Simple Beginnings: Beading. Aiden Byrne

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ restaurant would stay busy and I’d keep my job.

      Now, almost 15 years on, things have changed dramatically. I have, I hope, a little more knowledge and a lot more respect; respect for the clientele, respect for my staff and most importantly respect for the produce.

      If I were to have written this book ten years ago, it would have been destined for the professional chef, but now, that is not the case. Times have changed. Cookery books like this have replaced designer magazines and autobiographies as a coffee table staple. As a chef that is an amazing change to witness and be a part of.

      Actually, ten years ago I would not be able to write this book unless I had three Michelin stars and a chain of restaurants to my name. People are now looking for more variety, are keen to try new ideas. They want to push their culinary boundaries – not just by what they eat in restaurants but in their homes. Knowledge and information are key and that information is in demand more and more.

      The work that has taken place to change the stigma of British food is slowly paying off. We are well on our way to being respected around the world. Back when I started out, top restaurants were the only ones championing traceability of produce, and as time has gone on this approach has filtered down to gastro pubs, farmers’ markets and even the big supermarkets.

      Fantastic produce is now available to everyone. You just need to invest time in shopping around. We can all be a little lazy and just accept what is placed on the supermarket shelf irrespective of what is in season, what is local, what is British. Perhaps our supermarkets don’t want their customers to think seasonally, because they believe seasonality is not profitable?

      Luckily for chefs – and those of you who cook for pleasure at home – we have farmers’ markets, family-run butchers, fishmongers, cheese shops and an endless list of specialist suppliers to choose from.

      There are still plenty of small producers in this country dedicated to the art of cultivating the very best varieties of seasonal, British produce. These fruits, cheeses, meats, and vegetables have not been genetically improved for the sake of shelf life, nor inoculated for long-distance travel. Food bought in this way represents only a small handful of all that we buy. We must all continue to make an effort to change and as long as we keep chipping away there is still hope. Perhaps one day one supermarket will dare to be different and find a way to sell seasonal British produce and still make the huge profit their share-holders demand. Let’s hope so.

      The making of a chef

      I always knew that cooking at this level was going to be hard, but never this hard. Once I started cooking everybody told me I was mad. Why do you work so many hours for such little money? Why do you put up with all the abuse? I didn’t have the answers because I didn’t understand it myself. Still to this date I don’t recall the day when it went from obsession and adrenalin to actually being my career, something that was going to provide for my family and make me feel important and worthy of something.

      I feel extremely lucky that when I was just 14 years old I found my vocation, my passion, my life. I owe a lot of my determination to my dear cousin and friend Alan Feeney. I suppose he was like my big brother, he chose catering in school and I copied him and that was it, there was no turning back.

      At catering school, I got a real taste of what was going on in the outside world. At weekends and public holidays I used to travel to Wilmslow in Cheshire and work for free in a hotel called Stanneylands. Iain Donald was the executive chef. He both frightened and excited me. He was mad. He spoke fluent French in a very strong Scottish accent and grown men were obeying every order that he shouted. The service ran like clockwork. It was here that I thought, ‘This is where I want be’. Fifteen years on and my brother Louis, who is also a chef, now works for Iain Donald.

      So college finished and off I went to the big smoke. I hated every minute of my first short visit and vowed never to go back. I didn’t learn a thing; it took the wind out of my sails. I hated my job and my world was shattered.

      I came home and headed to the Chester Grosvenor hotel. I heard it had a Michelin star; the Arkle restaurant was impossible to get into, so I worked for free until a position became available. Here I started to learn how to respect ingredients, how to cook vegetables properly, how to be organised and efficient.

      I stayed here for 18 months and learned as much as I could until I heard of another Michelin starred restaurant not too far away, called Pool Court Restaurant in Otley (West Yorkshire). Here I learned how to taste; the senior chefs would ask me to taste their food to see if it was seasoned properly – I now insist all my chefs continuously taste what they are cooking. It was here that I met my best friend Roger Hickman. We went through everything together: the head chef used to make us cry on a daily basis. I guess that was his way of getting the best out of people, by filling them with fear, but it’s a tactic I disagreed with then and one I disagree with now. A pat on the back or a ‘well done lad’ will stay with someone that young and naive for a very long time. I remember him whispering in my ear ‘I was better than you when I was 20’, but I was to have the last laugh.

      The way I treat my staff now is very important to me, mainly because of the way I was treated for all those years. My chefs work four days on and three days off. Of course they put in a full week’s work for the four days but at least they can experience a life outside the kitchen. They receive credit where credit is due and a detailed explanation when they have made a mistake.

      After Pool Court I packed my bags and off I went again on my travels, avoiding London like the plague. I ended up in Norwich, in a small family restaurant called Adlard’s. To say I was wet behind the ears is an understatement. I didn’t understand why mousses were splitting, why my anglaise was lumpy. I had never cooked a piece of meat before. With what little money I had, I bought cookery books by Harold McGee, Raymond Blanc and Marco Pierre White. These are what spurred me on and I loved it. I had my own little domain.

      I think other than David, the chef/proprietor, I was the only one who had worked in a Michelin starred restaurant. David was trying to bring up two very young children at the time, and when he was not in the kitchen the standards plummeted. One day I told him he needed to employ a sous chef; he gave me the responsibility and I ran with it. I went into work on Monday mornings and came out on Sunday mornings. I had no life, no friends, and no money. I put into practice what I had learnt from previous Michelin starred restaurants and studied my cookery books.

      After about nine months, David received a phone call from a journalist friend to say congratulations, ‘for what?’ said David. ‘For getting your lost Michelin star back’. Ours was the first restaurant in the country to have done this at the time. And I was the head chef! I didn’t really understand the importance of this until I went to the Michelin dinner at the Savoy hotel.

      I had to wear a dinner suit; I had never even worn a suit before let alone a dinner suit. It got even more bizarre for me when I arrived for dinner. Standing in front of me were John Burton Race, Raymond Blanc and Brian Turner to name but a few. My chin was on the floor. I kept pinching myself, ‘can this be true?’ All my idols, the authors of all these books, all in one room and I’m here receiving a Michelin star for Adlard’s.

      I stayed with David Adlard for 5 years, but I needed to learn more, so I bit the bullet and went back to London. But I am eternally grateful to David for giving me that first opportunity.

СКАЧАТЬ