Fred's newsletter 23.2.21

Le Nemrod today. Not much has changed.

Good morning,

It was June 1984, early morning, and I was seated in a brown Ford Granada next to my mum. I was 3 months shy of 14, and we were on our way to St Maure de Touraine, roughly 30 miles from home, to meet Mr Turmeau at Le Nemrod restaurant.

After a quick discussion I was told I could start as an apprentice in September but that I would begin a trial over the summer. Actually it was to be 2 years as a ‘pre-apprentice’, followed by 2 years as a trainee. 4 years in total.

The following week I was ready for action in the kitchen at 8am. There I was: proud in my whites, brand-new apron and chef’s hat, holding a couple of knifes my mum bought me. I was excited. Excited too because the following year I would only go to college every other week. Also excited because I would be making a franc or 2, meaning I could start saving for a moped - the idea of riding a moped at 14 was a real target for a French teen in the ‘80s.

Soon I realised that I had got myself into the hands of a bully. Actually into the hands of a family of bullies and I was hit hard by the reality of becoming an apprentice in a rural kitchen. I had to do everything quickly, and learn all aspects of the kitchen duties quickly. Things like feeding the hunting dogs and doing the washing up. There was no dishwasher on those days.

There were 2 of us in this boat. Thierry, the other young trainee, had started a year earlier so he was in charge of leading the way and showing me what to do.

Mr Turmeau was not friendly, or chatty, or helpful or supportive. He could stand beside us for a whole day without talking to us, other than giving us orders.

We had a bedroom upstairs next to the attic where the onions, garlic and shallots were stored. No hot water or a shower. We had to go downstairs to get hot water in a plastic tub to wash in the morning.

During my second week, Turmeau went to the farm on the Wednesday evening. It was explained to me that he would return late after getting drunk with the farmer. That meant that the following morning Thierry and I would have to deal with whatever Turmeau came back to the restaurant with. That week it was half a dozen of ducks and the same number of rabbits. That was my first time having to kill and prepare animals for use in the restaurant.

I cannot express what it felt like. I only remember having a duck between my legs, head in my left hand and a knife in my right hand, cutting open the top of the head, holding it and collecting the blood in a tub. Holding it there until there was no blood and no movement.

The rabbits were tied up by the back legs, on a hook. We had to hit them on the back of the head to put them to sleep before skinning them. Every Thursday we did this. Not just rabbit and duck - guinea fowl, turkeys and geese too.

As I am writing this, something else comes to mind: the wine. It was purchased in bulk and poured into bottles, labels glued on (the top neck label too). All the wine bottles would be washed and stored until needed; we were doing around 100 of bottles every month.

Afternoons were busy too. A few miles from the restaurant Turmeau had a garden, not a small garden, a fair-sized one where he grew green beans, potatoes, beetroots (that were conserved in sand in the cellar), haricot beans, courgettes, carrots and lots more including hundreds of salads.

We were taken there to help on summer evenings after service. I remember being told that vegetables were better picked when the sun was low. This was July. By then I had realised that I wouldn’t be joining the rest of my family on holiday as I would need to stay in St Maure de Touraine for most of the summer.

As hinted above, Turmeau was not only a keen hunter, but also a fishermen. I quickly learned how to prepare hare, pheasant, boar and other game, as well as river fish like zander and trout.

In late July, or after the first rain, we would venture into the fields to pick snails and would end up with tons of them. I mean so many that after we had cleaned and prepped them, there would be enough in the freezer to last for months.

The restaurant was what was called a ‘working people’s restaurant’ for lunch, serving people from all trades. It was a prix fixe menu with a choice of just 2 or 3 starters, 3 or 4 mains, plus desserts of the day. In those days the menu did include a quarter of a litre of wine with it.

That was in the worker’s restaurant. The main restaurant only served customers at the weekend, mainly for Sunday lunch. There was an à la carte and a table d’hote menu, but as there was hardly any trade in the evening we would eat around 6.30pm. The apprentices would do the cooking and we would all sit together, including the Turmeau family. Of course, the cleaning up was left to me and Thierry.

I ended up working there for just under 2 years, with more downs than ups. Then, after a few failed attempts, I successfully managed to get fired. This didn’t go down well at home.

A few months later I started another apprenticeship at La Rotisserie Tourangelle in Tours. A totally different experience. I got a moped and was home every night after work (or later, after work).

This week we have a few words from Walter Mowat. Walter is Slow Food UK’s Director for Scotland. I am very supportive of the Slow Food philosophy. In fact, the training of my youth that I write about above, and the way the restaurant was run, was as close to Slow Food's philosophy as you can get. If Le Nemrod was operating now, it would be shining example of everything Slow Food stands for. Apart from the boss, his wife and their two silly girls, my experience at Le Nemrod was excellent and positive. It taught me things I still use and remember today. It taught me about the seasons, it taught me to respect every ingredient from vegetable to animal. It showed me ways of sustainability and the no-waste policy. In other words, the basic knowledge of cooking (and cleaning!). Today I would probably slap Turmeau, and cuddle him, for all that he taught me.

Provenance, seasons, traceability, cooking, preserving, storing, buying, gardening, picking, serving. I could mention many more aspects of the job I learned over a short period. All things that are making a comeback today.

I’ll leave it there for now. I may share a few more stories in a future newsletter.

We have lots of classics on the menu this week, including a wee battle of French classics against Scotland. Bourguignon vs Venison, which will win this weekend? I have taken up so much space with my words that I’ve none left to go through the whole menu, so I’ll leave you to have a look by yourself (the link is below).

Thinking ahead, next week we’re expecting chickens from Grierson Organic, beef from The Shetlands and a few more wild rabbits. A quick visit to Newton Garden showed that I might even have to start picking few lamb’s lettuce, mizuna and mustard leaves to use in the salad.

A bientôt,

Fred