Reader Soapbox
Fame used to come through cumulative achievement; now celebrities are made from acts of bad behaviour.
A certain leading chef recently raised his profile further with the use of abusive language and a domineering attitude to staff members. He has carried this on with frequent television programmes involving other restaurateurs and a clutch of people who want fame badly enough to embarrass themselves for endless, boring hours.
I watched as much of this as I could stomach. It was repetitious and static both visually and verbally and, as with most reality television, it offered no worthwhile experience.
I have years of experience as a chef in my two former restaurants - the Nun Street restaurant, St David's, Pembrokeshire, and Foodworks in Clerkenwell, London - but I am not impressed with the ways of today's celebrity chefs. I find novelty for its own sake, extremism and poncing about while demonstrating culinary prowess off-putting.
A fine restaurant should have three things going for it: ambience or style, good food and good service; one is important, two would be great, all three are rare but achievable sometimes. It is, sadly, an element of our time that disposable persons are the present heroes.
When Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential was published, I read it with enjoyment and apprehension. But reading and looking back on my own career, I thought I had done everything wrong. Bourdain, a successful and highly pressured chef, seemed to like working under mad conditions. I did not. Then, towards the end of the book he described a place he admired, even envied. It was a calm operation, serving classic food in an orderly manner. No staff abuses, no transient misfits, just the sort of restaurant we enjoy on holiday in France, Italy or Spain.
While my experience in the kitchen is limited in some respects, I have learnt that even the slowest and dullest of workers can rise to tasks brilliantly when faced with challenges. Screaming at them only scares them into doing less than is their norm. The long day seems longer if we are unhappy and tense. Pleasantry and friendliness make for enjoyment.
In short, how important is fine food? And are the antics of a show-off cook vital as entertainment? And who, I wonder, is actually running the kitchens of these celebrity-chef restaurants, and are the large number of workers in them working under decent conditions?