Out of the Firing Line ... Into the Foyer by Bruce Copp

Out of the Firing Line ... Into the Foyer by Bruce Copp

Author:Bruce Copp
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780750965460
Publisher: The History Press
Published: 2015-05-14T16:00:00+00:00


Elizabeth David

As well as departing Eardley Crescent, I also left the Players’ in the same year. As much as I loved working under the arches at Villiers Street, I realised it was time for a change. I had always wanted to run my own restaurant, and even in those days I possessed little glimmers of ambition.

I was offered such an opportunity following a business proposal from a psychiatrist, and I later discovered I should indeed have had my head examined to have considered his suggestion. Hilary James, a shrink at St George’s hospital situated in Hyde Park Corner, and a regular customer at the Players’, approached me about opening a French-style bistro. He rather admired my work, and he came to me one day and said, ‘I’m going to open a restaurant in Elizabeth Street, off Eton Square in Belgravia. Would you be interested in running it for me?’

Le Matelot (the sailor) was actually the first really proper French-style bistro in London, and before long we were sensationally successful. I had built up a reputation and following at the Players’, and we were soon filling the place with enthusiastic diners. Booking a table was a prerequisite if you wanted to be sure of getting in, and there was always a queue.

It was very hard work, but the restaurant was very successful as I made sure that all the produce was top quality. I used to walk to Soho to buy ingredients at Berwick Street Market. One day I was carrying heavy bags full of fruit and vegetables and trying to negotiate the streets, which were chock full of tourists who had come to the capital to see Queen Elizabeth’s coronation festivities and decorations. It was just impossible to make progress and, struggling with all the produce, I thought I would just have a rest. It was near St James’s Park, and I finally found a bench on which to sit down. As I stretched out and carefully placed the bags of shopping near my feet, I looked up and saw the street sign, which read ‘Old Queen Street’. I chuckled loudly and thought ‘how perfect!’

Hilary and I got on quite well initially, but once the restaurant was up and running I soon discovered a number of things that I wasn’t happy about. Dr James was wont to pick up young men in Piccadilly, and he would sometimes bring them to the restaurant and invariably expect me to find them jobs in the kitchen. One morning, an unemployed Welsh boy, who Hilary had slept with the previous night, arrived at the restaurant. Hilary had felt sympathy for this poor boy and had directed him to Le Matelot. He was a nice young man, so I thought I’d give him a chance. I had Coquille St Jacques on the menu, so I said to him, ‘You see that pile of scallops over there on the table? Well, I want you to slice them like this.’ I showed him what to do and continued, ‘Then just place them on that platter.



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