Of Wine, Women and Song: Wine!

There are some truly great wines produced in South Africa. At Le Canard we generally ask our diners what they would like, and we do make suggestions, but have found that many people have their personal preferences. The most requested are Meerlust Rubicon; Rupert & Rothschild; Kanonkop, Hamilton Russell Pinot Noir; Whole Berry Cabernet Sauvignon; Graham Beck Cabernet Sauvignon, and of the foreign red wines Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

By far the most popular champagne for celebrations is Moët & Chandon. Proves the power of advertising, doesn't it?

One should be adventurous about wine as well as food A great deal is written about wine, and it is worth reading and learning new ideas. "Platters South African Wine Guide" is concise and easy to understand. Wherever you may be, I am sure wine guides are available which are usually written by authorities.

I do find that individual wine farmers don't bother to recognize the importance of their Sales Representatives. An attentive, knowledgeable rep can gain sales by his/her personal presence. They in turn need to recognise the waiter/waitress selling their wine. Any rep walking into a restaurant, and I suppose the same applies to a large liquor outlet, should greet the people selling their products. Not many restaurants has a dedicated sommelier, and it is generally the waiting staff who are serving wines. Acknowledgement of them would increase sales. One South African wine rep I would award a gold medal to is Karyn Rutherford, Regional Sales Ambassador of Graham Beck wines, who has always been bright, cheerful and professional.

Talking of "recognition," I must relate the saga of an incident that took place some years ago. We held a dinner in conjunction with a particular Wine Farm. The owner, his wife, the wine maker and the sales manager flew up from the Cape to Johannesburg for the event. They arrived a short while before the guests. The sales manager greeted me, the farm owner nodded at me, but it turned into one of those moments that became frozen in time. As hostess to the party, I stood waiting to receive them. "Mrs Farm Owner" approached, and I was about to say "thank you for coming" and enthusiastically extended my hand. She looked disdainfully at me, walked straight past and made a beeline for the Maitre D' who was placing orders, and she beamed all over him.

My ego was so dashed that I didn't immediately realise my hand was still extended, awaiting to be accepted. Oh ignorant me! I imagined that, as the owner of Le Canard, I warranted at least slight recognition. Of course, I continued allowing the wine to be purchased by my Maitre D', but remained slightly bruised by the incident.

Freda

Of Wine, Women and Song: Women!

Through the years many really interesting women have dined at Le Canard. Walking down memory lane Adelaide Tambo comes to the forefront.  She was a wonderful human being who, I believe, was a major player in the "Walk to Freedom." She called me her "sister," and I thought likewise of her. I had the honour of having Oliver Tambo celebrate his last birthday with us. He was frail and somewhat tired, but a consummate gentleman.



Adelaide Tambo

Another very gracious and ever friendly lady is Zanele Mbeki, who is lovely smiling and caring. Brigitte Radebe is equally gracious, friendly and caring. She is always a fashion statement. Her feet are firmly on the ground, and one would not know that she is a most successful business woman, and the wife of a senior government minister.

Bridgette Radebe

 I had the pleasure of meeting her entire family. Her parents celebrated a wedding anniversary with us, a remarkable couple who provided all their children with university education, and who lived to see all of their offspring rise to the top of their fields. But this blog is about women, and I should make mention of South African portraitist Silma Keys, a talented artist and most thoughtful hostess.
 

Painting by Silma Keys

Then there is the charming Annabel Ravazotti, a lovely, always smiling individual after whom we named her favourite dessert "Annabel's Parfait" (Walnut Parfait).

When I think of all the women who visited Le Canard over the years, many, many more come to mind, but I must mention a very glamorous and "classy" Middle Eastern lady. She visited South Africa every four months for a fortnight to "take care of her investments." This ritual continued over a period of two years, and we never ascertained exactly what the "investments" were. She was a very disciplined woman, always dressed to the "nines." In winter she was covered in magnificent furs, and in summer time very uncovered in "minis" generally, with revealing slits and, of course, plunging necklines.

 

During what was to be her last visit, we did ascertain that she had been negotiating the purchase of a "strip joint." Our "informant" was her liveried chauffeur, who drove a shiny Rolls Royce with two passengers at the back - our "foreign" lady and her "body guard." While the chauffeur remained constant, the "body guard" changed at every visit she made, however, they all had one thing in common. They were young, gorgeous looking, well built men, usually blonde and occasionally darked haired. According to the chauffeur, they all had "amazing stamina."

The back of the Rolls Royce had a well stocked bar with Krug Champagne, a filled ice bucket, and crystal flutes. The boot of the vehicle had an ice chest packed with "Krug" and a box of flutes. According to the chauffeur, after dinner (always a three course meal during which "Krug" was copiously downed, and which we learnt to order supplies as soon as we got a reservation from the mentioned lady), she would bid us "good night" and then their good night started. The chauffeur was instructed to drive and drive no matter where, and he only stopped when commanded "more champs"! He would then stop the Rolls, open the boot, refill the bar, replace the flutes with fresh ones, and continue the 2-3 hour drive. His complaint was not having to drive endlessly, but to have to listen to the moans, groans, squeals of delight and instructions. All this information came out one night when I invited him to have coffee or something to eat. "No," he said, "nothing to eat, just coffee. I don't need to fill my stomach. I need to empty my chest!"

I am sure you think you have been reading fiction. I guarantee this is an absolutely true story!!

"Wine" to follow!

 

Freda

The Mysterious Blonde, Brunette & Black Haired Hostess on Call!



Following the incident related in my previous blog, I will continue this one with the "Day-after-the-Night before." Apparently when I had gone home the previous evening, those staff who had remained at Le Canard, got together for a nightcap and "brain stormed." Rashid, our Moroccan waiter, pressed the first button. "You know that woman looked the same as the one that was here with Mr. Y two weeks ago, but then her hair was brown, and she had a different kind of voice. He too gave us a big tip!" An excited discussion followed, and they concluded that Mr. Y's and Mr. Z's companion was one and the same.

                       

A short while before this episode, Mr. X, a CEO of a large company, who was a frequent guest of ours for years before he became a CEO and before I had Le Canard, was very friendly with a young woman I knew. They fell in love and duly married. The years flew by and, as happens sometimes, they fell out of love and parted ways.

So when Mr. X phoned and said that he had to have a dinner party for valued clients, and could he have a private room and special attention, I naturally agreed. However, I was somewhat surprised when he continued the conversation adding that as I knew he was now divorced, he had invited a dear and old friend of his to host his dinner party. "Surely" said I.

Mr. X arrived and proudly ushered forward a beautiful black haired young lady. She made a wonderful hostess. The "valued clients" not only enjoyed the evening, they envied their host . She had charmed them, was discreetly attentive to all, and had a calming soft sultry accent. The evening proved to be the most succesfull, and Mr. X was more than generous to the attentive staff.

When I heard the conclusion that Rashid and companions had come to, I nonchalantly declared "Oh! So Mr. Z and Mr. Y had the same partner. Remember the dinner ± two weeks ago for Mr. X, wasn't his hostess....." I never finished the sentence, since the "Hallelujah Chorus" unanimously exlaimed something close to.....

"She ain't a Call Girl, she's a Hostess on Call!"

An actress and make over artist, as well! I wonder what else she's good at?

Freda

 

A Damsel in Distress......or.....?





Before relocating some time ago, the sales manager of a large international company entertained many of his business guests at Le Canard. Let's call him Mr. Z. One morning he phoned and asked to speak to me, asking if he could have a "special" guest table for two for dinner as he was entertaining a lovely young lady. "Of course, for you anything." He arrived with a divine young woman, and was shown to a discreet table. I should add that we strewed rose petals over the table cloth to set a romantic atmosphere.

During the latter part of the evening I was sitting talking to two guests, when the Maitre D' came to excuse himself, and asked me to go to the ladies' lavatory. "Why?" "There seems to be a problem." I rushed off and hadn't got to the door, when I heard a series of, should I say, "groans." "Bring lemon water! Quickly!!" I said. Now, what you can't cure with a stiff whisky, you can with lemon water. Before the water arrived, Mr. Z walked out of the ladies' lavatory as dapper as ever, but with a broader grin than usual. I was obviously "shell shocked" because I continued to investigate the damsel in distress. She was applying lipstick, straightening her hair and her mini skirt.

I obviously had two satisfied guests and two curious ones. The people to whom I had been speaking earlier have seen a tall male return to his table, who was then followed by an attractive female. An explanation was required, and these two departed very soon after the elucidation with an air of anticipation on both their faces.

Mr. Z and his companion were served dessert and shortly thereafter they singly returned to the ladies' lavatory. At this stage the restaurant had very few tables still occupied, and the waiters were "hived" up to the "toilet activities." The sounds from the occupants of the lavatory were slightly mufled by the buzzing waiters, and one....two....the now doubly satisfied diners left. What more could I have asked for?

1. Mr. Z and his companion highly satisfied by the "service";
2. My waiters equally satisfied by the generous gratuity; and
3. I remained hoping the two guests who were privy to the first half of this episode, have gone to sleep equally satisfied.

The evening had not ended yet. The Maitre D' asked me to come into the "love nest" with him. He suggested that I rub my flat palm over the top of the toilet cistern, and yes it was covered with remnants of white powder. Seeing all this happened in "pre-viagra" days, it proved "coke" may have provided the same attributes.

Freda

 
"A Virile Z"
 

Of Natural Nobility and True Monarchy

In my last blog I spoke of Sonia Gandhi, a most charming and engaging lady who was highly respected by her colleagues as well as by all of my staff. She showed friendliness and attention to everyone.

Another wonderful, gracious and thoughtful woman was Dame Jane Goodall, the "Chimp Lady." She brought her "companion chimp" with. I had heard that she travelled with him everywhere. To welcome her and her "companion," I set a place at the table for him. He had a cushion placed on his chair to allow him to be seen by all seated, and each course that was served had one that was specially made for him, albeit it nuts and leaves or bananas and berries. Dame Goodall was highly delighted, and displayed an amazing sense of humour. Her hosts were equally gratified at the reception we had given her, and her sincere appreciation of the trouble we had gone to. To show their own appreciation they doubled the useful amount they were offering to her fundraising effort. You probably guessed her companion was a stuffed toy chimp!

Over the past twenty odd years I have had many men and women come to Le Canard. Some remain indelibly set in my mind. I think the most impressive of all are those who retain their graciousness over and above their sense of importance. Certainly Her Royal Highness Princess Benedikte Ingrid of Denmark was a shining example of gentility and charm.

Another very charming, carefree and delightful woman who visited Le Canard, was Academy Award winning actress Marlee Matlin. She handled her hearing disability with cheer and smiles. She was so taken with the tablecloth on her table, which had been embroidered with ducks, that I had the plates removed, folded the cloth stains and all, and handed it to her as a gift. She couldn't have been more pleased when she was handed her Oscar.

I must here make my position clear on "naming and shaming." Criminals who don't abide by the law should be "named and shamed," but I prefer "naming" the good and gracious. I don't confuse disrespect for lawbreakers with social ineptitude!

Freda

A Great Dame & a Cantankerous Madam!!



Somebody suggested that I "name and shame" diners who through the years have been bothersome, painful or generally rude. I don't like the idea at all, since people do not usually behave that way. The few "strays" who do, I certainly wouldn't name. I think one of the essentials of being associated with a restaurant is discretion.

However, I clearly remember the night that Mrs Sonia Gandhi, three of her cabinet ministers, members of the South African government, and a number of local dignitaries came for dinner. The security was what is known as "tight," and a number of well dressed security agents from India, as well as top South African government security guards, accompanied them. I was very specifically requested to make sure that the two exit doors in the restaurant remain open throughout the evening, and I clearly understood the need for this cautionary measure.

The same evening a seriously important and greatly respected business executive, who frequented the restaurant, had booked a small table for members of his family and himself. We usually seated them at a particular table, however that night we had large parties and couldn't give them their "usual." My head waiter at the time thought the executive's wife was "put out," and that she had had her "status" lowered.

The VIPs were served their first course, when the head waiter, perspiring profusely, entered my kitchen to inform me that "Mrs Executive" said she was cold and wanted the doors closed. The weather that day was very slightly coolish. I told him "well, put a stopper at the door, but leave it ajar and explain to her the complexity of the situation." A few minutes went by and he returned exclaiming "She won't listen, she insists, help!" I responded "well, I'm busy cooking. So please go calm her." Back he came saying "She insists, and wants to see you immediately."

I know I am an extremely good chef. I also know that I am extremely impatient, and I have never claimed the quality of being a "people's person." So don't order me to leave an extremely busy kitchen to attend to a petty annoyance, which should have been sorted out by the Head Waiter. Reluctantly I instructed a chef to attend to what I had been doing, and left the kitchen to calm the storm.

I barely got to the table when I was told by the now hysterical woman "I want the door closed. I'm cold." I tactfully told her that this was not possible as it was a security risk to a party of VVIPS, but I could offer her a pashmino, put a heater next to her, or offer her my cure to most difficult situations.....a stiff whisky! She responded "Don't be stupid, and who is more important than me!" I would have loved to say "I suppose your husband who provides for the position you now occupy".....but I didn't! Instead I suppose I looked a little dumbfounded! She continued "Well, who are these people? I insist on being told." I then addressed her husband asking him if he was having a private party, whether he would appreciate me announcing to every inquisitive guest who the party consisted of. I received no answer, and wondered if he was henpecked. I had no other recourse but to say that I was sorry. However, as I left the table she pushed her chair aside and went to bang the door close. "I'll close it myself" she shouted, as she tried to peek into the room occupied by the people thought to be more important than herself.

Obviously I reopened the door, to which she responded "We're leaving! I am not freezing for anybody's benefit." Her husband and family dutifully followed, however not before her newly married son stopped to tell me I was a "ridiculous old fool." He is a lovely human being, and I wouldn't want to "name and shame" her. I don't like the idea and he would'nt deserve it.

Freda

Of Platters & Pomposity



About a year after we first opened Le Canard, we had two ladies consulting us on a possible function. One was considerably older than the other, but both were dressed to the nines, and, to put it politely, they had their noses somewhat in the air. They entered, looked around a little disdainfully, and queried "Who do we speak to about a reservation?" I asked "Can I possibly help you?" At that stage I was a little frightened  to let them loose with Hans Frieser, our Maitre d', since he might have been inclined to tell them they looked like flowers, and, when they beamed at him, would have said "Cauliflowers"which came to mind when I looked at them!

It transpired that their husbands, and I presume they themselves, were members of what was then the prestigeous global institution called the "Young Presidents' Organization" (YPO), and they wanted to book a dinner for their next presentation. They asked me whether I understood that this was "a very, very, very upmarket organisation" and that they wanted only the best. The older of the two ladies did most of the talking, and the younger one appeared slightly intimidated. I was told their names, which I won't mention here, since I am sure they are still floating around somewhere on another planet!  They certainly were "floating" in the restaurant!

Anyway, I sat them down, and Hans came to offer the ladies something to drink, then promptly disappeared after serving it. I asked what their needs were, and they stressed that it had to be very "upmarket" and very special, and that I had to cater to the tastes of the YPO members. Realising the kind of people they were, I suggested that possibly a smoked salmon starter would be the best thing, and, since we were already specialising in duck, I recommended the choice of duck and grilled sole as a main course. They looked at each other and then at me, and since I was at the time relatively unscathed by nature, I smiled charmingly and said that it would be nice to hear from them, but that it was obviously their choice as to where they would like to hold their YPO dinner.

In due course I received a phone call from the younger of the two ladies, who was obviously the "lady-in-waiting." She said that her partner-in-crime thought that we would be "adequate," and so I decided that we would attempt to be more than "adequate"! We placed them in our private room, which can be closed off so that nobody can listen in to conversations, and I had arranged the most beautiful flowers and thought everything was 100%. However, the first calamity we encountered involved a lovely young waitress named Edna, who was a final year medical student. One of the other staff came to me and said that Edna was sitting crying in the lavatory. I went to see what the problem was and she exclaimed "I can't stand this any more! I can't stand it!" I asked "Sweetheart, what can't you stand?" She replied "That woman at that table in that room is busy picking flowers out of the vase and throwing them on the floor, and when she throws them on the floor she expects me to pick them up, and I don't know where to put them because they're beautiful flowers, and I just don't know what she means....!" So I said "well, I'll go and find out what the problem is."

So I went to the private room and said to the lady "It would appear you do not like the decorations we put on your table," and she retorted "I simply can't stand these flowers. They stink! Do you understand me? They stink!" Now that was an aromatic arrangement of roses and tuberoses, and it was the latter flower she was throwing on the floor. So I said "Let's take it off your table" and she responded "Wonderful idea!" I went back to the lavatory and said to the distressed waitress "Edna, fine, we have removed the stinking tuberoses!" Her tears turned to laughter, and we both fell about laughing about the lady who did not like the perfume of tuberoses.

That was the first problem of the day. The second arose that evening when we proceeded to serve the YPO's. There were four tables with ten people at each table. Hans, my Maitre d' at the time, had chosen to serve the table nearest the door first. He was possibly thinking those seated nearest the door might be the most important. We never found out why, but he served that table first. As the waiters concluded putting down the tenth dish, a gentleman at one of the other tables came charging out. He dashed straight passed Hans, and came to me exclaiming "I wont' have this! I definitely will not have this!"

Incidentally, the "Young Presidents" became the CEOs of large, influential companies, hence the said gentleman will remain unnamed since he is still floating around Johannesburg as a "big shot"! At the time I responded to him saying "I'm so sorry, but what is your problem?" Pointing at the table which had been served, he said "They've got their food and they're eating, and I haven't got my food yet!" Up popped Hans the Maitre d' who interjected saying "Well sir, you must know there is allways the first and the last!" And what did my dear Hans do? He made sure that this gentleman's table was served the last.

That was my second problem of the day. Nevertheless, everybody seemed to have had a good time. They enjoyed their food. One or two wanted more smoked salmon, and, by the nature of the people that were present, I put on an enormously generous portion of salmon. When they asked for more I told the Maitre d' "Hans be a good child, just go and give them more," and everybody seemed to have approved the food and the service they were given. So that function ended perfectly.

A while later I got the booking for the next YPO dinner, so I was now really concerned! In the interim between the first function and the booking for the second, I said to Hans "there is no way that will ever happen to me again! I will never again use tuberoses. Maybe they are beautifully perfumed for you and me and for millions of others, but maybe we'll find the odd sod who doesn't like perfumed flowers." Hans replied "You won't put on silk flowers, and you won't put on artificial flowers," and I responded "Definitely not! We'll have to think of unperfumed flowers," which we subsequently supplied to many, many dinners thereafter. I also added "Hans the other thing that will never happen again, is a mister so-and-so jumping up and down saying 'they were served before me!' I will make sure that everyone of these YPO's is served at the same time." Hans with his formal training at his Berlin butler school, and all his past experience at the Carlton Hotel in Johannesburg, said "There is no way you can do that. There will always be a first, and there will always be a last." I said "I'm going to work out a plan, and they will all eat together."

That, dear readers, is how I came to have platters. The pomposity one can understand, and we had lots of that at the previous function.....the lady who chose to throw flowers on the floor, when the simplest thing would have been to say to the young waitress "Please would you mind removing these. They're giving me hay fever." The gentleman who hadn't yet been served could have waited his turn. Surely he hadn't anticipated his wonderful dinner so much that he didn't have lunch? So I had to devise a plan. I had previously seen in Chinese restaurants what are called "Lazy Susans," and I purchased four of those. I also found dishes that would fit on a "Lazy Susan," on which I placed around eight different items of food. As expected there were, amongst others, lots of salmon. I also had enough waiters. I had to first put the "Lady Susans" on the tables with "unperfumed" flowers, then I had two waiters per table putting down two dishes per table simultaneously. I had rehearsed this with the waiters prior to the YPO dinner, and hence had the waiters simultaneously putting down two dishes at a time on each table until the "Lady Susans" were filled. The last item placed was the centre piece, which was an enormous arrangement of salad and a crown of prawns. So they were all served together and mister "so-and-so" who was there for the second YPO dinner, couldn't "jump up" from his chair to complain about being served last, and I must add, neither did he "jump up" to say "thank you." That is how we at Le Canard learned of "pomposity," and I learned of "platters" for which we have subsequently become very well known. We never call them "Lady Susans".....God forbid! We call them "Platters"!

Freda

Of Kings, Queens and Middle Eastern Fragrances!

At this stage of my life I have very little entertainment. I work most nights, and go to bed relatively late. So I watch previously recorded TV programmes, and last night I watched one titled "Million Dollar Intern," a BBC programme on successful young entrepreneurs. Amongst the latter was a very interesting Indian gentleman who made a great deal of money, and who was offering advise to a department store in Essex on how to improve their sales. The owner of this store inherited the business from his father.....who had inherited it from his father.....who had inherited it from his father.....so it had been in the family for four generations.

The current owner of this company found that he was relatively successful in one section of the business, but that direct sales in the store itself was declining quite quickly. Thus he approached this group of young entrepreneurs, and this young Indian gentleman, who said that he had been working in his father's store since he was five years old, and who had made a great deal of money on his own, decided to come to his aid. The young millionaire initially came into the store pretending to be a student who was observing the business to see if this is the kind of career he wanted for himself. After two days he disclosed that he was not really a student, but that he was in fact the "fixer upper"!

Now, why I'm telling you this story is that the first thing he told the staff and the owners, was that the "Customer is King." This statement is commonly used in restaurants, and I wholeheartedly agree that the "Customer is King." On very odd occassions we get a customer who is the "Queen," who is equally as welcome as the "King"! However, I have got another perspective of "Kings," or be it "Queens." I think my staff are "Kings," because if I didn't have my staff do their jobs properly, I wouldn't have a restaurant at all.....as would no other restaurant and no business without a good foundation, and surely the foundation be the workers. So without properly trained and well presented staff, their wouldn't be a successful business of any sort.

But then I've got another set of "Kings," and those are my suppliers. If I didn't have loyal and honest suppliers, who presented me with the best products, and who are honest enough to say "don't buy fish now, there is no fresh fish," I would not have the best quality product to serve my customers. So I am in the situation where I say "yes, undoubtedly the customer is King." Equally undoubtedly my staff collectively are Kings, and my suppliers are Kings. So I do think that if every one show the other the respect they should be afforded, we would live in a so much nicer world. We certainly wouldn't have a customer walking in without a smile on his face, greeting no one since he expects to be greeted first because he is "King of Chickenville"! Shouldn't we all behave in a manner indicating that we are "Kings" of our own lives? We might not always be "Kings" of our destinies, but we certainly can be "Kings" of our personal behaviour.

Now, having said all of that, I must tell you about a gentleman who visited Le Canard many years ago. He was a fine looking, brilliantly mannered Middle Eastern prince, and he came for dinner with his entourage whenever he was in South Africa, which was quite frequently. At that time we had a blue eyed, blonde young French woman, by name of Marie-Pierre, working for us as a waitress. She had a beautiful figure, and a lovely personality, and whilst I initially thought the said prince was coming for our cuisine and the ambience of Le Canard, it dawned on me that maybe he was coming for a member of our staff who wasn't a "princess," but was very lovely both in mannerism and in looks.

The prince took to bringing perfume from the Middle East which he gave as a small gift to Marie-Pierre, but I became rather suspicious when he started bringing me bigger gifts of fragrances. After maybe three or four months of gift bearing, he came to me one day and said "Can we talk?" and I said "Yes, of course." Now there I was thinking that he was going to bring out his whole family, and that we were going to have a big banquet for Middle Eastern royalty, when he continued "this is very serious. How much do you want?" Now I think I do jump to conclusions very quickly, and I thought he was going to buy the restaurant and I was going to have my freedom, so I gently responded "how much do I want for what?" He replied "How much do you want for her?" pointing at Marie-Pierre. Incredulously I reiterated "Her?" and he said "Yes, I want to buy her." I said "no...no...no...no, you can't buy her. Firstly I doubt that she's for sale, and secondly this is not my decision. This is a conversation you should be having with her, and I doubt that she would take kindly to it. She is a young French girl, and I doubt that she would suddenly think of selling herself!"

Our Middle Eastern visitor continued "but you must talk to her. You are the mother figure, and you must understand what I can give her. I will give her a palace. I will give her all the servants she needs. I will give her the best car that can be had. I will give her the jewels that will cover her body entirely. I will give her whatever she wants. I am an exceedingly wealthy man. You know where I come from, so I will give her anything her heart desires, but you'll have to be the mediator of the deal." So I said "I don't think this role suits me," and he said "I will be back tomorrow night, and you speak with her and give me an answer tomorrow." I don't want to disclose his name, but at the time the prince and I were on first name terms, and I said to him "I wouldn't like you to be optimistic about this, because I am sure that I would not persuade her, but I will tell her of your offer and hear what she has to say. I will do my best for both of you, and if you come tomorrow I will give you an answer."

I waited until everybody had left the restaurant, and Marie-Pierre was relaxed at the end of her shift, and very graciously said to her "wouldn't you like a drink?" to which she responded "Yes, perhaps we should have a glass of wine." So I asked one of the staff to bring her and I two glasses of wine, and they thought I had gone off my head, since they weren't used to me offering my staff glasses of wine 12 o'clock at night. Then I said to her very gently and nicely "Do you know that this prince is very fond of you?" and she responded "Yes, you know, he brings me presents, which is very nice of him." So I queried "what do you think of him?" "Oh" she said "he's very nice, but I'm sure his got ten children, and I don't know how many wives." I asked "are you not in any way attracted to him?" to which she said "No, he's not my type." So I queried"Well what would make you think that he could become your type?" and she responded "No, he really isn't my type." I said "Sweetie Pie, for all the money you could have, for all the jewels you desire, for all the clothes you could have, and whatever car you may want, couldn't you then be persuaded that he was your type?" And she replied "Absolutely not for anything on earth!"

So then I had to "confess" that he wanted to buy her, and that he was prepared to give me a commission, which I would forfeit because I didn't like this kind of deal, that she would have to give him her answer in person, and that he was coming back the following evening. So she said "Never! I wouldn't  allow that to happen," and I conceded "OK, certainly I agree with you." She continued "....and what's more, I am not coming to work tomorrow night!" And so we didn't have her at work that night, but we had a very, very disappointed Middle Eastern prince who thought that I wasn't a very good negotiator!

Freda

Roses for Sandvik

What a lovely weekend we had! On Friday night we hosted a group of people from Sandvik Mining. There were three South Africans entertaining a group of Chinese gentlemen. The evening started with a bang, because the Chinese gentlemen brought along their own "shooters".....not as in "glasses", as in "liquid" called "Kweichow Moutai." They had six bottles of 500 ml each, which amounted to 3 litres of 53% abv. I supplied them with shooter glasses, and boy they swallowed these things in quick shots! I think part of their aim was to try and get the South African gentlemen, who were responsible for their visit, a little "pissed"! The South Africans were in fact very careful. Among the latter was a most wonderful man called Giel Marais, and I whispered to him "the liquid is white, and water is white. So just put a little water in your glass, and maybe it will dilute the shooter a little." Whether he did or din't I don't know, but he certainly held however many shots he had, and held them well. A more senior gentleman was drinking shot for shot with the Chinese visitors, and stood his ground. That certainly wasn't enough, since  the fourteen of them consumed five bottles of very nice red wine. But then they also had very nice white wine, of which fortunately.....or unfortunately..... they only managed to consume three bottles!

So you can imagine the party was exceedingly hectic. In fact, in our 26 years of existence we' ve never had a more uproarious party than this one! They jumped, they danced, they served themselves.....I must say I started by explaining to them that we did have staff who would be pouring their drinks for them, and I was told in Chinese that "in China we serve ourselves!" I tried to explain to these gentlemen in English, "when in Rome you do as the Romans do." However, that fell on deaf ears, and I capitulated and let them serve themselves. So they very happily demolished all six bottles of "Kweichow Moutai," and they all had a wonderful evening. They said in various forms of Chinese that the food was delicious. They consumed prawns at a rate that I have never seen prawns consumed before. I always look as carefully at plates leaving my kitchen as I do at those coming back. The ones leaving must be properly served, and the ones coming back must be properly emptied. If they aren't, and if there is food left on the plate, my staff get a bigger mouthful than if they haven't served it properly. This was such a peaceful night, because all the plates were cleaned. In fact, we thought carefully as to whether we should wash them or not, but we decided for the sake of hygiene we would wash them!

I would say the South African contingent of the company was very pleased afterwards to have been able to walk to their vehicles. They didn't need help, however one or two of the younger ones amongst their guests, did need help to get to a car. They got very.....very.....happy, and Friday night ended on a very high note!

Freda

The Saga of the Duck and Cauliflower!!

I originally started Le Canard with an individual named Hans Horn. Hans has been a great friend of my family and mine for many years, and he had what we perceived to be the best restaurant possibly in Africa called "The Fiddler." Not happy with local politics all those many years ago, Hans sold up the business and went to America, where he opened another restaurant named "The Fiddler." Unfortunately he had not done his homework, and the restaurant was highly unsuccessful because the needs of the area, in which it was located, was for family styled restaurants, and there he had this so-called "posh" restaurant. So he very quickly realised his mistake, sold up in America and returned to his homeland Germany where he opened a wonderful little restaurant, where he was very happy with the chef, the waiters, the manager.....and everything else in this lovely little place.

For a number of years I had been giving cookery classes. In the evenings I taught professional men and women, and those were great fun. We made the food, ate the food, and had a jolly good time with it. However, I had cause to teach my housekeeper, which resulted in me presenting morning cooking classes to African housekeepers. and I made a point of making all of the recipes I shared with them. I am probably lazy at heart. I cook food that is certainly delicious, but it must be easy to prepare. I am not the kind of person who will go shopping for two days to make a single meal. So in these classes I made the recipes simple so that it is easy both to shop for, and easy to cook. Amongst these was chestnut soup. I showed the group of housekeepers in my class all the ingredients, and had them taking notes on the trade names of the ingredients, ensuring that they knew exactly what the correct ingredients were to make this chestnut soup, which was both delicious and inexpensive.

A couple of evenings later, as I was sitting down to evening dinner with my family, the phone went. As an aside, we had a family tradition to always eat dinner together. My husband, having been born in France, had a few culinary wishes, of which one was that he had to have bread with his meal. If he didn't have bread, he couldn't eat! Another was that he had to have salad, which my mother in law with her French accent described "French Letters." She meant "Lettuce" of course, and never got to know what "French Letters" really were. So while my husband had to have his salad and bread, I had to have my dessert. I also took into consideration the tastes of my children, and if there was one vegetable they specifically hated, they could nominate that vegetable which they would not be served. Other than that single vegetable, they ate what was on their plates.

So, now we were sitting down to this happy family meal, when the phone went. I answered the call, and there was a very irate lady on the other end of the line. I think that by listening to the voices of  individuals on the phone, one can determine who they think they are, and this caller thought that she was both very posh and very angry. She informed me that she was so upset, because her husband had just thrown a plate of soup on the floor and walked out, and that she wasn't sending her housekeeper for cookery classes when she could not even prepare a recipe to satisfy her family. She thought that was disgusting, and wanted a refund of the money she paid me.

I responded "OK, just calm down a minute, and tell me what soup it was," since by then I actually knew what she was talking about. She retorted "It was chestnut soup!" I queried "Now, how did you or your housekeeper acquire the chestnuts?" She said "My housekeeper phoned Thrupps, and Thrupps delivers." I responded "That's very nice, now what did you get from Thrupps? Do you still have the container the chestnuts arrived in?" She responded "Absolutely!" I asked her to check whether it was a tin or a box, to which I got the reply "It was a very fancy box that came from France." I informed the lady that this was probably glacé (candied) chestnuts. "Oh" she says "it says something like that on the box." At this point I asked her to fetch the chestnut soup recipe I gave her housekeeper, which will indicate the right ingredient to be water chestnuts, and added "If your housekeeper couldn't read, or you couldn't direct her, or you couldn't shop for the right ingredient, then I suggest you owe me an apology right now, and establish whether it was your problem or the housekeeper's problem. I suspect it is you who have not discussed with your housekeeper what she must do. Thank you so much for letting me know. Good bye!"

That's when I sat down at my dinner table and told my family "That is the end of my cookery classes. If I have to have my dinner with my family interrupted by some cheeky socialite who doesn't have the time to see what is happening in her home, then I am not teaching anymore." The following morning I phoned my friend Hans Horn in Düsseldorf, telling him that I am no longer teaching and that I have got to do something. He responded "don't worry, you and I will each put some money in and open a restaurant. Now, you look for a restaurant that will suit me. I will come to South Africa for six months of the year when it is out of season in Germany. So I will travel backwards and forwards, and it will be wonderful! You just find the place you want."

So after much soul searching and property searching, I found a place. I specifically found a restaurant where I would always have fresh flowers and no air conditioning, hence I wouldn't have a place in a shopping centre. Dinner in a shopping centre I find depressing, albeit a few weeks ago a lady from Absa bank came to Le Canard, and was very dismayed at the ceiling fans. She said "You mean to tell me that you don't have air conditioning? We are used to air conditioning," to which I responded "Well I am so sorry! We do have four windows to the room and two doors. They're all open and we have fresh air." With that Absa lady and I parted company!

Getting back to the saga of Le Canard, before we could open the restaurant we had to find a name for the venue, and I think that was the only thing Hans and I argued about. I held my cooking classes at my home, where Hans spotted the curtains on my kitchen window. He piped up "Finished.....finished! I know what we call it.....Le Canard!" I responded "what in hell are we going to have a restaurant called that? First of all South Africans won't be able to pronounce it, and secondly, what are we going to do with the ducks?" He responded "Because the South Africans won't be able to pronounce the name and say 'what's that?' you will say 'it's the duck.....the f**cking duck!'" Being by now exhausted with this name seeking game, I very reluctantly agreed.

We opened Le Canard and in due course Hans came out for the opening, and decided that his restaurant in Düsseldorf was being neglected and promptly rushed back. Whilst I know that I am a damn good cook, I am not exactly a people's person. I do think before I speak, but I sometimes speak before I think! I knew I wasn't the kind of person to rush around and say "is everything alright," because God help anybody who tells me something wasn't alright! I needed a Maître D', so very good friends of mine, who were chair persons of the Chaîne des Rôtisseurs, highly recommended a gentleman who used to work at the then Rosebank Hotel in Johannesburg. So I phoned this gentleman whose name is Hans Frieser.

Hans arrived and he was possibly the cleanest and nicest human being I ever met. He was exceedingly well trained at the best butler school in Berlin, and he adhered to a special routine. He arrived in the morning and prior to serving lunch, he would retire to the restroom where he would scrub his fingernails, clean his teeth and brush his hair. After service he would go home, return at around 18h00, go the restroom and repeat the procedure of scrubbing his nails, cleaning his teeth and brushing his hair.

Hans Frieser and I got along like a house on fire. He had a lovely sense of humour, a very heavy German accent, and he prefaced everything he said with the word "Mensch." I asked him one day "Hans why did you leave the Rosebank Hotel?" He said "You know Mensch, I can't understand. Helen Suzman [the South African politician] was a regular customer. I knew Helen Suzman and I used to greet her at the door and seat her. One day she came, and I can't understand. I said to her 'you know madam, you look like a flower.....and she beamed! And she said 'thank you Hans!' And I said 'Yes madam, you look just like a cauliflower!' I saw the beam disappear from her face, and straight after lunch I was called into the manager's office, and he said 'Hans it's not acceptable. How dare you say anything like that?' and I said 'but sir, she did look like a cauliflower!' He said 'but you can't say that,' and decided to suspend me for a month. So I stayed home for a month, and you know what? I didn't think it was fair. I wasn't in the wrong, so I resigned."

So that is the story of Hans Frieser, who worked for me for quite a number of years. He was wonderful.....and he never called anyone a "cauliflower" again!

Freda

Flowers and Favourite Things

I have always loved flowers, and roses have been a favourite. So what can be more pleasant than handing out bouquets of roses? Last week was a busy one at Le Canard. Amongst others, we had a table of five people for a Mr Pike, who were so friendly, jolly and a pleasure to serve. Close by were six people hosted by an individual named Francois, who were equally charming and enjoying each others' company and the evening generally. What lovely people! I have always thought that things happen in threes, and a gentleman at another table turned out to be a Mr Pemba. Yes! The grandson of the famous painter and such a lovely individual.

Another bouquet this time to a restaurant. I feel that people who have little understanding of food, its quality or preparation, pass their opinions too loudly. However, after 25 years cooking and running Le Canard, as well as teaching cooking for years prior, does allow me an educated opinion. We went to Il Tartufo in Dunkeld, Johannesburg, on Saturday night. Both my companion and I had a thoroughly enjoyable meal. We had six different dishes between us. Each was delicious and attractively presented. So a huge "Bouquet of Roses" to the chef and manager. Thank you! We felt as though were in Italy!

In the next blog I will share some of my favourite recipes.

Freda

Our First Soirée Culinaire : A Grand Affair!

 

(Michelle Veenemans as the "Queen of the Night")

Our first Soirée Culinaire went off with a bang! We had 70 patrons and managed to seat them at individual tables, which is so much more pleasant than those hideous trestle tables where one has to sit with strangers.

The music was beautifully performed by Miro Chakaryan (violin) and Jacob Swart (piano), as well as Denire Colman, a young singer who offered a lovely rendition of "La Vie en Rose" which was one of the Piaf pieces incorporated in the "Le Canard Medley" - especially arranged for our Soirées Culinaire.

The cuisine followed the international route set by the music, with specially selected wines complementing each dish. The final result was a series of fabulous compliments all round. We too, enjoyed the evening, and received so many requests for a repeat performance,  that Miro, Jacob and I have planned a second Soirée Culinaire to be held on 28th September.

We will commence our culinary/musical journey in France, then traverse Italy, and conclude our itinerary in Austria. We are very delighted to know that we will have the celebrated South African dramatic coloratura, Michelle Veenemans, joining our tour. Michelle is an admired exponent of opera and operetta showpieces, and has established a reputation as a remarkable dramatic coloratura soprano in showpieces such as the "Queen of the Night" in "The Magic Flute" [see photo]. Your breathe will be taken away by Michelle's golden voice, spectacular gowns and gorgeous accessories. Be ready for some surprises from this soprano!

Since our guests raved about the food at our first Soirée Culinaire, especially the soup, I will include the soup recipe with my next blog.

Freda

 

Sir Peter Ustinov & Onion Soup



I think we all have at some time during our lives thought of who we would love to have at a dinner party. At a very young age I fantasized about hosting Winston Churchill and Peter Ustinov at such a dinner event, and never believed that this might happen. I thought Winston Churchill was a great statesman, a remarkable orator, a brilliant man and slightly naughty. After all, he had one too many cigars, and few too many whiskeys! The idea appealed to me.

Peter Ustinov had the most brilliant sense of humour, the most brilliant repartee, and was a most brilliant actor, with also that tinge of naughtiness in his eyes, but, as said, never in my wildest dreams did I believe that I might some day welcome either one of them at my dinner table.

However, a few years back I received a phone call requesting me to make a booking for a mister Ustinov. I took the booking without thinking any more about who this individual might be. Lo and behold a few days later in walked Sir Peter Ustinov with his wife Lady Helene Ustinov. I was all but bowled over, but managed to retain my composure and showed them to their table.

I found Peter Ustinov was everything I ever dreamed he could be. He was the most gracious, I dare say, humble and friendly human being. He spoke with every waiter, and told me in conversation that he spoke eight different languages fluently. Close to their table there happened to be German speaking people, and he conversed with them in German. I cannot say it enough times that he was absolutely wonderful, as was his wife who was exceedingly gracious, very down to earth, spoke English beautifully, switched into French and whatever languages they could speak. They treated the restaurant staff as equals, and not at any time looked down on the waiter who was serving them.

By the end of the meal he called me back to the table. My legs were quivering as he held my hand and said "I must tell you my dear, this is the best onion soup I have ever tasted, and I have had onion soup in many locales." I was extremely flattered, and he continued "may I kiss you?" and he kissed my hand as gently as a gentleman should kiss a lady's hand.

The onion soup recipe will follow on Monday!!

Freda

Every Captain has a Captain



Some years ago we were invited by a function coordinator to do a dinner for a large company, and she would not say who the guest of honour was. Instead she had a code name for this important guest, but knowing the company she was working for, we were quite sure that we knew who this special guest was. However, as the name was not disclosed to her, it was not disclosed to us.

Came the great night, one car after the other drove into the private parking area of the restaurant. First was the South African police, blue lights flashing on their vehicle, followed by a series of stretch limousines, followed by more police, whilst the person who organised the dinner ran around the restaurant like the proverbial "blue-arsed fly." Then she was at the front door of Le Canard, ready to greet this guest of honour. However, prior to that, the captains of South African commerce, professional, and business industry, also arrived in their chauffer driven vehicles.....with or without body guards.

Now we had an army of body guards, the said "captains," and the unknown guest. Out of the first car stepped Bill Gates, who was shown into the room where he was going to have his dinner. All and sundry were very subdued as they waited for Bill Gates to start the proceedings of the evening, and he happens to be very plain, polite and friendly. He had a choice of food to order. He settled for a three course meal comprised of simple dishes, and the evening proceeded.

Towards the end of the event, one of these captains of the South African business industry had a fit of bravado. Picking up the menu he stood up, and appoached Bill Gates' chair. Suddenly all the other captains started rushing around. One brought a card out of his pocket, another took a serviette, and another a piece of paper, and they actually formed a queue one behind the other in front of Bill Gates. They did not ask him for his autograph, but the ring leader piped up "Would you mind signing this for my son?" The next one got one better and said "This is for my grand child," but not one of them had the guts to say "I would like to have your autograph" which in time could be worth a lot of money! So they all stood there, and Bill Gates very graciously signed whatever they asked him to sign.

That night I learned a wonderful lesson. I learned that "every captain has a captain" above him, and I am wondering who the British Queen looks up to, because she appears to be looking up to nobody! Surely there must be somebody she stands in awe of!

Freda