Here’s a joke:
What did the 36-year old restaurant owner, with two kids, lots of responsibilities, mounting debt, many social engagements including multiple trips abroad, who is very recently romantically involved in an exciting new relationship, who has to support his parents, who invests in friendships and takes care of his flat where he lives alone, who got struck by Covid hard two weeks ago where he was bed-ridden, sweating, aching, swearing, through gritted teeth and lots of phlegm and coughs, what does he do next?
He gets a puppy.
A black puppy, from Ireland.
They used to put up signs saying “No blacks. No dogs. No Irish” outside pubs across the UK. I went for all three in one go. In these heightened political times where fearmongering, divisive rhetoric, and hate-spreading is rife, I feel like Yossarian (Yossi), my Glen of Imaal Terrier, can be a bridge between hate and love.
Being a puppy-owner has made me revaluate how people interact, and by extension, how I want service in my own restaurant to reflect the positivity that has been coming my way.
I live in a council estate in Chingford where all the flats are one-beds. I pay a mortgage on mine, but many of my neighbours are council-housed residents – the same way my family and I were up until the age of 8 in Dalston. Having lived in my home for the last two years, my interactions with my fellow residents has always been minimal. The odd glance/nod to say hello as we pass one another in the hall. The occasional opportunity to hold the door open for someone as they get in. Keeping to myself and being considerate, but aloof/distant. Everyone around me is predominantly old, single, living solitary lives (from what I can observe).
And then Yossi comes into my life.
He’s only two months old, and initially, incessantly pooped and peed everywhere around the flat. We’re now in a good rhythm where we go on 2-3 walks a day and for the most part, he waits for these moments to release the goods, outside. We walk around the block – nowhere too far or too busy as he’s still awaiting his second round of jabs to allow him to mix with other dogs and people. So, off we go, circling the block day in, day out, and this has kickstarted a process where my neighbours and I finally speak. They ask how old he is, what his breed is? They stroke him and coo. They smile; it brings them joy to see him scampering around with his tiny legs and giant head, plucking at flowers and rubbing his nose in dirt. Yossi has been a great icebreaker to allow me the space to feel like I belong to a community. It has provided my neighbours an entry into conversation that otherwise perhaps would not exist. It has made me see a lot of these older, lonely-seeming occupants in a different light where their bright, shining eyes emerge as they look at Yossi. This pup brings them a brief moment of happiness, and the interplay between they and I humanises and brings a voice and character of one another, to one another.
It is important to feel as part of a community. In a segregated world, where solo living, ready meals for one, are increasingly part of the norm, having a puppy has provided me the pathway to feel connected to those around me. Whilst it has been an arduous era in my life, no thanks to the recent flu I endured whilst simultaneously crate-training/toilet training/life-training a very young dog, I also feel eternally optimistic about society in general due to witnessing the inherent good nature of my neighbours.
Which brings me to Mangal II.
My last few newsletters have been… morbid, to say the least. Lads, it’s been a shit year, as many in hospitality will attest. That negativity inevitably had affected my general mood and outlook on life. I got a bit emo, lol. I felt isolated from friends, my staff, everyone in general as I indulged in the sadness and fear of my professional life being at risk.
And then, slowly, very slowly, things began to pick up. The weather cooled, our trade raised. We made incremental changes to our menu, our accountants, our ways of operating. We made our prices more accessible and consumer-friendly, and despite not being very profitable from a business-sense, it keeps us busy and ticking over.
And now, reviews and feedback are on-the-whole, immaculate.
What’s really made a big difference too is the quality of service we provide. We speak to our guests with ease and care. My team, consisting of our restaurant manager Aimee, floor manager Gabriel, and our front-of-house superstars Suzie, Sam, Zuzi, all treat customers with competence and charisma. I’m also on the floor and try to incorporate nice interactions with guests – emboldened by my daily dopamine hits of neighbourly-fulfilment which Yossi has provided a gateway to receive.
Having Yossi, after day 3, made me think about the aforementioned horrible signs outside pubs, when it dawned on me that the dog I chose to get – my first ever, embodied everything the fascists in society hated back in the day. This was subconscious on my part – not an intentional powerplay. I just saw him and fell in love instantly and that was that. But now, thinking about what he represents, the force of joy that pushes me out of my comfort zone and making me mix with those around me, essentially strangers, and come out of it happier and more connected, has been a blessing.
Mangal II has always been an inclusive restaurant. We were an LGBTQ+ safe space from day one, and my father, Ali Dirik, deserves all the credit. Back when Turkish restaurant owners displayed homophobic, xenophobic, backwards tendencies towards customers, my father ensured every staff member treated every guest equally and without judgement, and on the contrary, with warm acceptance. Throughout my childhood working here, I witnessed countless lesbian couples, gay couples, et al, happily and vocally expressing their comfort when dining here. It made me see the world in a technicolour of love and belonging. It set the foundations for my liberal outlook on life, when I saw a man from a village in Türkiye with no educational background treat his restaurant, his home, as an all-encompassing, welcoming hub.
You know what else? We accept dogs here at Mangal II. We always have. And each time one comes in with its owner, the table next to it is delighted. It strikes a conversation and leads to many smiles and warm exchanges. When Yos da Boss gets his jabs, we’ll rock up to work together. I’ll devour my lamb ribs with sour cherry molasses and smoked red grapes, and he’ll be looking up at me waiting for me to drop him a piece. The table next to me will ask a lot of questions, inquisitively learning about this cute little guy. It will lift the mood of the space, the restaurant, of my forever home. And I will feel that little bit more connected to the world.
That’s what I’m projecting.
Now, if I could just get the little fucker to stop biting my ankles.