Nose to the grindstone

  I had this romantic idea that when I'm flat out, all guns blazing in the kitchen cooking like a banshee for a huge stack of people, the carnage I'm surrounded by must be like an operating theatre in the middle of a huge operation with blood splattered everywhere and body parts all over the floor. But operating theatres don't look like that, not even in TV dramas set in A&E or the ER.

  Romantic notions aside, it's been pretty full on today. It was only later I realised that the lovely supper club menu I had dreamed up included lots of items that needed to be cooked fresh. So instead of being able to do lots of prep in advance, I'm having to wait until the last minute and get it all done as quickly as possible.

  Regrets? None whatsoever, but having just sat down for a spot of dinner and a short break to write this, I've suddenly realised how battered I am. However, because the wicked get no rest, as soon as I've finished this I'm straight back into the fray.

  I'm really excited about the menu and the bits I've been able to prepare have come out as I'd like them. Tomorrow will be a huge sprint to get everything done on time. As you can imagine, I've got very extensive to do lists to help me. Crossing my fingers at this point will be utterly pointless. It'll need a lot of focus and work and a lot less sitting around typing this nonsense, so if you'll excuse me, I've got a bit of cooking to do.

Kirk out

Chefsebastian.com