Chapter 25 #2
“This area is obviously the bar. Here we’ll have low tables and comfortable chairs, but we’re still in the process of fitting it out.
” He leads me to the right. “Obviously this is the main desk, where there’ll also be a cloakroom.
There are a few tables upstairs which are part of the restaurant, though we are considering making it a private space that people can hire out for small events.
There’s a lift in the corner as well. But this is the main part of the restaurant.
” He gestures with his hand to the right hand side of the U.
It’s a long space, and though empty at the moment, I can envision the tables and chairs.
What strikes me most is the view. There are large windows looking out on the courtyard, but on the other side are sets of glass doors which open the other way. I walk over and look out.
“That’s our polo field,” Gabriel says, sounding pleased.
“It’s huge,” I say with reverence. It’s a lot bigger than the one in Aspen.
“Nine football pitches,” Gabriel says with a smile, bringing me back to my first introduction to polo.
“Saying that is one thing, but seeing it is another,” I say looking left and right trying to take it all in. “In here would be a ringside seat.”
“Quite literally,” Gabriel explains. “This area just outside will be utilised on match days, and we’ll have tables out here too.” I remember the hospitality tent at Aspen and how people liked to be close to the action.
“Would you like to see the kitchen?” he offers.
“I’m very keen to see it,” I say, especially now I’ve seen the rest.
“The whole kitchen and pantry, as well as the bar storage is behind this central section. There are doors at this end and also right at the other end of the bar, so there’s no need to cross the main entrance,” he says as we walk towards the door at the end of the restaurant space.
I’d seen as much with the quick look of the plans I got, and it seems logical, which I like.
“On this side, the doors go straight into the kitchen, but not at the other end, which you’ll see. ”
He pushes open the door and I follow him into . . . an empty space.
“Oh,” I exclaim and turn as Gabriel laughs at my reaction.
“Not what you were expecting, huh?” he asks.
“Not really,” I say, turning a full three sixty in the space.
It’s tiled on the walls and floors like a kitchen, but apart from that there’s nothing here.
“I was expecting maybe a little more.” I was expecting a whole lot more, like a fully fitted kitchen.
Gabriel is still smiling as he leans back against the door frame and casually crosses his arms.
“Well, I don’t know the first thing about fitting out a commercial kitchen. I could have got a company to do it, but would it be right? I don’t know. I want a kitchen that suits the person who has to run it.”
I turn to look at him, my eyes widening.
“Are you talking about being able to create this? Myself?” I almost squeak at the possibilities as the excitement I felt before resurfaces.
“I am. You’d have a blank slate,” he says and then looks at his watch.
“In fact, I have a phone call to make. How about you have a look around and come up with a rough plan. Come back to my office in say, ten minutes, and tell me about it.” He doesn’t wait for an answer but pushes back through the doors and disappears.
I stare after him for a few seconds, my heart pounding.
It would take me a week or more to come up with a plan for this kitchen and he wants something in ten minutes?
It takes me a few deep breaths for the panic to subside and to realise he’s not expecting a detailed plan.
That this is actually just a test, part of the interview.
Be innovative under pressure. My already high regard for him goes up a few notches.
Okay, I can do this. I walk the room a couple of times, getting a feel for the exits and where would be the best positions to set everything up.
Refrigeration, ovens, hobs, preparation, pre-cooking and plating-up areas.
As I let my imagination take over, I can almost hear the chorus of “yes chef,” and I break into a wide grin.
I don’t have anything to sketch on as I left all my paper in Gabriel’s office, but I take a couple of photos of the space and commit my ideas to memory.
I’m back outside his office door and knocking on it at exactly the ten-minute mark.
He opens the door and invites me in.
“How did it go?” he asks.
“I have ideas but I didn’t have any paper, so do you mind if I take a few minutes to sketch them out?”
“Not at all. I’ll make us a drink if you want one.”
“Thanks,” I reply, already sitting and pulling a piece of paper towards me, starting to lay out my plans. I’m just about finished when he returns, and after a quick sip of coffee I go through it.
“What do you think?” I ask eventually. I think I’ve covered everything, from major appliances to staff movement, even taking into account using the other door.
“Obviously this is just a rough plan,” I explain.
The adrenaline is still pumping through my veins at the task, not just the speed, but actually planning out a kitchen.
I wouldn’t even have been able to do that for myself if I’d bought an existing place, which had been my plan.
Gabriel takes a long drink, taking his time as my heart rate begins to return to normal.
“I told you I don’t know the first things about kitchens.
This exercise wasn’t about the plan, it was about how you approached it.
You were back on time, you were alright asking for time to get your ideas down.
You’ve thought through everything logically, explained it well, and showed enthusiasm.
I think it went well. What do you think? ”
I take a deep breath, pleased with his assessment but knowing I’m still in an interview for a job, which I’d very much like to have. That he turns my own question back to me shows he values opinions other than his own, which I like. It’s no wonder Andrés says he enjoys working for him.
“I think, given the timing, I did well too. Though I can already think of one or two improvements,” I say making a few adjustments to the plan, and Gabriel laughs.
“Do you have any more questions?” Gabriel asks, and I take the opportunity to ask about the timescales for opening, and the budget for fitting out the kitchen.
Whether the bar manager and centre manager are already hired.
The last two he replies, not yet, but the bar manager interviews are next week and he has someone in mind for centre manager.
“What is phase three?” The empty space on the plan intrigued me.
“The centre with the restaurant, bar, and polo field is phase one. Phase two will be a show-jumping area, which will be at the end of the restaurant building—again, so there’ll be ringside opportunities.
Phase three, which you saw at the end of the offices, is for a spa, health, and sports physiotherapy centre.
But we’re a few years off any of those yet. Is there anything else?”
“Do you have any problems with your staff being in a relationship?” I cross my fingers under the table and catch his wry smile as he answers.
“Not at all. But of course I expect that it doesn’t affect their jobs and that they’re able to behave professionally,” he replies, which is fair and to be expected. When I don’t have any further questions, he thanks me. I’m about to leave but he waves me to sit down again.
“One thing you’ll learn is that once I’ve made up my mind, I act. I don’t need to think any longer about this. I’d like to offer you the job.”
“Seriously?” I gasp, clutching my chest with one hand, trying to suck air back into my lungs. I thought I might have a chance but wouldn’t hear anything for a while.
“I would never joke about this, Simon. You’ve shown me that you’re experienced, capable, and enthusiastic. I think you’ll be an asset to the team.
“Thank you, I’d love the job.” I don’t need to think any more about it either.
“Then that’s great. I’ll have a contract made up for you.
” We talk a little more about terms and pay and even accommodation, when Gabriel mentions that use of one of the houses is included if needed.
I’ve been splitting my time between my aunt’s house and Andrés—well, mostly staying with Andrés.
It doesn’t make sense to live two doors away, but that’s a conversation I need to have with him.
Right after I tell him about the job. A thought occurs to me.
“I need to ask, did Andrés say anything to you about me and the job?” I know I asked him not to, but still. Gabriel frowns a little.
“He’s never mentioned it. I admit I was pleased when I saw you’d applied. I hoped it would be something you were interested in. Did you not want to stay in Aspen?”
“That was never my plan, it was just a means for moving back here.”
“Yes, the catering manager over there said she was sorry you left. She said that if you were still there she might not have given you such a good reference so you wouldn’t leave. I understand she offered you the head chef’s job but you turned it down.
“I did, because my home is here,” I say, feeling a deep sense of gratitude that Andrés did as I wished.
It’s important to me that I got the job on my own merits, and him respecting that is a large part of the deep love I have for him.
In fact, he’s never pressured me into making a decision.
More than just my home is here, my heart is too.
We talk for a few more minutes, agreeing on a start date for a week after I’ve gotten the contract through. My first job will be properly designing the kitchen and I can’t wait to get started.
As soon as I get back in the car, shutting the door against the cold, I take out my phone. I want to tell Andrés straight away.
Simon: Where are you? I have some news and it can’t wait.
A few seconds later my phone beeps.
Andrés: In the barn. Is it good news?
Simon: The best.