside in disgust at my, now you come to think of it inevitable middle aged slide into reactionary politics, hold on a mo, for this is merely the news that, after a pleasurable couple of years of semi-retirement, your super soaraway Coastalblog is back on the stoves full-time.
(I hadn't realised you weren't, you quite reasonably say, fair enough, so to recap...)
When I took the pub over I reasoned that I was going to be to preoccupied with various bits and bobs that needed doing front of house, and wouldn't be able to give the kitchen the attention it deserved. I was right in this, to be fair, paperwork, repairs and renovations, navigating the uncertain waters of Covid, all of this took a lot of time up. So I handed the kitchen reins over to my sous chef, Lyndsey (who has, I should say, done an absolutely sterling job). That's me done, I thought, that's the natural order of things, early forties is normally when line cooks step back, burnt out, either move into management or drift out of the profession.
As time moved on and things calmed down, I began to feel the itch to get back to it, but you can't have two head chefs in one kitchen, and the last thing I'd have wanted to do was undermine L's authority, so I contented myself with a bit of holiday cover, and the odd menu suggestion. And nodding approvingly as things rolled pleasingly on
Problem is, my staff are too good at their jobs, and once I'd got front of house set up as I'd like, the astonishing Aimie, my manager, and indefatigable L in the kitchen didn't really need me around. Hence the period of semi-retirement, which didn't particularly sit well with me, I'm not quite ready to pack it all in yet. I started contemplating opening somewhere new, the pub was running itself.
But, as the kids say, life comes at you fast. It's been a brutal few years for the hospitality trade, and we won't see how it all shakes out for a while yet ( I anticipate a few closures in January, the time-honoured strategy of getting the Christmas money in the bank then ducking out before winter bites will be an irresistible to some). First Brexit, then Covid, stripped the workforce of thousands of chefs and FOH who realised they could get paid more in Lidl / weren't living in a friendly country any more. It was difficult finding good staff before, it's Herculean now. So when L came to me and said her boyfriend had a job offer in Buxton that was too good to pass up, the choice was an easy one.
It's back on the stoves for me.
I'm not going to pretend that I'm 100% happy with it. I had started getting used to being able to see people and take time off, you know, like normal people do, but there is something about kitchens, and part of me is giddy with it. Feeding people, pleasing them, enjoying the pressure, improvising, creating, all the hot, painful, pleasures of cooking for a living, it's what I love doing.
And I can tell myself it's only for a year or so, until I get my young chefs trained up to a level I'm happy with, but I don't think I'll ever be able to fully give it up. Maybe take step back one day, but not yet, I'm not done yet.
Comments
Post a Comment