I was very interested to read that Marco Pierre White is retiring from cooking on December 23rd, having achieved everything there is to achieve in the culinary world. The youngest chef to receive one, two and three Michelin stars and making himself £340 million in the process - not bad for a man not yet 40!
He owns seven restaurants in London, so although he won't be cooking, I'm sure he will have enough to keep him busy - but then Marco's idea of busy is most people's idea of hell. If you were to break down his 24 years behind the stove into hours, he probably would have clocked up a normal person's lifetime of work twice over.
I was privileged to be a witness to Marco's ascendancy in London during the late 1980s and early 1990s. For me, there has never been anyone like him. Even when he was in his early 20s he had acquired an almost mythical status in the London restaurant scene. A tall, gangly half-starved whirlwind of talent who would work for the top chefs and absorb their knowledge for a few months, then cast them away like unwanted mistresses leaving everyone in his wake feeling useless and inadequate.
I first met him when I was sent up to Le Manoir aux Quat' Saisons in Oxford in September 1985. I was working as a commis chef at Chez Nico, one of four two-star Michelin restaurants in Britain at the time. The others being Le Manoir owned by Raymond Blanc, The Waterside Inn by Michel Roux and La Tante Claire - Pierre Koffman. There was only one three Michelin Star in Britain at that time, Le Gavroche owned by Albert Roux. These were the restaurants in which everybody with ambition aspired to work. There was a system between them of swapping staff to enable the chefs to learn from other kitchens and exchange ideas.
I was 19 years of age and although I had been working in Nico's for over a year, this was a whole new ball game. Le Manoir was a much bigger restaurant. We at Nico's had five chefs. They had 16, most of them French. Bad news for me as the French were noted for their arrogance and disdain for non-French cooks. So I figured nine days of scrubbing floors, washing pots and peeling potatoes lay ahead.
When I arrived I was introduced to the head chef who promptly dragged me over to a mangy-looking giant who introduced himself as Marco. I stood there quivering in front of this legend for what seemed like an eternity before he said: "You're Nico's boy. You stay with me for the rest of your stay." I never left his side, chopping for him, cleaning up with him, during service he had me at the other side of the hot plate and was constantly feeding me with succulent bits of meat, spoonfuls of sauce and giving me a running commentary on how and why he was adding something or other to a sauce. He was like a boxer dancing around his ring, completely focused on his opponent. He moved faster than anyone else, his food looked better than anyone else's and everyone feared him, including the chef, Raymond Blanc.
He used to try to sell Blanc his ideas for dishes at £325 a shot! Whether he was taken up on the offer or not we will never know. At one point he challenged Blanc to "create the most wonderful dish from rabbit and langoustine". The chefs were the judges and eventually ruled in Blanc's favour. I wonder was fear of loosing their jobs more scary than an ear-bashing from Marco. Either way I have never seen a person under more pressure to win than Raymond Blanc that afternoon.
The chefs would start work at 8.30 a.m. and the whole place would be a flurry of activity - shouting, swearing, bread and croissants baking, stockpots on the boil, bones roasting. Marco would have his work for lunch finished by 11.30 a.m. and this would leave him half an hour to do as he pleased. Most days he would walk in the garden smoking feverishly and drinking espressos or looking for flowers to garnish a famous dish they had on at the time, "pigeon en sel croute with port jus". These were whole squab pigeon, sealed in a pan and wrapped in a salt crust pastry that flavoured the bird and kept the moisture in. It was shaped exactly like a pigeon with a beautiful glaze and pieces of truffles for eyes. This was served with a sauceboat of the jus and a fresh flower garnish and carved at the table, the pastry discarded afterwards, inedible due to the salt content. All that work just for show, but it was mesmerising to watch. One night during a particularly hairy service Marco roared at me to make him two pigeon en sel croute "fast". I ran to the fridge and proceeded to make him two gremlins with beaks. No matter what I did I could not get this stinking pastry to resemble a bird, not alone a pigeon! After five minutes he came thundering round the corner, pushed me out of the way and in what seemed moments, rustled up two perfect specimens that not only looked like pigeons but a pigeon fancier would have probably been able to tell the breed! He never lost his temper at my ineptitude because he had taken me under his wing but God help anyone who wasn't.
I witnessed his stunning talents in those nine days but also his ruthlessness, arrogance and impatience to those who didn't measure up. At night, on occasion we went out with the other English-speakers on the staff (the French kept to themselves). He used to dress in black leather dungarees and sunglasses. Picture this on a man that's six foot four inches in a genteel English country inn. He just did not care what others thought. He was like the star and we, his adoring public.
I LEARNED a lot in my short time at Le Manoir but even then I knew I was seeing someone special. A year later he would have his own restaurant, Harvey's in Wandsworth Common, which very quickly became a Mecca for gourmets. The next year he had his first Michelin star, the following his second. He then opened the Canteen in Chelsea with Michael Caine, which became an instant success. He used to stroll through the restaurant in complete fishing regalia - waders, rods, the lot. After the Canteen he moved to the Hyde Park hotel where he received three Michelin Stars, the youngest chef in the world to do so. Several other of his restaurants have opened between these flagship ones. The Criterion on Picadilly, Les Saveurs (since sold again), The Mirabelle in Mayfair, Quo Vadis in Soho, Titanic in Piccadilly, The Big Chef in Canary Wharf and the Cafe Royal Grill Room. Marco's journey finishes on December 23rd when he will cook his last meal in the Oak Rooms in the Picadilly hotel.
Marco Pierre White has, more than any chef, changed the face of cooking in Britain. Along the way he made cheffing sexy and respectable. When he started his career, chefs were perceived as lowly paid, undereducated, faceless workhorses. At the end of his career he has probably single-handledy inspired, driven and trained countless young men and women to carry on his tradition.
From the back of his book Wild Food from Land and Sea: "At six I wanted to be a chef, at seven Napoleon and my ambitions have been growing ever since" - Salvador Dali.