Fond Farewells
An Open Love Letter to the Hathersage Social Club Family
*Note: If you’ve not read about our setting up and running ‘The Club’ then read this posting first about When we did the Club and come back to read this farewell article after!
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Without you, the club would have remained a sketchy charcoal fantasy. A fanciful notion to set up a welcoming foodie venue in the heart of the village we live and love. You have made this tangible. Your support, from our first wobbly baby steps to our more confident strides, has enabled the club to become part of the Valley’s fabric. This is not the kind of venture that you can do alone, however powerful your dream and drive. You may see the club as us, but we see the club as you, and you are many. All of you who are involved from the very start of our day to the end. This is our open love letter to you, with thanks and appreciation for all that you are and all that you do to make the club not just tick, but sing.
You, whose very early rising means our daily bread. You, whose husbandry, with all the toil, graft and heft that it takes, not only shapes our seasonal menu, but plays architect to the eye-popping landscapes that we’re fortunate to call our doorstep. You, who deliver regardless of whether the weather is playing ball or wreaking havoc, when we are still bleary-eyed, and you arrive cheery and whistling, already hours into your day.
We raise our morning toast to those who roast to chocolaty perfection the coffee beans for our espresso adrenaline kickstart to the day. Thanks be to the Busy Bees who swarm in with mops, buckets, sprays, polish, an industrial Hoover and endless elbow grease. They erase the traces of sticky-fingered cherubs, the now-dried mud from walking boots and the crumbs which have missed lips.
Cheers to the tanned and tattooed arms of the Bradfield Brewery drivers who hulk endless cases of Farmers Blonde down our yard to quench the summer thirst in the garden. A garden lovingly tended by the best handyman a club could ever wish for.
Votré Santé to our Gaillac vignerons and to the specialist wine hauliers who reverse their six-axle articulated down our drive with a whisker each side and without a single suck of air through teeth.
A big, brave wave to our fabulous Andy and the Robin Hood’s Bay lobster fishermen who set and collect the pots despite the swell.
Braise be to Mr Bowyer and Jez for their artisan butchery and dry-ageing wizardry, and to Danny for delivery with a 100% guaranteed smile.
And huge, huge love to our kitchen crew who walk, run, cycle and train to blanch and butterfly, clarify, confit, cure, dice, deglaze and flambé. Working in searing heat, under pressure and at unsociable hours, with not just resilience, but passion and humour. You care as much as we do that every plate is as perfect as it can be. You generously bring your ideas to the table, your recipes to the menu, and happily share your skills with each other.
Our devotion to our front-of-house team, all of whom start their club life as kitchen porters, a job held in huge respect at the club. Without you, the club would grind to a halt, with no clean plates and cutlery. Nothing could be cooked without you scrubbing the pots, sometimes the size of planters. You are the heart, invisible but vital, at the centre and at the beginning and the end of every service. You arrived just tall enough to reach the sink, and sometimes only with the confidence to respond to the banter in monosyllables. But you all graduate having found your swagger, holding your own, and knowing what an important role each part plays in the whole. From kitchen porter to barista, bar team or waiting-on. You are incredible, and we are proud of every one of you and, most importantly, how you are with each other. We will miss how young you keep us and how much you help us enjoy every day.
And now it’s 10 am and the gate is open and in you come. You, our customers, our greatest ambassadors. The friends and family of the club. You who have traded allotment abundance, with zero food miles, for club credit, converting berries to brunches. You who just bring yourselves and find a quiet corner. You, who come week in and week out for your regular coffee mornings. The lycra-clad cyclists who arrive en masse for flat whites and waffles and who happily lounge on blankets on the lawn if all tables and seats are taken. The post-celebratory groups who stumble in for a morning hangover cure, washed down with a hair-of-the-dog tipple, and who leave either revived or heading for the sofa. The family brunchers, the long-lazy lunchers, the youngsters who head to the snug. Those who have shared their tables, their menu recommendations, their local knowledge, who have brought the sense of community and welcome to those who are just passing through. You who have made sense of the ‘social’ in the club’s name. You who have turned the everyday into a get-together, a reception and, on occasion, a positive Jamboree.
And now for the nights and you, yes, you, the third-date farmers and our favourite octogenarians who share their love stories. You, who have booked an evening table pretty much every week for six years. You, who have chosen to hire the whole club for your special celebration. You, who have dressed in your best, or dressed on theme, or raided our dressing-up box. To all you who have gathered to celebrate good news and new jobs and passed exams, and to those who have gathered to remember loved ones.
Yes, as the evening comes to an end and our time at the club is up, we remember all of you who used to come but are no longer with us. You made our memories, and they are and always will be very precious.
Our love to all of you.
