Nomates hygiene is second to none! (From Northwich Guardian)

Nomates hygiene is second to none!

9:38am Monday 29th March 2010

• Print
• Email
• Comments(0)

IF you should ever follow any one of my brothers into the gents... I’ll start again. If you ever watch any one of my brothers in the gents… No wait. This does not sound as it should, does it?

I’ll try once more. If you ever happen to be in the gents at the same time as any of the brothers Nomates you will witness a strange ritual. No sooner have they finished the job in hand and completed the paper work, they will scrub their hands as if they were surgeons on their way to the operating theatre, not using a towel, which may have been used before by somebody else.

A vigorous shaking of hands will dry them. Then with the very end of the tip of their little finger, wrapped in clean toilet paper they will delicately open the outer door taking care that no part of their skin touches any part of the door which may have come in to contact with an unwashed hand.

Deftly the right foot will turn to push the door to its optimum width to make the escape from the germ zone complete without any flesh making contact.

Nobody else’s germs are going to go anywhere near my brothers ensuring that the Curry Club’s first course of popadoms is fit to eat. This is of course providing that the chef takes the same level of care. I have to confess I am just the same. It’s in our makeup you see, the way we have been brought up.

You could eat your dinner off Mother Nomates’ floor, which is just as well as we had no carpets. When I left school I was trained on the provisions counter in the local supermarket by a very fastidious lady whom can’t be named for legal reasons but it rhymes with Mrs Gill.

It was a shortened version of her real name, which sounded something like Gilly Gilly Ossenfeffer Katzenellen Bogen By The Sea. You can see why we called her Mrs Gill. She kept the cleanest deli counter I have ever seen and when you asked for a pound of prime lean back or thick cut streaky it was exactly what you got. The Cheshire cheese was pure as driven snow. There were certainly no bugs included in the price.

Are we too pernickety? Maybe so but don’t you just hate it when you have had a lovely meal and then you see something, which you wish you hadn’t Maybe you have witnessed the waiter secretly picking his nose, scratching his backside or digging in his ear looking for potatoes, as Father Nomates used to say.

Perhaps your stomach has lost its balance watching the waitress constantly scraping the lacquer out of her hair or squeezing the spot on her face. There is nothing on this planet worse than when you just begin to tuck into a beautifully cooked steak than finding a hair on the plate or when your salad suddenly moves on its own to uncover a creep crawly.

Is anyone reading this while eating his or her dinner? I’m sorry but you shouldn’t read at the table. How often do we see the top TV chefs stick a finger into their creations and lick them to taste only to then begin to toss a salad? What sort of a lesson is that to teach our young cooks of the future?

Who remembers the chippie in town where they used to keep a cat in the window? I have often wondered whether it was there to frighten the mice or there because it tasted like chicken. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

Myself and the Brothers Nomates will only eat at places where we are certain that the food is good and hygiene is at the top of their priorities. If you are like us, very fussy, the best tried and tested way to broaden your choice and not worry about what you are eating is to get absolutely pie eyed and legless. You would eat last week’s slops off the pavement and think it was a banquet.