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

From Inadequate Hospitals to Splendid Hotels

 

I have a sister who is a few years older than myself who is gravely ill. I often wonder why people make so much fuss about food and service in restaurants, when in certain private nursing homes,  locally called "clinics," they are served the most disgusting food. Service in the Donald Gordon Mediclinic is non-existent, and this is not whether their food is presented from the left, the right, spilled or not spilled on the plate, but because the life of patients very often depends on the service they are getting in these clinics.

Last Saturday I witnessed for quite a few hours the lack of service in the Donald Gordon Mediclinic. I ascertained that most of the staff were trainees, and it was difficult to establish who was training the trainees. I cannot understand how an exceptionally well known and well respected physician had to wash her patient herself in this clinic, because the regular staff, who are paid to do job, were just not doing it.

So last Saturday was a bad day for me, because it was absolutely heart breaking for me to see the condition of a patient who is after all my sister. It was equally heart breaking to witness the situation of the lady she was sharing the ward with, because, while she was in a better state of health than my sibling, she was equally helpless since she couldn't move in her bed. It took numerous rings of her bell to get somebody to actually come and assist her. I was really exceedingly unhappy. Now, I am relatively straight forward and cheeky, and my natural reaction would be to find somebody, if anybody, and tell them what I thought about the situation. However, seeing as I did not think myself in a position to do that, because I am not a relation of the other patient, and as my sister had two daughters present, I felt it was their right to say or not say what needed to be said about the plight of their mother in this clinic.

On Sunday I paid another visit to the sad clinic and my sick sister. Come 3 o'clock on Sunday afternoon, I was feeling great pity for all the patients in the said clinic, sadness for my very ill family member, and also sorry for myself. At that time I hadn't eaten very much, and said "If only I could go to a pleasant open area, sit on the banks of Johannesburg Zoo Lake or Emmarentia Dam. We don't have a sea, so I could not be looking at it, but if I could just sit somewhere where I could have peace and quiet and fresh air." My companion said "Well, why don't we go to the Hyatt Hotel?" My reaction was somewhat shocked. Why on earth would we want to go to this hotel? She responded "I have been there a few times, and it is very nice and peaceful."

So, hesitantly I stepped into the Hyatt Regency in Rosebank, and I must say that from the minute I stepped in my spirits started lifting. I was greeted by all and sundry with nice white tooth smiles. The Hyatt was once one of the local "High Tea" establishments, and they told me that while they no longer served High Tea, we could have whatever we liked. I looked at their extensive menu and list of drinks, all on single pages, which was quite helpful since I did not have to go flicking through six and a half pages. I did not particularly want beer or wine, so I thought "how about a Mojito?" So there was Freda at 3.30 on a Sunday afternoon ordering Mojitos! A very nice waiter asked "Do you know what that is? It's alcohol," to which I responded "Yes, that's fine." He also suggested that I have Malay Chicken Curry. My companion had a mixed platter of chicken wings, kebabs and cutlets served with polenta, and she also ordered an Iced Tea.

The Mojito worked very well, and I can tolerate alcohol! The Iced Tea was Rooibos which got an ugly sneer, but the waiter had said that the accompanying little glass was sugar syrup. So in went the syrup, and out came the smile. Obviously the Rooibos Iced Tea with sugar syrup worked equally well! Since we were both hungry, we got stuck into the food which was really exceptionally nice. I must admit that I am one who through the years have really only about four restaurants that I am happy to go back to. If I visit a dining establishment and do not like the food or the service, I don't complain or make an issue. I simply walk out, and never go back, but the service and food at the Hyatt Regency in Rosebank was exceptionally nice, and so I asked the waiter "Do you have the manager here?" He responded "Yes, he is over there?" and I said "Just ask him to come over here."

Now when you ask for the manager of a restaurant, the normal assumption is that you are going to complain. So managers usually approach you with a certain amount of trepidation....."now what the hell are they going to moan about now?" However, when the "manager" approached our table, he told us that since it was Sunday, the gentleman in charge of the restaurant was not there. He introduced himself as Steffen Sinnig, and said that he was Assistant Director of Food and Beverage of the hotel. I said to him "I just wanted to tell you that we had a lovely meal, and that even if we tried very hard, we couldn't fault the food. It was really delicious. The food was lovely, the drinks were lovely, and your staff was lovely. So I would like to congratulate you."

The man beamed, and I think he also relaxed. I might have caught a hint of a deep breath, or a sigh of relief. He did say that he had been on duty since 6 o'clock in the morning, and that this was the first real lovely compliment he has had that day. Both my companion and I responded "This is not a compliment, this is a fact! We enjoyed the meal, we liked the company. We appreciated the quiet and respectfulness of the whole atmosphere, and so wanted to say thank you. If we were able to distribute stars, we would have given you a number of them." We established that he was from Germany, and that Head Office posted him to take up the position in South Africa, and that he has only been here for five months. I said to him "you are probably lonely, and must be missing Germany, South Africa being very different," and we complimented him on the German people who do have a work ethic, and who keep their country going. I told him that Angela Merkel was my hero, and that those countries who despise Germany cannot seem to admit that their citizens are lying on the beaches or are staying in bed late, while the German people are getting up and doing their jobs properly and thoroughly!

Steffen Sinnig told us he liked Chinese food, and we offered to take him to the one Chinese place that we have been frequenting for the last 15 years. It's called The Fisherman's Plate and is situated in Cyrildene, and as far as we are concerned, it has remained consistent over the years. So we have invited him to come with us, and will in due course take the Assistant Director of Food and Beverage  of the Hyatt Regency Hotel in Rosebank out for a nice Chinese meal in Johannesburg.

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

A Successful Soirée Culinaire & Dining on TV

I have so missed communicating with you over the last week, but have been running my butt off arranging our monthly Soirée Culinaire and everything else for that matter.

Our second Soirée was extremely successful. We did a culinary/musical tour to France, Italy and Austria. Guess what? The next one is being organized for the end of this month at Le Canard Restaurant, and this time we are off to Moscow, imagine oysters, caviar and vodka; then onto Spain where we will have gazpacho; then Paris and what else but "Le Canard"?; and finally Italy for their wonderful ice creams. Come join us at Le Canard on October 26 for this great culinary/musical event.

I tried relaxing in the evening by watching "Come Dine with Me SA" on DSTV. I found myself swallowing hypertension tablets as though they were "smarties"! I can't understand how the BBC and sponsors of the calibre of Pick & Pay, and now Ariel (made by Proctor & Gamble), as well as Nestle Products, can allow themselves to be associated with a program selecting the calibre of contestant we have seen participating. Surely "Come Dine with Me" means just that? Not "come be rude, criticize, invade your hosts bedrooms, don their clothers," and know little about producing a decent meal.

Why not educate our public? It should be so easy to cast 4 South Africans of different sexes and backgrounds, who could produce food representative of the best taste their cultural backgrounds may afford. Surely the director/advisor of the program could assist in the pre-preparation of some of the food on the menus to be served, that is a cold starter and/or a cold desert.

Why not include an element of hosting into the programme? You cannot leave your guests to entertain themselves whilst you start cooking the meal. Leaving your guests alone for lengthy periods between courses is extremely rude. Also, why not allow for an unmarried person, a mother of 3-4 children, the business executive, etc., to participate in the program? Furthermore, why not set an expense limit? Surely that would level the playing field?

Sorry, but I can only think of a large "Bouquet of Thorns" to award "Come Dine with Me SA"!

Freda