Whack! I can still remember the sting — and my surprise — as the female customer’s fist connected with my face.
An unfortunate mix-up by one of my waiting staff meant the phenomenally expensive bouquet of roses her fiancé had planned to hand her at the end of the evening — delivered by him earlier that day and placed in one of our fridges to maintain their freshness — had been handed out instead, one stem at a time, to other diners at the end of the Valentine’s Day service.
The intended recipient was furious when she realised. Not even my offer to waive the bill and the promise of a fresh bouquet the following day could mollify her.
Our fine wine had only heightened her emotions and the punch, as I tried to help her into a taxi, was her parting shot.
I spent two days with an inflamed ear and a bruised cheekbone — souvenirs of life in a high-profile restaurant, where the drama in the kitchen is often matched by that unfolding in the dining room.
Boiling Point, with its intense depiction of the action in a fashionable London venue on a single busy day just before Christmas, left my nerves jangling with recognition
That is why watching the new film Boiling Point, with its intense depiction of the action in a fashionable London venue on a single busy day just before Christmas, left my nerves jangling with recognition.
Shot in a single take, it follows head chef Andy — played by Line Of Duty star Stephen Graham — as he navigates an endless carousel of obstacles. These range from misplaced orders to a rogue’s gallery of diners, among them a gaggle of ‘influencers’ insisting on ordering off-menu, an arrogant patriarch hosting a family dinner, and a man hoping to propose to his girlfriend.
To cap it all, there is a celebrity chef dining there with a much-feared food critic.
One critic called it ‘an anxiety attack on film’. But as the credits rolled, I turned to my wife Michelle and said it was all too reminiscent of just another day at the office.
I exaggerate, of course. While I have never experienced on one night all the dramas that confront Andy and his team, I have coped with many variations of them.
Andy reminded me of myself in my early days as a chef. He is more overwrought and takes his stress out on others in a way I never did, but the film beautifully depicts the pressure he is under.
Andy reminded me of myself in my early days as a chef. He is more overwrought and takes his stress out on others in a way I never did, but the film beautifully depicts the pressure he is under
The biggest problem is timing. In a fine-dining environment, one table arriving early can tilt the whole evening into disaster.
I could work fast — but you can’t do in an hour something that needs twice that time.
Back in the late 1980s, I was installed by the late, great Keith Floyd as chef-patron of his pub-restaurant the Maltsters Arms in Totnes, Devon.
Keith, a hugely popular TV chef, was wonderful but erratic — within days of my arrival he disappeared to South Africa for four months and communicated only by fax.
I remember my horror when, months after his return, I found Keith was not going to be there on a day the entire pub was being taken over by a wedding party.
So it was down to me to give the arriving guests the Keith Floyd experience. But as I greeted them, I was aware of the sous chef trying frantically to attract my attention. He anxiously informed me we had run out of bottled gas.
In a fine-dining environment, one table arriving early can tilt the whole evening into disaster.
Or rather, someone had forgotten to order it. That meant no cooking, and no food other than sandwiches. The bride — understandably — wanted to kill me.
In restaurant-land, the customer is king, and the film vividly captures the exhausting gamut you must run to keep them happy.
I have been asked to do everything from baking an engagement ring into
