I wasn’t working last night at the Sausage. If I was then the following would not have happened. But it did. We need to learn our lesson. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to the customers who didn’t realise and I’m especially sorry to the poor diner whose lips swelled up and, according to my head waiter, Gordon, appeared to sprout blue splotches all over her face as he watched.
What did we do which was so bad, so heinous? Unfortunately, one of my chefs (now no longer one of my chefs) added alcohol to our soup. And not just a little alcohol but a lot of alcohol. A lot. Gin, vodka, I’m not sure what else. It wasn’t clever but it was bad.
I should also like to apologise to the customer on the nearby table who had their dinner suit speckled with vomit from the allergic diner, and in turn to their dining partner who received a plateful of pearl necklace all over her lap when her husband jumped up to avoid the vomit. (Bit of a waste of good seafood really). I also understand that the police took a lot of convincing that the poorly woman’s husband had himself not been drinking-and-driving; at least we now know that a breathalyser cannot distinguish between a glass of something which you have genuinely drunk and a bit more than a glass (or three) of something in your soup.
It was, as the French say, a slight faux pas. Or as we would say here, an absolute f****** nightmare.
PostNote: I have to tell you one more thing. The reason I wasn’t at my restaurant last night was because I was meeting a very interesting man who had an astonishing story to tell and an amazing offer for me. I can’t tell you more just yet – we are currently looking at contracts – but trust me, when you hear the news you are not going to believe your ears! It is something out of this world.
Watch this space…