Faces that stand out: Miss Greta

Miss Greta. So remote and yet so outgoing. Such a wonderful laugh when she laughed. She will always be a mystery to me.

Guest 3

Is she really a guest? I look over at her, in the lobby of the hotel, evening after evening. She always has meetings here. Maybe her company puts up some of their personnel with us on a regular basis. I should make a point of checking this with bookings.

Her dress sense is stunning. Black for the most part. Usually draped to suit her hourglass shape. I cannot help but notice her as she strides in through the revolving door on her coloured pumps. I don't know her name. She orders the same drink from the waiters in the lobby bar. A crisp white Chardonnay. Never touches the bar nuts, even though they are very good. A hint of rosemary to them. I suppose that she is wary because of the urban legends about bar nuts. But we always discard them after they have been served.

She waits patiently. Her contact, usually male, turns up, although sometimes she meets up with women. They usually have an intense discussion. Business-like, but there is more to it, I can feel it. I never have the opportunity to overhear them. Then they usually leave. I keep on reminding myself to see where they have gone. Out for the night? Or maybe I am ignoring the fact that they never leave at all?

2. The good night porter should be: invisible

We are good at managing what you don't see. But we are also very good at remaining unseen.

Tell me, when you walk past me, and you acknowledge my good evening, do you actually know what I look like? Who am I? What do I wear? Am I a woman or a man? Am I bald maybe, or is my mane pinned back in a tight bun? Do I have blue eyes? Do I speak with an accent?

I am sure that you are unable to answer any of these questions.

Likewise I know that you have no idea what makes me tick. Nor should you because it is none of your business. Occasionally I will lift a tip of the veil, allowing you a glimpse into the world that is mine. A world that brightens up at night, and that is dull in the harsh daylight.

Mine is a world of disappearance.

Recommendations: excursion to Cadzand/Pure C

When guests ask me for recommendations about excursions, I am always hesitant to give them any. But recently a guest asked me about a day-trip to the seaside. I hesitated to share my favourite resort with a guest. But she was nice, so I did.

Cadzand is easy-going, friendly and best of all, lacks the Atlantic Wall that typefies long stretches of the Belgian coastline. The few hotels that have been built there stand out like ridiculous lighthouses in various colours. Behind the dunes lies a tiny village, Cadzand-Bad. A few tourist shops, a rather good Italian ice-cream parlour and since mid-March, an excellent brasserie, Puur C.

The excellent Dutch chef, Sergio Herman, of Oud-Sluis, recently opened this beautiful brasserie in an otherwise unassuming and dumpy-looking hotel. I suppose that appearances can deceive. Herman prefers to work with home-grown Zeeland produce and is ranked among the best chefs worldwide. His restaurant, Oud-Sluis, a few villages into Holland, is legendary. Bookings are hard to obtain, both in the brasserie and in the restaurant. I wonder if he serves his risotto with zeekraal at Pure C.

Unfortunately I had to tell our guest that she would be unable to eat at Pure C given that it was fully booked until late September. However, she happily booked a table for October and will return to stay with us on that occasion. Proof that our service is still the best. Meanwhile, our guest enjoyed a leisurely day sunbathing in the dunes, looking for sea beans in the sand, and she also took a stroll by the restaurant which, she told me, looks fabulous.

All that remains is to count down the days until I will be able to dine there myself.

http://www.pure-c.nl

Restaurant fare 2

There is a dish that our restaurant does exceedingly well: the horseshoe-shaped gammon (ham) steak with a thin layer of fat which packs a maximum of flavour. I grew up with this dish, completely forgot about and then was reintroduced to it. There are various ways of preparing it but the traditional preparation with pineapple and an egg is still my favourite.

The saltiness of the smoked gammon is perfectly offset by the syrupy sweetness of the pineapple ring, which is caramelized in brown sugar. And finally, one fried free range egg, its yolk oozing thickly as you cut into it.

So easy to cook, so hard to get wrong and so perfect as a nourishing meal to carry you through the night.

Try it, I'm sure you will enjoy it too. It's on our menu.

Faces that stand out 2: Mr Peter

What a dashing WASP he is, even though he looks like he may have stepped out of an early GAP ad.

Guest 2

How pathetic this man is. Every morning I see him take the elevator up to the gym, where he spends at least an hour, like a hamster in its wheel, on the treadmill, until his personal trainer arrives. He has all the right clothes, the little gadgets, the sensors, the iPhone, the cool headphones. He is staying with us for a while until he finds a home.

When his trainer arrives, it's all he can do not to fall over himself with excitement. He eyes the man's pecs (impressive, it must be said), which strain his shirt across his chest, with interest. When the trainer turns around to grab one of his many implements, our little guest's eyes dart to his buttocks. They chat aimlessly about all the women that they have ogled in the past days, and the women with whom they scored.

Is it all about the body? Is our guest aspiring to achieve the same buttocks, the same pecs? Or is there more to it? Would it be a case of 'hello boys' in the shower room?

Faces that stand out 1: Ms. Charlotte

It's that voice. Gets me every time. The smooth purr and that lovely accent, even in French.

1. The good night porter should be: discreet, unassuming...

The demands placed upon us night porters are rigorous. We are expected to be courteous, polite at all times, know everything without letting on that we do, be able to make gentle conversation at all times and be generally invisible.

I move quietly through the hotel's corridors, padding past the doors behind which life continues, and in some cases, also stops. We've had the odd death here and there. Nothing major and it has always been handled with the discretion that has become our trademark. The body is ferried out through the kitchen into the hearse waiting by the back door.

My job is to tend to my guests' needs: is it wine you want, or a young gigolo? Maybe you are looking for a body to keep your bed warm at night? What do I know? It's up to you to tell me what you really, really want... All I do is listen. And tend to my own needs.

Restaurant fare 1

When in doubt, leave it out. And tonight I did just that.

When asked to add vinegar in an otherwise decent recipe for carrots, I refused. Why mess around with the sweetness of carrots when you can enjoy it straight from the source?

So, in an effort to compensate for the autumnal weather of the last two weeks, I plumped for carrots with thyme and garlic as a side to traditional pork chops with apples and sage in combination with new potatoes. A pub meal almost, but delicious in all its simplicity. And more importantly the younger guests (there were two today) enjoyed it too.

On the subject of carrots, I am reminded that a few years ago there was not a purple carrot to be had in this country. The organic farm at which we shop at started touting them under the not so alluring name of 'oerwortelen' or primeval carrots. This tended to elicit an odd train of thought (decent and indecent, I will admit to that) in me, which usually involved neanderthal critters in fur dresses in caves. 'Nuff said. At any rate, carrots now come in a whole range of colours which are available all around.

If you must try your hand at this o so complicated recipe, then brush and wash your carrots (clean them if the earth proves to be very reluctant about letting go), toss them in an oven dish, add thyme, pepper, salt and a good glugg of oil. Cover with foil and bung the dish in the oven. Wait a whole 30 minutes (oh, the anticipation of it all) and then uncover. At this point I always toss in some cane sugar and then wait another 10 minutes as the carrots patiently bake away.

Or how the aroma of an everyday vegetable can be enhanced by a few spices and herbs...

Guest 1

She sits, typing away furiously, at her laptop, the curtains swaying gently on the wind through the window which is ajar. A cigarette is firmly clamped between her lips. Her legs are akimbo, her shoulders slightly haunched. She takes care of her nails as is evidenced from the impeccable red polish. Her smooth skin belies her age. She is an assisted 35 although she would be even happier if you told her she was younger. You might call her a beauty.

She is travelling through. No husband, no children maybe. Earlier this evening she left, the little black dress hugging her curves tightly, visibly on the prowl. She returned alone although she would have liked to have had company.

I wonder if she has feelings. What is she typing? Her acknowledgement is curt and to the point. She obviously wants to be left alone.

Tomorrow evening I will bring a bottle of red wine and a single glass to her room once again. I will be met with the same tableau. Or will I?

Good evening Sir, Madam

I hope you had a wonderful evening. Here is your key. Please do not hesitate to call should you require anything. Good night.