Charity begins at home – in the kitchen, in fact
Most of the year I postpone extra-curricular activities - charity meals, demonstrations and the like - to some notional quiet patch when they will fit in better with the workload imposed by this place.
Autumn seemed reasonable, when viewed from springtime, which was the time most requests were coming through the post, so I have spent quite a bit of my free time lately scurrying about the country doing my charitable duty. The restaurant has, of course, been as busy as ever, with no sign of quiet before midwinter.
Cooking part of some grand meal is the easiest charity option. One is not on show to anyone and there is a kitchen and equipment, which is a help. In fact, I particularly enjoyed one organised by Peter Chandler of Paris House this month, for he is good company and made a little liquid refreshment available to jolly things along.
The only difficulty to arise in any such event may be in adapting dishes from a tiny restaurant to the demands of 200 or 300 diners at a banquet.
All on show
Demonstrations on behalf of good causes provide more of a nightmare, and it is often the case that the better the cause, the worse the obstacles.
Those for which one gets paid are usually organised quite smoothly and professionally. You can expect working equipment, simultaneous video of work surfaces and cooking space, and even a clip-on microphone through which to mutter whatever anecdotes or cooking tips the situation demands.
The amateur productions are, almost by definition, less slick. Out of four last month, only one provided any help with subsequent washing-up, one I had to help build a platform on which to perform, and one had no running water available. I am now "charitied out" for the year.
I wonder at the popularity of these events. They are more cabaret than cooking, really, but do attract a crowd willing to pay up.
The nature of the occasion demands entirely different food from that which I would normally cook. Nobody wants to watch me skimming stock or carefully extracting bits of membrane from cuts of meat. They want to see tricks of the trade, cunning ways to make the simple look spectacular, spun sugar and soufflés.
In fact, I spend most of my kitchen time doing the exact reverse, trying to make a lot of effort and work look simple and natural. I dislike precise or elaborate presentation and try to make everything seem as straightforward as possible.
The real skills lie in balancing the flavours and textures of what's on offer so that the dishes do not appear contrived, and knowing, when the dish is finished, where more garnish would detract rather than enhance.
However, each year I trot along to about 10 such performances - two or three for the dosh, the rest because I'm still a soft touch for a good cause or a good friend, especially when it seems a long way off. Next autumn should be OK.
Next diary from Shaun Hill will be on 27 November
