Day 3

You probably would have guessed by now that my choice of poison is definitely wine. I might opt for a quick cold beer on a holiday in a hot country, or a pint in a pub with colleagues after work. I would also very much enjoy a gin & tonic time by time but most of the time that drink reminds me of my Mum. But wine - wine literally goes down on any occasion, any day or any mood, and be it white, red or sparkling, almost anything goes. Maybe not a rosé that much, but even a rosé will do in case of an emergency.

At home, we have 3 bottles of champagne, one of them a Magnum, 13 bottles of white, 3 bottles of rosé and 15 bottles of red (yes, the Brexit panic shopping wine). Aside of that, we have a shelf with Carla’s gin collection. There are 8 different bottles of gin, all of them unopened, most of them very expensive and some of them extremely unique. Time by time she allows herself to open the cheapest, the most boring and the most common bottle, such as a basic Tanqueray or a Gordons, and that normally lasts us for several weeks (or let's be honest, days, or hours ). There are 3 different expensive brandies - 2 South African and 1 French-, 1 vintage port we got on a holiday in Porto, and 1 bottle of Japanese whiskey, all of which have been on that shelf forever and we’ve never even opened them. 

There’s also a half empty bottle of sweet Spanish sherry that I stewed my apples in when making crumble at Christmas, a half empty bottle of rum, and a couple of dodgy looking bottles of various European grappas or liqueurs that stand there, unopened, not so much for a purpose of a collection but out of pure dread of how bad they will probably taste. 

All together this must be gallons and gallons of alcohol in our house. Not really fitting for two ladies who don't want to come across as alcoholics, I suppose.

Furthermore, aside of all the alcohol, we have all the cocktail shakers, stirrers, strainers, about 25 bottle openers and a small but elegant collection of crystal glassware. 

Another shelf is filled with cook books, from Gordon Ramsay to Larousse Gastronomique. 

The cupboard with the plates is not too shabby either. 

Writing it all down makes me realise that our kitchen practically is a restaurant & bar. 

Or a warehouse. Might as well set it all up on Ebay and make some money out of it. 

In all seriousness, perhaps this will not be that surprising considering that both of us have built our entire careers as restauranteurs. 

My entire work life revolves around food and beverage. That’s even my work title. "Food and Beverage Manager". But for me, it has always been more than work. It’s been a lifestyle.

I’ve worked with sommeliers who have taught me to “smell the wet forest floor” in expensive Bordeaux reds or that a “true Sauvignon Blanc smells like cat piss” (and it does!), there have been numerous sessions of wine tastings with more than 20 bottles of wine laid in front of you on the table, and you just go from one to another, compiling your restaurant’s wine list. Use of a spittoon most of the time strictly optional. The higher up the ladder you raise and the more senior people you taste the wines with, the more acceptable it is to ignore the bloody spittoon. One of the latest wine tasting events I went was on the 39th floor of a skyscraper in Central London. I had barely had breakfast, before I had already transformed into a highly knowledgeable connoisseur of some of the most exquisite wines there were on offer.

It’s hard not to bring work home with you, especially if your work is largely about wine. 

Way before sampling wines on rooftops of skyscrapers, back when I was working in a fine dining restaurant, is where I got my first lessons of a proper high class dining and drinking etiquette, at least in this country. 

First, there must be an aperitif, as the name suggests - to open up the appetite. A glass of Champagne, a Dry Martini or something sharp, like a Gin & Tonic, will do. You’ll have that before you even receive your starter. 

Just before the starter is served, you’ll be served your first glass of wine. It’s normally white. The City boys normally went for a Chablis. Nothing sells better than a Chablis or a Sancerre at a working lunch in the city. The starters are cleared while a big piece of red meat is resting in the kitchen. A larger glass will be placed next to the white wine glass. This is for the red. Depending on the age and style of the red, it may or may not be decanted. Depending on the size of the dining party, it's either a standard bottle or a magnum if there are 6 or more. A little while later, last piece of a juicy Sirloin steak is nicely washed down with that lovely Château Margaux. Then, desserts. Of course, there is always room for a dessert, otherwise it would be impolite to even dare to step your foot to this fancy restaurant. You’ll have dessert, accompanied with a glass of Tokaji or Sauternes, extremely sweet but tiny little glass of dessert wine. And then, finally, there is coffee and brandy.

I remember it never stopped to baffle me how much these people can drink at lunch time. Mostly men, sure, but still. Having all that alcohol while signing important contracts or shaking hands over million pound deals was a real thing. All that together with wine top ups and second bottles, is surely at least 10 units and surely it classifies as binge drinking, even if it is just a Tuesday lunch time. I knew a broker at a time who told me he would easily drink 3 bottles of champagne during his working day just to get through the day. That’s before he got back home to his wife and kids and probably opened a bottle of wine with the wife. And there are many people like that who can drink all day every day and not be branded as alcoholics or binge drinkers by anyone, rather the opposite, they are perceived as highly successful, powerful and influential. Hell, most of them don’t even look drunk after all that!  

And not only men. If you were a woman making it in a man’s world, you had to play the same game. The couple of bad-ass businesswomen I met at the restaurant surely knew how to handle their drink and keep up with the boys. 

After paying a four figure lunch bill with their corporate credit cards they would carry on with their day like all that alcohol had been absolutely nothing and they’re all suddenly light on their feet rushing back to the office for their 3pm meetings. 

While we, who had been serving all that exquisite and delicious stuff up to them, would probably have a quick sandwich and a coke for lunch, before getting ready for the evening shift just to do it all over again.

I suppose many of us in this industry want to copy or re-live some of those experiences we’ve seen other people have, all those successful, powerful and influential people, and we normally do it on our days off or on our holidays, just to feel that thrill of being the one sitting at the table, rather than the one serving it. And once it’s our turn, it really is a damn good feeling. Even if to achieve this, you subconsciously create your own mini restaurant in your dining room at home. 

That explains Carla’s and mine obsession with all the nice wines, and the collection of fine spirits, and the nice china and the crystal glasses. We’ve learned how to expertly execute the recipes of the Chefs that we’ve worked with, we know where to buy our fish and meat from, we know which salt and which sugar and which olive oil makes the food taste the best. And we certainly know where to get the wines at the best prices without the restaurant mark up percentages.

So, in a way, giving up wine for a whole month, is almost a bit like giving away this feeling of freedom, of being the one who is served, a tiny bit of this lifestyle that makes an otherwise extremely demanding job a little less painful. 

Only that, right now, there is no work, and that obviously changes everything.