Now the rush is over…
At last a chance to draw breath! December was everything we had hoped for and expected at Number Twenty Four, with the last two weeks giving us our best period since opening.
The regularity of 8am to 1am working days meant we were all shattered by Christmas Eve, but thankfully we were free from many of the hiccups and niggles that often accompany this fraught time.
My new assistant in the kitchen, Simon, was really thrown in at the deep end, beginning his employment in November. Much to his credit, he surfaced quickly and was a great success.
A regular face at Number Twenty Four, my wife Sue, transferred to Wilsons, our Norwich restaurant, for the festive period, a move which will probably be permanent.
This will give me much closer links and hopefully the boys will not feel so out on a limb. The transfer fee for such a move is still up for discussion, and will doubtless be decided at the tribunal!
The Christmas takings at Wilsons were well down on target, with the layout of the tiny restaurant proving difficult to service.
Two rooms with a combined capacity of 28 means we need to be quite ruthless in our efforts to make money, and exploit every opportunity to maximise the revenue.
Party bookings on a fixed-price turkey menu proved to be the staple custom. It is difficult to sell extras such as dessert wines and aperitifs, which are so valuable to us, to this kind of trade.
The walk-out of a party of 10, with a private room set aside, was particularly galling. The first eight arrived bang on time, enjoyed a drink, and struck up an excellent rapport with the staff.
We looked forward to a pleasant evening and patiently awaited the arrival of the remaining couple.
Some 45 minutes later, all hell was let loose when one of the late-arriving guests objected with considerable force to our non-smoking policy.
When we refused to relent, the gentleman then cajoled the rest of the party into leaving, resulting in an empty room, three upset staff, and £250 up in smoke!
Thankfully, two tables of chance customers went some way to compensating, and our other dining area accommodated a further 12 people.
We have no particular moral standpoint on the smoking issue, but having inherited a small customer base from the previous wholefood restaurant, and with the rooms being so tiny, with an open kitchen adjacent, we felt we had no alternative but to continue the policy.
The restriction is well publicised on menus, literature and on the front door, so I feel this is another of those "What else can we do?" situations.
I have graduated through my usual psychological path, repeated every year during the festive break. I quickly passed the indifferent phase, induced by being totally knackered, to arrive at an evening of "Why the hell am I doing this, there must be more to life?"
This phase lingered longer than usual, until the next afternoon when tentative plans began to form for when, or if, I eventually returned to my kitchen.
By that evening I'd had enough of blockbuster films, Take That and Sindy dolls. And 1995? I can't wait!
