Restaurants are like pimply teenagers

The most expensive things I used to own were my tap shoes. They’re rather fancy. The most expensive thing Gregory used to own was his college debt to the C.I.A. Not the Central Intelligence Agency, the Culinary Institute of America. I doubt the former teaches you anything much about cooking at all.

Then we became the owners of our very first human. That seemed fairly grown up. Now we own a restaurant. Definitely grown up.

I’d say it’s past the newborn stage now and we’re in that awkward period where you think you’ve got a handle on their personality and then just when you do, they show you another side. You know in the end they’ll make delightful adults, but at the moment you just can’t see the wood for the trees.

Speaking of wood…

Unfinished on the left, planed and sanded on the right. What think you? We deliberated for quite a while, but eventually went for the uber natural. They’ll be our bar tables. Don’t worry we’ll sand it enough so you don’t get splinters when you’re reaching for your beer.

This is the view the dishwasher will have. Except there’ll be a smiling, cheery server standing on the other side handing them their pre-scraped plates. We used the old bar top to manufacture this pass so there is a direct delivery of dirty plates to the dishwasher.

Reduce, reuse recycle people.

She looks a tad shiny here, but that’s just the paparazzi. She’s actually a beautiful milky colour. Alabaster if you will, and will make a lovely 2-top in the dining room. She’ll be joined by several of her equally beautiful sisters and a couple of brothers. They’re a little rougher around the edges, but should blend just nicely.

It looks like I’m featuring the tape measure, but I’d rather you look at the lovely fabric underneath. We found this granola girl at Cloth Fabric, in Surry Hills. She’s made of hemp and the yellow colour shot through it is based on a design by the leader of the talented Cloth team, Julie. Granola girl is currently being fastened to her backing before being attached to the banquette. She’s going to look fab.

Last but not least, the lighting. This is the first delivery of lightbulbs and whatnot. And one of them was already broken. She’s like a hormonal teenager, that lighting. Always changing her wattage, getting amped up about all the wrong things and too stubborn to convert from one way of thinking to another. I am so frustrated, I’m ready to ground her and use candles. I’ve told her I’ll give her one last chance.

It’s exciting though, and really quite thrilling to see our vision become a reality. To ponder over choices, knowing that one day soon a total stranger is going to be sitting on that seat, touching that light fitting, rubbing that wood. Oh, that didn’t come out quite the way I meant it to.

Anyway, you get the point.

G’night.

Oh, and if you get a chance. Check out the mention in this month’s Gourmet Traveller.

Now we really have to open on time…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *