Hello blog, long time no chat. Since we last spoke we’ve built a greenhouse…
Gregory spent the day running between the kitchen where he brined ducks and the greenhouse, where he bolted shelves to walls. I am sure he washed his hands in between each activity folks. There’s our $50 sink from an old lady’s backyard. We’ve decided to keep the old lady wallpaper that somehow attached itself to the front of it.
And next to it is our perfect veggie prep table from the lovely Warren at duck fat. Great for fantastic pieces, even better for a good old cyber-chinwag. I tell you, I have felt the love and support all the way from Geelong, and if he ever wanders up from his southern home, I will seat him at the bar as I’ve no doubt by the end of the evening he’ll be friends with the entire restaurant.
Warren also included t-shirts in our delivery but being the egalitarian that he is, he sent 2 mediums and thereby missed us both. I’m what some would call mammary challenged, so a small is just fine for me. My husband is what you might call a product of his profession and is not small. Or even medium. Squeezing into a t-shirt that said ‘duckfat’ on the front probably wasn’t going to improve his self-esteem!
Next step for the greenhouse is plants, it being a greenhouse and all.
We are back in business people. The garden is growing again. I think they’re bean stalks. Growing just like Jack intended. Strictly speaking, these won’t go in the greenhouse, but they’ll be washed at the sink and prepped on the table before going into the kitchen.
They’re called Hearts Ease apparently. How appropriate. Opening Hartsyard restaurant will give my heart ease, that’s for sure.
That is a rogue Tomato plant. They’re presumptuous little buggers. Self-planting wherever they will and forcing everyone else in the garden to be their friend.
Mostly the greenhouse will be peppered with the herbs needed for the food and cocktails and some lovely little candles. Everyone looks better in a soft light. Basil included.
The boys are in the kitchen folks. Baseball caps are on. Sauces are brewing and I have one very happy husband.
That’s Song trying to remain calm while I make him look at me for the photo, despite the steam hitting him full in the face. Hey, a director has to capture a shot whenever they see the moment.
Secretly I suspect Andy would like a career on the catwalk. Look at those pins. And that toss of the hip. Here he is modelling the HY aprons. Cleaner there than you’re ever likely to see them again.
This afternoon my father ran us through a bit of a mini-onsite, which you can read about here, but i’ll summarise by saying it’s a way of looking at your business and making it run better. Our business isn’t running yet, so we spent our time talking about how we’re going to get it to run in the first place and lots of other important topics like communication, guest experience and why pastry chefs hate to be asked if something is gluten free.
Gregory and I spent most of the onsite completely buoyed and elated by the crew we’ve got working with us, but by the end, both of us had spiralled into a pit of despair as we realised just how much we’ve got to do before we open this joint this weekend, missing chairs included.
We quickly rallied and delegated fantastically (I have thus far wormed my way out of trips to Bunnings, Chefs Warehouse and IKEA), which is not quite what I think my father was referring to when he said we should share the responsibilities.
The week ahead promises to be more intense than watching a souffle rise, but I’ll be back again soon folks, just as quickly as I can delegate our daughter to some poor, unsuspecting relative…