I got read my pedigree tonite by a customer, who'd taken umbrage at the fact we charge corkage in the restaurant. When I tried to explain to him our rationale for doing so, all I achieved was to bring forth a renewed and envigoured cascade of accusations about my mercenary bend.
So as I wandered back over to the house, filling a little bruised and misunderstood, I decided to attempt once more to explain ( but this time to an unemotional computor screen!), why we charge corkage.

When we first opened the restaurant  we were only BYO - and in those days were BYO for wine and beer. That was back in the dark ages before the Sale of Liquor Act in 1989, that changed the whole licensing perspective dramatically.  Acquiring an on-license was going to incur a number of costs that we simply couldn't afford at that stage, so we sat tight. When we finally did take the step, I retained the BYO option, becos I believed it to be an important option to offer our established client base. To take something away that we had once allowed, didn't strike me as a smart business decision. I did however reassess my attitude to BYO beer, after one especially torrid christmas party season, when it dawned on me that our appeal to some of the naff groups we'd had to endure, was becos the BYO option allowed them  to trundle in with chillybins of liquer that they could then down in copious quantities. They weren't there for the food or ambience - they were there purely becos we offered a cheap drinking option, and in the process they made our lives and those of other customers miserable. So BYO beer got stopped and its a decision I've never regretted.
BYO wine continues becos I genuinely believe in it as an option for customers, and thats even in the face of repeated comments from our business advisors that I'm nuts. ( And ironically in the face of the fact that if we were to open a new business, distinct from Somerset, in todays world then we wouldn't have the BYO option). But Somerset comes with a legacy of learned behaviour and I simply don't want to alienate customers who matter to me, by prohibiting them from doing something they've taken for granted.

Two kinds of people BYO - those that have good cellars and who want to bring a particular bottle of wine with their meal; and then those who are price conscious and who figure it'll be cheaper for them to bring a bottle of wine, then to buy it from us. I may get a slight philosophical twitch from the second logic, but never strong enough to actually ban BYO. I never want to be percieved as being too elitist, and if we are more accessible to people becos of the BYO option, then I am quite comfortable with that. The only time I get distinctly twitchy is when people who have been seated and given menus, suddenly get up and head over to the local supermarket, after reading BYO on the menu. That particular type of meaness I can't quite get my head around - and it was that behaviour ( together with a side issue about wine glasses), that prompted me to introduce corkage about 3 years ago.
Our numbers continue to grow, so its introduction hasn't triggered an exodus of customers - in fact having flagged my decision to start charging it in a newsletter I got universally positive comments from good customers who understood my rationale. But every so often like tonite, someone decides that it means that I'm being unpleasantly sharp, forgetting in the process, that most restaurants in todays world  actively discourage BYO.

Why do they? Becos it represents lost income to them. A simple, irrefutable fact. Restaurant owners may couch charging corkage in terms of the cost of providing glasses and breakages and washing and etc - but thats essentially hogwash. If a customer brings a bottle of wine, then I have lost the opportunity to sell that table wine and that is a direct drop in income for that nite. My personal believe is that that drop in income is offset by the bums on seats argument - they may not be buying our wine but they're eating at the restaurant and keeping the numbers buoyant.
The maths is interesting - in the last 12 months we had 2419 bottles of BYO wine brought to the restaurant. Multiply that by an average price of a blttle of wine in a restaurant, and that is the income that I would otherwise have earned. Possibly. Becos possibly amongst those figures are people who wouldn't have come to the restaurant if BYO wasn't an option. But somehow I don't think that applies to very many.
Charging corkage is a nod in the direction of income that I would otherwise have earned, and I am comfortable with that ( I like it when things sit comfortably with me, metaphysically speaking!).
People come to Somerset with an expectation of certain aspects of quality in glassware, table linen and service, all of which come  at some considerable cost  to us as a business to provide. The hard cold reality is that we have to earn more than those things cost us, if we want to stay in business. And we'd rather like too! If people don't like what we charge, they have a large number of other options in todays eating out world, so they don't need to come back. Unfortunetly though - every so often, you get one, who feels the need to make his opinion heard and felt on his exit. I don't think that particular gentleman will be back, and I think I'm OK with that thought!

One of the realities of restaurant life in Tauranga ( and I suspect in most other towns in NZ), is that Saturday night tends to be the biggest night of the week, in terms of demands for tables.

Tonite we have been full - and have turned away a number of tables. I read with interest about restaurants overseas, who have 2 or sometimes 3 seatings in a night, and in that way do substantially more than their seating capacity. For us that approach just wouldn't work. People who book a table with us, expect it to be ready when they arrive, and they expect to have it for the duration of the time they want to sit there. There is the rare exception when we squeeze someone in, on the understanding that they will vacate the table that has been prebooked at a later time. So turning tables is not a major part of our business.

Saturday night remains the major nite out for the majority of NZers - and we will turn away a number of tables on  a Saturday -  even though we may have some quieter nites earlier in the week. Sometimes when people ring and we say we're full, but mention that we still have tables available on Sunday, then people will choose to book for that night - which is a bonus all round.

Tonight Rick hasn't been at the restaurant - he's been doing a private dinner party for 8 people, which was bid for at a charity function we're involved with each year for the CCS Society ( Crippled Childrens Society). He and Julie have gone off in the catering truck, leaving the rest of us to cope with a full restaurant. I've spent a reasonable part of the night in the kitchen, at the pass, just watching and talking about whats coming up and where its going, and reasurring the chefs that they're doing a great job. Tonight John is plating mains, with Craig acting as his 2IC, Jamie and Helen doing everything else that is required. Have just had a chat with Rick on the mobile to see how his night is going - and to tell him how awesomely I think the team are coping back here. Food is going out punctually and looking good. I would defie anyone in the restaurant to know that Rick wasn't in the kitchen cooking. And that is a reasurring thought. Reassurring because it means that the kitchen team can cope admireably in his absence. He's been very absent over the last 2 days becos his youngest daughter is racing in the Te A cycle tour over in the Waikato, and he has been there from first light, egging her on, and thrilling in her triumphs- so his presence in the restaurant kitchen has been meagre at best!! We are lucky to have the calibre of staff that we currently do, who care enough to make things carry on seamlessly. There are certain aspects of the business that only Rick and I can attend too - but it reassures me when I see staff rising to the occasion and handling demanding nights with no drama, and a sense  of caring.

I'm reading a fascinating book at the moment on the history of Chez Panisse, which I'll go into in more detail in a future blog - but one of the points I've grasped, is the need to keep revitalising yourself, to keep being stimulated. We've found that a little difficult to achieve, partly becos of our children growing up, and the daily committments they represent, but also just becos of the day to day stuff that happens at the restaurant. It always requires imput. Things always have to be ready when customers arrive - there is no switching off, just becos you may not happen to be in the mood. That is a luxery we've never been able to afford.

But nights like tonite reassure me, that in the future Rick and I will be able to have days off at a time, to go and explore the wine regions in NZ, or maybe even venture further afield, and the restaurant will be able to continue to operate.  When you have good people around you, that becomes a definite possiblilty, which is very cool.

We had a meeting this week, with a man whos keen to organise a tour to Mexico in 2008 - and while my initial reaction had been  that we wouldn't be able to fit it in - the more I listened to what we could incorporate in the tour, what we would see and learn, the more I decided that we really couldn't afford not to be part of it. And we can leave Somerset in our staffs capable hands for a couple of weeks. Ironically, having just had this lenghty discussion and getting all fired up about the idea ( as you do!), a book I'd ordered thru Amazon, about Alice Waters and her history at Chez Panisse duly arrived in the mail. If we do this tour next year, we will fly into San Francisco. If we fly into San Francisco we will HAVE to go to Chez Panisse, which has been one of our icons, from our earliest days. Now wouldn't that be an amazing experience?!

The tour is far from confirmed as yet - but if we get involved, then we will be aiming it at our customer base, and we will be extending our boundaries in yet another significant direction. That is a thought that has infinite appeal! Will keep you posted on developments...

Standing at the pass ( an old fashioned term. that refers essentially to the bench, where plates that are to be taken out to the restaurant, are finished and garnished), tonite, watching the team in operation, I decided that I'd come over with my camera one night, and take some photos to fill you in on what it looks like as they're pumping out food.

We are currently working on some kitchen alterations that we aim to do - and one of the concepts that we'd like to incorporate is the idea of a kitchen table - a table that can be booked especially for people to sit in the kitchen, and watch what actually happens during service. We had a lady at a cookshool a couple of months ago, who was visiting from London, and had been to the Connaughts kitchen table. Sounded amazing - but the bank of TV screens that recorded the action in the kitchen, might be a bit beyond our budget, so we may aim for a bit more realism, and rather than having them sit around the corner, may actually have them in amongst it all.  The language in the kitchen is pretty tame - I'm the one who will have to watch the expletives as I charge into the kitchen and shut the door behind me.( My mother always told me that swearwords showed a lack of vocabulary - but my vocabulary is reasonably extensive and I still feel a need, maybe somewhat too often, to let off steam with an aptly chosen expletive, althought I do try and do it out of earshot of anyone who could be offended. A table of paying customers in the kitchen means I'd have to rethink my approach to that kitchen door!!)

Think I've just heard the truck pull up outside, which means Rick and Julie are back - so will head over to help them unload, and listen to their tales of the evening. We have to get up very early in the morning to go drive over to Te Awamutu to watch the last day of Courteneys racing - so am hoping that tonite won't be too late!!

Good Friday - a slow start to the day, and I've brought my laptop out to the sun, to enjoy the autumnal warmth on my back. Rick and I have been down to feed the pigs and run the dogs - made a couple of coffees - and are luxeriating in the feeling of having nothing that we absolutely have to do. We've been flicking thru magazines and discussing a couple of issues, as is our wont at this time of the day,and all have that has led me to here to have a chat about my perception of restaurant critics.

By chance I've read a couple of reviews about Somerset over the last couple of days, one on the net and one in a magazine, both of which came as a surprise. I wasn't expecting the review, nor could I remember the nite that the respective reviewers were in the restaurant, but I could tell from the food they discussed that they had both been in, in the last 12 months. Both were positive to a degree, one in fact glowed about us, and the other was complimentary, but in that ever so snarky tone, where they make a compliment but then undermine it with a 'quite'  comment. We were'quite' good. To my mind, that kind of giving, but then taking back at the same time doesn't in effect constitute a compliment at all. What I was curious about in both reviews, was the lack of serious analysis about the food- they mentioned what they had to eat and said they enjoyed it, and that was it really. Their descriptions of the ambience varied -with one raving about us, and the other saying we hadn't quite got it right. Needless to say, I agree with the one that liked us, and wonder seriously about the taste of someone who feels that we would be improved if we dotted some toby jugs around! Really that comes down to a comparison between their taste and mine, becos the restaurant very much reflects my taste, and in designing it, we were acutely aware that we weren't going to please everyone, becos that is an impossible target.  I guess my problem, is that my hackles go up, when someone who thinks that toby jugs would be an improvement, then sits in judgement on my business. Possibly proving that I am a snob!

I remember back in the early days of magazines like Metro that started doing restaurant reviews, a certain amount of flack flying around about the fact that the people doing the reviews, were general journalists working for the magazine, not specialists in the food area. The editors response to those criticisms were that the journalists were representative of the general public who ate at restaurants, and their opinion was therefore as valid as anyone elses. He had a point to a degree, but then he lost me when his wife, reviewed a Tauranga restaurant ( I'm going back about 18 years here), and commented admireably on the fact, that they had booked a table for 4 on a Saturday night, and had turned up as a 10, without alerting the restaurant, and were so impressed with the way that the restaurant coped. That said 2 things to me: 1. She has no frigging idea about what is involved in allocating seats for customers, and by turning up with more than twice the number you have booked for, you are showing a marked degree of arrogance and ignorance. 2. a restaurant that could cope with that, could cope becos it wasn't full. If it had been full, it wouldn't have been able to seat them, and the implication in her review, was that that would have been a mark against them. That logic, I just couldn't follow.

I think the eating out world has changed a whole heap since then, and the NZ public is a lot more educated  and experienced about the process than maybe they once would have been, all of which is good for everyone.

In some of the large cities overseas, where the restaurant world is enormously competitive, a good review in a respected newspaper or magazine, can make a significant difference to a restaurants turnover. That unavoidable economic fact has seen the growth of the power of critics to almost obsene levels. It becomes obsene to me, becos it becomes a game, for the egos involved, and  has nothing really to do, with their declared purpose of educating the public. The English critics specialise in hyperbolic extreme language, that reveals alot about their command of the english language, and their desire to shock and titillate, but little else. One of the English magazines that I get, has taken to publishing snippets of 6 different reviewers published comments about the same restaurant. More often than not they are diametrically different to each other. One will love one aspect of the restaurant and the other will hate it, in equal measure - and which is right?

In America, the reviewers are treated as gods, and the top restaurants 'comp' them regularly ( ie. give them whatever they want for no charge)  hoping for a favourable review. The fantastic movie" Dinner Rush" with its brutal depiction of a ghastly  ( image focused, but otherwise ignorant) reviewer, and the sycophantic behaviour of the chef, parodied  how absurd it has  been allowed to become.

Tauranga is a little more of a backwater compared to New York and London, and we've managed to get thru the years reasonably unscathed by reviews. Nor have we ever felt the need to play the game, preferring to focus on our day in and day out customer base. Having blurbs about us in publications just has never felt like a motivating force - in part cos I don't feel comfortable with some of the stuff that goes on around that. We have customers that have eaten with us just about every week for the last 21 years. Those people matter to me in a way, that no reviewer, who sweeps in and out, on a one off visit, is ever going to come close to touching. But I guess declaring that, makes me seem a little arrogant too.  ( Arrogant AND a snob! I'm not doing well..) But our business has been built on that kind of contact and permanence, and that is what continues to matter to me the most.

I'm aware that we have been lucky with circumstances, in that we are in the middle of a significately growing area, and new customers come to our door, without us having to make a huge advertising effort to get them there. And longevitiy creates a critical mass, whereby we get talked about almost by default. We have become part of the local lexicon, therefore people get to hear about us. That has allowed us to be a little more removed from being part of the dirty business of needing to advertise our wares, and I'm conscious that we've been fortunate in that respect. But there was also a certain amount of conscious thought that went into that process, becos neither of us are comfortable with the notion of needing to tell people how wonderful we think we are. We tend to prefer to just get on with what we do, and hope that in doing so, that enough people enjoy what we do, to want to come back enough, to allow us to be a viable business.