Beach brigade
"Are we ready to go?" asks David Ryan jovially as his wife and joint-proprietor Sheila unlocks Bistro on the Beach's doors to let the customers in. "Yes, chef, let's rock ‘n' roll," answers sous chef Nick Cook, adding in song: "Let's twist again, like we did last summer."
This summer, it's 7pm and the sun is streaming into the small, T-shaped kitchen through an open back door and a window that looks straight out over Bournemouth's immaculately raked Southbourne beach towards the Isle of Wight. A blustery breeze blasts through the previously airless kitchen and whips the blue sea into mare's tails. The Needles are so close you can almost touch them.
All in all, it's a perfect seaside vista, and one that tempted Ryan to jack in his job as deputy executive chef at London's Park Lane Hotel two years ago and chance his luck at running the 68-seat seaside café as a four-evenings-a-week bistro.
"I get a kick out of watching the sea," he admits, going on to recount an occasion when a customer arrived via the briny: "The table was booked for 8pm, at which time a huge boat drew up, a guy jumped out in a wet suit, swam across with a rose in his hand, walked up to this girl at the table and proposed!"
Before starting this evening's service, Ryan and Sheila - who oversees front of house - conducted a brisk run-through of the evening's menu and prospective customers over a pre-service staff meal.
"We've got sea bass instead of tuna; if people ask, there is cream in the cream of spinach soup; and the smoked sea trout is not like smoked salmon, it's a lot sweeter," Ryan explained before bowling through the sweets - treacle tart, bread-and-butter pudding and chocolate délice.
After a few instructions from Sheila apropos of the tables - "We've got Keith and Roberta in; it's his birthday tomorrow, so we've got a cake for him and we'll all sing" - the front of house team and kitchen brigade disperse to their respective areas.
Tonight's kitchen brigade are Ryan; his singing sous chef Cook, an ex-upholsterer trained by Ryan; and fresh-faced student James Golding, a trainee from the Savoy and Bournemouth College on eight weeks' work experience at the Bistro.
The team is augmented by an extra pair of hands belonging to Paul Jefferys, Ryan's ex-sous chef from Park Lane and now executive chef, Young & Co Brewery. Much to Ryan's appreciation, because the restaurant is fully booked, Jefferys has volunteered to help out during a social visit.
Ryan and Jefferys are on the main dishes, Cook is on starters and veg and Golding is on sweets.
At 7.03pm, Ryan calls out the first order: "One asparagus, one scallops, one bream, one chicken, two veg - right?" Everybody springs into action. Within minutes the starters are on their way, the asparagus decorated with a purple chive flower plucked from one of the large wooden bowls that line the hatch-side plating area.
The asparagus is sped past a cool cabinet overflowing with halved galia melons prepped by Jefferys in the afternoon, ready to be filled with citrus fruit and drizzled with a mint and wine dressing should the need arise.
Meanwhile, Ryan is busy chopping cherry tomatoes on a bright yellow board, breaking off to slice a chicken breast. A couple more guests arrive on bicycles - rather than by boat.
Just behind Ryan and Jefferys's cooking range, Golding is busy slicing fruit to garnish the desserts: pineapple, plums, strawberries, cape gooseberries and passion fruit all come under his knife. And next to him Ben Goss, the kitchen porter, is busy washing up a steady stream of plates. "Hot pan coming through," Ryan warns Goss, dousing a flaming skillet in his sink.
By 7.45pm, orders are being delivered thick and fast by the front of house team - a crescendo being reached at 8pm. "I'm sure the customers gang up on me," says Ryan, rosy-cheeked. "Away we go, away we go," he chivvies as a backlog of dishes builds up, ready for the waitresses to whip away. "Is everyone smiling?" he adds. "Start smiling, Benny!"
A momentary lull just after 8pm allows him to pop out front - at Sheila's instigation - to greet some regular customers. The personal touch is part of the Bistro's formula for success, and has helped the restaurant build up a loyal local following - it is, in fact, fully booked on Friday and Saturday nights until the New Year.
Ryan returns to the kitchen in time to watch Golding carefully plate up an order for bananas in butterscotch. "It goes with the beach - just a scoop of vanilla ice-cream in the middle with banana slices and cape gooseberries, pineapple and cherries around," explains Ryan. "It's really simple, but I took that dish off once and nearly had a riot from the customers!"
Behind his glasses, Ryan's eyes keep a constant paternalistic watch on his brigade, while his hands are operating in automatic chef mode, flouring calves' liver prior to frying. At the same time his mouth is fielding queries bowled at him by Jefferys, who, palette knife in apron holster, needs to check on garnishes and presentation styles.
As 10pm approaches, the centre of activity shifts from the starters and hot stations to Golding's dessert station. Deftly wedging a pan of stir-fried veg between a worktop and a fridge, Ryan moves across to give Golding a hand, instructing his young colleague to plate a cake out for Keith Williamson, the Bistro's birthday diner.
Half an hour later, Ryan is out front singing "Happy birthday" with Sheila and her team before escaping back to his kitchen domain. By 11pm, service has almost finished and the brigade are beginning to drift off home.
Ryan, too, is just about to slip away, leaving Sheila to lock up the restaurant once the last customers have departed. He is a tired but contented man. "Running a business over the past two years has given me unbelievable job satisfaction: the buck stops with me," he says. "Everyone should have a go at it."
