Lucie Greenwood on the joys and traumas of setting up her own milk shake parlour

I’ve just had to have a word with myself, 130 days after getting the keys to my new business and “all my dreams coming true”. One-hundred-and-thirty of the most terrifying, stressful and panic stricken days of my life; 130 days all-bar-two of which have been spent at The Milk Shed (and the two that weren’t I was to be found buried beneath a mountain of paperwork mainly in tears and always with a bottle close by).

On Monday morning I found myself at home, in my pyjamas, at 11am surrounded by files and I suddenly saw the kettle. The kettle in my kitchen. The kettle which hasn’t been used for – yes you guessed it – 130 days. And I decided to stop and make myself a cup of tea, in my own home.

“Heck,” I thought “I’ll push the boat out”. And then I stopped at those words, “a cup of tea in my own home” and the shame rushed through me. For after four or so long months of my poor friends and family putting up with my self-obsessiveness, I remembered how lucky I was. I have a home. I have a kettle. I have loved ones. And I finally have my own business, the one that’s stopped me from eating, sleeping and even smiling (inside at least) for a while admittedly, but one that’s brought a lot of smiles to the faces of others already. My lovely, shiny little Milk Shed.

I opened the Milk Shed because it’s been my ambition since I let the dream of becoming the next Tiffany (‘I think we’re alone now’ anyone?) finally slip away. So at least a couple of years ago, then.

And having banged on about it like a lot of people do for what seems like an eternity, late last year the opportunity exposed itself in the form of an ice cream parlour coming on to the market close to Oxford, not long after giving up my job of 13 years running an event catering company. So the shock wasn’t the hours, the physical labour, the ridiculousness of cooking for the masses, the trials of employing people, logistical challenges, broken fridges, or forgotten food orders. I was used to all that. The shock came in the form of the great ‘gelato’.

I opened the doors less than three weeks after getting the keys, during which short time I had the steepest learning curve I could’ve possibly imagined, which included learning how to make ice cream. Previous attempts in a tiny domestic machine had resulted in varying success, but this was on another level completely. Thankfully my fabulous friend, the chef Pete Hayward, held my hand and we faced it head-on because, well, let’s face it, no-one else was going to do it.

After the first unfortunate incident when we accidentally left the tap open while decanting 100 litres of milk and cream into the pasteuriser we got a bit fastidious with our checks and by the time we’d churned the second batch we felt like old pros.

Of course, we’re nothing of the sort, and each ice cream making session brings new challenges but also new thrills as we experiment with white peaches, peanut and cherry jam or watermelon sorbet. The reward is seeing all our happy customers devouring the fruits of our labours; some claiming the end of the world if their particular favourite isn’t in the freezer.

It seems I have entered a world of ice cream lunacy, and long may it continue.

My new chef started last Sunday which will hopefully save my sanity, return the status quo to something vaguely resembling normality, and bring relief to my patient and loyal crew. Hallelujah!

  • TRY IT The Milkshed is in Northampton Road, Weston-on-the-Green.
  • Call 01869 351387 or see themilkshed store.co.uk