LE PATRON mange ici. Four words that encapsulate the very essence of any decent restaurant and proof, if proof be needed, of the eternal importance of the ever-present restaurateur. Because in a world where corporately faceless groups become ever more dominant, a handshake, kiss or quiet word from a muchloved proprietor is still an essential part of any decent lunch. Not only the face of their restaurants, but the heart of them, too.
Growing up, restaurateurs were the very centre of their world. The ebullient Domenico ‘Mimmo’ Mattera at Mimmo D’Ischia in Pimlico, his shirt unbuttoned to the navel, a gold medallion glinting atop a thick thatch of chest hair. Or the late, great Mark Birley at Mark’s Club or Harry’s Bar, eternally elegant, and meticulous in every way. Mara Berni, the gregarious, gossipy dining doyenne of San Lorenzo would come and perch at your table, whereas my uncle, Simon Parker Bowles, would not only greet each and every punter at Green’s, but lunch at booth number one every day—where he could keep a smoothly patrician eye over the entire room.
A great restaurant is never simply about the food. And a great restaurateur is about so much more than simply greeting the punters, then getting stuck into a serious lunch. The best combine charm, diplomacy, business nous and good old-fashioned hard work. They must earn the respect of their team, rather than attempt to impose it. Although sympathetic to the needs of their staff, they are still very much the boss.
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