Food has been my passion, almost an obsession, for as long as I can remember. Even as a council flat kid, with a single parent, living on the bread line, we still found a way to indulge in ‘good’ food. Once I started working, and in those days, you were given 25p luncheon vouchers, I used to save them up until we had enough to eat out at a ‘posh’ restaurant. This was almost 50 years ago, at a time when ready meals were largely just a distant dream. I cannot recall any household from that time where food was not cooked from scratch each day, the leftovers used the following day to eke out a meagre budget. A time when tinned salmon, asparagus and strawberries were considered the height of luxury, and yes, olive oil was bought in tiny bottles from the chemist.
Many years later, once I started cooking for a living, and living the high life, in California, Chicago and New York, I spent every spare moment, and every spare penny, on exploring the restaurants in the neighbourhood. Big cities lend themselves to a diversity of cuisine that small rural areas cannot quite manage. In addition to the ubiquitous Chinese and Indian establishments, I indulged in Tibetan, Ethiopian, Russian, Hungarian, Turkish food; anything out of the ordinary, all the while spending my working day doing what I could to promote British food, which had a bad rap. Deservedly so at that time.
In New York, although I worked long hours (and still do) cooking for HM Ambassador to the UN, my free time, when the UN was not in session, was plentiful, enabling me to travel further afield. Living rent free in a Manhattan apartment, I had plenty of disposable income.
At last count I must have eaten over 20,000 meals in a wide variety of enterprises; everything from street food in Morocco, Guatemala, Cuba and India, to high end, world famous restaurants with a host of Michelin stars to their name.
During lockdown I have been reading a lot about food and travel, preferring such books to fiction, although I have not been best pleased about the need to use Amazon to feed my habit. Attempting to keep to a reasonable budget, I often select books and add them to a wish list in case I should win the lottery (no chance, as I don’t do it) and can justify the purchase. A few weeks ago, I inadvertently pressed the ‘buy’ button to find that I had ordered over £200 worth of books, by mistake. When it came to rectifying my error, Amazon refused to play ball. May the money grabbing, tax avoiding, business get its just desserts.
Hence, on a bright sunny morning, almost spring like, I find myself opening a weighty ‘coffee table’ tome ‘The French Laundry, per se’ by Thomas Keller, costing a whopping great £54!
Within minutes I went from resenting the expenditure to re-living the two most exceptional meals I have ever eaten, a vegetarian meal at The French Laundry in California in 1995, and more recently, a 13-course lunch at per se in New York, the latter costing the equivalent of a month’s mortgage payment, at £250 a head. A true carnivore, I once again opted for the vegetarian option to maximise the number of dishes I could taste, as my dining companion insisted on the main meat and fish inspired menu. Suffice to say we are no longer dating.
How could one meal cost so much, and was it worth it? The short answer is yes, every single penny. What made the experience so remarkable was not just the food but everything from the hand-written personalised menu to the calm, but unstuffy, ambience, the exceptional discreet and unassuming service (from a Glaswegian), the topping up of Champagne at regular intervals, and a visit to the kitchen.
It is as if they are aware of the effort that diners go to in order to have this experience and want to make sure it is a truly memorable one. Here I have a confession to make. I do not have a very big appetite, and to accommodate so many, albeit miniature, courses I did what the Romans used to do….. My other overriding memory is of attempting to steal some of the hand made chocolates that arrived in a four-tiered coffre, only for our waiter to say ‘There is no need to do that madam’ before handing me a bag full!
In reading about Thomas Keller’s experience of setting up his restaurants, what comes across clearly is the tireless dedication of those who work for him, his focus on inspiring and mentoring them to achieve their best, his strong relationship with his purveyors, and the fact that the guest always comes first.
In the face of so many mediocre restaurants, where the only thing that matters is cutting costs and making huge profits, it was enough to make me cry.
Many years later, once I started cooking for a living, and living the high life, in California, Chicago and New York, I spent every spare moment, and every spare penny, on exploring the restaurants in the neighbourhood. Big cities lend themselves to a diversity of cuisine that small rural areas cannot quite manage. In addition to the ubiquitous Chinese and Indian establishments, I indulged in Tibetan, Ethiopian, Russian, Hungarian, Turkish food; anything out of the ordinary, all the while spending my working day doing what I could to promote British food, which had a bad rap. Deservedly so at that time.
In New York, although I worked long hours (and still do) cooking for HM Ambassador to the UN, my free time, when the UN was not in session, was plentiful, enabling me to travel further afield. Living rent free in a Manhattan apartment, I had plenty of disposable income.
At last count I must have eaten over 20,000 meals in a wide variety of enterprises; everything from street food in Morocco, Guatemala, Cuba and India, to high end, world famous restaurants with a host of Michelin stars to their name.
During lockdown I have been reading a lot about food and travel, preferring such books to fiction, although I have not been best pleased about the need to use Amazon to feed my habit. Attempting to keep to a reasonable budget, I often select books and add them to a wish list in case I should win the lottery (no chance, as I don’t do it) and can justify the purchase. A few weeks ago, I inadvertently pressed the ‘buy’ button to find that I had ordered over £200 worth of books, by mistake. When it came to rectifying my error, Amazon refused to play ball. May the money grabbing, tax avoiding, business get its just desserts.
Hence, on a bright sunny morning, almost spring like, I find myself opening a weighty ‘coffee table’ tome ‘The French Laundry, per se’ by Thomas Keller, costing a whopping great £54!
Within minutes I went from resenting the expenditure to re-living the two most exceptional meals I have ever eaten, a vegetarian meal at The French Laundry in California in 1995, and more recently, a 13-course lunch at per se in New York, the latter costing the equivalent of a month’s mortgage payment, at £250 a head. A true carnivore, I once again opted for the vegetarian option to maximise the number of dishes I could taste, as my dining companion insisted on the main meat and fish inspired menu. Suffice to say we are no longer dating.
How could one meal cost so much, and was it worth it? The short answer is yes, every single penny. What made the experience so remarkable was not just the food but everything from the hand-written personalised menu to the calm, but unstuffy, ambience, the exceptional discreet and unassuming service (from a Glaswegian), the topping up of Champagne at regular intervals, and a visit to the kitchen.
It is as if they are aware of the effort that diners go to in order to have this experience and want to make sure it is a truly memorable one. Here I have a confession to make. I do not have a very big appetite, and to accommodate so many, albeit miniature, courses I did what the Romans used to do….. My other overriding memory is of attempting to steal some of the hand made chocolates that arrived in a four-tiered coffre, only for our waiter to say ‘There is no need to do that madam’ before handing me a bag full!
In reading about Thomas Keller’s experience of setting up his restaurants, what comes across clearly is the tireless dedication of those who work for him, his focus on inspiring and mentoring them to achieve their best, his strong relationship with his purveyors, and the fact that the guest always comes first.
In the face of so many mediocre restaurants, where the only thing that matters is cutting costs and making huge profits, it was enough to make me cry.
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