One day I may write a book, I'd like it to be a tome of insight and reason that, through metaphor and real life experiences offers the reader a small glimpse into me and the world as I see it. What it will probably be is a how to date in your 40's manual...just saying. I've joked often enough about cobbling all the stories and experiences I have come across or had happen to me over the years as a chef and innkeeper. I think the everyday world offers so much material that surely some of it would be good enough for a laugh in a book....have your publisher call me.
Have you ever wondered how a guy like me became an innkeeper? Let me fill you in a bit for I feel that it will provide some context. Many moons ago, while still living in Toronto my then fiance and now ex wife and I had travelled to the Thousand Island area in Eastern Ontario. A short little get away to experience the touristy life for a few days. Before the advent of the internet I decided that we were going to stay in a B & B, enough with the hotels and resorts, let's try something different and out of our comfort zone. When we pulled up in front of the monstrosity of a semi urban resort that I booked I drew a line in the sand...no said I. Let's go find a true B & B in town and let the chips fall where they may. We were in Gananoque and I must say I loved that small town, Victorian homes, quaint tree lined streets, out of the way restaurants, it all felt right. We stumbled upon a grand Victorian B & B called the Victoria Rose Inn. Smitten...that's the place, let's go. Suffice to say we had a wonderful stay and there the seeds were planted for our own place sometime in the future. Myself as a chef and my ex as an interior designer, it was mentioned a few times that we would be naturals for this kind of business. And we were, mostly. A lot of people that get into the business do so with a romantic Martha Stewart kind of Utopia that is simply not the case...ever. No matter what you may think when you meet your hosts, as charming and engaged as they may be, to varying levels they are contemplating slitting their wrists or counting down the days to the end of the season. It is a lot of work and a lot of your time, actually all of your time. Have no illusions, it is an all in kind of job. And forget money as a thing you should be used to. We made all kinds of money during the season and than for entertainment would watch the oil tank level go down in the winter wondering if it would make it another week before a delivery was needed.
I and I alone (haha) had no illusions about the way things would go. I know the hospitality business so I was not expecting to have every, or any, weekend off during the season. For that fact, any days off. I generally worked from 6:00 in the AM until 11:00 or 12:00, everyday. I won't bore you with the routine but I will share some stories. And despite all that and so many other things I loved doing it for a few years. I was the boss and I made the decisions with regards to the restaurant, I enjoyed meeting people, most of them, and I felt like I was part of something important. My kids were raised there for the first few years of their lives, we had fun while we worked hard regardless of what was to come, there was general happiness. And stories....
The time that the racist peanut farmer came to town is an early experience that still makes me shudder. This giant of a man had arrived in the middle of the typical two week heat spell during the 1996 Atlanta Olympics. He was all bling decked out in gold rings, chains and watches and not an ounce of humility. Sitting in my parlour watching the lone TV we had he would tell me about how he had to get out of Georgia because the heat, the games and all the black people.......uhm, yes, he said that. OK then, look at the time, gotta go.
Or perhaps when the smuggest person ever came to the Inn and was put out be the fact that he wouldn't be getting a full hot breakfast the next morning as we would be out of town for the day for a family event. Certainly there would be a breakfast, a very nice continental that Scott was prepared to take care of for me. Not a word of a lie, his name was Finkelstien and he acted like a Finkelstien, that absurd annoying kid that couldn't take a hint and leave, except now he's a somewhat successful lawyer who not only hasn't learned how not to be annoying but has taken on an air of superiority that comes from having some money in the bank. I apologised profusely to Scott before and after.
The recently wedded older gentlemen that felt it was ok to call me out in the dining room asking me about the doughy risotto he had ordered. I'm certain he has never heard of a risotto before and why he didn't order the well done steak is beyond me, but seconds after getting praise for my risotto from a loyal guest, this clown embarrasses me, himself and the table with his boorishness.
The quintessential Hamptons old money elderly gentleman that arrived on my doorstep at 10:30 at night. White perfectly pressed pants and a sailors cap, he introduced himself as Cappy. He was such a nice fellow and totally lost track of time while driving in from Yarmouth. I knew there wasn't a room to be had from Lunenburg to Halifax, it was crazy busy but there I was on the phone for an hour until I found him a place two hours away in Truro...man I hope he made it.
The wonderful couple from the Magdalen Islands that rode in on their motorcycle and ended up staying three nights with us. They appreciated la dolce vita as much as anyone I have ever known. Good food, good wine and friends to converse with...what more could you want. They came back year after year and a friendship grew out of our times together. I would make him my white chocolate creme brûlée for breakfast and he would bring me stinky unpasteurised artisan cheese from the Eastern Townships...I loved this guy and his wife. And recently I managed to find them again and reconnect, thanks Google.
The nature of the business provided for an endless amount of these kinds of experiences. I've met some truly wonderful people, a few that were totally repugnant and everything in between. The characters that have walked through that part of my life are the basis for so many stories and anecdotes, a wonderful cacophony of highs and lows, laughs and tears that will continue to be shared for years to come. Indulge me if I repeat myself from time to time OK.
Ciao
D
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