Having been fully refurbished, yet still maintaining its old-world charm, the building itself has remained relatively unchanged. However, from the first look at the menu to the last bite of my dessert, I have to admit that I was thoroughly impressed. The food, I hate to say it, was “to die for” and that is not a phrase I use lightly. The atmosphere and service were impeccable.
The young chef is an Italian/American called Raffaele Nesti, who has worked with some of the most influential Michelin-starred chefs in both this country and abroad. If this might put some of you off, don’t let it. He is not one of those chefs using the sous vide method to cook their salmon, making it an inedible mushy, slimy mess. Or worse, one of those chefs so full of themselves that they tend to forget what is important – taste – and put pesto over your pannacotta. You surely remember my review last month of that Mayfair restaurant, so promising on paper …
No – Raffaele, as I said, is in a different league; flavour is what really matters, accompanied by beautiful presentation. I had an excellent starter of chicken liver terrine with bone marrow and truffle to die for. Have you ever kissed a plate in your life? I ate my starter and then snogged the plate, leaving it completely clean.
The main course was a saffron risotto accompanied by oxtail, surely braised in beautiful flavours of celery, carrots, sage, thyme, tomato and spices for hours and hours: Italian passion transformed into a dish. If you ever wanted to have an affair, have it with one of Raffaele Nesti’s main courses. They will seduce you, make you sweat with desire, take you to (gastronomic) places you could never have imagined or even for that matter known existed and, most of all from an Italian food lover, they will leave you completely satisfied.
I finished with a hazelnut soufflé that would have revived Escoffier himself and made him livid and ashamed. A soufflé light as a feather, tall and aroused, sorry, raised like the Gherkin Tower and ready to fulfil all the promises your senses were waiting for. A delicious ice cream, which I cannot even start to describe, accompanied the soufflé: you will just have to taste it for yourself.
Every single plate was as beautiful as a picture, but we are not talking here about a Picasso or a Mondrian. Here we are in the Caravaggio territory, the Rembrandt, vibrant with colours but with the addition of other dimensions.
Whether you want a romantic meal for two in a quiet little corner or need the room for a family gathering, this place has it all.
And if you’re going to visit the restaurant with your partner, the venue offers accommodation at a reasonable price above the restaurant. You will need it, after your senses have been shaken from head to toe eating all those fantastic masterpieces.
It is rare to find such a gem of a restaurant, especially as this is chef Raffaele’s first solo venture. I would thoroughly recommend The Skittish Endeavour Gastro Pub, no matter what your taste in food, as I’m sure you will find something to suit you on their small but very well-formed menu.
Caroline Porter
I was astounded by what I had just read. I knew Caroline Porter from having read a few of her reviews after I’d been asked if it was OK for her to tag along with Natalie. She was a tough cookie; hence my apprehension and the turmoil that had been going on between Raffaele and me. This review was outstanding. I couldn’t help but smile and sat there, almost in tears, re-reading it over and over. Once it had sunk in fully, I rushed out of the office and called to Ritchie, Jacob, Rachael and Osheena to gather round. I then read the review out to them. They all stood there, in complete silence, although the more I read, the more they smiled. As soon as I’d finished reading there was applause from all of them. Ritchie was the first to speak out, as he had also attended the opening.
“That’s an unbelievably good review, brilliant and so complimentary,” he said. “Have you called Raffaele yet? He must be thrilled.”
“No, I can’t. I went to do it, but then I remembered all the harsh words that were exchanged between us last time, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
Ritchie and the rest of the team just nodded and looked knowingly. They’d been working with me through the pain and heartache that I’d been going through and knew only too well that I was feeling hurt, but also guilty at the way things had been left with Raffaele. Just to bring the mood of the office back into line, I offered to go and buy some cakes, by way of celebrating Raffaele’s review, despite him not being there himself to appreciate our efforts to do so. Ritchie offered to go himself, but I needed some air and time to think about what to do or not to do where Raffaele was concerned.
I returned to the office with cream cakes (naughty but nice, as they say) and we all took a coffee break.
When I returned to my office there was a message sitting on my desk. It was from Timothy. The message said that he needed to talk to me urgently, though I didn’t have a clue what about. Maybe his wife, Arabella, had decided yet again that heels were not for her and he needed me to give her another boost about how good she looked in them, so as to feed his shoe/foot fetish. I couldn’t see how that kind of thing would be considered urgent, but then Timothy was a very odd duck when it came to high heels and his bodily reaction to them (that reminded me that I should ensure that I never wear heels around him, for fear that I might be embarrassed by his reaction). I picked up the phone and dialled his direct number.
“Hello, Timothy Robertson speaking.”
“Hello Timothy, this is GiGi. I’m just returning your call.”
“Oh GiGi, thank you so much for calling me back. I need to arrange a meeting with you as soon as possible, if you’re available. This afternoon would be good, or even this evening? This just can’t wait until tomorrow.” Then he fell silent.
“Whatever’s the matter, Timothy? You sound almost flustered, which is not like you at all. Is it Arabella? Has she stopped wearing the high heels? Do you want me to take her on a shopping trip to reignite her interest in them?
“No, no, it’s not that at all.” He pressed, “This is a business matter that I need your help on and it’s a matter of some urgency.” There was another pregnant pause while he waited for me to answer, not wanting to give me any further information over the phone.
“OK, I can meet you after work if that suits. It’s just that with everything we have going on here currently my diary’s pretty full today. I can’t see myself finishing before about six-thirty pm. Would meeting at seven be OK? Somewhere where we can both eat and talk would be good, as I’ll be ravenous by that time!” I suggested.
“Of course, of course; that would be perfect. Shall we say at Chez Jacqueline’s at seven, then? Got to run; see you later” – and he hung up. I was intrigued by what could have made Timothy so flustered, and why it was such an urgent matter that it couldn’t wait until the next day. On the one hand, I liked Timothy and Arabella, and they were good clients; on the other hand I couldn’t see how I could be of any help to him with a business matter. I knew nothing about banking (other than running up credit-card debts, that is – which thankfully have now all been cleared), but I was far too busy to sit there wondering. I had clients to see and I needed to mention the matter to Ritchie, just to keep him posted that “something was afoot,” as Sherlock Holmes would say.
CHAPTER 40
Ritchie had his own name for Timothy, but it isn’t one I feel I can repeat. His advice was to just go along and hear him out. There was little point in trying to guess when there could be a million different reasons for Timothy wanting to meet me. I knuckled down to work and the day passed very quickly, with plenty of happy clients along the way. I even found time to go out and buy a new outfit, considering where I was going to have dinner that evening.
Six pm came and went and so had all the things I had to deal with that day. I took some time to get myself into my new outfit and spruce myself up. Then it was a mad rush to reach Chez Jacqueline’s on time, although I knew Timothy wouldn’t be bothered if I was fashionably late.
I arrived at the restaurant, gave my name to the maîtr
e d’ and was escorted to a table by the window, at which Timothy was already seated. Being the gentleman that he was, he stood up when I reached him and waited until I was seated before he sat back down. The waiter came over and brought us an apéritif, unordered, and then we sat there chit-chatting for a while as we perused the menu. Timothy, who had obviously eaten there before, made a couple of suggestions as to what I could choose, but I decided on something else entirely. There was a dish on the menu that seemed very similar to one that Raffaele had added to his opening menu at the restaurant, and that’s what I chose.
Now was I being silly still thinking about him, despite not having spoken to him for more than a week? Even after having read Caroline Porter’s wonderful review of his restaurant … I couldn’t decide.
I almost changed my mind, but I couldn’t help wanting to taste how a competing chef cooked the dish. When the waiter returned I gave him my order, waited for him to leave, then broached the subject of why I was there and what on earth it could be that I might be able to assist a banker with in respect of his business.
Timothy wasn’t at all surprised that I had jumped in with questions at the first opportunity, as soon as we were alone. He therefore got straight to the point. “Jasper and Lady Whilsham are in trouble,” he said. I was gobsmacked. If you’d asked me to guess what Timothy was going to say, that’s one I’d never have guessed in a million years.
“What does that have to do with me?” I asked. He then launched into what seemed like a presentation, all business-like, in an effort both to give me information and to convince me that his way of dealing with it was the right way to go. I was almost afraid he was going to start showing me PowerPoint slides. The starter came and went, with Timothy hardly having taken a bite. I was ravenous and so sat eating, listening and watching Timothy while he explained his thoughts on what to do about the Jasper situation. He stopped only occasionally, or so it seemed, to either take a breath or have a sip of his wine. He was, by that time, so animated that it wouldn’t have mattered who came up to our table, be it a waiter or even Jasper himself; not even that would have stopped him. He reached a point where he’d imparted all the information and ideas that he had wanted to and so fell silent, watching me closely for my reaction.
The main course arrived then, and it was obvious to me that Timothy just wanted me to give him my opinion and answer his proposal. He decided to wait, at least until we’d eaten the main course, fortunately. There was a bit more small talk and I told him my reasons for choosing the main that I had. Timothy was now starting to get quite twitchy. My mind was spinning and I kept thinking about his proposal, at the same time trying to compare the dish I had with Raffaele’s, just to go back after one second to the proposal. Too many things on my mind at the same time. Damn!
At that very moment my mobile rang. I took one look and saw that it was my mother. Bloody typical. I looked at Timothy, apologised and said, “If I don’t answer this, the phone won’t stop ringing for the rest of the meal.” He was very understanding; despite it being obvious to me that he was on tender-hooks.
“Hello, Mum; now isn’t a good time, as I’m in a very important business meeting. Would it be OK if I called you tomorrow?” I said, attempting to be business-like and even maybe a little abrupt, hoping she would understand.
“Oh, but GiGi, I really need to talk to you. Can’t you even give me five minutes of your time?” (There are no such things as five-minute conversations once my Mum gets going.) “I’m sorry, Mum, but I’m having a business meal with Timothy: you remember I told you about him – the big business banker who’s also a client? We’re discussing something that can’t wait and so I have to go now, Mum. Promise I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” and I hung up. I decided not to take any more chances and switched the phone off, just in case. I apologised and, just at that point, the waiter interrupted us yet again, bringing our desserts. My hunger, by that time, had been sated so I took a few moments to explain to him what my thoughts were; I felt I’d kept him waiting long enough, especially knowing that I wasn’t going to be able to give him a definitive answer that evening.
“Timothy, first I’d like to thank you for bringing me to this lovely restaurant; it’s certainly a far nicer place to talk business than in the boardroom back at the office. Second, and the bit you’re waiting for, is that I can’t give you an answer yet to your proposal. A lot has happened in the office in the past couple of weeks; as now I’m not just in partnership with Ritchie, but also with Jacob and Osheena as well. So I need to talk to all of them about this before I can give you an answer. What I will say is this: I, for one, would love to be able to see if we can make this work. It would be a fantastic opportunity for me and the team and I’m so grateful that the first person you thought of was me. For that – I thank you wholeheartedly. I do take on board the urgency of the matter – but would you be able to wait until, let’s say, tomorrow late afternoon to have an answer from me?” I took a breath at this point, as it seemed to me as if I’d been talking for a month. My mind was still racing with ideas, the potential of what could be a completely new side to the business and lastly, but by no means least, being able to stick it to Jasper and Lady AboutToGoBankrupt.
Timothy, who already knew that I was in partnership with Ritchie, didn’t express surprise when I mentioned that Jacob and Osheena had received shares as well. He’d come to know that I was definitely someone who not only looked after their customers, but staff as well; also, despite it cutting down my own share, I made sure that they were looked after financially. Timothy didn’t even hesitate. He simply said, “I knew it was going to be a long shot, for you to make this decision without having first discussed it with Ritchie, and now I can fully understand why you need a team discussion. That was why I needed us to meet this evening, as the cut-off for being able to proceed with the proposal is the day after tomorrow. If you could give me an answer tomorrow, I can set all the wheels in motion in order to allow us to proceed late Friday afternoon. That would give us a head start on any other parties that might be interested, as the Notice isn’t going to be printed in the newspapers till Monday morning. Hopefully, by that time, we should have things all sewn up.”
I wondered to myself whether this was insider dealing, or something like that, but could only assume that it wasn’t, as Timothy was way too straight-laced about his job to even consider doing that. It was left that, by four pm next day at the very latest, I’d call Timothy to give him my answer. He handed me a bundle of papers and documents to peruse, and thanked me for being so understanding and for allowing him to broach his idea with me. I thanked him as well, for it had been a complete surprise to me that he regarded me highly enough to propose this venture to me in the first place.
Timothy paid the bill and we parted ways outside the restaurant, with me promising to call him the following day. My mind was agog with all the information and for once I was glad that the evening was mild, and that he’d chosen somewhere not far from where I lived to have our meeting. It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 41
The following morning, feeling as if I hadn’t slept a wink, I arrived at the office at seven on the dot. I couldn’t keep away from the place. I needed time to settle down, drink my first two or three coffees and digest all the paperwork that Timothy had given me, prior to the rest of the team arriving. It took quite some time to read again through all the details of the proposal. The team arrived, had their coffees, started working, and not one of them thought to look to see if I’d arrived yet. My office door was closed, as it usually is when I’m not in there yet, so they all thought I either had an early client appointment away from the office or had overslept.
At around about 9.45 I opened my office door. The reception I received was one of shock and surprise. Osheena was the first to speak up. “How long have you been here? Why was your office door closed? Is there something the matter?” Question after question was thrown at me, to the point where all I could do was clear my throat and
hold up my hands to ask them to stop. Ritchie then stepped forward and joked, “Did you sleep in there last night? I mean, we’re busy, but not that busy.”
“Sort of,” I answered. I took a deep breath and asked them all to join me in the boardroom, including also Rachael, who despite not having been here very long yet, needed to hear what was said, as it did also ultimately concern her as well. I could see clearly on all their faces that the suspense was almost killing them. I then suggested that they each go get their tea or coffee and I put the answerphone on, as this was going to take a while. I had a lot to explain, after all, and there was a deadline.
“Come on, spit it out!” said Ritchie, when all were assembled. “We’re not in trouble again, are we?”
“No, we aren’t,” I said, looking at each of them with a naughty grin on my face. “Do you remember Timothy?”
“The banker with the foot fetish?” said Osheena.
“You mean the …”
“RITCHIE!” I managed to stop him before he could use those horrible words. When eventually they fell silent, I dropped the bomb.
“Timothy is part of a group of venture capitalists, who are taking over the Battersea Fashion Centre next week.” I scanned their faces for a reaction. Jaws dropped; someone turned their head towards the window, in the direction of Public Enemy Number One; then a moment later, disbelief and fear.
“There’s nothing to worry about. Barnes Ltd was strapped for cash; the Centre was doing OK, but not well enough to save the firm from going into debt. They overstretched themselves, so they tried to sell this building and the plot of land to a firm of builders. Unfortunately for them, the builders weren’t willing to wait a couple of years until all the tenants in this building had left, so they pulled out, leaving Barnes Ltd without adequate cash flow.”
Blue and Green Should Never be Seen! (Or so Mother says) Page 20
