Friday 12 December 2008

Our Catering Career

The comedy writer Simon Nye, 46, has written a raft of TV series, including Men Behaving Badly, Frank Stubbs Promotes, My Wonderful Life, and Is It Legal? He lives with his girlfriend, Claudia, and their four children in north London. Christopher, 41, ran the Maximum Diner restaurant for seven years, and turned his experiences into a book — Maximum Diner: Making It Big in Uckfield. He lives alone in Lewes, East Sussex.
SIMON: My formative memories of Chris are of a very blond child who ate incredibly slowly and methodically. He was still picking through his tinned spaghetti long after the rest of us had left the building. Chris used to have a terrible stutter that he'd get quite het up about. Our mother was an elocution teacher, so it was ironic, really. He was fine during term time, but as the school holidays progressed it got worse, which suggests it was us who made him tense.

Chris is the youngest of four and, like many a runt of the herd, he's been known to overcompensate with stubbornness. During his A-levels he left the exam room intimating that he'd scored the highest mark in the history of exam-taking. Then, when it turned out he'd failed, he shrugged the whole thing off as a career choice. This kind of resilience has been an asset, especially working in the catering industry.

We grew up in a small village in Sussex. Our mother had been an actress and our father taught drama, so although we weren't particularly literary, the possibilities were there. We were a solidly middle-class family that didn't manage to be bohemian or arty. It's a miracle we didn't all end up working for Sun Alliance.

When we were growing up, the age gap between Chris and I seemed huge. We went to the same school, but when he was starting I was finishing. We only became close after our dad died. Chris was 18, and I did feel slightly cast in a paternal role. He spent the next 10 years working abroad and travelling. By the time he opened the diner in Uckfield, I was having some success as a writer, so I was happy to loan him money. He was evangelical about the concept of a stylish fast-food place where people could eat cheaply and the food needn't be crap. I've nodded off listening to why the burger is the perfect food. Unfortunately for Chris, the textbooks are great at telling you how to locate your operation in an appropriate socioeconomic matrix, but less good on how to handle drunks who nick your stuff at closing time, or what to do when you're delivering a pizza and you run over the customer's cat.

It wasn't a huge amount of money I invested, and it wasn't me who had to work incredibly hard to make the whole thing work. The problem was that it never did quite break even. It was very stylish — he had the red banquettes, the jukebox and great food — but he was beset by problems. I remember there being lots of angst about ventilation and the yob element among the customers. I don't think he had a holiday for seven years. He's quite a principled chap: he was clear about not hitting on his young staff — then he realised they were all having sex with each other. I think he regretted that. His relationships have always seemed rather complicated. He seems to go for women with problems. Either that or Uckfield is a very troubled town.

It was hard to judge how much involvement Chris wanted from me. I was in LA a lot, working on the American series of Men Behaving Badly. But our mother is like the bush telegraph — she'd always let us all know how hard Chris was working and the unbelievable things that were happening to him. In fact, I cut my writing teeth, and I suspect Chris did too, writing letters home.

At one point he decided pizza delivery was the way to go, so he set up Cousin Luigi's. He made the pizzas, he boxed them, he rode the moped and delivered them. That was when he ran over someone's cat in the driveway. It was a case of: "The good news is, your pizza's here. The bad news is, the cat's dead." I couldn't write a line like that. He'd launch a two-for-one special and the wily folk of Uckfield would find a way to exploit it. The biggest yob in town once got hold of a pile of vouchers offering a burger and a drink for £1, then stood outside the diner selling them for £1.50. Chris was stoical, claiming he'd sold quite a few burgers that day with the help of a middleman.

I've always been a bit secretive about my work. I know there are families who show each other drafts and rewrites, but that's always struck me as foolish. Confidence is such a delicate thing when you're writing, and the last thing you want is to be judged by those closest to you.

When Chris told me he'd turned his diner experiences into a book, I assumed it would never be published, just because nobody gets their first book published. But then his book is probably a lot better than my first novel was. I like the fact that he didn't question me about what software I use and how wide my margins are, because in the end it's always better to find your own way. If you go to someone for help and then you succeed, maybe you haven't done the full journey.

CHRISTOPHER: However old I am, I always feel inescapably the youngest. You have this feeling that you'll always be looked after — which is a mistake, on the whole. Even as children, Simon and Louise were more focused and sensible, while Jeremy and me were the giggly ones at the end of the table. We lived in the most incredibly boring village where you either did nothing or you made your own entertainment. Simon was always doing something clever. He bought a ruined TR2 with a view to getting it going again; he painted his floor stripy; he spent Christmas in a tent in Morocco on his own. In comparison with Jeremy and me, who were so impractical and lazy we could barely be bothered to go to the toilet, his projects seemed very grand.

The first we knew of Simon's writing talent was when he won a Barclays Bank essay-writing competition. He entered again the following year, putting his girlfriend's name on the entry form, and won a second time. He shared his first flat in Camden with three girls — which I think must have been the inspiration for Men Behaving Badly. I went up for a few parties and it was a bit like one of those lifestyle adverts. You know, the funky Londoners partying and having fun.

His first book did nothing and his second didn't make much of a mark, but it was read by Beryl Virtue, the veteran TV producer, who thought it could be turned into a sitcom. Her daughter happened to be going out with Harry Enfield, who appeared in the first series of Men Behaving Badly. Simon was very quiet about it, but I was conscious that he was becoming hugely successful. When he started looking at houses in Hampstead, I realised he was earning serious amounts of money. Of course I instantly asked him if I could borrow some of it, and he generously agreed to lend me £15,000 to start a business.

I'd already been fired from a series of catering-management jobs and I'd nose-dived to a position as a room-service waiter at the Metropole hotel in Brighton. It was a career in terrible decline, but Simon still lent me the money. Over eight years my business lurched from crisis to crisis: cash-flow and staffing problems, BSE, McDonald's... Every time the Vat was due, I had the awful embarrassment of asking Simon if he could lend me a bit more. He was so calm and nice about it. Any sensible businessman would have closed earlier, but I always felt I was almost there. Let's just say there is still a certain amount of money outstanding.

I'm about as anti-rich-people as you can be, but I have the greatest respect for Simon. He's earned his money by working incredibly hard. I'd love to say that Men Behaving Badly is based on his life, and his office is full of beer and pizza boxes, but nothing could be further from the truth. He doesn't even go to parties much. If he's trying to get a script in, he really does work all night while the rest of us would say, "Ah, sod it," and go to bed.

I have asked Simon for advice, but I don't think he knows how to give it. A couple of years ago he gave me a writing course and I got his cast-off computers. But it was Jeremy who pointed out that the three bestselling books tend to be diaries, cookery books and management guides. I put them all together and came up with Maximum Diner. But I have to concede that I would never have done any of this if it weren't for Simon. Once you've got a professional writer in the family, anything seems possible. I'm just very grateful that he's not a plumber.

The Times

Case Studies in Catering

Case study by Allison Mulimba

Seeing Sir Ian McKellen naked is one of the bizarre things expected in my job. However, it is a small price to pay when it comes to working full-time and studying at university simultaneously. I am a 21-year-old journalism and history student at Queen Mary University of London.

I work seven nights a week behind the bar at the Palace Theatre. My job has given me the opportunity to see Ian McKellen as King Lear and now Sanjeev Bhaskar of Goodness Gracious Me fame in Spamalot.

Balancing both work and studies is hard. My lack of motivation to start essay writing means that the temptation to have a glass of wine at the pub next to work instead of attempting that essay on Stalin frequently proves too much.

There is not much I like about my job. I especially hate seeing the disgust on people's faces when I tell them a pint is £5 and a glass of shiraz £8.70. It is no wonder that theatre owners looks so smug. My job does have its perks. We get good tips

and attend parties, where the champagne flows.

Although I am originally from Hertfordshire, I live in London, which makes it essential for me to have a job. It is impossible to rely on just a student loan and students like myself find that they have to work as many hours as possible to live in moderate comfort while trying to obtain an education. Without my job I could not pay rent, eat or fund my penchant for new shoes.

Working while studying is tiring - my social life is non-existent and I struggle to meet deadlines, but it is fine as long as my essays are done and I am wearing pretty shoes while writing them.

Case study by Ben Curtis

Every weekend, my days begin at 6.30am. After a splash and go in the bathroom I stumble over beer cans, wine bottles and hungover housemates as I reach for the front door – not so much to freedom but for the tube ride to work. Aside from my first year, I will have worked eighteen hours every weekend, swapping the world of Hitler and Stalin at university for Barbie and Star Wars at Toys ‘R’ Us – the loan doesn’t even cover my rent and so paid work, along with parental support, is a necessity.

I was transferred from my home-town store to one nearer university during my second year. My first consisted of asking my parents for money on a fortnightly basis, and with the introduction of bills and an increase in rent, work was the only option. If I hadn’t done this, I probably would have had to commute to university from home and miss out on the whole experience.

Working has its advantages and disadvantages: more money to socialise, the satisfaction of fending for yourself, the discipline that comes with waking up early. But you must be careful – too much work and your degree suffers, so you must erode the temptation to make the most of additional Christmas hours. Also, your job must be largely stress-free and flexible. If the company is malleable you can balance the number of hours you work with deadlines and holidays. Finally, when I work additional hours during holidays, I take home less than the minimum wage after tax deductions - don’t expect huge rewards.

Work is like a trip back from the student bar: it’s a balancing act. Get it wrong and your worries will stretch to more than a hangover but get it right and you can profit from a broader university experience.

Catering for Student Life

Much of popular culture would have you believe that most students are busy frittering away their loans and grants in the students' union bar or in a hall of residence acquainting themselves with various narcotics. Anything, in short, but studying - and certainly not in gainful employment. The reality is very different.

Most studies show that at least half of students work during term-time; an even higher percentage do so in vacations. About 70 per cent of those who work say that they do so to cover basic living expenses.

Whether such work is inevitable, or merely desirable, there are a few things to think about.

One of the most common questions asked of the National Union of Students (NUS) is how many hours a student should work. There is a range of opinions on this: often the figure of 16 hours a week is mentioned, although Cambridge University forbids its students from taking up any employment whatsoever during term time. Of course, in reality, what is suitable for you will depend on your circumstances - a history student with 10 hours of formal classes a week might be able to undertake paid work more than a medical student with 35.


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Background
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Good University Guide

Multimedia
Good University Guide
What to do if your exam results exceed or dash your expectations
What is true is that research has shown that there is a correlation between a high number of hours worked and the likelihood that you will end up with a lower degree classification, so you should be careful about balancing work with your studies.

You might also want to consider when you work. Night shifts might pay better but they can have a deleterious effect on your coursework. My next-door neighbour in halls took a full-time job as a night porter in a local hotel at the start of the year and stopped attending classes after about week two. Needless to say, he did not pass that year. Then there is the issue of what sort of work. In an ideal world, students would be able to find employment in areas that are relevant to their future careers or, at least, that pay well. Alas this is not always easy and most students are still to be found in low-paid and low-skilled jobs in catering and retail.

But you can maximise your chances of getting a decent job. Most universities will have a jobshop, operated by the university itself or the students' union. As these cater specifically for students, they will at least make the search easier. In addition, most if not all will to some extent filter the jobs to ensure that the employers are not completely evil and they may offer help with writing CVs and job interview skills. You can find a list at the website of the National Association of Student Employment Services (www.nases.org.uk). Students' unions themselves often employ large numbers of student staff, usually with good pay and conditions. The trick here is to apply before term starts, as any jobs are usually gone by freshers' week.

If you do not like the idea of a boss, self-employment can also be fruitful. For example, if you have particular skills, such as design or computer programming, you can advertise these on sites such as www.studentgems.com. However, if you do find yourself part of the corporate machine, make sure you are treated properly.

Workers have legal rights: you should be paid at least the minimum wage - from October it is £4.77 an hour if you are aged 18 to 21 or £5.73 an hour if you are older. All employees are entitled to a written contract, and a rest period if their shift is six hours or longer. Part-time employees cannot be treated less favourably than full-time workers, although if you work through an agency you can be treated less favourably than permanent employees, so be careful.

A list of rights is available at www.direct.gov.uk/employees. One way to ensure that your rights are upheld is to join a trade union, which can help you to discuss employment matters with your boss and bargain for better rights in your workplace. Student workers often get a rough deal but there is safety in numbers.

Talking of numbers, one last thing to watch out for is tax. Students are liable for income tax, contrary to popular belief. Fear not though as most students do not usually earn above their “personal allowance” (the amount everyone can earn before tax is applied, and which is £6,035 in 2008-09). However, due to their erratic work patterns, and the way tax is calculated, students can sometimes end up paying tax erroneously. If you think you have, contact Revenue & Customs about a refund (www.hmrc.gov.uk/incometax).

“Indolence is stagnation; employment is life,” the Roman philosopher Seneca the Younger once said. For the majority of full-time undergraduates, part-time employment is a fact of life.

David Malcolm is the student finance researcher at the NUS

XMAS Recipes

Valentine Warner is feeling slightly dazed. It's the morning after the night before and the 36-year-old chef had been out until 2am celebrating the success of his BBC series What to Eat Now with copious quantities of red wine at Soho's Quo Vadis. He says he was being "unbearably loud" when someone clapped him on the shoulder. "I turned around and it was Gordon Ramsay saying: "Love your show." I froze. I couldn't think of a thing to say."

We're in London's Portobello Road shopping for a slap-up Christmas lunch and Warner is after some dried mushrooms. "I wanted to make this with mushrooms I'd foraged and dried myself, but I just haven't had time this year." He is something of a local celebrity. A matronly stallholder blows him a kiss across the heaps of late autumn vegetables. A few moments later the owner of an antiques shop bounds forward to shake his hand. "Saw your programme. Great stuff." Warner beams goofily.

The book that accompanies his show is written in Warner's trademark whimsical prose – Just William meets Nancy Mitford. "Serve immediately while trying to get more of the caramel than anyone else," he writes in his recipe for Monte Bianco.

No one could accuse Warner of not engaging with his ingredients. He is an evangelist for under-appreciated foodstuffs: "Eat more fennel"; "Don't pull a face at the thought of sauerkraut"; and "A little more brassica consciousness, please". Today in his flat, Warner is cooking red cabbage to make a stuffing for duck, splashing red wine vinegar into the purplish mixture to "snatch back the colour" to a vivid red. His instincts are visual: he trained at art college and worked as a portrait painter before realising he was thinking about food ''all the time". He went to see the chef Mark Haddon, then at the Halcyon Hotel. "I said: 'Hello, I think I want to cook.' And he said: 'I'll see you on Monday.'"

A string of restaurant jobs followed, but Warner couldn't settle and eventually started his own catering company, Green Pea. He left restaurant cooking because he didn't want to spend his days "stuck in a metal box" and he had a problem with authority. ''I wanted to be a cook, not a chef, and to work above ground."

Since meeting Pat Llewelyn, the TV producer who made Jamie Oliver a household name, Green Pea has been history. These days Warner is devoted to his television career, with a new series of What to Eat Now planned for next year.

Christmas will be spent in the family home in Wiltshire with his younger brother Orlando, sister Alexa and widowed mother. Will Charlotte, his psychoanalyst girlfriend of nine months, join them? "I hope so. I haven't broached it with my mother yet."

He's clearly a devoted son who still opens his Christmas stocking sitting in his pyjamas on her bed. That won't get him out of the washing-up, though. "I try to avoid it, but every year my brother and I have a stand-off. He did it last time, but I know it's my turn this year."

What to Eat Now by Valentine Warner (Mitchell Beazley) is available from Telegraph Books for £18 plus £1.25 p&p. Call 0844 871 1515 or go to books.telegraph.co.uk

Wednesday 10 December 2008

Scottish Farmed Salmon

Consumption by British households of Scottish farmed salmon has risen by 22 per cent over the past two years. The increase, which represents an additional 40 million meals, is a boost for an industry that has fought criticism by marine environmentalists.

Consumers seem increasingly won over by the health arguments in favour of oily fish. Scottish aquaculture, valued in excess of £400million in 2006, is now second only to the beef sector (£467million) and ahead of the sheep, pig and commercial fishing sectors.

The renaissance of the Scottish industry, which is the third biggest salmon producer in the world, is also heralded by the Scottish government's consultation document, A Fresh Start, on a renewed strategy for fish farming. Ministers say they intend to create an industry that is “ambitious, thriving, growing, diverse and profitable”.

In 1980 only 9 per cent of fish consumed came from aquaculture. Now it is 43 per cent. A report in 2006 by the UN Food and Agriculture Organisation said that aquaculture is the only way to meet the surging demand for seafood, and fish in general has been the fastest growing protein in the UK over the past eight years, up 64 per cent in spend.

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The research showed people aged 35 to 64 were leading the move to salmon at the evening meal.

The annual survey of Scottish salmon production, published by the Scottish government agency Fisheries Research Services this week, anticipates modest growth, from 129,930 tonnes in 2007 to approximately 136,000 tonnes in 2008.

Scott Landsburgh, the new chief executive of the Scottish Salmon Producers' Organisation, said: “We will continue to work with government to deliver our joint aspirations for economic, social and environmental sustainability.”

Mark Thomson, from TNS Worldpanel, said: “One of the key priorities in the current economic climate is health. The popularity of fresh salmon continues to leap as its health benefits are increasingly recognised.”

According to the Scottish Salmon Producers' Organisation, salmon farming supports 6,200 full and part-time jobs in remote, rural areas on the west coast and islands. The industry injects in excess of £197 million a year into Scottish businesses and salmon represents 40 per cent of all Scottish food exports.

The industry has been accused of polluting the sea bed and spreading disease.

Nation of Curry Lovers

We are a nation addicted to Indian food. Our pedestrian palates perk up at the mere thought of brittle shards of poppadam loaded with fresh mango chutney, or flame-coloured tandoori meat wrapped in blistering naan bread.

“Whether you like a bhuna, a dopiaza or a balti, or whether like me you look at that menu and just panic and have the chicken tikka masala, we’ve all got our favourite curry and [Indian] restaurant,” said David Cameron in his message broadcast at last year’s British Curry Awards.

Indeed, from Southall to Glasgow there are no fewer than 10,000 “spice restaurants” to choose from, providing 100,000 jobs in a £3.2 billion industry. Although it’s facing competition from the likes of Thai, Mexican, Polish and Moroccan, Indian cuisine, along with Chinese, still dominates the ethnic food market in the UK.

This is partly to do with how embedded curry has become in Britain’s food culture. Since the late Nineties, various polls – not all by the Asian food industry – have rated chicken tikka masala above fish and chips as the nation’s favourite dish. We scoff 18 tonnes of the stuff a week, many of us blithely unaware that it’s an old Punjabi dish soaked in “gravy” to accommodate Anglo-Indian tastes.

Despite its popularity, many blokes’ relationship with curry falters beyond a late-night lager and vindaloo or a half-used jar of ready-made sauce in the fridge.

Which is not surprising given the “spicy” (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) bravado peddled by some media around Indian food. “Curry will make your sex life red hot” screamed a recent tabloid headline. The korma’s potent blend of coconut, garlic, chilli, ginger and almonds is said to improve sex drive in females, according to research carried out by the takeaway website just-eat.co.uk.

“Scorchio! Bollywood Burner is world’s hottest curry” is another typical headline. It followed the creation by Vivek Singh, chef at London’s Cinnamon Club, of a vindaloo so hot that diners were asked to sign a disclaimer before indulging in such spicy food.

“Men loved the early curry houses because they were the only places open to eat after an evening in the pub. It was an inexpensive, fun night out where friends shared food and competed on who is man enough to eat the hottest curry,” says Anjum Anand, star of BBC’s Indian Food Made Easy television series.

“But I hope we can move on from the Friday-night curry association as people realise that Indians themselves eat a whole range of regional Indian food daily and that it is food that really belongs at home.”

In her cooking Anand strives to simplify classics (Kashmiri lamb kebabs and even an Indian shepherd’s pie, for example) and flags up regional dishes such as Bengali pumpkin and chickpeas and delicate fish curries from Kerala in the south.

“By making it less fussy – a la Jamie - men will have a go at cooking for their mates. Success is a great driver, so one good meal should lead to more cooking,” says Anand.

Indeed, it’s easy to stock up on a fresh supply of the basic spices such as garam masala, panch phoran seeds, dried chillies and fenugreek and combine them with meat, fish and vegetables. The real beauty of cooking Indian food at home, apart from being able to modulate the spice factor of a dish, is using quality meat, such as free-range chicken and new season autumn lamb, from the butcher, or catch of the day from the fishmonger.

As well as the trend towards more “authentic” regional dishes, the experience of eating out is changing in more ways than just the decor. Discriminating consumers are demanding more healthy options on the menu - grilled, low-fat, ghee-zero, and the use of yoghurt instead of cream – and a better choice of wines and teas to match spicy Indian food.

At the elite end of the market, leading restaurateurs such as Vivek Singh and Cyrus Todiwala, of Café Spice Namaste, are employing techniques and ingredients from all over the world in their cooking. While Vineet Bhatia, the Michelin-starred chef at Rasoi in Chelsea, is carving out a niche for himself supplying sophisticated Indian food to glamorous locations in Mauritius and, most recently, the newly refurbished Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Geneva - a far cry from a balti in Wolverhampton.

“As we are exposed to more regional Indian food from our travels, supermarkets and television, then we will become more adventurous in our ordering of Indian meals,” says Anand. Who knows, perhaps even Mr Cameron will reconsider his order next time he goes for a curry

Key Players in the Food Indusdtry

When Reed and two friends gave up their day jobs to start the Innocent smoothie company, little did they know how quickly their plan to use fresh fruit rather than concentrates would take off.

Claim to fame With a 73 per cent market share, more than two million bottles selling each week in 11,000 outlets, you are never far from an Innocent smoothie containing at least one portion of fruit and veg.

Lasting legacy We are a little bit healthier and he is a lot wealthier. His stake in the company is valued at £41 million.


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GILLIAN McKEITH, TV nutritionist

McKeith, the presenter of You Are What You Eat and million-selling author of food and nutrition books, brought colonic irrigation into the mainstream, thanks to her penchant for analysing the nation's poo.

Claim to fame Formerly known as “Dr Gillian McKeith”, she dropped the title from her company's advertisements after it was found that it was obtained from a non-accredited course in America.

Lasting legacy McKeith has shown how a brass neck, can overcome the small matter of appropriate qualifications. Hopefully, her success in raising nutritional health to a lifestyle aspiration will have a knock-on effect on Britain's plates (or loo pans).


DAME DEIRDRE HUTTON CBE, Chair of the Food Standards Agency

At the helm of the Government's food advisory body, Hutton has been the focal point for government work on how to get us all to eat less fat, less sugar and less salt.

Claim to fame To the public eye, she's helping us to make better-informed decisions about what we eat - mainly by encouraging the food industry to use traffic-light labelling on the front of packs. Behind the scenes, though, she has played a careful game buffering the demands of the food campaigners and the food industry.

Lasting legacy If there's someone to thank for the number of new “healthy” processed foods, it's her.


RICHARD BRASHER, Commercial and Trading Director of Tesco

Brasher is in overall charge of the buying budget at the biggest retailer in the country. His purchasing power decides not only what millions of us eat but also what we cook with, wear, smell like, watch, drive. Heck he even chooses our engagement rings (Tesco sells them now, too).

Claim to fame With nearly 2,000 stores in Britain, there's a Tesco on virtually every high street. Sales last year reached £51.8 billion and £1 in every £8 spent on the high street is spent at Tesco.

Lasting legacy He brings fresh food to the masses and revitalises tired shopping parades, or swamps us with cheap food from exploited producers while killing the high street, depending on your view.