Welcome to the Maison Aris

      There was a mile-long queue waiting to be seated at the Maison Aris, my new restaurant. Only a week old, the Maison Aris buzzed with life, good food and a pleasant, friendly ambiance. The Maison Aris caters to hungry diners who want a taste of international cuisine.

    The Maison Aris was a life-long dream and ambition of mine to open up a quaint little restaurant in the middle of town where I, as a head chef, could flex my culinary muscles (excuse the pun) and feed hungry people in a nice, romantic atmosphere....and keep them coming for more.

    I chose a lovely building for my restaurant in the middle of this busy town. The building was sandwiched between a Waitrose Supermarket and Borders, over-looking a large field. The building’s exterior was made of white stones with large bay windows and a thatched roof.

   On opening day, we held a formal ceremony. My husband stood with a tray of butter cookies in the shape of our restaurant decorated with royal icing. The cookies bore the name of our restaurant on the front and our logo: "A Cozy little place to eat" on the other side. My husband handed the cookies to our first customers.

    Pierre, our Maitre D, escorted our first customers to their tables. I remember with clarity what my first order was—Toad-in-the-hole with mashed potatoes and a side order of peas. For dessert that evening I served Spotted dick with homemade custard, golden sponge pudding with crème anglaise, vanilla ice-cream served with butter cookies and plenty of Jelly with mounds of whip cream to make the children happy.


   A top-notch food critic from The Oxford Times, sat by himself near the window in one corner of our restaurant, sipping a cup of coffee, scribbling in a notebook; occasionally looking around the room with two enormous emerald eyes, scrutinizing everyone and everything about the place. I nervously stood behind the kitchen door.

“What if he doesn’t like the food,” I whispered to my husband.
“Relax, Love,” my husband, who was peeling spuds by the sink said,
” I’m sure he will.
“But what if he doesn’t and he writes a nasty review in the Oxford Times?”
I whispered. “We’ll be ruined, then!”
“Oh, stop worrying, woman! We’ll be fine. You are a great cook!”

   On my last nerve I sent Gladys, my Spanish waitress over to his table. Gladys, a sweet lady from Mallorca, spoke in broken English but was a good worker. She was a friend of my husband’s friend who recommended her to us. Gladys was here on a student and work Visa. She was learning English at the University.
“Gladys, go wait on that man, please. Make sure that he is well-attended.”
“Que?” asked Gladys.
“Gladys, atiende a ese hombre y atiéndelo bien.” I instructed in perfect Spanish.
“Está bien, Señora, lo atenderé muy bien.” Gladys went to the food critique’s table, pad and pencil on hand.
“What would you like?” asked Gladys in broken English.
“An interpreter.” the man replied.
“No entiendo, Señor. Un momento, por favor.” Gladys whisked her Franklin electronic translator from her apron pocket. She typed E-N-T-E-R-P-R-E-T-A-T-O-R. The thing bleeped that there was no such word.
The man smirked, throwing his hands in the air. “Wonderful! No hablas ingles?”
“Yes, I learn in university, Si!” replied Gladys.
“Let me speak to your manager. Quiero hablar con tu jefe, por favor.” The man looked into Gladys’s inquisitive brown eyes.
Gladys waved towards me and summoned me with a well-manicured finger. I nervously went over to table number nine. The man, wearing a black Oscar de la Renta suit, looked up at me, greeting me with his green, hypnotic eyes.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“Madam, is this restaurant full of foreign waitresses?”
“No, Sir, Gladys is our International waitress. She’s new...she’s from Mallorca.
“Gladys, traillé al Señor otra taza de café, por favor—ahora!”
“Enseguida, Señora, Aris”
I turned towards the gentleman who looked down at his notebook. "She's a very good worker, by the way, Sir. She studies English at Brooks University."
"Well, how is she going to take my order, by subtitles?"

 "We have customers here from Spain or who speak the Spanish language and she can speak in their native tongue.  We also have a French-speaking waitress here at Maison Aris.  We like to make our diners feel at home. We accomodate every one and make every one's dining experience a pleasant one.  Please, enjoy a free complimentary coffee, Sir."

   Gladys excused herself and went behind the counter. She poured a cup of fresh brewed coffee and brought it to table number nine.
“I’ll get Steve to wait on you, Sir.” I said as I motioned to Steve who was waiting on a Scottish woman. He took the order and headed towards table nine.
“Yes, Mrs Aris?” Steve asked.
“Steve, can you take this gentleman’s order, please?” I instructed.
“With pleasure, Madame.” Steve replied.

    The gentleman ordered a serving of roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and a side order of fresh green beans and carrots. I watched from behind the kitchen door as the gentleman ate bite after bite, writing in his notebook. After a few bites, he nodded, turned around and scribbled in his notebook. For pudding he ordered the spotted dick.

   Working laboriously, I filled a serving dish with a bite-sized portion of the spotted dick, taking care to place the serving attractively on the serving dish. I carefully poured the hot crème anglaise over the pudding. Carefully I wiped the perimeters of the plate with the corner of a clean tea towel and handed it to Steve to serve the diner at table nine.

   When he finished, the food critic from The Oxford Times stood up and stumbled to the cashier’s counter to pay his cheque. Analyse, our cashier greeted him kindly and asked him if everything was to his liking. The tall gentleman smiled at Analyse and whispered, “It was a very fine dining experience.”

    A week later, as I sat in the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee, pouring through the Oxford Mail, my husband poked me on the back with a copy of The Oxford Times. He told me to turn to page thirty-one. There was an article about the Maison Aris by Daniel Arthur Johnson.

Maison Aris...

A lovely little Place to eat

Yesterday I dined at the Maison Aris, a new restaurant in town.  I was greeted with a friendly waitress who spoke Spanish.  I thought I needed an interpreter and was about to walk away unsatisfied, when the owner, Mrs Marylyn Aris, came over and apologized.  She explained that Gladys was a new waitress from Mallorca and offered me a free cup of coffee.  This told me two things:  1, that the Maison Aris is an equal opportunity employer and 2, that the owners will bend over backwards to make sure the diners are well attended and walk away happy.

I ordered the roast beef with Yorkshire pudding which was served to me by Steve, a fine waiter with impeccable manners.  The beef was cooked to perfection.  It was swimming in a sea of a jus.  Every morsel was exquisite, making my mouth water for more.  The Yorkshire puddings were light as air but were two huge mountains of golden perfection.  The roasted potatoes were crisp on the outside and soft in the middle....just as any roasted potatoes should be.

But the piece of resistance was the Spotted Dick.  It was heavenly.  I was presented with a moist and tender bite-sized serving of sponge with loads of sultanas and raisins soaked in brandy.  The dish was served with homemade crème analgise which, in my opinion, was the best crème anglaise I’ve ever tasted.  The atmosphere was very friendly.    Every diner seemed to be enjoying themselves.  On a scale of one to ten I’d give Maison Aris a nine.

                         ~Daniel Arthur Johnson