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MACGYVER MEETS PSYCHOLOGIST – THE IDEAL ELECTRICIAN

  • Tuesday June 12 2012

Good lighting is essential in a restaurant, which is a shame because lighting gave me the irrates. Is that even a word? My mum used to say it to us when we were annoying her as kids.

But that’s exactly how lighting Hartsyard made me feel. Jeez it was annoying. No two people ever gave you the same information, lightbulbs are being fazed in and out in Australia and no one quite knew when, why or how. Our supply of shades and casings in this land is small and expensive, so we had to look internationally, and shipped things from as far away as a farm in Missouri and something else from a village in Thailand. No joke. It had a shipping time of between 21 and 45 days, so we assume it travelled from the village via tuk-tuk and then hitched a ride on the back a of a concussed migrating bird who misundestood the concept of flying away for the winter.

Eventually I emailed Ash our credit card details and told her to knock herself out. If it were left up to me, I’d be using candles. And torches with rechargeable batteries.

Luckily Ash persevered, and the results I must admit, are well worth the anguish.

Groovy LED strip lighting behind the shelves and bulbs from the lovely Steve at Empirical Style in Melbourne.

Pardon the twisty unlit bulb hanging in the top right of the image. No one’s quite sure where that’s meant to go and I keep forgetting to take it down. It’s not even plugged into anything. I don’t quite know how it got there in the first place.

To deal with such an irritating topic, you need a special sort of electrician.

An electrician who’s not going to get too worked up when he turns up to find that half the lighbulbs have smashed on their journey. Or that you forgot to tell him you need an internet cable for the POS system. Or cabling for a projector, and that all the lighting needs to line up with the tables rather than the symmetry of the roof.

Yes, it takes a special sort of someone to deal with those sorts of issues.

Meet Dave. Part Macgyver, part psychologist, works best under no timeline and lots of caffeine.

D1 electrical services. Using energy inversely proportional to the wattage given out by the bulbs he installs, Dave gets things done casually, creatively and with a wit that suggests he’s been shocked one too many times.

I tell you, lighting turned from something more annoying than standing in line at the RTA to a casual chat over a few live wires.

Oh, will the gang ever get together again? Ashley in New York, Dave in the North Shore (he wanders south on the promise of good coffee) and Tristram in the west.

Good people all, and if we ever got crazy enough to do anything like this again, I’d make sure we’d lined them all up first.

There they are trying to work out how best to install my host light, meant to be a welcoming beacon when you come in the door. Currently it looks like a flacid penis due to an installation difficulty, but Dave promised me he is going to wander back someday and fix it.

Dave doesn’t know I’m writing this plug for him (pardon the pun) and I doubt he’ll be in much of a hurry to read it, but if you’re considering getting your own beehive to harvest wax for candles instead of anything the 21st century is offering with all its LED, non-LED, screw top, edison top nonsense, give Dave a call. He’ll sort it out.

And it might end up looking something like this…

I’m not taking credit for much in this blog. Design by Ashley Couch, lighting by Dave (d1el...@gmail.com) and photos by Guy Wilkinson.

Smarts to hire them all in the first place? Oh that I will own as my personal genius.

 


REVIEWERS, BABYSITTERS & THE OBLIGATORY PRE-SHIFT SHOT

  • Saturday June 9 2012

It’s a long weekend.

Who knew?

My parents did evidently, and they’ve chooffed off to the south coast jazz festival with friends.

Fine, except that they’re our chief babysitters, and their seconds (one brother and his lovely lady) are also taking advantage of the Queen’s birthday, leaving us to rope in friends to look after Q while we seat and serve the people.

Two are nurses which I figured was a good start, and one is my oldest friend who said her primary goal was to make sure Q didn’t catch on fire. Which, in the scheme of things, isn’t a bad aspiration to have.

Things have been a tad hectic around here; ‘finishing touches’ remain untouched (we have hooks to put up under the bar for people to hang their bags and coats, which will allow me to bring the coatrack back home and hang up our coats which are currently lying in a big pile on the floor), we’ve found ourselves needing a couple more staff and the reviewers have been wandering in, always under another name and right on the nose of their reservation time.

Most of them I’ve recognised, but I’ve been saved a few times by our lovely locals who whisper in my ear or write me notes saying; ‘Naomi, you know who that is don’t you? Take good care of them.’

Thank you peeps, but hopefully we’re taking good care of you all!

I feel very comfortable back in hospitality land, and have re-embraced the pre-shift shot with regular abandon in a desperate bid to combat the fatigue of trying to open a restaurant while still being a full-time mum.

It’s amazing what a shot of good tequila can do.

Guy, a local who wandered in on opening night, turned out to be an architectural photographer and has taken some fantastic shots of the space.

Really, Gregory and I can’t take any credit for the space at all, apart from having fantastically talented friends. The design was done by our dear friend Ashley Couch, based in NYC, but very happy to travel if you offer her a corner of your living room and a mattress, and maybe even a blanket or two.

Our urban homestead. Welcoming and warm. Just what we wanted, just what we got, and just what our guests seem to be liking so far as well.

Happy Queen’s birthday people, enjoy the weekend and travel safely.


Sometimes you have fortuitous misfortunes…

  • Wednesday May 23 2012

If we ever decided to do a restaurant fit-out again, I would be oh-so-wise and savvy to the world of renovations.

I’d know things like;

• start ordering your lighting now, even then they’ll still be late.

• you will use every bit of your 10% contingency money unfortunately, so do not count your chickens before the last invoice is paid

• get your coffee machine up and running early. Keep your tradies well caffeinated

• homemade biscuits are also an excellent form of bribery. I had great success with anzacs and choc-chips

• ask ask ask. It’s amazing what and who people know. Truly incredible and can save you a lot of time and money

• Google is not always your friend. People’s websites are not always up to date. Sometimes you’ve got to be old fashioned and actually go to the store

• do not believe anyone who says it will be ready tomorrow. They lie like a rug

• when you are overly tired, your brain decides what details are important and which ones aren’t. This does not always work in your favour. Forgetting to hang out the laundry is fine, accidentally combining bank account details and paying the wrong people is not

• read the fine print. Of course it’s cheap when it has a delivery time of 21-45 days. We assume this particular item is coming via carrier pigeon who is attempting to get into the Guinness Book of Records by being the first pigeon to fly solo round the world while also carrying a light

• This reading of the fine print has caused a few near-disasters on my part, (although I will not accept the blame for the chairs not being here, that was a different issue entirely) but I will accept that having to open without wine glasses or napkins would have been my fault entirely.

Details people, they’re not my strong point. I used to sing for a living. The biggest detail I used to deal with was where is the spot light and is it bright enough. HA!

The saying ‘necessity is the mother of invention’ has never been more apt than with the great case of the missing napkins. What were we going to do? Even if I did express post them from the US and no carrier pigeons were involved, they still weren’t going to get here in time.

Enter Julie of Cloth Fabric. We discovered Julie because Ash told me to put together a list of fabric places for us to visit and so I did, randomly searching the internet, picking them based on their name and proximity to our house. Cloth Fabric – that seemed like an appropriate name for a fabric store, and they’re in Surry Hills. I know where that is.

And it was there we found the fabric for our banquette, built by the ever-so-lovely and highly efficient Greg of Top Notch Upholstery. Check it out. Done in only a few days.

There it is, paired with tasmanian wood from the demolition site that is apparently now extinct, and the two differently finished dining tables, one made from the floors of an old terrace, the other more wood from out the back. Top bloke that Greg, when I have the money to re-cover my grandmother’s hideous dining chairs I’ll call him. Although I suppose I’d have to get a dining room first…

Anyway, Julie was really great to chat with, one of those all-round artists with fantastic ideas, clever ways of looking at things and a genuine interest in what we were trying to do at Hartsyard.

She also had bins of off-cuts for sale at her store. Off-cuts Ash suddenly realised could be used for napkins…

Of course, this idea struck at 1am on Saturday, Cloth is closed Sunday, so Julie and her band of elves only got to work on Monday morning, and this afternoon I go to collect her creations.

This is my new favourite thing to have happened. We’ve had many merry accidents along the way, but this one has to have been one of the greatest successes.

Two hundred napkins in two and a half days. I’d still be working out how to thread the machine.

That’s Julie. And look she’s smiling. That must only be napkin number 4.

A huge thank you to Julie and her elves, not only have they delivered a rather key element for a dining room, they’ve delivered something waaaaaay cooler than we were ever hoping to have in the first place.


All you ever need is a really good screw

  • Tuesday May 22 2012

After I informed Ash of the great chair disaster of 2012, (horribly timed with her having just pushed ‘purchase’ on her ticket back here from NYC based on the expected arrival date of the chairs) and then told her of my great plan to turn it into a community event where everyone brought their own chairs, I could just hear her designer’s heart splitting into a thousand shattered pieces as she envisioned her well executed plan being sabotaged by my grandmother’s red velvet dining chairs.

And so she took matters into her own hands, and upon arrival shanghaied our fabulous manager Cassie into a trip to IKEA. God bless Cassie. I would rather spend an hour on hold to the Family Assistance Office than go to IKEA. (FYI, do not ring family assistance at the moment. They are rather too busy to assist as it turns out).

And back they come with a couple of laundry bins, a few pots and 25 un-assembled stools.

25 un-assembled stools.

This when we just realised no one checked the size of the napkins we intended to order and they were in fact, the size of small tablecloths. (I suspect the no one in that sentence could easily be replaced with the word ‘me’ but it’s a bit early in the week for self-flaggelation don’t you think?)

I don’t even have a picture of the assembling party that occurred between the hours of 8 and 10pm last night, but suffice to say it was an orgy of good screws…

Meanwhile Mattie the plumber and his apprentice Jared, were busy in the greenhouse somewhat handicapped by having to work in the dark on account of unfinished electrical work and therefore no light.

Lime green socks. That way if Jared falls down a drain, Mattie can still find him. Can’t recommend Mattie highly enough people. Professional, timely and friendly. No sign of plumber’s crack and skilled far beyond the unclogging of a blocked toilet. Which reminds me of a tale I was told about a plumber who did just that at the home of a husband and wife.

‘Just stop throwing your condoms down the toilet guys,’ said the plumber after his work was done.

‘But we don’t use condoms,’ said the husband…and made the unfortunate discovery that his wife was having an affair.

Plumbers. Dealing with far more than a tricky s-bend.

The great napkin disaster of 2012 has also been solved by Cassie and Ash (do you get the picture that I don’t do much around here) in cahoots with Julie of Cloth fabric. More on that later, I’m running late to pick them up…

Eftpos system due tomorrow (what a fabulous feeling to think that in a couple of days we will actually have money coming into our account), logo stamp is in, website nearly finished, (again, the person holding that up would be moi) clipboards for menus arriving today, and first staff training tonight.

WOO HOO!!!!!

We’ve gathered an eclectic bunch of workers thus far, but Enmore is an eclectic place, what else would you expect! We’ve got social workers, opera singers, music journos, political scientists, accountants for not-for-profits and the obligatory Brit hoping to move here from the motherland.

Wine tasting notes from the clever and talented Ned Brooks are just in, so I shall print them of and add them to the ‘staff welcome pack.’ Everyone loves to be welcomed with a stack of information they’re required to learn in 48 hours don’t they?

We’ve had some lovely emails and comments on the blog from supportive locals, which has given Gregory and I such a glow. In 2010 when we left the US and I returned home to live for the first time in 8 years, it took us a little while to acclimate to Sydney and workout where we fit in. ‘Inner-west is best’ said one of our friends, and they’re not wrong.

We feel really comfortable and relaxed in Enmore and hope to find a happy home amongst the locals. Thank you, very sincerely, for all the love and support people, we’re really looking forward to taking care of you.

Bring on Saturday night!!


One tiny brick at a time

  • Saturday May 5 2012

I met Gregory when I was singing and dancing my way across America and paying for my dance classes when I was back in New York by hostessing at his restaurant. Cheesy I know.

Anyway, about the only subject I’m good at at Trivia Nights is random facts about musicals. Yes, Phantom of the Opera is the longest running musical on Broadway. And today when I walked into the space and really saw Ashley’s design coming to life, I thought of a line from a song I haven’t thought of in years.

To build a tower up so high to a cloud, you anchor, build it one tiny brick at a time.

It’s from a musical called Barnum, which was probably not successful enough to ever make into a pub trivia night, so that’s all I’ll tell you about that.

But it’s a perfect summary of the fit-out of this restaurant. Of the fit-out of Gregory’s dream really.

The first brick? We had to meet. Then we had to pay off his college debt and he needed to build his resume by working with and for a few more fancy people and places. A few more bricks there. Some of them I wanted to throw at people, but that’s a story for another blog entirely.

Then I had to get him back to my homeland. Actually not that tough a brick to build in the end, because he fell in love with the place on our first visit home.

Next brick was growing our very own human and delighting in her every move until we felt confident enough to focus again on building other parts of our dream.

And that’s when the building of the restaurant started. The long talks with Ash, over beers and sunsets on Venice Beach, the restaurant and location shopping, the investor finding, the concept solidifying. All little bricks that we slowly but considerately put in their place.

And now here we are, not even six months on, and look how far we’ve come.

The lovely Kevin O’toole knocked this poster up for us in a hot minute. His studio is literally around the corner in the old flower mill, which he may come to find annoying, because now that we’ve found him, we’ll be using him for all our printing needs.

There it is people. Our fears were for naught, it looks just like we hoped it would.

It sort of clambers along the wall like a vine and continues out the back to build the greenhouse.

After being named and shamed in a previous blog, my eldest brother took a day off work, drove down from Newcastle and joined the chain gang.

The reclaimed wood looks incredible. If we ever left this space I’m taking it with us. And the banquette. And the piping. And the marble bar top. The terra cotta tiles can stay.

I didn’t really understand all of Ash’s designs to be frank. I think I’ve mentioned before, I don’t have an eye for detail. So I was completely surprised and thrilled when this partition wall went up.

One of the best parts about Ash is that she’s worked, owned and run her own restaurants so (unlike most places I’ve worked) the space is designed with the purpose in mind. Everything is placed to optimise the flow of a restaurant.

And behind this partition is the cut-out in the wall that goes directly to the dishwasher in the kitchen. There is another cut-out  for the pass leading directly to the dining room, which means therefore, that the kitchen is the chef’s domain. No pesky little waiters wanting a side of mayonnaise on their well-done steak need ever enter their territory.

You can see the banquette in place in front. I believe sometime today the backing will be attached and there you’ll find me, sitting in comfort, writing my blogs to the world…

But the best part of yesterday?

The beer is now on tap.


A person’s shoes can really tell you things

  • Wednesday April 4 2012

You can always tell a serious discussion by the people’s stance. In the foreground we have our delightful builder’s feet, sensibly encased in steel-caped boots. To the right we have Gregory’s, evenly planted for a solid base of support. Dressed (as always) in one of his many Chuck Taylors. And the feet in the back, (in the split toe avatar shoes as Gregory calls them), are those of our wonderful designer Ash, who shortly thereafter hopped a plane back to our old stomping ground, NYC.

Hence the seriousness of the stance. They were all discussing how best to move forward now that Ashley will be on the other side of the world. Skype, viber and email, in case you’re wondering.

Perhaps it seems a little nuts to have engaged a designer who presents such a geographical challenge, but Ash is a very dear friend of ours, and out of all the decisions we made, asking Ash to help us was a total no-brainer.

She and Gregory have been dreaming up this restaurant for nearly 5 years now. A dream that began on the sunny shores of Venice Beach, continued through a chilly Brooklyn fall and was finally realised on the tail end of the wettest most pathetic Summer in Sydney’s history.

Throughout the design process we had weekly skype meetings where Ash linked out computer to hers so we were able to see the designs as she altered them, (she’s clever like that) and for the past two weeks she’s been onsite 7am to 7pm, adjusting, discussing, solving and altering as costs, time and materials became realities.

So no, it wasn’t nuts at all. In fact, it made perfect, utter sense. Our designer understood us, our idea, our menu and our concept, because she’d been helping develop it for years. She’s also rather talented which tends to sway a decision somewhat.

It was really sad to see her go today, but we’re all determined to find a way to get her back for the opening.

Caption: Notice the split in Ashley’s shoes? Designers are wacky like that.



About us

Hartsyard

Thanks for stopping by. This is the blog for Hartsyard, a restaurant at 33 Enmore Road, Newtown. It is owned and operated by husband wife team Gregory Llewellyn and Naomi Hart. Gregory is the chef and Naomi runs front of house. Hope you enjoy our site and we look forward to serving you soon!

Thanks, Gregory and Naomi

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Saturday and Sunday 5.30 PM till late
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