Diario - Entry 1

I'm finally opening a restaurant and this is its journal. Raw, real, the whole story. Come along for the ride.

109 Columbia Rd

We finally got the keys on the 3rd of October. It took three months of negotiations before we signed the lease and the site was “ours”. I gave up hope a good few times, convinced myself in the dead of night that this restaurant wasn’t going to get off the ground, I’d be back working for someone else soon enough and my dream would be a puddle on the floor. But Tiella Trattoria & Bar is happening. 109 Columbia Rd, E27RL.

I’ve been in restaurants since I was eight and I’m finally going to have my own. The day after we got the keys, Ry and I went to the site to take a photo. The next day I was flying to see nonna in New Jersey and I’d be away for a couple of weeks while construction started. Who’s Ry, you ask? He’s basically family. We’ve known each other since I was ten, our sisters were close friends growing up, our dads playing music together. At the start of the year while I was working on another project, it was Ry who came across 109 Columbia Road. “I saw it and immediately thought of you” he said back in February over roast chicken and a magnum of Chardonnay. “I tried to think of what else could go there, but the site is Tiella”.

Ry & I (photography by @charliemckay)

In the following months we fell in love with it but had to end up letting it go. The premium was out of budget and the timings didn’t work. But that’s the saying, right? If it comes back, it’s meant to be - fated in a way. The first time I saw it, walking up the road, I said out loud “that’s my restaurant”. Then the first time I stepped inside, it hit me dead in the face. So palpable that I’d be a complete fool to ignore it. It was almost a physical sensation - this is the place. On our early site visits, I’d walk around the space, seemingly already knowing its nooks and crannies. From a corner of the dining room, I could’ve sworn it looked like my parent’s restaurant. Like I’d been here before.

I know the fear is coming, but it hasn’t settled in quite yet. Through the endless discussions, daydreams and planning, it’s excitement that’s percolating instead. My headaches are back though, similar to the ones I’d get after a busy service where I hadn’t drunk enough water. The day I got back from New Jersey I went straight there, the work had already begun and I was itching to see it. So far I’ve conducted five job interviews, we’ve ironed out the building plans, searched for bathroom tiles, brainstormed crockery and glassware, spoken at length with suppliers and cleared decades upon decades of stuff from the building. I feel bad that I’m not doing the physical heavy lifting. There’s a persistent feeling that I’m never doing enough. I suppose it’s natural for this type of project and I need to put a muzzle on that voice in my head. I have no time for you babes, I’m busy! Someone told me a while ago that when you move into the role of chef patronne, you’re almost becoming a creative director. Everything is your domain and most certainly your problem.

When we got word it was happening. Wet the baby’s head etc!

But I’m so grateful I’m not alone in this. Last year when Tiella was at The Compton Arms, I received seven offers of investment and partnership. On paper, it looked like I was a fool to turn them all down. I have no money to my name. I live in a flat, with no assets, and debt from my student loan. Time to try and get a toe on the ladder, otherwise I’ll turn 40 and still be flatting, living week to week, the voice in the head screamed at me. But I wasn’t willing to hand over my baby to just anyone. Tiella isn’t a restaurant “concept”. It’s not born from market research and an observation of trends. Tiella is an extension of my home, of my soul and identity. The recipes come from several generations of my family and we look after you like you’re one of us. It’s personal. So I kept listening to my gut. Keep it close, it said. Joké Bakare came to eat at the pub not long before we closed, and I held onto her sage advice: “you need a business partner”. Don’t try to do it all yourself. So we’re working with a friend of ours on investment. But that’s a whole story for another day.

You read it, hear it, see it everywhere. Restaurants are doomed. This looming recession is apparently only going to make things worse, but there isn’t anything else I can really ‘do’. I can’t sit in my house and develop recipes just to turn them into a snappy video, ideal for the algorithm and momentary consumption. Play to your strengths. So despite my better judgement, it’s time to carry on what my mum and dad started in their trattoria.

For now, we plan, clear out and put one foot in front of the other. Trust the instinct and get to know Columbia Road. Get to know the building. On my first proper day on site, with the kitchen wall already knocked out, the new stairs built, all the junk removed, paint stripped, bricks exposed and wood sanded back, a baby was fed at a table in the middle of it all. Our first guests in a way and a very good omen if you ask me. That day I also found a sign in the midst of the rubble of the downstairs office. “Céad Míle Fáilte”, a hundred thousand welcomes in Gaelic. Another great omen, undoubtedly. Until next week xx

A very good sign, she’ll live behind the bar