L'horreur... L'horreur! Quand finira-t-il?
What a fine Bank Holiday it has been. Heart-warming rays of sunshine, ducklings swimming in uniform lines with their mother while the culinary masters visualise their next 'confit de canard avec les pruneaux et l'armagnac'. Somewhere, in the distance, a lone starling twitters for its mate and the day has begun with such vigour.
Unfortunately, like the Trojan Horse of Troy, it holds a dark secret. A sinister undertone within its virtual belly. The secret lurks deep within its bowels, waiting and watching for the Sun's shimmering glow. Poised with anticipation and excitement. Eagerly waiting for the start of that day when people can go mad with gusto and enjoy that 'Holy Grail' that is a Bank Holiday Monday.
If you have ever witnessed a horror film full of carnivorous zombies clawing and chewing their way through a humans' digestive system, then you can picture my restaurant on a day that should be put aside for D.I.Y and barbeque's. Most of the nocturnal Egor's can resist the urge to venture out during daylight, but the ones who thrive on the thrill of eating out bombard the eateries of the UK for light lunches, high teas and full a la carte experiences. They decimate a plethora of creative courses meant for the discerning diner and drag it into an abyss of chips, baked beans and eggs over-easy.
They came in droves. Gnawing and chomping their way through steaks, battered cod and burgers, some even without cutlery! It made the apocalypse look like a day trip to Bangor. Every table strewn with food debris and crushed napkins, it looked like the end of the world was nigh and the Pont de Barre was the epicentre of it all.
With the aftermath came the 4 hours of wind-down time I needed before even contemplating sleep. Three hundred people on the Monday alone with a total of 600 served on the three days prior to that. When you dish up that many meals with little or no complaints, then you know you have done your job and done it bloody well. You feel on top of your game and quite rightly so.
So as I languish on a beach in North Wales with the sun beating down from on high, the icy waters lapping at my toes and seagulls dive bombing overhead, this weeks' rant will have to be postponed. Yes, that is right, you read correctly. It has been put on hold, saved for future posts and held back!
My apologies to all my avid readers but as it is also my daughters birthday today, the insane mutterings of the Grumpy Chef will just have to wait until next time. I'm sure within a few days, my insanity will be back to its' normal 'through the roof' levels and the painful throbbing in my head will return with great enthusiasm. Also, the others (Sebastian, Molly and The Evil One) will soon be back from their hols so I think my compact and bijou brain will begin to get quite crowded again. (But it won't be for long if Sebastian makes me wear that damn pink tank-top again. I just don't do glitter! It plays havoc with my complexion and as for Molly, well, once she starts to yap on, no-one else can get a word in edge ways)
As a parting gift though, I would like to give you a couple of tips regarding 'on the edge' Chefs'. If you ever see one, do not approach! Quietly send in a young child asking for some ice cream and watch the culinary nutter melt into sighs of 'Aw, how cute. Of course you can'. Or, a little easier I feel, offer him a brace of pheasant and a few bunny rabbits. Always does the trick!
Till next time my beloved Belgian Waffles......Have a fantastic week!
Le Chef Grincheux