How it all started

Someone recently sent me a Facebook comment asking to explain how I ended up running a bar & bistro in rural France. I've had a bit of time over my holiday so I thought, why not?

Here we go.

I’ve owned Le Tambour Cassé bar & bistro since 2015, but the business I run today isn’t the one I had planned. It helps if I explain a little about where things started so you can see what drives me.

Over the years, I’ve worked in a wide range of bars and restaurants, from cozy local pubs to big chain operations. I’ve worked in night clubs, holiday parks, and even a biker bar. There were pizzerias, fish and chip shops, a Mexican restaurant, a Japanese sushi chain, fast food joints, and even a few luxury dining experiences thrown in for good measure. Each place taught me something new about the business, but more than anything, it helped me develop a solid understanding of customer service and every little detail that goes into making a dining experience special.

I even balanced part-time bar jobs whilst studying at university. I studied marketing, events, and design management, and after graduating, I landed my first job as a marketing and events assistant at the Mid Yorkshire Chamber of Commerce. Everything was going according to plan.

Then, the credit crunch hit, and all the assistants were laid off. I received two months' salary and was out the door. I returned to working in bars and restaurants whilst I searched for my next "dream job." But that’s when the plan really started to fall apart. With only seven months of experience at the Chamber, most marketing jobs wanted a year’s worth of experience. After countless interviews with no luck, I took a temporary role as a Health & Safety and Facilities assistant, which later became permanent. Meanwhile, I continued working weekends at a local bar.

In the midst of all this, my parents decided to retire to France, and they invited me to help them look at potential houses. That trip changed everything. Whilst we were there, we ordered a takeaway pizza from Bellac. The last restaurant I had worked at was Pizza Hut so I was used to the frantic pace of pizzerias, where upselling and speed were key. So you can imagine my surprise when the waitress in Bellac told us it would take 45 minutes for our pizza. The woman behind the counter suggested we go to the bar across the street and come back later. It was a revelation—food and drink were treated as a leisurely experience, not a race.

That’s when I decided I wanted to move to France and open a bar. When I got back to the UK, I started looking for opportunities. Buying a well-established bar was out of my budget, so I had to find something to start from scratch. My parents found an old bar and restaurant in Darnac, which had been closed to the public for 30 years. I booked a flight to see it, and when I arrived, I saw a huge space with potential—an old restaurant, a smaller living area perfect for a cozy bar, and a kitchen with plenty of light. The price was right, but there was one catch: it didn’t have an alcohol license.

I took the plunge and bought it. I figured worst-case scenario, I’d have a holiday home in France not far from my parents. But then the owner of the local bar saw my parents opening the shutters at the house, and he told them he was returning his alcohol license to the mairie. I jumped at the chance, flew back to France, and met with the mairie’s secretary. I was informed I needed to take a training course for handling and selling alcohol, which meant more hurdles to clear. By the beginning of 2015, after completing the necessary course with a translator’s help, I was told I could have the license—but I had to open by the 1st July, or the licence would be returned to the Prefecture and would be reassigned elsewhere.

With little done to the building at that point, I had just five months to transform it into a bar and open in time for summer. My dad helped organise the tradesmen, a local supplier stocked the bar, and family members flew in for the grand opening. I quit my job at the end of May, and on July 1st, we opened. It was the hottest day of the year, I didn’t speak French, and I was running on little sleep after working through the night to finish tiling the customer toilet. The opening day was stressful, emotional, and chaotic, but it was official: I had my bar in France, and the locals were supportive—they hadn’t had a full-time bar in Darnac for a long time.

Since then, it’s been a rollercoaster. I’ve tried many ideas to see what works and what doesn’t. At first, I envisioned a rock bar with live music every week, but after meeting with SACEM and seeing the cost of licensing, I scaled back to six music events a year. I briefly entertained the idea of setting up an internet cafe in the restaurant, but quickly realized that wasn’t what the locals wanted.

A few months in, locals started asking for meals. I took the food hygiene course, started with a simple menu, and soon found myself cooking home-style pub food. I rebranded as a bistro, and the business evolved from there. Running a bistro is a balancing act, especially with stock control. One day, I could serve 30-40 covers; the next, I might have five customers and 15 take-out orders. Predictability? Forget it. The challenge is always keeping stock that caters to a diverse group: older locals craving hearty meat and potatoes, younger customers after burgers and fast food, workers looking for a quick set menu, and weekend diners who want to linger over drinks and a meal.

Three years ago, the owner of the local wine cave, Cave de Purcy, offered me her business as she was retiring. It made perfect sense since we already bought our house wine from her. The cave complemented my bar, offering the option for customers to take home wine they enjoyed at the bistro. We bought a building near to the bar, so that we could store the wine close by and then decided to expand further.

My dad suggested we open a brocante to sell off the extra furniture we had accumulated over the years, and my partner pointed out that there was no épicerie in Darnac and that might also be something to try. With that in mind, I applied for planning permission to transform a new building into a brocante, wine cave, and épicerie. After a lot of paperwork and back-and-forth with the mairie, our plans have been approved.

Now, I'm just waiting to get started on the next part of the journey but we are still far from finished. From the early days of opening Le Tambour Cassé with no French and minimal resources, to the challenges of navigating maternity leave, to dealing with COVID closures and adjusting to takeaways, it’s been one wild ride. The bar is just one part of the bigger picture now, with the brocante, wine cave, and soon-to-be épicerie in the mix. Every twist and turn has brought new lessons, and who knows what’s next? The future’s full of possibilities, and I’m ready to keep building, evolving, and seeing where this adventure takes me. One thing’s for sure—whatever happens, it's always a surprise!