So, those of you that know me, know that by day I may well be a father (of daughters, admittedly) but by night I am a crime fighting, Superhero cook/restaurateur type. We have a small, really small, restaurant on the Llŷn Peninsula(I’m not sure we’re a restaurant and I’m not sure we’re a bistro, so I’m going with ‘restaurant’ because ‘bistro’ reminds me of a fancy pants bar I’d get dragged to from time to time in Altrincham, which secretly I never really liked)(and which, come to think of it was called ‘The Brasserie’ so errr… that logic went fabulously well).
Anyway, even as a swashbuckling Superhero type supporting a family is hard, but supporting a family as a small business owner in the current financial climate is really hard, and supporting a family as a small business owner in the current financial climate in one of the most fickle industries going is excruciating, but I love my job and I have an incredible wife who supports me and allows me to do the job I love despite the obvious side effects (currently we’re about half way in to our summer tourist season which means 12-14 hours a day, 7 days a week, not to mention the time spent in the office at home, until some point in October).
So what’s this got to do with a dad blog, well the truth is at this time of year I never really feel like much of a dad, for the next two months it’s head down and get some money in the coffers to soften the winter lull. Now at this point I will just point out, in case this smacks too much of grumpy ‘business’ chap(it’s “Supercook” remember, your first point of call if there’s crime fighting to be done or a lumpy white sauce to be rescued), that we only ever set out to do two things when we opened the bistro(suppose it is a restaurant… or a bistro… definitely not a brasserie though), we wanted to be able to pay our mortgage and I wanted to dictate my own hours so that, god forbid, I could see my girls grow up.
The Child overseeing the refurb!
It’s been incredibly hard, but we’ve got there, three years after opening in a sub-let space we have moved into our own, shiny, new and fabulous premises(hence the lack of bloggage for the past couple of months), which we own. It’s ours. It’s been the biggest stress I’ve ever had, but our family has a genuine, bona fide, family business now. We’ll grow and maybe even expand, but the foundation is finally laid. So again what’s this got to do with anything you ask (again)… because I asked on your behalf in the last paragraph and went off on another tangent… Well, here it comes…
The Wife and I support our family with our little eatery/restaurant/bistro/brasserie and it matters, not because I want to make millions, get awards or knob around on Ready Steady Cook(is it still on? It would clash with Peter Rabbit anyway so The Child would have no desire or interest in seeing whether Daddy’s green peppers crushed Ainsley’s red tomatoes if it is)(which they would by the way) but it matters because we feed our girls with the money we manage to scrape from it. As such I’m going to make a plea, to the fabulous British public, albeit the 6 or 7 of you that have accidentally stumbled across this post, probably looking for something entirely different, please remember all the little local restaurants you pass are probably supporting a family like ours. And that matters.
So if you’re not going to be able to make it, the babysitters ill or the dog’s having a bad hair day… call us! On behalf of restaurantists everywhere I guarantee we’ll be fine about it! For arguments sake we have a cancellations list a mile long(maybe a slight exaggeration, basically I just have a massive pen) waiting for tables, but if we don’t find out that you’re not going to turn up to your 7.30 table until we get a chance to call you at 9 o’clock then it’s unlikely I’m going to fill that table!
The only reason in fact for this ramble(finally!) is to get Sunday night off my chest, because two days on I’m still miffed. Basically we agreed to open early for a family (who I shall endeavour to leave nameless) not because he was a “Great British Menu chef”, but because his wife had asked really nicely, and so we agreed to come in early for them as we were full otherwise on the nights they’d asked about, but with a bit of juggling we could squeeze them in before a late booking on Sunday. As you’ve probably gathered they didn’t turn up, a “no show”. As it was early and we had time(a lot of time… due to us having opened early especially) we gave them a ring to discover they’d gone back to Cheshire(a holiday by the seaside is not much fun in the rain). Now I’m not going to go into a massive rant, but I would just like to say that I really hope that in years to come if I end up with a restaurant in Lymm and then get a fish course, for instance, through to the banquet in the Great British Menu(see how marvellously I’m avoiding actually naming anyone) that I’d actually remember how hard it was as the little guy and I’d ring to cancel the booking if I wasn’t going to be able to make it.
For the record the wages that were paid out waiting for Mr B to not turn up would have paid for a week’s supply of foam animal stickers which The Child insists on sticking on everything currently… or food obviously, but part of raising a family on a budget is prioritising and currently foam animal stickers are by far her biggest priority.
Great British Menu Winners 2013 and a pink foam cat…
A Father Of Daughters 