Gordon Ramsay (15 page)

Gordon thought differently – and in the first of what would prove to be a series of barbed comments he proved he would speak his mind whatever the consequences. ‘My homage for contribution to British food goes to the Roux brothers,’ he said in response to Jamie Oliver’s claims. ‘When they opened Le Gavroche in 1966, they changed the future of British cooking. What Jamie has done is to take away the intimidation of cooking. But there is a premier league – the serious chefs who cook serious food for a fully booked dining room every night. And then there are the TV chefs – and we all know which is which. Jamie is a talented guy, but he’s got a lot to learn.’

Full-time TV chefs or celebrity chefs were to become a particular irritant to Gordon over the years – not least because he saw himself first and foremost as a restaurateur. ‘These people are jumping all over the country on television but they haven’t learned their craft,’ he claimed. As part of that particular rant, he was happy to lay into shows such as
Can’t Cook, Won’t Cook
(which he always referred to as
Can’t Wank, Won’t Wank
). And he was equally happy to lay into their hosts. Ainsley Harriott of
Ready Steady Cook
was first in line for a Ramsay tongue-lashing. The show should be called
Ready Steady Twat
, Gordon declared, saying he thought Ainsley’s real ambition was not to be a top chef but to present
Stars in their Eyes
. ‘He’s not a chef, he’s a fucking comedian,’ he said.

Meanwhile, he famously described his former Stratford-upon-Avon
neighbour Antony Worrall Thompson as ‘a squashed Bee Gee’ and after Thompson appeared on
I’m A Celebrity … Get Me Out Of Here!
he said, ‘The man has more chips on his shoulder than McDonald’s does in its freezer. He slags off every talented young chef. His biggest hang-up is he hasn’t won a Michelin star. I don’t need to go on television or down to the jungle with a thong on my arse to fill a dining room.’

Almost every other major name in British cooking also came under fire at one point or another. Gordon questioned the method used by Gary Rhodes to produce chips in his kitchen, while other top chefs were lambasted for hypocrisy. ‘After
Boiling Point
was broadcast, loads of other chefs turned into hysterical bastards, jumping on the bandwagon to criticise me,’ he claimed. ‘Raymond Blanc went, “Oh, la la! We don’t need this violence in the kitchen.” Bullshit. When he flips his lid, he’s like a Rottweiler.’ He was also, according to Gordon, ‘a little French twat’ at times.

Not everyone was attacked directly when Gordon was in a bad mood, however. Some of his rivals appeared to be offered some praise – though there was always a sting in the tail. Nigella Lawson, for example, was effectively dismissed as decorative and a hindrance to real, professional cooking. ‘She’s sex on legs,’ he said. ‘Every chef in the country would love her in the kitchen, but we’d never get any work done.’

A long-simmering row also continued to flare up between Gordon and Sir Terence Conran, the founder of Habitat, who was widely seen as having transformed the nation’s eating-out habits with the launch of carefully
designed mega-restaurants such as Quaglino’s and the perennially popular Le Pont de la Tour. At one point, Gordon said he would rather eat at his four-year-old daughter’s prep school than at one of Conran’s restaurants. Conran retorted that Ramsay’s food was only fit for babies in the first place.

‘I will stick to cooking and he should stick to designing ashtrays,’ was Gordon’s final, winning word as the two sides declared an uneasy truce.

Even Gordon’s former mentor and most respected colleague Marco Pierre White took some blows in a long-running feud which blew hot and cold with the seasons. In the good times, Marco called Gordon ‘an exceptional young man’ and Gordon returned the compliment: ‘I owe Marco a great debt. It was he who put me on the road to where I am today.’ In the bad times, however, Gordon took a more sinister view: ‘Marco now, as opposed to being Britain’s best chef, is Britain’s number-one manipulator. His manipulation has become better than his cooking. When you listen to Marco’s philosophy, you’ve got to question: is it in the interests of him or the interests of you?’

Other former friends also saw Gordon turn on them – even the professional critics who could damage him if they ever decided to take revenge. One famous example was Fay Maschler of the
Evening Standard
. She says, ‘I put Gordon on the map at Aubergine and we were quite good pals until I wrote a piece saying he was brilliant but that he frothed all his sauces. He did a kidney dish, which I described as looking like toxic scum on a stagnant pond. He told the
Independent
newspaper that I didn’t know anything and asked why the
Standard
still used a
photograph of me aged 21 when I was so old. I took exception to him saying I didn’t know anything and as for the picture it helps preserve my anonymity.’

Other critics found they weren’t being insulted by Gordon – they were being manipulated. In a rare compliment, Gordon said that the newspaper column of director turned ferocious restaurant critic Michael Winner was his favourite reading of the week. And the chef claimed he knew just how to keep on the man’s right side and avoid a negative review. ‘He is witty and a true foodie. The way to look after Winner is to never keep him waiting. When he has time on his hands, he will sit and criticise. When you remove one dish, you have to replace it with another immediately so he doesn’t have a chance to put his head up and slag off the glasswork or the pictures.’

Dealing with Winner also means agreeing to his requests, however difficult, as another of Gordon’s favourite anecdotes illustrates. ‘He came in a couple of months ago and said to our maitre d’, Jean-Claude, “I’d like that table over there.” And Jean-Claude said, “Oh, la la, Monsieur Winner, that table is booked and it is for six and there’s just two of you.” He said, “Jean-Claude. I. Want. That. Fucking. Table.” So Jean-Claude came running up to me in the middle of service and said, “Oh, la la, Monsieur Winner is being difficult.” I said, “What’s fucking new?” We explained that the table was booked for six people and Michael said, “Well, put them in the bloody bar, serve them Dom Perignon and tell them they are here as my guests. I. Want. That. Table.” So he did it. And were the customers happy? Over the moon. Six free dinners. He is the most generous 60-something man in Britain.’

To his credit, being accommodated like this doesn’t ensure Winner will automatically give people like Gordon good reviews, however. The critic must have had too much time to think about things when he next ate at Claridge’s, as he wrote off the new Gordon Ramsay restaurant as ‘considerably worse than what was there before’.

At the very top of the culinary establishment, not even the legendary Egon Ronay was safe from Gordon’s sarcasm. When the 89-year-old doyen of restaurant guides brought out his first book in seven years in 2005, he gave a great mention to the flagship Michelin-starred Gordon Ramsay in Chelsea – something most chefs would have celebrated. But Gordon could hardly have been less impressed. ‘I’m not particularly bothered about being in the guide. I mean, who exactly is Egon Ronay and what does he know about haute cuisine? Doesn’t he usually write about pubs and motorway service station food?’ was his instant putdown to reporters.

Speaking his mind like this seemed ingrained in the Scotsman’s DNA. Keeping quiet to keep the peace seemed impossible for him. If he thought it, he said it. And to hell with the consequences. ‘I suppose I am too honest. But I don’t have to take rubbish from anybody and I don’t have to lick anyone’s backside just for the sake of it,’ he said, as a way of defending himself. In theory, this should have made Gordon a whole army of enemies – and he was once ranked alongside Chris Evans and Mohamed Al Fayed as one of the worst people to work for in an ITV show called
Britain’s Unbearable Bosses
. In reality, Gordon enjoyed a fantastic relationship with his staff, and he was keen to thank them as often as possible.

‘I know that after the TV documentary
Boiling Point
people saw me as a foul-mouthed chef who was rude and arrogant with his staff. But without their loyalty and understanding I would never have been so successful. The real secret of success is the right people, without whom I would not be where I am today,’ he said after collecting his first Chef of the Year ‘Catey’, for example. And behind the scenes Gordon proved to be a sensitive as well as an inspiring boss. He happily offered a job to a young chef who showed promise but was able to work only one day a week because of his heart condition. He also set up a scholarship for aspiring chefs where the winner gets £5,000 and a series of apprenticeships in his and other restaurants – with the possibility of a full-time job at the end. Running the scheme, let alone looking after the winner, takes time, effort and money. But Gordon reckons it is one way for him to repay his debts to the industry that took a chance on him when he was starting out.

‘This is a great job to be in when you are in the premier division, but underneath it sucks, it’s the pits,’ he said when he was asked why he had launched the scheme. ‘It’s a pressured lifestyle but even when you earn just £100 a week you have to be on your edge and dream of playing alongside the best. It’s really tough for chefs trying to set up in business today.’

The chefs who do end up working with Gordon tend to stay with him, however. Some 75 per cent of the staff who had been employed alongside him in Aubergine in the mid-1990s were still working with him in one restaurant or another a decade later. Many were in top jobs, building up top reputations and winning Michelin stars under the
Ramsay umbrella but in their own names. Marcus Wareing at Petrus, Mark Sargeant at Gordon Ramsay at Claridge’s and David Dempsey at Amaryllis are just a few examples.

Yorkshire-born Jason Atherton was to be next in line. Gordon was making Jason head chef at Verre, the new restaurant he was opening at the Dubai Creek Hilton Hotel in the United Arab Emirates. And the chef said the real Gordon Ramsay was very different from the public perception of him. ‘He’s certainly not a nightmare to work for. In fact, he’s brilliant because he’s straight-talking and he helps you move up the ladder. Too many other chefs are threatened by talented, younger staff, but if Gordon sees a talented chef he takes them under his wing and then, when they are ready to fly, gives them their own restaurant.’

‘I want to have the Manchester United of kitchens and I love watching chefs who I have taught go on to be independent young businesswomen and businessmen,’ said Gordon of his various proteges. ‘Some of the big chefs don’t seem to nurse the talent in their own kitchens. They just want to roll out branded chain restaurants that could be staffed by just about anybody. But I don’t want to do that. I want to roll out the talent instead. The way I see it, if the people I’ve taught don’t go on to be big stars in their own right I’ve fucked up. People think I struggle for staff because I’m an arsehole to work for. But I guarantee my staff complete honesty which is important when you spend so many hours a day together. I know my guys put their lives on hold for me, so I want it to be worth their while.’

As part of this policy, Gordon tries to ensure staff can do
a full week’s worth of hours over four shifts, not five, so they can get ‘one full day to sleep, then two days for a proper break’. Tips are shared between kitchen as well as waiting staff and even the insults are handled well. ‘He knows how to bollock you and still be your mate,’ was how footballer Tim Cahill described former Millwall boss Dennis Wise. Exactly the same was said of ex-footballer Gordon Ramsay.

Of course, that didn’t mean that life was always easy in a Gordon Ramsay kitchen. While trying to be fair and inspiring, Gordon made no bones about being a fantastically demanding boss with a tough-love approach to teaching. ‘The waiters know that I charge them for breakages, for example,’ he said of his company-wide policies. ‘I pay for the first breakage, but after that they have to pay and it is surprising how long it takes to break that second plate. I pay for perfection, not accidents and mistakes.’ Step further out of line than just breaking a plate and even worse can be in store for you. ‘There was a cook once who came in to work in my kitchens in London and stole my recipe book,’ he said. ‘I gave him a chance and asked if he was stealing and he said no. Well, I searched his bag and there it was – my recipe book. So we stripped him, wrapped him head to toe in cling film and left him outside the front door. He certainly didn’t steal again for a long time, that’s for sure.’

Anyone horrified about the way Gordon treated the people he worked with or competed against were also in for a shock in 2001. He was about to broaden his verbal broadsides to lay into a whole host of new targets. Just because Gordon didn’t know you personally didn’t mean
he wasn’t ready to insult you. As traffic wardens, taxi drivers, women drivers and, in fact, women in general were all about to find out.

Traffic wardens were the first to feel the Ramsay wrath. Calling them ‘cockroaches’, he reckoned he paid them up to £1,000 a week in fines – but never got as much as an acknowledgement in return. ‘I have never met a pleasant traffic warden. I have never met a smiling one, a happy one, someone who actually says “Good Morning” to you. They are all just standing there, lurking in the bushes waiting to give you a ticket. And the better the car, the more they like ticketing it. The worst thing about the congestion charge in London is that the fucking cockroaches are infesting the streets even more than they did before it was introduced. They creep out of the concrete sometimes. I even check the boot to see if there is one skulking inside. If I’m three minutes over time for a meter out jumps a fucking cockroach. I’d rather work for the Vegan Society than be a traffic warden.’ And all this is said with him hardly drawing a breath.

Next in line for a roasting were London taxi drivers, who he said drove him up the wall with their unwanted opinions, high prices and work-to-rule attitudes – though he soon regretted that outburst when he found out that none of them would pick him up on the street any more. ‘I didn’t win any mates with that,’ he admitted afterwards. ‘Now I’m running a marathon to raise money for the cab drivers’ children’s charity to apologise.’