‘A kitchen embodies ugliness of people and little besides’

Lockdown has been especially tough for restaurants and their staff, with scores shutting down in South London alone. Chef JO BURNAND tells what it has been like – and how he would not have had it any other way.

There was no way I could ever have stuck a 9-to-5 job.

That school report which complained of a boy with his head down one minute, the next, staring out of the window lifted the lid on a mind incapable of focusing for any period of time.

It so happened that my mother was a good cook.

She wouldn’t be making stuff for us day in day out but she could make a meringue soft and chewy inside and crispy on the outside whatever the weather.

A professional kitchen despite the rough and tumble was always a maybe for me and so it came to pass.

There have definitely been times mostly when trying to catch a night bus home after a 16-hour day when I’ve wondered why.

Besides the hours and pay, a kitchen embodies all the ugliness of people and little besides.

Bullying, double-dealing, deceitfulness are an everyday occurrence so something has to make you really want to be a chef.

And for me it was less a want than it remedied this inability to hold focus on one thing for long, cook the pork the way it’s meant to be done and move on.

Strange but happy that is – until Omicron came along.

Lockdown was bad enough with me back in baking at a takeaways but this time round we’re searching for ways to forge ahead.

One of the benefits of having a whirlwind of a mind for me at least is an ability to adapt.

We’re offering everything as a takeaway – making chefs down the line angry at seeing something that should be eaten straightaway left to dry up.

Save for those at the top of the hierarchy we’ve all had our hours reduced, wrecking the cut and thrust of the day. When we are working, service comes in fits and starts, tiring you out more than if it was just one long slog.

It’s a blitz of its own. We do our best while waiting for a siren to warn of further restrictions that will cut into the heart of an industry designed around people getting together.

All extraneous stuff seems to have been wiped clear leaving us with just the here and now.

We’ve enough sister chains to keep us in pocket for the time being and generally expect things to get better but that’s what we do isn’t it? Hope for things to get better.

Smaller places I used to work at are feeling the effects far more.

The Brothers’ Bakery began outselling cafes in our little corner of London before Covid was ever heard of but now is stunted by the unpredictability.

When I talk of Covid the owner hides a distrustful wince. The difficulties for him are the unintended consequences of Brexit.

Since this time last year, he’s seen an almost 10 per cent increase in UK milk prices and reasons that if suppliers can make more out of a product it’s not like they’re going to reduce prices when everything blows over.

He doesn’t have the option to change suppliers or hike prices by such a degree and so faces making the same sales but with less profit.

As you would expect the more financial backing a company has the firmer ground it stands on but even that in places is being turned on its head.

Think Franco Manca opening next door to Pizza Express pushing our way with its new sourdough base. Two new Indian restaurants in a row one are offering more seating than the others. It’s all getting to sound a little like life in a kitchen.

The competitiveness and jealousies come to the fore – and riding above it all that very British characteristic of pressing ahead whatever the weather. What choice do we have?

 

Main Picture: Jo Burnand lives in Shooters Hill Road, Blackheath, and who now works at Cafe Murano in Covent Garden central London. Below, Hakim Kilic