On our opening night at Goldingtons, having never run a restaurant before, we were pretty nervous. Our menu consisted of six courses (an idea taken from my Parisian friend Françoise – see later blog). Ed was working in London and arrived home just in time to change into his Maître D’ outfit, ready to greet the first guests. We had a tiny young lad called Simon to help serve (his first job) and a statuesque lady called Mary who took up most of the area around the sink in our (then) small kitchen. With our pals Doug and Carol there for support, there wasn’t a lot of space.
The door bell rang and we disappeared into the kitchen as Ed lead the first party through to our sitting room and took their drinks order. I had some canapés ready to serve and Simon took the tray. I pulled the handle of the kitchen door to open it for him but it wouldn’t budge. I tried again. No luck. I pulled hard and the handle fell off! We were locked in the kitchen. I grabbed my coat from the utility room and gave it to Simon, telling him to go out the back door and come back in the front way as if he was a customer. He duly left and went to the front door and rang the bell. Ed was shocked when he answered the door, seeing Simon dressed in a pink coat, and even more surprised when he walked in, picked up the handle and used it to let us out of the kitchen. Doug quickly found a screwdriver and fitted the handle back on.
Soon the place was full and the kitchen was buzzing. Doug (the man who had never cooked in his life) was grilling trout. I was busy sorting out sauces and pâtés. Mary was washing up, Carol was chopping vegetables and Simon was in the dining room, clearing away the fish course plates, ready to serve the sorbet. I then started to prepare the steaks. I cut the first few slices from the large piece of meat and set them aside. I picked up the remaining meat to put it back in the chiller and as I was trying to manoeuvre around Mary, it slipped out of my hands and flew into the washing up bowl, full of clean soapy water! Mary quickly fished it out and we ran the tap over it to remove the suds. Nothing to see here.
Freshly washed and peppered 
Ready to go
We always served our vegetables in dishes with silver lids. Simon would place the dishes on the table and Ed would take the lids off with a dramatic flourish and present the food. Customers loved it. One evening, some pals of ours had booked a table and I filled the dishes with underwear. Ed was totally unaware as he lifted the lids and slapped them down very quickly when he saw the contents. Our friends thought it was hilarious.
Apart from the shaky start, the evening went really well. A frantically busy night but a great one. We cleared the final table, said goodnight to the last guest and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Ed poured everyone a drink and we finished off with a late night snack – roast potatoes cooked in goose fat, squashed between slices of fresh crusty bread. Delicious – Bon Appetit.
GOOSE FAT SPUD SANDWICH
Par boil some King Edward potatoes in salted water for ten minutes. Remove and drain well. Toss them in a colander to smash them a little.
At the same time, put a tray of goose fat into the oven for 10 minutes on a high heat (220ºC FAN).
As soon as the fat is melted and hot, add the potatoes. Roast for 5 minutes on 220ºC FAN and then turn the heat down to 180ºC FAN. Roast for 30-40 minutes until they are brown and crispy.
Remove the potatoes, put them on kitchen paper to drain for a few minutes. Butter some thick slices of crusty bread, add the potatoes. Season with salt and pepper. Squash the sandwich slightly and enjoy!
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