Restaurants, Kitchens and Bars... Oh my!
Many years ago, I went out with a chef. Kitchens are merely vice dens with food. You couldn't move for people bonking and snorting coke in the store room. And the things they did with the food...
My personal vice was chocolate mousse - I remember it being very calming in all the chaos around me. I think they put things in it.
Tell us your stories of working in kitchens, bars and the rest of the nightmare that is the catering trade.
( , Fri 21 Jul 2006, 9:58)
Many years ago, I went out with a chef. Kitchens are merely vice dens with food. You couldn't move for people bonking and snorting coke in the store room. And the things they did with the food...
My personal vice was chocolate mousse - I remember it being very calming in all the chaos around me. I think they put things in it.
Tell us your stories of working in kitchens, bars and the rest of the nightmare that is the catering trade.
( , Fri 21 Jul 2006, 9:58)
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Working in the Covent Garden area...
Was head bartender in an establishment on the Strand back in the early 90's. Anyway, twas a fellow workers birthday booze up down the Roadhouse (fucking shithole) with staff from numerous establishments making it down for the cheap happy hour beers, before going on to Los Locos (another shithole) to pick up any available females. Unfortunately Tony, our erstwhile Northern Irish bartender had to work, and wasn't particularly happy about this. Cue his calling one of the tabliod rags with a bomb threat (making up a password, think it was girraffe or something similarly inane). 1 hour later Tony's down the pub- the Strand is closed, both the Savoy and the Strand Palace are evacuated- along with every bar and shop from Charing X up to Aldwych. Probably cost the area a fucking fortune, but hey we all had a good night, and if memory serves Tony shagged one of the receptionists from the Savoy- so it all worked out fine.
Apologies for length- its genetic.
( , Fri 21 Jul 2006, 11:47, Reply)
Was head bartender in an establishment on the Strand back in the early 90's. Anyway, twas a fellow workers birthday booze up down the Roadhouse (fucking shithole) with staff from numerous establishments making it down for the cheap happy hour beers, before going on to Los Locos (another shithole) to pick up any available females. Unfortunately Tony, our erstwhile Northern Irish bartender had to work, and wasn't particularly happy about this. Cue his calling one of the tabliod rags with a bomb threat (making up a password, think it was girraffe or something similarly inane). 1 hour later Tony's down the pub- the Strand is closed, both the Savoy and the Strand Palace are evacuated- along with every bar and shop from Charing X up to Aldwych. Probably cost the area a fucking fortune, but hey we all had a good night, and if memory serves Tony shagged one of the receptionists from the Savoy- so it all worked out fine.
Apologies for length- its genetic.
( , Fri 21 Jul 2006, 11:47, Reply)
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