Loiseau Posted December 4, 2010 Share Posted December 4, 2010 Wonderful, Dave!I have to admit that my heart was in my mouth - fearing a Fawlty-Towers-style débâcle as C started to hit the white wine and the pastis. though.It sounds a total triumph.Angela Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
pachapapa Posted December 4, 2010 Share Posted December 4, 2010 Every time I see pre-prepared Paella in my local grande surface....I feel like puking! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chancer Posted December 5, 2010 Share Posted December 5, 2010 [quote user="Loiseau"]Wonderful, Dave! I have to admit that my heart was in my mouth - fearing a Fawlty-Towers-style débâcle as C started to hit the white wine and the pastis. though. [/quote]I think like in all good books there have already been a few clues as to what is yet to come [:)] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dave21478 Posted December 5, 2010 Author Share Posted December 5, 2010 Things progressed steadily for the rest of May. Since the camp sitewas not yet open to tourists and the weather still was not great (andmuch of the seating is outside) we only opened at weekends. This hadbeen in our original business plan, just ticking over at weekendsuntil better weather and customer numbers arrived, so from Fridayevening until Sunday lunchtime we were open with about half the menuavailable. Something else that progressed through May was C's drinking. Whilst Iwas ok with the staff having the odd glass of wine etc free ofcharge, C was starting to make a serious dent in the pastis bottles.It was here that I made a stand, and also made completely the wrongchoice. I made it clear that he was not to help himself at the barand I bought him a bottle of Brand X pastis, telling him that oncethat was gone, he was to pay for his own. Its painfully obvious to menow that is was just giving him the green light to drink on the job.On the other hand, despite his obvious drinking, he still turned outthe goods – his cooking never suffered and whilst he would become abit loud-mouthed as the evening wore on, it was nothing malicious andhe was still pretty tolerable. The problem was I had no alternativeas we were getting busier and busier and soon found ourselves workingvery hard indeed for each service. I had doubts about whether A andmyself could do everything without him.Since it was still weekends only at this point, he naturally wantedto go home during the week, however he did not own a car, and hisgirlfriend used the one car they had on a daily basis for her work,so he was reliant on lifts with me or A. 45 minutes each way soonbecame another strain we could do without, so I spoke to him aboutwheels. I have a couple of old scooters in various states ofdisrepair, and would have happily given him use of one once I got oneworking, however he was not keen on going so far on a 50cc buzz-box.I can appreciate why.He was happy to buy a car if one could be found cheap enough so Istarted scouting around and got lucky pretty quickly. A lady I knowhad sadly lost her husband to a heart attack early in the year andnow had a surplus car. It was a crummy old Renault 11, tatty, petrolengine, auto gearbox.....a very undesirable and unsellable car. Shejust wanted rid and agreed to sell it for €250. C was ok with this,so I acted as a middle-man for the paperwork. I took the car round tothe resto one morning, and C confessed to never having driven an autobox. I am not normally scared by other peoples driving, butJesus....the ensuing 15 minute “lesson” must have knocked yearsof my lifespan. Despite everything I said, it was one foot for thegas and one foot for the brake, and since the left foot is accustomedto pressing a clutch right down, C trying to slow the car for acorner would end up screeching to a halt each time instead. Afterlurching to a stop back at the resto, he handed over the cash. Thecars CT was over 6 months old and obviously he would have to insureit...I had told him all this several times over the last few days.“yeah, yeah, no problem, I will get it done”. I don't know if heever did, but as far as I and the previous owner were concerned, itwas now his car so his responsibility.I had hoped that driving for himself would curb his alcohol intake,but was sadly mistaken. In a perverse kind of way, I secretly hopedhe would get stopped for drink driving and maybe have some senseshocked into him, but it never happened. Drink driving is so endemicin this and the surrounding villages that nobody is even remotelyconcerned about it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dave21478 Posted December 5, 2010 Author Share Posted December 5, 2010 And the band played on....and on and on and on...ononononononnnnnnnnWe had a portable CD player on a counter and a load of music toprovide a little atmosphere. When I emigrated to France, I couldn'tbe harrissed to bring all the CD's I had amassed, so I ripped them allto my laptop before I left and gave the discs away in Scotland. Thisleft us at the mercy of A's musical taste, which luckily is not toobad. Blues, rock and some jazz....just right. However many of herCD's were getting on a bit and the player would often skip or get“stuck in the groove” repeating the same second of sound over andover a over and over and over and over until somebody gave it athump. (remember when cd's first came out? We were promised that theywere almost indestructible!) However at busy periods often none ofthe staff would even notice it was playing up. Things came to a head when it suddenly penetrated that the cd playerhad been making a b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bnoise for the past few minutes unchecked. The customers were lookinga tad irked The next day I dusted off an old desktop PC, a hifi amp and somespeakers, set it up and transferred all my music onto it. I couldthen set it to random shuffle play for the evening and the problemswould be solved.Halfway through the service that evening, I had to stop it andre-think some of the included music. The mp3's I have built up overthe years total a massive amount and range from classic to country, rock, blues, jazz,electronica and even some hip-hop. Shuffle play had been like a gameof Russian Roulette and the locals did not appreciate Snoop Dograpping about “b1tch ni&&ers”.With the music files sanitised for public broadcast, we finally had areliable juke box. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dave21478 Posted December 6, 2010 Author Share Posted December 6, 2010 Into June and things were busy – often busier than we hadanticipated. With the villages yearly influx of tourists we wereserving a lot more than anticipated, however the weather continued tomake things unpredictable. Some days we would see as many as 60 to 70people for the evening service, then a bout of rain for a few dayswould drop temperatures and we would be lucky to see 20 for theevening. We were now open every day, from 10am till late.We also had competition of sorts. The village hotel which had laindormant for well over a year had re opened again under another newmanagement team. My worries were soon calmed when I realised that wewere catering to very different markets. Whilst I was doingplentiful, basic food, the hotel had a highly trained chef in thekitchen doing the kind of thing you see on Masterchef....3 littlebites of meat, a couple of baby potatoes and a W-shaped trickle of“jus” across the plate. Lots of sauce, but no substance. Whilsteveryone agreed that the food tasted exquisite, it was expensive andportions were tiny. The folk running the place are a really nicecouple and I really hope things will work out for them, but I haveserious doubts for the long term. That sort of food is too posh forthe locals, and whilst the summer would bring plenty tourists tosample their menu, the off season here is very long and we are prettyisolated so the chances of people travelling to eat there fromfurther afield are slim. As winter has drawn in here, every time Ihave passed, they have been very quiet indeed with at best a handfulof diners. Often they close early due to no custom.Their opening did however present a direct problem for me. Theirkitchen assistant struck up a friendship with C and they becamedrinking buddies. More and more often, C was turning up either drunkor at least part-way there, and he was becoming lax in some thingslike food preparation. Large amounts of the morning before lunchservice and mid afternoon before the evening service are alwaysdedicated to cleaning, chopping and preparing ingredients, and C wasnot pulling his weight. He was also beginning to makemistakes....meat under or over cooked, the odd pizza thatdisintegrated in the oven.....little things on their own, butbecoming more regular with each day that passed. I had talked to himas many times and things would improve for a day or two then slipagain. I was giving serious thoughts to letting him go. However,finding a replacement mid-season would be hard. Rumours spread fastin a small place like this, and it was now common knowledge that ourchef was drunk. Us having the occasional vocal disagreement in thekitchen and being overheard by the customers did not help either.A's and my relationship with C deteriorated rapidly over thefollowing weeks. There as no apparent pattern to his drinking. Theafternoons after the lunch service and once prep was done for theevening were his own time. He would occasionally head back to thehouse for a nap, but more often than not spent it in the hotel bar. Ispoke to the owner and she told me some days he would have a beer ortwo, and the evening service would go well, other days he would hitthe pastis hard and the evening would be a mess.I sat down with him and made my point very clear – he was to cleanup or he would be out. He apologised for his behaviour and it allcame out.....he admitted to a serious drink problem and had beenattending Alcoholics Anonymous style support meetings, which he hadgiven up on a few months earlier. His partner made the trip up to thevillage when she had free time and would often stay the night withhim. He told me she knew little about his drinking. He promised tosort himself out. He did and for a while the old dynamic between usall was back. This lasted perhaps a week. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kitty Posted December 6, 2010 Share Posted December 6, 2010 In one week, Dave, your thread has had 1,500 hits. Word must be getting out. Keep the installments coming .... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dave21478 Posted December 6, 2010 Author Share Posted December 6, 2010 The live music events were a complete and utter failure.It had always been the plan for us to host live music on one night aweek, and not to offer the normal menu, but a single dish, which wewould try to match to the music theme. We had an irish group in andserved stew and potatos, spicy chilli for the cajun night etc etc...This would give us a little bit of a rest in the kitchen, and I hopedwould be popular with locals and tourists alike. I was wrong. Theonly group that attracted any real interest were a cheezy pop coversbad that did 80`s school disco style music that people could singalong to. Any attempt and blues, rock etc was met with politeapplause and little else. Numbers were never great for any of theevents and we probably struggled to break even on these nights.Unfortunately, I had announced the program at the start of the seasonand booked the bands so we could not change things.The worst of the lot were the Occitan group. Occitan is the localmusic style, kindof like folk, with accordions and fiddles etc.Pleasant enough to listen to for 5 minutes or so, but a wholeevening.....I soon discovered that occitan music consists of about 5different chords repeated over and over and over and over with veryminor variations. The group were technically good players but were anunpleasant bunch – very up themselves. It was a busy, hot,weltering night and we were running about like mad in the kitchen.Something about their music just went right through me and at severalpoints through the evening I had very clear visions of me using thebiggest kitchen knife to inflict all manner of injuries on theplayers.It was a blessed relief when they stopped. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chancer Posted December 6, 2010 Share Posted December 6, 2010 I am really enjoying this Dave.I know what you mean about music, I have been really dissapointed by any live music that I hear in these parts, most of the time it can at best be described as noise, groups that love to imitate a style whether it be blues, rock, folk, disco whatever, they just seem to think that if you dress in an (in)appropriate way and just make loads of noise with instruments and sing some foreign songs with words which you dont understand and completley pi55pronounce then all will be well, amazingly most of the fans seem to lap it up. The resultant sound is like letting a load of 7 year olds loose unsupervised in a music room at school.There is thankfully another type of music fan in these parts and I am gratefull to have a few as friends, these are usually the people that learned English through the love of whatever their particular type of music is, in order to understand the words and the emotion of the music in the intense way that only the young can do. They usually then travel abroad to indulge their passion and this life experience sets them apart completely from the rest of the populace.This very small pocket of Picardie has a whole load of British, Irish, Scottish, Australian, South African, and Newfoundlanders that visit the war cemeteries where their forebears are buried, this results in the very few commercially aware bar, restaurant and chambre d'hote owners taking at least a passing interest in their cultures, although to be fair 90% of the chanbre d'hotes are owned by the British.all of the French gerants seem to think that the tourists love to hear bagpipes being played (cornemuse) and indeed they do have their place at some of the commemoration ceromonies, unfortunately something about them seems to appeal to the more extreme French musicians that would otherwise just be dressing up as punk rockers, hippies or whatever and making noise, perhaps its the appeal of wearing a skirt I am not sure but they are rather special people in the French sense and have formed a local bagpipe troupe which is wheeled out at practically any occasion, my pet theory is that they demand protection money not to play at events!I once had to endure this torture during a typical Picard sit down meal which endured about 7 hours, they played continously, I would happily have stabbed all of them to death after 30 minutes. Never again! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DavyH Posted December 6, 2010 Share Posted December 6, 2010 Chancer, the last time I checked Scotland was still part of Britain! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chancer Posted December 7, 2010 Share Posted December 7, 2010 Did I say it wasnt?Are you going to pick me up for not mentioning the Welsh?My use of the countries is in relation to the regiments of the millions of dead buried here, I mentioned the principal ones from which there are many tourists and often seperate memorials, there are many others including Chinese and Indian to name but a couple.In any case this is drifting away from a very enjoyable restaurant saga. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Araucaria Posted December 7, 2010 Share Posted December 7, 2010 I think Davy's point was that the Scottish, like the Welsh, are British. So they don't need to be mentioned separately.On the other hand, if you'd said "English" instead of British, the Welsh would have felt slighted. Rightly so, as the Welsh are in their origins more British than most English people are. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dave21478 Posted December 7, 2010 Author Share Posted December 7, 2010 For a while now, C had been on about adding a wider range of pizzasto the menu. We already had 12, and he wanted 9 more. He had drawnthem up with ingredients etc, and was very keen. I was pretty setagainst it though. Personally I reckoned it would be too many. Toolarge a choice and lets face it – not a massive variation betweenmany of them. Besides, It had always been our policy to modify thoseon the menu to peoples tastes – substituting X for Y, or addingextra Z if they wished, and we would jiggle the price accordingly.C's behaviour did little to endear me to the idea either. However,one on the list caught my eye. A foie gras pizza. A crème base, witha few other ingredients and the foie gras with caramelised onions. Iwas certain that the locals would probably go for it, they are madfor foie gras here, and a local chap produces some very nicestuff. The price would be significantly higher than the other pizzas,but I asked a few folk and they reckoned the idea was good.I got C to do the onions for a trial run and I sent the ice cream girl over to thelocal butcher to get a block of the stuff.Man, that pizza was a disappointment! Personally I reckon he shouldnot have put the foie on at the start, but should have cooked thepizza as normal, then added the foie gras at the last minute howeverhe was adamant it should go on from the start. As a result, most ofit melted away to nothing, leaving the base with a slight taste andthere were tiny flecks left which were lost amongst the otheringredients.It was not until A week later when I got the weekly bill from thebutchers that I realised she had picked up a block of the extra highquality stuff, which cost €40!She was redeeming herself with the crepe sales though. We were doingwell over 100 a day at this point and this rose to not far off 200 aday by the heights of July and August. Flour, milk, eggs, a littlevanilla sugar, and a touch of butter.....the unit cost price for themis a few centimes, and they sell for between €1.80 and €2.40depending on toppings....its almost a licence to print money!The toppings we offered were sugar, jam, skoosh cream and Nutella, with the nutella being by far the most popular. One day I was in the cash and carry and spotted a display of giant plastic pots of the stuff - I thought they were promotional props and would be empty, but no, they were real 5kg tubs, shaped just like the traditional jars. Price per kilo actually worked out a tad higher than the normal sized jars (usual supermarket rip-off there then!) but the convenience of the big pots made them worth it. We were going through loads of the glass jars and storage and disposal was a hassle so these were perfect, plus the waitresses kids loved them as once cleaned out and a slot cut in the lid they make excellent (if a tad large!) piggy banks.[IMG]http://i217.photobucket.com/albums/cc297/dave21478/short/20100813_7158-Signorelli-Gastronomia_simon-5kg-nutella-jar.jpg[/IMG]And no, thats not me, lifted that pic from Google images. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chancer Posted December 7, 2010 Share Posted December 7, 2010 A real pleasant surprise discovery for me was crême fraiche pizzas. A marriage made in heaven.Did you do those Dave? They go down a bundle here Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Pads Posted December 8, 2010 Share Posted December 8, 2010 Dave are you north or south Tarn ? I'd love tp visit your resturant Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dave21478 Posted December 8, 2010 Author Share Posted December 8, 2010 And then C's girlfriend went to Morocco on holiday at the end ofJune.His response was a massive bender in the hotel bar that afternoon.The evening was heavily booked and at 6pm with him having done noprep, I called the hotel and asked where our chef was. He turned upat 7pm so wrecked his speech was slurred and he was swaying. He keptjust mumbling “let me do my job” and pushing everyone out hisway. He set about making the pizza dough straight away (unknown tome, there was none left from earlier. It really needs to be mixed andleft to sit for a while before use) as there were several takeawaypizzas reserved in the next 10 minutes or so. I didn't know what todo.We had 70-odd people booked, including a couple of big tables with12+ each, so plenty of orders would be coming in at once. As thingsstarted happening , I was behind the bar serving aperitifs, andrunning back to the kitchen when I had free seconds to help A withthe first orders that were coming in from the tables whilst Cconcentrated on the takaway pizzas.It was one of those evenings where everything conspires againstyou...lots and lots of people were ordering pizzas (He may have beena drunken bum, but his pizzas were still very good and had a decentrep in the village) and lots of people were ordering meat dishes andlittle in the way of salads, which are quick and easy to serve up.The few salads that were ordered were typically the more complicatedones, hot chevre cheese on slices of toast, which need heated under agrill before being added to the salads, lots of the “special”salad which has a large mix of gesiers, and other charcuterie init.....basically all the slow, fiddly stuff.C was in no state to cope with the grill as well as his pizza ovens,so I manned the grill and the chip fryers whilst A did the few saladsand plate prep. We were falling behind with the orders coming inthick and fast and it was then I noticed this fecking idiot was STILLdrinking – he had a glass of pastis up on a shelf and was swiggingfrom it as he worked.Harsh words were exchanged.The second large table arrived so I was back out front serving up thedrinks when A called me back into the kichen. C was shovelling thepizzas straight from the oven into the bin! The dough was not rightand they were just tearing and falling to bits in the ovens. Theproblem is, the bases of the ovens are made from bricks, and once youspill ingredients which get burnt onto the bricks, further pizzashave a much higher risk of snagging on these lumps and tearing, sothe oven needs to be scraped out with a metal spatula, then a handfulof flour thrown in to soak into any fat and then be swept out again.My attention was on the chip fryers at this point so I never realisedthat C did not clean out the ovens before putting another batch ofpizzas in. A few minutes later the result was the same and heshovelled them straight into the bin again.I am a calm chap normally, it takes a lot to really rile me, but thiswas enough and I went all Gordon Ramsey on C. Later that night A saidI turned an incandescent shade of red during this outburst and one ofthe waitresses came running in to see what the commotion was –customers who were already irate at the length of their wait were nowdeveloping an interest into what was now a public spectacle. Whilsteveryone was seated outside, the front of the main room was wide openon this hot evening and the kitchen is open-plan in the internal areaof the restaurant. We were very visible and very, very audible tomost of the diners. I told C to fuck right off out and leave, but he refused to go. He isa big chap and given the amount of booze he had consumed, he hadbecome belligerent too. Not wanting things to get physical, I did notwant to remove him. However, he did have the grace to concede defeatwith the pizzas, well, he stomped away from the ovens, snatched thespatula out of my hand and started tending to orders on the griddleand hotplate. I took over the pizzas and concentrated on those forthe seated diners. Those still waiting for takeaway had been witnessto everything, and were happy enough to leave when I wrote them out avoucher for free pizzas on a future date.The waitresses did me proud and handled things well, offering freedrinks to those who had been kept waiting, then they started bringingplates back.....the meat was tough as boots, massively overcooked. Cwas making a chuff of the grill orders too....I went over to look and saw a plate piled high with burnt and ruinedsteaks, lamb chops and gammon.Seemingly I went purple this time.By chance I was still holding a large knife I had been choppingmushrooms with, and I screamed a string of obscenities at him,culminating in English with GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS KITCHEN.You know in films when a stranger walks into the saloon and theneedle scrapes off the gramophone with a ripping noise and everyonelooks up at who just walked in the door?....well it was like that. Myoutburst had even coincided nicely with a lull in the music. I lookedout the front to see about seventy pairs of eyes looking back at mein silence for a few seconds before the bubble of muttering andspeculations started. C took the hint this time and sauntered out,pausing only to snatch a bottle of pastis off the wall-mounted opticsand a carafe of water, he strolled out past the diners and wanderedoff into the park across the road.I am not sure how long I stood there for, I suppose I was in a kindof shock. I was certainly trembling hard – a mixture of anger andadrenalin, and also relief that things had not become violent afterall. Things were being said outside but I didn't catch the jist of ituntil one of the marie maintenance chaps came inside. He told me totake my time as everyone still waiting was happy to wait until wewere ready. Everyone was fully aware of what had just happened. Acouple of tables of other locals I knew vaguely also came in and saidthey would leave rather than wait to relieve some pressure on us, andwould return another day, which they did and I was very grateful for.A and myself retreated out the back door for a couple of minutesreflection. A smoked a whole cigarette in about 2 breaths and I dranka beer without it even touching the sides on the way down, then weburst out in nervous laughter. Back in the kitchen, everywhere C hadbeen was a bloody mess. We shoved the detritus to the side and setabout serving up the remaining orders.With me doing the pizzas and manning the grill, and A doing saladsthe chips, and helping on the grill when she could, we finished offthe main service. We all pitched in as usual for the deserts andcoffees and it was with a very deep breath of relief that I closedthe doors. I chose to leave the mess as it was and we would all gohome. I would come in early the next day to clean up – I could notface it right then.As we left, one of the waitresses told me tips had been unusuallyhigh this evening – the customers must have enjoyed the show. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dave21478 Posted December 8, 2010 Author Share Posted December 8, 2010 And yes, creme fraiche pizzas are wonderful. A complete novelty to me as a Scotsman, I don't know if they are popular elsewhere but seen commonplace here.Pads, sorry, I like my anonymity! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chancer Posted December 8, 2010 Share Posted December 8, 2010 I look forward to my next bedtime story Dave!I will be crestfallen the day you have other/better things to do, it has already become a ritual for me! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
just john Posted December 9, 2010 Share Posted December 9, 2010 [quote user="dave21478"] Seemingly I went purple this time. By chance I was still holding a large knife I had been chopping mushrooms with, and I screamed a string of obscenities at him, culminating in English with GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS KITCHEN. – the customers must have enjoyed the show.[/quote]I can't think of anything scarier than a purple scotsman with a knife telling someone to GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS KITCHEN - unless he was wearing a kilt at the time - were you Dave?[:D]PS if ever you need to know what the asterisks are, just hit quote and then you get to read the original text[8-|] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
pitway Posted December 9, 2010 Share Posted December 9, 2010 [quote user="just john "][quote user="dave21478"] Seemingly I went purple this time. By chance I was still holding a large knife I had been chopping mushrooms with, and I screamed a string of obscenities at him, culminating in English with GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS KITCHEN. – the customers must have enjoyed the show.[/quote]I can't think of anything scarier than a purple scotsman with a knife telling someone to GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS KITCHEN - unless he was wearing a kilt at the time - were you Dave?[:D]PS if ever you need to know what the asterisks are, just hit quote and then you get to read the original text[8-|][/quote]Well fuck me I never know that[6]!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
HoneySuckleDreams Posted December 9, 2010 Share Posted December 9, 2010 [quote user="pitway"][quote user="just john "][quote user="dave21478"] Seemingly I went purple this time. By chance I was still holding a large knife I had been chopping mushrooms with, and I screamed a string of obscenities at him, culminating in English with GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS KITCHEN. – the customers must have enjoyed the show.[/quote]I can't think of anything scarier than a purple scotsman with a knife telling someone to GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS KITCHEN - unless he was wearing a kilt at the time - were you Dave?[:D]PS if ever you need to know what the asterisks are, just hit quote and then you get to read the original text[8-|][/quote]Well fuck me I never know that[6]!![/quote] fuck me... neither did I Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
bubbles Posted December 9, 2010 Share Posted December 9, 2010 I tried it.(I try anything once)And it didn't work. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
pachapapa Posted December 9, 2010 Share Posted December 9, 2010 [quote user="bubbles"]I tried it. (I try anything once) And it didn't work.[/quote]Scroll down and look in the box. Blondie![Www] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
bubbles Posted December 9, 2010 Share Posted December 9, 2010 Well, f*** me.Yes, it does work. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
PaulT Posted December 10, 2010 Share Posted December 10, 2010 Very amusing saga. Showed it to my wife who used to run pubs and restaurants. She thought it was how it is. However, she also stated that most chefs also drink to excess - so you may not have any more luck with the next.She also claims that many are a little precious and will storm off at the slightest provocation - meaning that the manager then has to step in to produce the food.Paul Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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