Since Balthazar opened in 1997, I've been writing plays in my spare time. I never finish them because every time I get close, I open another restaurant. I often think that the only reason I build restaurants is to put off completing a play. In 2011, I moved to London with my wife and two children. I was going to take time off from restaurants and Write and Finish a Play. I even turned the storage room of our new London house into a small office where I could write my masterpiece. However, the week I finally began writing the play I was offered a million dollars to build another Balthazar in London. The man who made the offer was a coiffured restaurateur, Richard Caring. The fact that I’d gone dangerously over budget renovating our Notting Hill house made me consider Caring's huge offer. Not for the first time, I was torn between doing something I was passionate about but would probably fail at, or doing something I'd possibly succeed at, but wasn't at all passionate about. I didn’t know what to do. At least that's what I told friends. But being bloody spineless, Of Course I knew what to do. I'd take the Fucking Money and Run. And I'm ashamed to say, that's exactly what I did. Sadly, my play, like all my plays, never got finished. And my empty office remained empty the rest of my time in London. And I became six inches smaller.
