A little bit sweary.

  Fuckbastardcockmotherfucker! Despite getting up at 6:30; waiting ages for the rain to clear and setting off in the rain none the less; driving over a hundred miles where I cooked in a frenzy; then didn’t get to sleep till one in the morning knowing I have agreed to help with some baking at six am, which will be followed by another hundred mile dash home where I’m cooking a late lunch, I still woke up after two hours sleep. What fucking use is that?

  I realised the best use of my time would be to get up and write this so at least I could relax later when I’ll probably really want to collapse in a pile. At least it’s Sunday tomorrow. What am I going to write about? The fantastic supper club we cooked in Stroud, of course. The journey down was a giggle. Rosie is built for this sort of ride and because I had left later than I wanted to, she was quite happy to be squirted along in time saving mode. This has the effect of draining her tank a little quicker then usual. Normally she can sail along comfortably between fuel stops for over a hundred and twenty miles but as I was munching the last miles into Stroud, her fuel gauge told me we were running on fresh air and a prayer. It was a relief to arrive without any extra drama. First task completed, showing up on time.

  Once at The Star Anise Café, it was clear I had arrived in a minor tornado as the lunchtime service was in full swing and every table was occupied. I was given a delicious coffee, told to choose from the menu and find a seat. I happily obliged and ate my lunch knowing that there was no rush as I had to wait for the storm to pass before there would be any room for me to cook in the hailstorm of the kitchen.

  When I did finally get in and start cooking, all I could think of was the huge list of tasks ahead of me and the very small amount of time before the guests were due to be served. Nic, the café’s owner, (Pictured, who helped with some of the cooking), and I are both the sort of people who tend to fly by the seat of our pants. I looked at him and the very efficient chaos around him and realised there was nothing I could do, except do what I do. Either everything would be ready or it wouldn’t and freaking out wasn’t going to change anything.

  So I cooked like my pointless life depended on it and, I’m very happy to tell you, it couldn’t have gone any better if we’d planned it. The starter was my easy and very reliable broccoli and miso soup. The main was a mushroom and pea risotto with Caesar salad and some kimchi, (which I’d brought from home). The dessert I had called lemon scrumptious. (I had a vague-ish idea in my head what it would be and I was very happy with what got served, as it was both lemony and scrumptious as well as pleasing on the eye). Task two, serve up the meal.

  I have got to also mention the two rock solid, rock star floor staff who negotiated the various dietary requirements from various diners exquisitely, as well as helping with plating up. Happy diners all round. Happy vibes in the kitchen and I’ll definitely be back to do it all again. Thank you Star Anise, it was a blast.

D'oh! Four am. If only I could go back to sleep…. Fuckbastardcockmotherfucker!

Kirk out

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