A Taste Of

A Taste Of

Was I worried?

Not yet, maybe if pushed. I still had faith. The research was sound. Location, what estate agents call up and coming, artists call edgy, English people in general say gentrification. I liked the up in up and coming.

Décor? I did it myself, so I’ll say it myself – the décor is fabulous. Original art work, vivid, right side of challenging. Music? Catholic, ambient, like the lighting can be switched to match mood.

Mood. That was so far the simple side of things. I was the only one in the restaurant so a perfect match. I had the song ‘Time is on my side’ on loop, no one complained.

It was two weeks since I opened my restaurant. I unveiled the name  - Cedar Palace. The first night was the talk of the town, well, this side of the river. Everyone I knew came. I loved the buzz. Best thing I ever did. A good risk.

Second night. Nothing. The chef cooked her own dinner and left. Third night I hired art students from Camberwell to pose in the window. Figured it might work. It didn’t. Nothing did.

I couldn’t think it out. I couldn’t accommodate the overheads ad infinitum. I’d have to blink. Last throw of the investment – flyers. Still nothing.

Fifteenth night, phone rang. A group booking, a reservation, a redemption, time vindicating the  song? A voice, accent I couldn’t place, Battersea meets Beirut:

‘You been sending out the flyers..?’