Lattes, Legends, and Lockdowns: Part Two

When I first opened The Whistle Stop Café, I was surrounded by an amazing group of retired volunteers who helped get things off the ground. They were eager, kind, and invested in the café’s mission, and I’ll always be grateful for the heart and soul they brought to those early days.

As the café grew, so did the pace, and our lovely team of volunteers, many of whom had been with me since day one, began to find it a little overwhelming. They had helped lay the foundations with such kindness and spirit, and I’ll always be grateful for that. But as Saturdays turned into a blur of orders and clattering plates, we knew it was time to bring in some younger hands to help us meet the moment — not to replace the heart they’d brought, but to build on it..

Among the legends who became part of that early team, there was Djoeke, still at school at the time, with a mass of curls that would’ve made her a prime candidate for a 1970s rock band. Djoeke was quiet but sharp as a tack, and no matter the task, she always had a fun fact ready to drop. “Fun fact! Did you know coffee beans aren’t actually beans?” she’d casually mention, and we’d all stop in our tracks, unsure if we’d just learned something profound or if our entire coffee-drinking lives were about to be called into question.

Then there was Zoe, who was a foot taller than me (but let’s face it, that’s not hard) and could calculate your bill before I’d even finished ringing it up. She had this infectious smile that could make the busiest Saturday feel like a walk in the park.

And then, of course, there was Elsie. Elsie had this rare ability to always show up, no matter what. It didn’t matter if she’d been out the night before (which more often than not, she had,)  she’d still show up, ready to work. We never quite knew which Elsie we’d get—sometimes a new haircut, a bob, a different colour, one week a bleach blond buzz cut,  sometimes a new piercing (one she had definitely not told her parents about). Every week was a new surprise.

But what really made Elsie stand out wasn’t just her willingness to work or her ever-changing hairstyles—it was her excitement about food. She absolutely lit up when it came to food. Over time, she tried nearly everything on the menu, always eager to dive into new dishes with the kind of enthusiasm you can’t fake. One of her all-time favourite's was Eggs Royal, and I could never blame her. The dish was a beautiful combination of thick slices of toasted sourdough from the award winning legendary Salt Bakehouse, topped with smoked salmon, perfectly poached eggs, and a smooth hollandaise with just the right balance of lemon and salt. It was a dish that can easily go wrong—overcooked or undercooked eggs, soggy bread, or a badly made hollandaise—but when done right, its beautiful, and for Elsie, the magic of food kept her coming back for more.

At the time, Elsie wasn’t sure where she was heading in life, but after leaving for university, she made a bold leap into the kitchen and started training as a chef. Watching her transform from a food enthusiast to someone who could whip up her own food magic was a beautiful thing. Now, she’s working for The Pig, a brilliant chain of hotels and restaurants where she’s living the dream, and I couldn’t be prouder.

Then everything changed within a six-month period. All of my part-time staff moved on to university, and just as we were getting used to the new rhythm, COVID hit. Suddenly, the café went from a buzzing spot to a place that felt like it was stuck in time. We had to shut the café for the first lockdown, and it felt like the longest break I’d ever taken—except no one told us when it would end.

When we finally re-opened, it was just me and Catherine. No more bustling crowd, no more team of hands—just us, holding down the fort. We didn’t know what to expect when we opened the doors again, but we needn’t have worried. The moment we unlocked those doors, the customers came. It was like they’d all been waiting for us to return, like we were the secret ingredient they’d been missing all this time.

Just the two of us, we became a small but mighty team. We were making cakes, quiche, salad boxes, and millions of bacon baps. The café, once a bustling hub of chatter, was now a takeaway station where we’d dish out food like our lives depended on it. But we made it work, one order at a time. We were tired, but the customers were so grateful, it made it all worth it.

The Adventure Continues: Serving Through the Hatch

While Catherine and I managed to make it through those first chaotic days, the challenges didn’t stop there. Our café became a strange little takeaway operation, with me at the hatch, serving lattes, flat whites and cakes, and Catherine on food to a line of eager, mask-wearing customers. It was a far cry from the café life we knew, but it kept us going.

And oh, the characters we encountered! Next week, I’ll share the stories of customers who tested our patience (and sanity)—like the grumpy lady who threw cash at me after missing all the signs that said we weren’t taking cash during COVID. Or the annoying noise of the extraction fan, which made communication through a tiny perspex hatch feel like a bizarre game of charades. How we survived it all? Stay tuned... because just when you think it couldn’t get any stranger, it does.