Till death us do part…

Disaster struck just before Christmas. Our vintage cash register with its lovely ivory-incrusted brass keys packed in. Our long-time friend Olly, who had been supplying us with cleaning products, sold us it for virtually nothing. Working out bills on the museum relic required an A level in maths and the patience of a saint. I sometimes tried to pacify impatient customers by telling them that they should ask for the bill when they placed their order and they might get it by the time they finished their meals because Karen worked them out on an old abacus. That kind humour seldom drew a smile as the diners were too worried that their impatient taxi might drive away leaving them stranded.
After much cogitating and deliberating, I splashed out on a new electronic till from Barlows in Park Road. Although it was nothing compared to today’s point-of-sale computers, with just a few buttons and virtually no memory, the new cash register revolutionised the calculation of bills. Nowadays till systems can track customers’ eating habits, their birthdays and even vital statistics, I think!

Iconic vegetables: Many menu items, such as Paesano, Bellini and toffee basket soon became synonymous with Krimo’s. The humble cabbage, served as a side vegetable, also became something of a must. When we moved the restaurant to the Marina in 2000, I made the silly mistake of serving plain cabbage instead of the creamed variety. I immediately reverted to the original after a considerable uproar from our regulars.
I had no idea that a simply side dish would be so popular. It was very simple to prepare. I sliced white cabbage very finely then blanched it until al dente. Once it was drained and cooked, I folded some Béchamel sauce, cream and a touch of Parmesan cheese. When reheated, this modest vegetable became an inseparable part of the meal.
Past customers may also remember the carrots and green beans we served. The carrots were simply boiled in salt water with fennel seeds, then tossed in melted butter and a pinch of sugar. The green beans, once boiled, cooled ad drained were coated with butter that had been melted with garlic, white wine and parsley.
I really believe that those simple tweaks to common vegetables became essential trademarks for the restaurant from the early years.
When it came to buying vegetables, I got so fussy that I decided to go the Cannon Park fruit and vegetable market myself twice a week. Up at five on Tuesday and Friday mornings, I headed down the A19 to the bustling market.
I scoured the various hangars for the best produce available and was often surprised to find one or two vegetables or fruit that I had not seen since leaving Algeria, such as prickly pears or medlars. I was also sometimes baffled by some I had never seen before, many of which were Asian varieties. An Italian cross between cauliflower and broccoli, Romanesco was a revelation.
My trip to Cannon Park would not be complete without a sausage sandwich from the local café, run by a cheerful girl called Sue. Sometimes, I met local chefs and restaurant owners, such as Vince who still owns the lovely Santoro in Yarm.
Over a cuppa we discussed the ups and downs of restaurant life.
Back at the restaurant around 9 o’clock, I headed straight to the kitchen to start cooking the marvellous produce.