Just another ugly mug on the wall
When I was handed the keys to Portofino in July 1997, the place was an empty canvas on which I let my imagination loose. Thank goodness, it turned out alright. I was told at the time that the 3000 square feet empty space was intended as another function room. I approached the Teesside Development Corporation which had turned the old docks into today’s marina. The big chiefs agreed that I could have the space that is now Portofino.
Work on furnishing the restaurant began in earnest. Malcolm, the joiner brought along Sean, a fresh graphic design graduate out of Hull University to help him with the labouring. When I mentioned that I was thinking about having a mural on the wall behind the dessert stand, the young lad said that he could give it a go. I ended up labouring for Malcolm and Sean got on with the wall painting. In between smashing tiles to design mosaics, sawing planks of wood to make fake shutters and covering myself in paint from top to bottom, I kept sneaking a quick glance at Sean’s work. The mural was gradually emerging out of the wall like Michelangelo’s painting from the Sistine Chapel ceiling. Mind you, Sean didn’t have to lie on his back for weeks on end. As the smoking ban came much later, he casually smoked as he painted the patisserie window and the lifelike cakes and gateaux.
When I had initially pictured the shop window in my mind, I was imagining a cartoon style painting with a fat and jolly baker standing at the door. This was turning into a masterpiece of exactitude. I was astounded at the meticulous reproduction of a strawberry with microscopic hairs emerging out of each delve and the precision with which Sean painted the various cakes.
When it came to painting the shop owner, the budding artist downloaded a stock photo of a chef. A couple of weeks after he had started, all that remained to be painted was the baker’s face. He asked if I wanted to be in the picture, but I refused, not wanting to appear so vain as to have my face plastered on the restaurant wall. Unlike somebody we all knew, on the other side of the marina, who had giant television screens showing a succession of photos of himself on a 24/7 loop.
I simply asked him to paint a non-descript face. He only went and painted his father’s. Karen called in on her way home from Krimo’s at Seaton. She gave me a quizzical look. “Who’s that on the mural?” I explained that it was Sean’s father.
We both thought the same thing. Every single diner would ask me the same question, and I would have to explain the whole story. She said: “Why don’t you have your ugly mug on the wall, and nobody will ask you questions.”
That is how I was framed!
Noel, who took over Portofino in February, insisted on keeping the mural along with my “ugly mug” on the wall of his newly-decorated restaurant. Maybe one day, he will get sick of looking at me and finally decide to have his own “ugly mug” on the wall.