How Not To Run A B&B: A Woman's True Memoir

by Bobby Hutchinson

  And so was I.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The time has come, the Walrus said,

  To talk of many things.

  (The Walrus and the Carpenter, Lewis Carroll)

  There is a hodgepodge of incidental minutiae the aspiring bed and breakfast host should know. I’m including them all here, in no particular order.

  Cleanliness goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway. Guests at the Blue Collar shared a bathroom, and when more than one person was staying I cleaned it several times a day, changing towels and washcloths, scouring out toilet and basin and tub, wiping up hair.

  Hair is a big problem. I had more than a few guests who seemed to be losing it in handfuls. I found the best way to clean hair from shower stall and tub is with a moistened paper towel and magnifying glasses if necessary. The cardinal rule for the well run B&B is Absolutely no short and curlies! I relied heavily on bleach as a disinfectant.

  Et cetera with bathrooms—for some reason, (hair again, probably,) guests don’t like using bar soap. The dispenser type is a better choice. There are one stop dispenser containers of liquid soap which can be used for bubble baths, shampoos, and body wash—I found them the best solution.

  Stocking the bathroom drawers with hair dryer, disposable razors and new travel packs of toothbrushes and toothpaste, as well as small bottles of bubble bath, is a good idea. Guests appreciate it.

  Stores like Winners and TJ Maxx are a godsend for soaps, towels, bedding, even specialty jams and jellies. I suggest you remove the labels on the condiments and substitute a hand lettered one of your own. Mine read, for instance, Blue Collar Fig Jam, Blue Collar Plum Jelly, Blue Collar Bumbleberry Conserve. No one ever questioned the authenticity, and I figured it made guests feel pampered to think I’d spent hours slaving over a hot stove in the kitchen boiling down syrup to make them a delicacy. I don’t see this as dishonest. Devious, maybe. But if it adds to the ambience and makes just one person happier for a few innocent moments, would the Pope object?

  In the bedrooms, I used bedding made of natural fibers as much as possible, but there were always those few difficult guests who’d swear they were allergic to cotton or wool or feathers. One of these, a gentleman purportedly so rich he could have bought North America, (according to him, which again begs the question of why he was staying with me,) insisted he couldn’t use my goose down duvet, he was highly allergic to feathers. I substituted a polyester quilt, forgetting all about the feather bed topper on the mattress. He slept on it very peacefully for six nights, telling me he was having the best rest of his life. I’m not saying there aren’t genuine bona fide allergies out there that must be addressed—I’m just commenting on one incident.

  There are small services that guests appreciate. If breakfast was to be at eight, I prepared trays at seven with coffee and-or tea--in insulated carafes, with cream, sugar, and glasses of pure juice, and set the tray outside the guest’s door, to enjoy as they performed their morning ablutions.

  (Or not—I found a small number of guests came down to breakfast wearing the terry robes I supplied, eyes still glued shut with sleep dust, hair matted, bodies unwashed.) My mother would have sent them marching smartly back up to the bathroom to wash thoroughly, but then Mom wasn’t charging for the rooms.

  Bottles of water in each room, or glass jars of same, are a necessity. Occasionally, if guests were honeymooners or celebrating a special birthday or anniversary, I’d take them a bottle of wine in a cooler filled with ice, along with stemmed glasses. A ten dollar bottle of wine buys a million dollars worth of good will.

  I always left a small plate of homemade cookies (usually my oatmeal chocolate chip, they seemed the most popular,) in each room.

  After finding out too late that guests preferred tea or chocolate to coffee, porridge to ham and eggs, or were diabetic and couldn’t eat my muffins, I came up with a menu.

  “Here’s a little test for you,” I’d tease, handing them the sheet of paper shortly after they were settled in. It looked like this, and the aspiring host is free to use it as a pattern.

  WELCOME TO THE BLUE COLLAR

  Here’s a little quiz for you—

  Do you prefer—

  Tea??

  Coffee??

  Herbal Tea??

  Decaf Coffee??

  Cream??

  Milk??

  Sugar??

  Chocolate?

  Any food allergies?? Diabetic? Vegetarian? Raw foods only?

  What time would you like breakfast??

  Do you fancy—(check off choices)

  Pancakes (sweet potato, buttermilk, blueberry?) Cold cereal with benefits (Nuts and seeds on the side)

  Hot Irish oatmeal

  Blue Collar Mush

  Overnight groats

  Eggs (any style)

  Potatoes (also any style)

  French toast

  Bacon (or ham,)

  Waffles

  Two egg omelet, French fashion

  Three egg omelet, Bobby fashion (same as French, only 3 eggs)

  Bobby’s green energy drink

  La grande chef will do her best to fill any other requests you

  fantasize about, (results not guaranteed)

  Any combination or (GASP) ALL OF THE ABOVE, God help me???

  There are always fresh muffins and—or—scones, fresh fruit salad, and sometimes some whacky concoction the cook just felt like making

  ENJOY YOUR STAY!!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  While you were sleeping

  Breakfast, as in Bed and, is either a host’s triumph or her downfall. In the manic pace of modern society, it’s a meal much maligned and even totally ignored much of the time. Which is probably why my guests spent more time than I would have thought possible poring over my menu, gleefully checking off one thing after the other, usually items that they didn’t have the time to make at home.

  Which is also why I crawled blearily out of bed a good two hours before their appointed breakfast hour, made myself as presentable as possible and set feverishly to work in the kitchen baking, sautéing, pre-boiling, frying and generally making one hell of a mess of the counters and my clothing.

  It was a shock to find out that the wacky things I included on the menu tongue in cheek were the ones most frequently requested, like Blue Collar mush, and Bobby’s Green Energy Drink.

  Following are the recipes I found guests most enthusiastic about. They’re also the ones that turned out faithfully despite my early morning brain sputters.

  First, the muffins and scones that were staples, always served warm on a pretty cloth napkin in a basket, in addition to guests’ other choices.

  BLUE COLLAR SCONES

  4 cups unbleached flour

  3 ½ tsp. baking powder

  1 tsp. salt

  ¼ cup sugar

  1 cup raisins or currents, or blueberries, or dried cranberries, or whatever else you fancy.

  Sift dry stuff together, add currents or ?. Make a well in centre, add 1 ¾ cups milk and ¼ cup oil.

  Stir enough to moisten, turn out on floured board and knead a few minutes. Make a big ball, cut in two. Flatten with hands to about ¾ inch circle, cut into six wedges. Ditto with other dough ball. Put on sheet pan, bake in preheated 450 degree oven for 12 minutes.

  When I got older and smarter, I made up a bucket of muffin batter to keep in the fridge for those mornings when even the thought of separate ingredients made me woozy.

  (Or when my exuberant guests had ordered so many menu choices I needed six arms or--my private fantasy, never fulfilled, alas-- a muscular, not so young, virile male au pair to assist me, ahem.)

  THE BLUE COLLAR’S BUCKET FULL OF BATTER

  In a smaller bowl, pour 2 cups boiling water over 2 cups 100 % Bran and let stand while you search for the rest of the stuff.

  In a gigantic bowl, cream 3 cups sugar into 1 cup butter. Add 4 eggs and beat the hell out of it.

  Add buttermilk and bran mixture.

 
; In yet another bowl, sift 5 cups of flour, 3 Tbsp. baking soda, 1 Tbsp. salt. Add 4 cups of bran flakes, the cereal kind. Yup, you now have a total of 8 cups of bran. (Yes, you need both kinds of bran. Your guests’ bowels will appreciate this.)

  Fold dry into wet, mixing slowly until well conglomerated.

  Store in airtight container in fridge for at least 24 hours before baking, at which time you can scatter some raisins, dates, or blueberries in if you feel up to it.

  Bake as many or as few as you like in a preheated 400 degree oven for 15 to 20 minutes. This will make six dozen quite good, fluffy muffins and will keep up to six weeks.

  I also always served fresh fruit salad, in nice little stemmed dishes. Following is the Blue Collar secret to luring big gruff rednecks, male or female, into devouring the stuff.

  BLUE COLLAR FRUIT SALAD

  Peel and cut up, per guest, about 1 cup of any combination of fresh fruit. Add a good sprinkling of nutmeg, a small slog of pure maple syrup (about a teaspoon per serving), enough grapefruit juice to moisten, and—here’s the secret ingredient—a generous slurp of Cointreau or any other fruity liqueur. Mix well, let marinate for a few minutes. Spoon into stemmed glassware, top with a sprig of mint or basil, and watch as they gobble it up.

  Now, on to the main events that guests requested most often.

  BLUE COLLAR MUSH

  In a pot with tight lid, bring 4 cups of water, 2 cups of old fashioned oatmeal and a teaspoon of salt to a boil. (Use the old fashioned type of oats, big, hearty looking flakes. Instant oatmeal just doesn’t cut it, nor do quick oats.) Lower heat to medium and simmer for as long as possible, adding a touch of boiling water when the mix gets too thick. Stir often. Meanwhile—and I so hate meanwhile recipes, but sometimes there’s no choice—toast a cup of unblanched almonds in the microwave for about five minutes, and when they start to smell lovely, take them out and chop them. Add a couple tablespoons of preserves, apricot, raspberry or peach—to the oats along with the nuts. Serve with cream, brown sugar, and more of the preserves.

  OVEN APPLE OATS

  Preheat oven to 375.

  In a saucepan, heat up 3 ½ cups of soymilk or ordinary milk until almost boiling. Add 1 cup of steel cut (often called Irish) oats, along with 2 teaspoons maple syrup, ½ teaspoon nutmeg, and about a cup of peeled and diced apples. Cook for a couple minutes, just until it all comes to a boil. Take it off the stove and stir in 1 teaspoon salt and 2/3 cup raisins or currents. Put the whole mess into a good sized casserole—it has a tendency to boil over in the oven and stink up the house. Bake, stirring now and then, for about half an hour, or until your guests get up. Stir well before serving with milk or cream.

  (Bear with me, we’re getting to the end of the mush section. You’ll be amazed how many people request some version of it, and if you have diabetic guests, it’s pretty much necessary. Use sugar free preserves in that instance.)

  This next one’s from a wonderful vegetarian cookbook called Rebar, which is also a renowned restaurant in Victoria, B.C., and at first I had doubts about what it might taste like. But, hey, try it. You and your guests will love it, trust me on this.

  OVERNIGHT GRAIN AND SEED MUSH

  (Quantity mix to keep on hand)

  Mix together 1 cup oat groats, ½ cup barley groats, ½ cup rye berries, ½ cup whole almonds, ¼ cup sunflower seeds, and ¼ cup pumpkin seeds. Store sealed until ready to use.

  Before going to bed the night before some brave, adventurous soul has ordered this, put 1 cup of the mix into a slow cooker, add 4 cups water and a pinch of salt. Turn it to slow, go to bed and bless Rebar. Serve with the usual.

  Now, upwards and onwards, remembering that every day we’re getting better, better and better. Or at least our breakfasts are.

  Learn to make a really good French omelet. It’s the simplest of all to concoct.

  FRENCH OMELET, BLUE COLLAR STYLE

  Heat a ten inch skillet on moderate, add a chunk of butter (don’t let it brown.) In a small bowl take a fork to three eggs, just breaking them up nicely. Tip the eggs into the butter, and gently tip the pan and lift the edges of the eggs with a spatula to allow the uncooked stuff to get cooked—but gently. When it still looks quite wet, sprinkle on salt, pepper, and basil—preferably chopped fresh leaves, but in my case probably dried. With that trusty spatula, roll the thing into a sausage shape, slip on to a plate, decorate with whatever you have on hand—small tomatoes, cooked potatoes, bacon. The trick is not to overcook the eggs or muck it up with cheese and stuff. That’s it, pure and simple. Very French.

  Now, moving on to pancakes, French toast and waffles. I don’t use Aunt Jemima or Bisquick, because if guests do get around to making pancakes or waffles at home, chances are that’s what they’ll use. And we want to spoil them with the real thing, right? So here’s a couple of great options.

  BLUE COLLAR BUTTERMILK GRIDDLE CAKES

  Heat up a griddle, not smoking hot, but moderate, about 300 to 350.

  In a big bowl, cream 4 eggs, ¼ cup white sugar, and 2 tablespoons vegetable oil. In a smaller bowl, combine 1 cup unbleached flour, 1 cup whole wheat flour, 1 teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon baking powder and 1 teaspoon baking soda. Add dry to creamed along with 2 cups buttermilk. Let it sit while you have a cup of tea. (Pancake batters seem to need to rest a lot, I have no idea why when the cook is the one who’s usually exhausted.) Then bake them on that moderately hot griddle, using small spoonfuls. When they bubble, flip them over—but only once, so be sure they’re golden brown before you do. You can do all this a little while before your guests make their entrance if you tent the cooked ones with foil and tuck them into a warm oven.

  SWEET POTATO PANCAKES

  Peel and grate enough yam or sweet potato to make 1 cup. Dump into a big measuring cup, add a little grated lemon peel, 2 eggs, a cup of milk and 2 tablespoons melted butter. In a bowl, sift 1 cup unbleached flour, 2 teaspoons baking powder, ½ teaspoon salt and 2 tablespoons sugar. Gently stir dry into wet and let it all rest about ten minutes. Heat a griddle to moderate, use small tablespoonfuls, and cook until golden.

  THE BEST BUTTERMILK WAFFLES

  With a whisk, blend 1 cup whole wheat flour with 1 cup unbleached white, add 1 teaspoon baking soda, ½ teaspoon salt, ½ teaspoon cinnamon and 2 tablespoons brown sugar. In two other bowls, separate 2 eggs and to the yolks, add 1/3 cup melted butter and 2 cups buttermilk. Whip the whites with an electric mixer until they’re stiff. Fold into yolk mixture. In a preheated waffle iron put about 1/3 cup of batter, close the lid and let it ruminate for about 4 minutes. You can do this a little ahead of time, but not a lot—waffles dry out.

  There will come those blessed times when there’s no room left at the Inn, and while you’re mentally adding up how much of your line of credit you can pay off thanks to a full house, you’re also making breakfast for eight or more people.

  That’s when you don’t hand out menus. You just get up extra early, make generous amounts of scones and muffins, add a pot of oatmeal and double the recipe for pancakes, and maybe make one or two of the following good stick-to-the-ribs farmer’s fare, notable because they can be made the night before.

  MIDNIGHT FRENCH TOAST

  Before you go to bed, mix 1 dozen eggs, ½ cup cream, ½ teaspoon vanilla, grated zest of 1 orange and 2 tablespoons of orange liqueur in a 9 by 13 inch pan. Place slices of 1 loaf French bread over mixture, making sure slices are well coated. Cover with plastic wrap, place in fridge overnight. Next morning, take bread slices out and lay on well greased cookie sheet. Bake at 375 for 25 minutes. Serve with fruit or maple syrup.

  LAND OF NOD CINNAMON BUNS

  Before bed, grease a 10 inch Bundt pan. Add 20 frozen dough rolls. (Supermarket bakeries will have these on hand, ask for them.) Sprinkle the rolls with 1 cup brown sugar, ¼ cup vanilla instant pudding, 1 tablespoon cinnamon, ¾ cup of raisins and ½ cup melted butter. Cover with a clean damp cloth, leaving out at room temperature. In the morning, preheat the oven to 350, put a cookie sheet under the bundt pan
(it often runs over) and bake for 25 minutes. Let sit for 5 and turn out on a pretty plate.

  MORNING HOST SANITY SAVER

  You need 16 slices of white bread for this.

  Put 8 pieces of bread in a 9 by 13 inch buttered glass baking dish. Cover dish entirely, including sides. Cover bread with slices of back bacon or ham and slices of sharp cheddar. In a bowl, beat 6 eggs, ½ tsp. pepper, 1 tsp. dry mustard, ¼ cup minced onion, ¼ cup chopped green pepper, 2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce, 3 cups whole milk and a dash of Tabasco. Pour this mess over the bread thing, cover it and stick it in the fridge overnight. In the morning, melt ¼ pound butter and pour over top, then sprinkle with enough Special K or cornflakes to cover. Bake at 350, uncovered. Let sit 10 minutes and then serve.

  Now, last but not least, a really good egg casserole. You do this one in the morning, but it saves you from the insanity of trying to keep an eye on two eggs poaching, four eggs frying, six eggs boiling—and the damned bacon which is shriveling up to nothing as you watch, to say nothing of the pancakes, which are burning.

  (A good solution for bacon is to buy only thick slices, dip them in flour, fry very gently for a few minutes, and then put in your oven, still warm from those scones and muffins, letting them go on cooking until its time to eat.)

  Or you can specify that you only host vegetarians.

  A REALLY GOOD EGG CASSEROLE