Krimo's Washing Up...

My first job in catering was as a porter in a very busy Newcastle pizzeria, La Capanella in Shakespeare Street. It no longer exists. It was swallowed up in the early eighties by the Theatre Royal and now forms part of its backstage. So, come to think of it, I can claim that I have fulfilled one of my childhood ambitions: to be an actor. Backstage, washing dishes for over 300 people a day and crying over a sack of onions, wishing that I had stuck in at Sunderland Poly, drawing ships instead of slicing chips...


No, I am waffling, really...
Though it may be physically demanding, washing up is the one job in the kitchen where, while the chefs are stressed out their wits over spilt milk, over-cooked steaks, mushy vegetables or burnt toast, the porter will be the only cool person in the house.
I could be a million miles away from the scraping, scrubbing, rinsing and drying of my dishes. My apron, trouser fronts and sleeves would be wringing wet, but there I was soaking the sun on a faraway exotic beach or sailing the beautiful Indian Ocean.


Nowadays, at home I'd rather cook than wash up. So if you want me to rustle you up something for supper, promise you'll do the washing up. But be warned, I am a messy cook and I will use every single pot and pan you own. Just ask Karen.