Cooking by the lock of the bay

In October 1999, following on from Portofino’s tremendous success, we made up our mind about moving Krimo’s from Seaton Carew to the marina. I spoke to Mandale and they offered us a site. A lovely spot, just by the lock gates to overlook the passing yachts and dream of faraway travels. After a few meetings, I negotiated and signed the lease a few days before Christmas. The Millennium was just around the corner. Everyone was dreading the hike in restaurant and taxis prices on New Year’s Eve. We decided not to open and instead, celebrated the first end of year in a long time with the family. I reluctantly accepted to be in charge of the fireworks and, so remained dry till after midnight so that the fire brigade was not called. 

The dreaded Millennium bug didn’t materialise. Computers carried on churning numbers and the World didn’t end at midnight as predicted by several weirdos. We later found out that the town had been deserted on December 31st, as many people chose to remain at home to mark the start of the year 2000. 

Over the years, our New Year’s Eves were booked up from one year to the next. After 1999, this was no longer the case. I truly believe that the Millennium changed people’s perception of New Year’s Eve. They must have discovered that singing Auld Lang Syne while holding hands with strangers when Big Ben tolled was no longer cool. Although our restaurants still offered special menus, more and more customers tended to leave well before midnight to celebrate the new year at home with their families.

Early in January, work began on transforming 4 units into a no-smoking restaurant and a bar. We decided to have a North African theme for the bar and called it Sahara Bar. Karen and I scoured a few places around the UK for Moroccan artefacts to decorate it. My fondest memory was the bar itself which we filled with sand and covered with toughened glass. We placed a few desert things inside, such as a few desert roses and a few wooden lizards. Most of our customers liked the idea. 

The restaurant itself was quite large compared to the one at Seaton Carew. Tiled all over, with a suspended ceiling and no cloths on the tables, it turned out to be very noisy. We decided to hang curtains all over the place to dampen the sound. Our most regular customers were quite disappointed that we left our old restaurant. Even now, after nearly twenty years of closing the seaside restaurant, I still hear comments such as: “Ah, Seaton Carew was so special.”

There was no turning back. 

The last night at Seaton Carew was very emotional. After all, the restaurant had been part of our life and that of so many Hartlepool people since 5 May 1985. I recall that over the years a few regulars sometimes said that, one day we would outgrow Krimo’s and perhaps move to new premises. Whenever I heard those words, I genuinely avoided thinking about the future until it happened. I responded by saying that we would leave things to follow their natural progression. Che sera, sera.  

That last night, a few of our customers asked if they could take a souvenir or two. A couple took one of our old chairs to remind them of their numerous visits to Krimo’s.