How I wiped out a restaurant

Suddenly, it was about four months ago, we had an unexpected evening off. All children were staying at grandmothers or aunts and we were looking at a night with the two of us. Immediately, we got scared, because we had ran out of conversation material a long time ago. So we booked a movie starting at half past eight. Shall we go out for an early dinner? Great idea. We gathered around the laptop and went through restaurant review sites looking for a restaurant close to the movie theatre. A small never heard of restaurant called Ed’s kitchen, a Thai restaurant, popped up in the results several times, awarded with grades like 9,5, 9,8 and even one 10 (all out of ten, according to our aberrant metric system). Reviewers praised the quality of the food, especially compared to the price, the accessibility, the hospitality. According to the website, it was recommended to make reservations. My husband grabbed the phone, but no one answered. We started to get a little worried. What if the place was already fully booked? But one hour later, the telephone rang and we were really surprised to hear the a nice young man on the other end of the line. ‘I saw you called, what can I do for you?’ Now, that was service! Actually, the restaurant was fully booked, but he could cram a small table in, if we wouldn’t mind. Our expectations rose by the minute.

We arrived at seven o’clock at a small, plain looking restaurant. There were at most seven tables and every table was taken, except for a very small table close to the bar. A very open and friendly, Caucasian man welcomed us as if he had known us for his whole life. We ordered traditional Thai beer and studied on the menu, a piece of paper that had just come out of the printer. There were about 20 dishes on the menu, with prices around € 8,-. How cheap! Is this a snack bar? The place had an open kitchen and we were able to see a very petite Thai lady working like a Trojan. I ordered ‘fish in three flavours’, my husband choose the beef curry (his dish was expensive: € 10,-). 

Twenty minutes later our food arrived. And a few minutes after that, we entered heaven. We didn’t talk any more, we just ate. We both wanted to eat faster and faster and at the same time we didn’t want to run low on our meals, which was an extremely difficult standoff. As soon the bottom of our plates was in sight, we were overwhelmed by a feeling of disappointment. When the waiter arrived, we were licking our plates, ashamed, uncontrollably, completely helpless. Someone else made us do that, it was beyond ourselves. And when he asked: ‘Was everything all right?’ I’m afraid we gave him a retarded look. It was the most idiotic rhetorical question we had ever heard. It is that we had to catch the movies, otherwise I think we would have ordered another dish. 

When I paid the bill and my eyes glazed down the small saloon, I did a quick math and concluded: ‘I don’t understand how you can make a living out of this. Your prices are really too low.’ And then he told me how he met his wife in Thailand, how he brought her and mother over to The Netherlands, how the dishes are all authentic, prepared according to original Thai family recipes and how he thought the concept of his restaurant would eventually work out. He didn’t want to earn a lot of money, he just wanted to be happy. I insisted on my statement that he should really double his prices and that I would still think it was worth the deal. He replied: ‘Maybe once, but we are now fully booked every night and the clients are happy and that is why I do it.’ Needless to say that I left the restaurant with a very satisfied feeling and a lot of money unspent. And off course with the intention of coming back a lot of times.

Not so many weeks later, after mentioning the restaurant to a lot of people, when I wanted to take my children out to dinner, I went to the website to make reservations. There were a few new lines on the homepage: ‘As suggested we changed our concept. We hope to welcome you soon.’ It seemed directly addressed to me, and I felt a little honoured. That night, we were welcomed as old friends by the waiter. ‘Did you see that we changed our concept?’ he asked expectantly. ‘Yes I did, and how did it work out for you?’ I asked. ‘Well, I think it will take some time,’ he answered, showing me the nicest smile ever, which couldn’t conceal a hint of worry. It was already seven o’clock, and we were the first guests. When we left, two hours later – I had ordered the ‘fish in three flavours' again and although it hadn’t been as magical as the first time and I could resist to lick my plate it was still delightful- only one other table was taken. The bill was twice as high as the first time. ‘ Good for you,’ I said. ‘You really deserve to make a good living out of this place.’ ‘I know’ he said. ‘My wife is seven months pregnant and she works really hard in the kitchen. I hope we can afford to take some time off when the baby comes.’ 

Three weeks ago, on a Sunday evening, I didn’t feel like cooking and I suggested our family to go out the Thai. My suggestion was warmly received and we took off. As soon as we arrived, I realised I didn’t reserve a table for the five of us. Surprisingly, it hadn’t been necessary. We were the only guests. The printed menu contained less than ten items but thank god, the fish was still on it. Nevertheless, it took our friends more than an hour to serve dinner. I was hungry, shoved my fish in and forgot that once upon a time it brought me in heaven. My children compared the special Thai chicken wings with ‘chicken nuggets’ if the big M (Mam, why don’t we get a present?) and my husband stayed cranky that his beef curry had vanished from the menu.

Paying the bill, I asked Ed, as I knew him by now, if things had gotten better. ‘Well, it is hard. My wife is due in four weeks and we have a replacement chef, but that doesn’t work out fine. And the guests seem to have forgotten where we are.’ Ed looked a little nervous. ‘We will never forget you,’ I said firmly and I withstood the urge to hug him. In the car, back home, our clothes smelt awful. The eldest said: ‘We would have smelt the same way if we had put the fryer on at home’. 

Last week, I drove past the restaurant. On the window, there was a big sign. ‘For rent’. It hurt me like a knife. The fish in three flavours was blown away by sadness. The taste of remorse in three flavours.