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Tag: Ronel Lehmann

  • News: Finito mentioned in House of Commons skills debate

    Finito World

     

    We are pleased to say that earlier this week, Finito and its CEO Ronel Lehmann were mentioned in the House of Commons during a debate around employability, work and skills. This is a proud moment.

    It also highlights the important work that the company is doing via its All-Party Parliamentary Group and its bursary scheme to improve social mobility in a country where opportunities are too often limited.

    To watch Siobhan Baillie MP’s excellent speech go here:

     

     

    To read Guy Opperman’s response go here:

    https://hansard.parliament.uk/Commons/2023-07-11/debates/A21FE67B-1D3B-495B-9908-3A8F99E646DB/IncreasingEmploymentTraining#contribution-BE468098-32FF-4FDA-B24D-C3E0A1D58892

    This is another landmark moment in the company’s history where the work we do to help young people is definitively highlighted. To learn more about the APPG and how you can be involved go to:

    http://appgfutureofemployability.org

     

     

  • Meraki: A Delightful Dining Experience

    Gift of the Gab, Meraki Review, Ronel Lehmann

     

    Planning to visit a restaurant is a bit like being on a conveyor belt. Firstly, you phone to make a reservation. Bubula, known for its middle eastern feasts doesn’t have a phone number for bookings. So, you then resort to sending an email, which results in an out of office reply and then you decide to take your chance for a walk-in table. It seems that everyone else did the same, and the next table was not going to be free for 90 minutes.

    We were patient but not as patient as the welcome and decided to continue up Great Titchfield Street to that famous trattoria, Sergio’s. Despite a warmer welcome than Bubula, they too were fully booked. And so, we stumbled into Meraki. Meraki is a name that indicates a gift of gab – the ability to persuade others effortlessly.

    The good news was that they had a table. The unwelcome news was that we had to endure being told that we had only ninety minutes to enjoy dinner. Then there was passport control. Our name and telephone number were requested so presumably they could capture all our details and market their restaurant to us in future. Or perhaps it was in case there was a fire in the kitchen, and they needed to be sure that we were accounted for during an exit.

     

    Seated at a table for two, the menus arrived. I dispensed with these, saying that the menu needed explaining to us: fortunately the waiter turned out to be more than proficient and courteous. I was still smarting from being cross-examined by reception. Tap water was provided, my guest had a cranberry juice, and I ordered an ice cold Keo, from Cyprus. I always like a light straw-coloured lager and this was no exception.

    The last time we booked a Greek restaurant in Camden, I booked Alexander The Great. It was during the meal I looked out the window to my left and saw the fluorescent sign. We had sat down in Andromeda which was directly opposite and found ourselves in the middle of the meal before noticing. I then had to telephone Alexander The Great from a Greek restaurant opposite to apologise that we were not going to make it. You will appreciate I did not want to look out of the window of Meraki in case border control was searching for me.

    It was time to order. I never like to dwell too much over the menus and don’t like drinking on an empty stomach. Quick choices were made including Aubergine Melitzanosalata, smoked aubergine. parsley, florina pepper; a bread basket containing pita, ladopita, focaccia, sourdough, olive; Mykonian Salad, tomato, ‘kritamo’, cucumber, olive, feta; Taramasalata, white cod roe emulsion, smoked herring caviar, bottarga; Tzatziki, Greek yogurt, garlic, mint, courgette; Hummus, Crispy chickpea, toasted buckwheat seed; before we drew breath. I myself don’t particularly like Taramasalata, however, this tasted unlike any that I have tried before.

    The waiter returned and after topping up our drinks, invited us to try the chicken and lamb kebabs. Two small skewers arrived for each, the chicken was so tender, beautifully marinated with basil and yoghurt. The lamb was served with florina pepper, hummus, parsley. We could have gone on with another round but saved some space for pudding.

    We shared a plate of Saragli, rolled baklava, caramelised nuts and vanilla ice cream.

    On the way out, I remarked to my guest whether we could remember the names of the twelve Greek Gods. They are of course, Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Hestia, Demeter, Hades, Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Athena, Hephaestus, Aphrodite and Ares.

    Meraki is right up there.

     

    Ronel Lehmann is Chief Executive of Finito Education

  • Waterfly on King Charles, Ronnie O’Sullivan and Stephen Hawking

    The Waterfly sees the reflection in the water. It takes note as the water shifts. Here’s the latest gossip from the education and employability sectors.

     

    Racking up the Royalties

     

    As we move towards the coronation of a new King, Waterfly hears that Finito’s CEO Ronel Lehmann has had the opportunity to meet His Majesty on multiple occasions when the current King was the Prince of Wales. The first meeting was facilitated by Lady Nourse, who enjoyed her superior position perhaps a little too much. “The first time that I met HRH The Prince of Wales was thanks to Lady Nourse who was chairing a charity event at a West End theatre,” Lehmann recalls. “We all had to be seated half an hour before Charles arrived. Lady Nourse took great pleasure in marching into the Royal box and immediately chastising us for not standing up quickly,” he recalls. It’s not recorded how Charles reacted to this: at least it didn’t involve a rogue pen.

     

    But the future King’s humour comes through in Lehmann’s recollections. After a lifetime of service, charity, and championing the environment, His Majesty took particular pride in another accomplishment of his when he and Camilla visited The Jewish Museum to mark its Camden Town expansion. Among the refreshments were Duchy Original Biscuits, which the then-Prince of Wales began production of in 1990. Now they are a Waitrose product, though to their credit the royalties still go to charity. At the museum’s grand opening, His Majesty was seen to relish picking up biscuits, placing them in his jacket pocket, and excitedly telling guests “these were mine!”

     

    Lehmann also recalls a meeting at the Platinum Jubilee celebrations, which he attended through an invitation from Marianne Fredericks CC. Lehmann and the future King spoke of his own long-standing association with Sylvia Darley OBE, who founded The Malcolm Sargent Cancer Fund for Children. “I told His Royal Highness that I was trying to get the Royal Albert Hall to honour Sir Malcolm on one of their stars located under the canopy of the building. These are dedicated to key players in the building’s history, from its opening in 1871 to the present day,” Lehmann says. “Most young people have no idea of his impact on classical music or Sir Malcolm’s importance to the survival of The Royal Albert Hall. I felt that I was beating a Royal path for common sense to prevail!” We feel another black spider memo coming on.

     

    Baised and Confused

     

    Waterfly hears that the world of snooker is a place where journalists experience a variety of welcomes. According to Finito staff writer Patrick Crowder, Australian champion Neil Robertson exuded quiet confidence and kindness, asking nearly as many questions about Crowder’s life during the interview as Crowder was asking him. Eventually the expats connected over the question of homesickness – and even swapped mobiles.

     

    But when Crowder approached Ronnie O’Sullivan after a match, the legend was initially closed off. O’Sullivan generally has little patience for the media, preferring to focus on his play. He asked which publication Crowder was writing for, and as he began to explain, O’Sullivan cut him off with, “I don’t give a f**k mate, how much time have we got?” But O’Sullivan warmed up when he picked up on Crowder’s Californian accent – an unusual nationality on the snooker circuit. Eventually the pair bonded over their shared love of scones and clotted cream from ‘Marksies’, which O’Sullivan was surprised Crowder had even heard of. From expletives to cream – the true trajectory of a Rocket.

     

    Our Mole in TV

     

    The author Tim Robinson recalls what it was like directing and producing Reading the Eighties for BBC2. He recalls: “Sue Townsend of Adrian Mole fame was perhaps the most amiable, although she couldn’t stand Beryl Reid who played Adrian’s grandmother in the TV adaptation. ‘She was a mad pain in the neck,’ said Sue, ‘who, unable to do a Sheffield accent, did an awful Brummie caricature and then tried to force the rest of the cast to imitate her.’ I confessed to her my terrible fear of aging and losing my looks, and she, who was close to death, replied, laughingly: ‘Because of my diabetes, I’m completely blind and can’t see you at all, but I’ll tell you how lovely you look if that helps.’

     

    Hawking his book

     

    Robinson, whose acclaimed new novel The Orphans of Hatham Hall is published by Northside Press, also had other fascinating encounters: “Stephen Hawking wasn’t noticeably more agile than Sue, but still manfully plugging A Brief History of Time which had sold in huge numbers – although, it has been scandalously suggested, a smaller percentage than usual ever reached the end. I was allowed only one unprepared question and as we were featuring ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’, asked him about Douglas Adams. For twenty minutes the camera ran while he dutifully programmed his gizmo, and I crossed and uncrossed my legs. But it was well worth the wait as finally everybody’s favourite household dalek began speaking: ‘I once met Douglas Adams in Los Angeles for lunch where he told me about working on scripts for Doctor Who.’ The silence that followed told me the anecdote was complete, so I jumped up, shouting out: ‘Wonderful, that’s simply wonderful!’ Still, it made it to the final cut.

     

    Lowering the Standard

     

    The management team at Stansted Airport aren’t the only ones struggling to find solid ground. A source close to Waterfly tells us of trouble at the Evening Standard. After two years of anticipation and preparation, staff at the Standard were finally ready to move into their new offices, only to find that the WiFi didn’t work. Apparently, staff were told that there was “an 80% chance of WiFi” during their first week in the new digs. On top of that, the Standard faces an £11,847,000 operating loss, and net liabilities totalling £28,998,000, so if you’re on the market for some pre-owned printing presses keep an eye out on Gumtree.

     

    Call a Doctor

     

    Russell T Davies was heard to be quite rude about MP Nadine Dorries over her appearance on Radio 4. “The woman is an idiot – a big f**king idiot. She’s a plain, complete, clearly idiotic woman,” Davies tells Waterfly. Speaking of his return to writing for the nation’s favourite time-travelling doctor, the Welsh screenwriter expressed concern about going back to the BBC, which he believes is coming under fire. “I think it’s under attack all the time. Every single day,” he tells us. His proposal to save the historic broadcast service? “Vote the government out, it’s simple as that. But we won’t, it’s not going to happen, so when your children are sitting watching cartoons it’s your fault for not voting them out.” Call the Paw Patrol.

     

     

  • Socca Bistro: Ronel Lehmann Reviews an Energetic Dining Experience

    Sock it to them: Ronel Lehmann Reviews Socca Bistro

     

    Our dinner was booked at Mark’s Club, but my host informed me that the establishment was closed for a private event. I am not a member of any club. Instead, he had selected Socca Bistro in Mayfair which had recently opened. As I entered the lobby from the street, I struggled to hand over my coat and umbrella amid the onslaught of other guests arriving at the same time. The cupboard which intended to house personal effects was totally unfit for purpose and inadequate for the number of diners. It is best not to arrive there with a coat or briefcase and the freezing temperatures outside dictated queuing in an open doorway.

     

    The main brasserie was a hive of activity, and I was led to the rear of the restaurant into a private area and a corner table. My host warmly greeted me. He was already drinking tap water and I followed suit. Breads were served, two kinds of focaccia and a type of sourdough. No olive oil or butter was provided. For a while we both ate our bread and drank water.

     

    I noticed that there was a speaker immediately above our heads. Regular readers will know that I hate having to battle trying to have a decent conversation when music is blaring. I did ask the waiter to reduce the sound levels. He kindly obliged and for a short while we could hear each other.

    However, it was too good to be true and the volume increased again, so much so, I had to request another waiter to do something about it. I apologised to my host for making a fuss, until I was told by a member of management that the music is the result of seeking to create ambience in the restaurant. I thought to myself, I was enjoying the atmosphere without needing the insane music. We elected not to move table away from the by now very loudspeaker.

     

    This was supposed to be an early supper. I looked at the menu. Nothing caught my fancy. In fact, everything was fancy. There was a bold notice stating ‘Please always inform your server of any allergies or intolerances before placing your order. Not all ingredients are listed on the menu, and we cannot guarantee the total absence of allergens’. I wondered whether they might show similar tolerance for noise.

     

    My eye finally rested on Provençal Beef Cheeks and Sand carrots.  I asked if it was served with mashed potato. As it wasn’t, I asked for a side of Dauphinoise Potatoes to help soak up the gravy of the beef, however there was a lot of added cream with the gratin. There was only one single solitary carrot resting on the top of the cheek or two cheeks.

     

    My host ordered Steak with Galician Fillet Steak with Maitre D’Hotel Butter and additional sauce which did eventually arrive after further reminder. He too ordered the Dauphinoise Potatoes. It was comfort food after a cold windswept and rainy day.

     

    Two glasses of the house red wine, topped up for a third time from the 2017 Chianti Colli Senesi, Riserva, Bichi Borghesi, Tuscany, Italy which perfectly accompanied to our main courses.

     

    We didn’t order a starter nor a dessert. I did look at the puddings. Once again, they seemed rather fanciful. This didn’t feel like an establishment to linger in, although the staff were clearly extremely attentive and keen that we partake in a digestive before leaving.

     

    The rigmarole of finding my coat and umbrella in the cupboard was endured by me alone as my host decided to take air in the street and then walk me to my car. As I drove home, I thought: “Wouldn’t it be easier to be a member of a club?” At least I could hear myself think about it.

     

  • Taj Hotels: Ronel Lehmann Reviews a Festive Afternoon Tea Experience

    Taj Hotels: Ronel Lehmann Reviews a Festive Afternoon Tea Experience

     

    ‘Tis the season of goodwill and sumptuous gift goody bags. In mine, following a Winter Wonders Christmas Party at Taj Hotels, there was an invitation to afternoon tea. This was to be no ordinary tea but a festive production of Baubles and Ballerinas!

     

    We arrived at Taj Hotels and began to take off our coats, until we were ushered to our seats which were specially reserved in the centre of the grand conservatory. My guest elected to keep on her coat as it was still cold, and the sleet and snow outside hadn’t fully melted. It was a pretty scene outside with the twinkling lights contrasting with the daylight fast turning to dusk.

    There were a few diners occupying other tables after late lunches. Our thoughts turned to tea. The place setting was beautifully embroidered and the napkin holder the size of a giant ring. After a pause, the waiter brought us the menu and offered us a glass a water. A few minutes later, we were invited to select our tea leaves, English breakfast and Earl Grey were the order of the day. Two pots arrived. I requested milk. We noticed that there were no teaspoons and elected not to make a fuss.

     

    It reminded me of Ted Gladdish, a former client and old friend of mine who used to collect teaspoons wherever he went. I didn’t know about his habit, until after he died. I visited his home to pay my respects to his fiancé only to find picture frames with teaspoons all over his walls. I recognised some from my own office and always wondered why we were running short. My guest surreptitiously stirred with her fork. No-one but me noticed.

     

     

    Taj Hotels provided us a selection of themed teas, including The Indian Jamsine, Festive Vegetarian and Festive Afternoon Tea. We decided not to be adventurous. The two tea stands arrived consecutively. I had gestured to my guest that we should only begin devouring once each item could be tasted in unison.

     

    The presentation was stunning, favourites included festive egg mayonnaise and mustard cress pinwheel; rosemary roasted beef roulade turnover; honey glazed turkey and cranberry sandwich; thyme roasted chicken mousse, open face pie and smoked salmon, cream cheese and caviar open sandwich.

     

    Suddenly there was a crescendo in the music which had morphed from Asian beat to The Nutcracker and two ballet dancers appeared En Pointe in pastel shades of blue. A few pirouettes later, we applauded. They were working while we were munching spiced mixed fruit scones with cranberry jam and clotted cream.

     

     

    After the entertainment, it seemed like a good moment to have a mini break before turning to the beautifully decorated and delicate patisseries, each one more tempting than the other. Santa’s parcel was a chocolate mousse, cherry with chocolate sponge. The pistachio roulade was made with Armagnac and milk chocolate crémeux. Gingerbread cheesecake hastily followed before the Christmas ornament, which was a strawberry bakewell tart and eggnog mousse. The final cake was a beautiful dark hot chocolate shaped, rocky road brownie with marshmallows and candies.

     

    Our waiter returned to enquire whether we would like a repeat cake stand. I politely declined and then remarked: you cannot be serious. Apparently other guests before us had requested further supplies.

     

    So there you have it, Tajness. Taj is legendary. They go out of their way to make you feel welcome. Everybody smiles. Service is important. They want you to remember the Taj experience. We really did.  On the way out, I had forgotten about the teaspoons.

  • Founder’s Diary

    Ronel Lehmann‘s sharp wit wonders if we have the wrong attitude to swearing, whether we have the whole notion of winners and losers wrong, and worries that the BBC may have offended the Queen

    Leaks

    Our Thames Water bill arrived. It says that we could save on our wastewater fixed charge if all the rainwater from the property drains into a soakaway, stream or river instead of its sewer. Try telling that to residents of properties whose basements flooded recently.

    By Royal Command

    The news that the BBC is reviewing whether to downplay the wall to wall coverage of future deaths in the Royal Family couldn’t come at a worse moment for HM The Queen. The one Head of State who when her time comes deserves the most respectful tribute, should think about withholding her licence fee.

    Sorry! Language Timothy

    I don’t normally read The Guardian. A book review entitled “The Right to Sex” caught my eye. It was littered with the word fuckability. I wondered why it is alright to print repeatedly when on terrestrial television, such use is abhorred. Then I read About F-ing time: bloody loses place as Britain’s top swear word.

    Feeling Blue

    I just had to renew my Passport. Snappy Snaps took the photographs and then lo and behold, I look like a serial killer. When the documents arrived, the graining of my picture behind the bio-metric lessened the impact. I am not so vain, clearly.

    Diversity

    For years, Labour has been championing diversity, inclusion and more women in politics. Finally, UNITE trade union elects a female Sharon Graham to the top job. Maybe instead of being Sir Kier Starmer’s critic, the new General Secretary will seek to topple the incumbent Leader and replace with the Labour Party’s first Leader of the Opposition. Conservatives 2: Labour 0.

    Global milking

    Today I read that in a few years, we will not be drinking cow’s milk anymore. As a child, I can still remember the gold, red and silver top bottles left on our doorstep by the milkman. Now, I will have to look forward to plant- based milk with my porridge. No one has mentioned what will happen for special treats of cream in my festive coffee.

    Hic

    No one likes change. The news that if you want a Gin and Tonic aboard a British Airways flight you are required to pre-order your drinks using an App has caused much offence to long standing passengers. The days of frequent flyer programmes to build loyalty appear to be over. Heaven help if the choice of gin doesn’t include Hendricks with a slice of cucumber.

    Loser

    Throughout our education, we are conditioned that there are winners and losers. You never want to be a loser. Well this is not always true. We were proud of our football team coming second. When at preparatory school, everyone wins a prize, so as not to disadvantage a contemporary, we’re prepared for the idea that winning is everything. Even when attending a birthday party, we now have the the business of giving going away presents ensures that everyone can celebrate, not just for the birthday. The winner doesn’t always take it all – in fact, perhaps they never do.

  • Chutney Mary Hits the Spot: A Delightful Dining Experience Reviewed by Ronel Lehmann

    Chutney Mary Hits the Spot: A Delightful Dining Experience Reviewed by Ronel Lehmann

    Chutney Mary Hits the Spot: A Delightful Dining Experience Reviewed by Ronel Lehmann
    By Ronel Lehmann

     

    I am always punctual. Imagine my surprise when arriving at Chutney Mary in St James’s Street ahead of my reservation, to see my Parliamentarian guest already seated and drinking a Mango Lassi.

    As I was led to the table at Chutney Mary, I could hear myself saying: “I did ask for a quiet table in the corner.” No matter, we were seated in the middle of a pandemic with a series of socially distanced diners. I felt that I had been here before and then realized this was the old Wheelers restaurant reincarnated. Leaving the oppressive summer heat outside, it was a quick adjustment to the refreshing cool and a dimly lit environment by which elbow greetings and pleasantries were exchanged.

    The waiter at Chutney Mary arrived bearing the drinks menu. I looked at the cold beers and didn’t recognize any of the usual Kingfisher and Cobra suspects. My guest prompted me to taste one, but after a moment’s reflection, I decided to wait until I had selected my food. Sparkling mineral water was poured.

    I did find the chairs at Chutney Mary particularly comfortable whilst we chatted away. After all, it had been nearly a year since we last conversed in person, and there was much to catch up on. The ambiance of the surroundings at Chutney Mary was peaceful, and you could hear yourself speak, something of which other notable eateries should take note. I suggested that we order. I always find that the moment you begin a deep and meaningful conversation, you immediately find yourself interrupted by attentive staff, to make gastronomic choices.

    To get some food quickly on the table, I requested a Tray of Papad, miniature Poppadoms, and Crudités to share. They arrived very promptly. It was a meal in itself, with tasty vegetables and an assortment of exquisite dipping flavors. We deliberated further about the menu at Chutney Mary. My guest selected a small plate of Afghani Chicken Tikka cooked with fennel, cardamom, mace, and mint.

    I elected for the Crispy Naan Salad, which had a chili oil dressing, paneer, gem lettuce, rocket, roast tomatoes, avocado, and asparagus. The salad rested on the Naan, which was divided into pizza slices. It was delicious but not the easiest dish to eat with cutlery, so I used my hands and endured finely chopped items falling from my palate onto the plate.

    Next up, we enjoyed the Lamb Shank Nellore, Welsh lamb dum cooked for six hours to achieve a smooth and intense taste. The Royal Rajput White Chicken Curry at Chutney Mary, which was spiced chicken thigh, cinnamon leaf, mathania chili, and melon seeds, was also a highlight. I hesitated to order the Goa Green Chicken Curry with herbs, green chili, and tamarind as my guest had ordered a separate bowl of hot green chilies as a side dish. He was eating hot raw chilies!

    At the same time, I was thinking about a few days ago when I cooked dinner and nearly blew my head off adding Scotch bonnet chilies to a dish, so you might say, I retired on this occasion from this latest experience. There were additional side orders of garlic Naan, basmati rice, and Green Peas with Paneer. We had requested another vegetable side dish, but the chef at Chutney Mary suggested the peas would make a suitable replacement.

    Back to drinks. My guest had a couple of American pale ale craft beers, made near Enfield. I didn’t fancy the German or Cornish lager and decided to order a glass of the Chateau Beaulieu Rose, Cuvee Alexandre, Provence, France 2019. It was served extremely cold and a perfect accompaniment to the main meal at Chutney Mary. I couldn’t, however, see the pale pink wine in the colorful surroundings.

    The dessert menus arrived. Persian Kulfi with saffron, pistachio, and rose chikki was quickly consumed by my guest, leaving me to enjoy Delicious Fresh Mango with vanilla bean ice cream. I am a great fan of the other Vanilla Tonka bean ice cream, but the latticework in the presentation of the mango really stole the show at Chutney Mary.

    I never grew up eating Indian cuisine, not at home, school, or university. It was only when, as a young man, a client introduced me to Tamarind in Queen Street, Mayfair. There, I found myself immersed in flavors and tastes. I had never experienced anything quite like it until that very moment. Every time that I have visited, it is like leaving a special place and reliving the original moment again and again, still able to savor extraordinary fragrant food hours later. It was magical and mesmerizing.

    It is a tough benchmark to measure by, and yet I can never not think back to that first meal and remember where I was, who I was with, and what I was eating.

    And so it is. Just because you might be a Saab driver doesn’t mean that you won’t drive another vehicle or allow yourself to be a backseat passenger in another car. It won’t stop you from thinking about what you like about sports mode, turbo thrust, and safety.

    It is the same with a favorite restaurant. Sometimes you have to venture outside somewhere different. Chutney Mary was a completely different and enjoyable experience. Outstanding food, beautifully served to boot. I just cannot be sure that my feet won’t try to walk me elsewhere.