Lancashire born and bred, Marcus Wareing likes no nonsense and straight talking. So as coffee is being carried to the table on a silver tray and life seems a little too cosy, I chuck Gordon Ramsay's name into the conversation, grenade-like, and wait for the explosion.
"If I never speak to that guy for the rest of my life," says Wareing, "it wouldn't bother me one bit. Wouldn't give a f***. I admire Gordon, I learned a lot from him. But would I lose sleep knowing he wouldn't be there? No chance."
In case you have missed the story, Wareing is the chief lieutenant who grew tired of living in his general's shadow. For years, he toiled as an employee of Gordon Ramsay Holdings, winning awards and picking up stars. In January last year, Michelin awarded a second star to Pétrus, the Wareing-Ramsay restaurant at The Berkeley hotel, Knightsbridge. Wareing has been doing very well for Gordon Ramsay Holdings. But during the past couple of years, his thoughts have increasingly been of his own future, of reassessing his life and considering the idea of independence.
Currently, the contract between The Maybourne Hotel Group, owners of The Berkeley, and Ramsay is a matter of considerable speculation. While Wareing would like to be his own master and have his own deal, Ramsay takes a rather different view. So all bets are off at present and only time will tell whether it's Ramsay out and Wareing in or vice versa. But why would Wareing want to make such a move?
"Very simple," says the 38-year-old. "When you wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and all you see is a man who is constrained, confined and trapped, then you've got to change. My level of desire to expand has been reined in from time to time. Is it because I've won two Michelin stars? Is it because I want to stand alone?"
Meanwhile, it's all very messy and the chefs' lawyers have been getting richer. Ramsay and Wareing may even end up in a courtroom, battling out their business problems. Wareing can handle fights - he boxed for much of his life. "I was the first chef Gordon ever employed. We were best mates. The guy was best man at my wedding," says Wareing. "I've known Gordon since I was 19 and he was 22. I've known him longer than anyone who's worked with him, even his own family. So it goes back a long way.
"And when it gets to this stage and I think about what's going on now, it just makes me laugh. Do you know why? Because I've got three stunning children and that's what drives me. There was a time when my mentor was the person to keep happy. Now I've realised there's more to life than a mentor. I want to be my own man. Children really help to focus you."
Wareing lives in an elegantly decorated townhouse half a mile from Gordon Ramsay, in Wandsworth, southwest London. His children - Jake, six, Archie, three, and one-year-old Jessie - have gone for a break with Wareing's wife, Jane. Wareing's own childhood in Southport, Lancashire, was quite solitary, even though he came from a family of six.
"I was the shy one. My mum's friends would come round and I'd hear them saying things like, Marcus is very quiet."
But food "was always around me". His father, Raymond, was a fruit and potato merchant, selling to schools. "We didn't have pots of gold. Dad had a business but was ruthless with his money. We had two weeks' holiday every year, in mainland Spain or Mallorca. And that was it. Dad worked Monday to Sunday, and when he was at home he was fast asleep."
Wareing's brother, Brian, 11 years his senior, was a chef.
"I was intrigued by his whites, by his big knife roll that he brought home full of fantastic knives. By the time I got to the end of school, I was either going to work for my dad or follow my brother because that was the natural thing to do."
Although young Marcus wanted to get stuck into work, Brian advised him to do a catering course at Southport College.
"At school I had been mediocre, nothing special. But at catering college I found myself winning competitions, being top of the class. I felt happy - I'd found what I was good at. All I had to do was progress from that. The kitchen was my comfort zone and I felt good in whites. Plus, I was getting recognition."
His first break came at 18 when he competed in a cookery competition. "One of the judges pulled me to one side and said, 'I like what you've done, I love the way you work. Would you ever want to go and work in London?'
"He told me he knew a sous chef at the Savoy. I came down for an interview and got the job. I didn't have a clue what I was letting myself in for." Years later he would return to the Savoy, to revamp the famous Grill to such a standard that it won its first Michelin star.
I was a complete loner. Never went out, never had a social life. Just worked five or six days
a week
Moving to the capital was a shock for the young Wareing. "No one in my family had ever been to London. I knew it existed but couldn't have pointed at it on a map. But when I arrived I just didn't like it. I was a home boy, I liked being with my family. I was a complete loner. Never went out, never had a social life. Just worked five or six days a week, whatever was needed. I did my time, did my washing, kept fit by boxing. I read books, watched television and rested so that when I was in work I was fully tuned and ready to go."
Was he friendless? "Completely. I wouldn't give anyone my time, wouldn't let anyone get close to me. I don't know why."
Before I met Wareing, he told me on the phone that he drives a Porsche. In fact, he managed to mention it three times.
Now we are in his beloved car ("the other car is a Hyundai"), negotiating London traffic, crossing the Thames and heading for Pétrus. He talks about his move from the Savoy to working for Albert Roux at Le Gavroche (where he met Ramsay) and then meeting Jane at Gravetye Manor in West Sussex.
When he landed a job at Pierre Koffmann's Tante Claire in London he was delighted to discover that he'd be reunited with Ramsay. "On my very first morning, Gordon took Pierre to one side and they were talking for about an hour. He was giving in his notice and left at the end of the week.
"He told me he was going to open Aubergine, his own restaurant, and said, 'Come down and see me some time.'
"I did a couple of weeks at Tante Claire. Pierre was a genius but just made people's lives a misery. He did stupid things like switching your stove off or turning your oven off while you were in the middle of cooking, or making you clean the kitchen floor halfway through service. It was ridiculous.
"One night I thought, 'F*** this. I'm going to see Gordon.'
It was pouring down with rain, and about one in the morning. He was doing trial runs ahead of the restaurant opening. I managed to clamber down a side alley and opened the kitchen door. Marco [Pierre White], Gordon, Stephen Terry, and Tim Payne were all in the kitchen finishing off a few dishes. Marco was just helping out Gordon but he looked at me and he was f***ing menacing and he said, 'Gordon, some idiot has just walked into your kitchen and he's letting all this cold air in. Who is this?' Gordon was just laughing.
"Marco said, 'Where are you working?' I said, 'Tante Claire.' He said, 'Do you like it?' I said, 'Yeah, it's all right.' He said, 'Don't lie. How would you like to work for a real chef?' I said, 'I'd love to, one day.' He said, 'Be here tomorrow at seven.' "
Thus began his working relationship with Ramsay: Wareing was given the job by White, who did not have a hand in the business!
"Gordon and I worked side by side, six days a week, for two solid years. I gave that guy everything I had. It was 16, 17 hours a day of pure pressure. We arrived at the restaurant at about 6.30 every morning. Just before lunch service we'd have a bowl of cornflakes standing at our benches, and just before evening service Gordon made us get a plate of food and go and sit down in the restaurant for half an hour. We didn't have the time, but he made us eat.
Gordon is not really part of the industry now. He’s a major celebrity. He’s gone beyond the industry
"So we would sit down, eat half the dinner and then fall asleep at the table. Then it was back into the kitchen for another eight hours. Never, ever did I get to bed before 2am." He pauses, then adds, "Never ever."
Two years later, Wareing left Aubergine "mentally and physically" shattered. "I couldn't take it any more. On my last day, just before service, Gordon said, 'Come with me.' And we went for a walk. It was really nice, having this chat in the sunshine. He thanked me for everything. Then we went back to the kitchen and he screwed me hard, gave me one b*ll*cking after another. He couldn't bear it because I was the first person to quit. All the other chefs who'd gone had been booted out of the door. I was the first to let him know that I didn't want to be trapped." Even so, Wareing would later return to work again for the Ramsay empire.
At Pétrus, Wareing changes into his whites: "I have a huge amount of respect for my whites. For me it is like being in the army. It is a uniform. That's why it's pressed and spotless and that's why every chef here is the same and every chef who isn't goes home... I love my industry and I'll never turn my back on it."
Before service, we nip to the Grosvenor House hotel, where Wareing is meeting other chefs to discuss next month's centenary awards dinner for the AA - Wareing is doing the starter. We see Tom Aikens, who's in charge of the main course. Aikens, who looks like he hasn't slept since childhood, is expecting 300 guests.
"No," says Wareing. "It's at least a thousand."
"S***," says Aikens. "I'll have to revise the dish."
After a quick meeting, it's back to Pétrus for lunch service. I take note of the chef's table, which is usually occupied by guests who satisfy a sadistic appetite by eating while observing the stove-side rollickings from banquettes on a stage by the kitchen.
"Actually, people sometimes say they expect it to be more violent," says Wareing. "Last week we had a wedding party here... I thought, 'We've got to be careful.' But I got a bee in my bonnet and gave one of the cooks a hard time. I thought I'd better apologise but before I could open my mouth, the bride and groom said, 'You've just made our wedding day.' "
Wareing's management technique - if you can call it such - was once legendary in its ferocity. "I used to grab cooks by their aprons so the straps tore. I'd go off on one but tried not to get physical.
"Back in the days of L' Oranger [which he set up with Ramsay], I struggled. I worked with my back and not my head. One day I was having a major bust up with Gordon and he said, 'You know what, Marcus, you should have a look at yourself before you start judging others around you. Maybe you're the reason people are not working for you.' That hit me like a sledgehammer. I thought, 'That's rich coming from you.' But he was right."
He describes himself as one-dimensional.
"I was very unapproachable, very strict, very self-disciplined... I b*ll*cked people like Gordon did. I acted like Gordon. I tasted my sauces like Gordon. I couldn't get him out of my head."
Yet a couple of years ago, Wareing began setting about changing his life for the better.
"I thought, I've got to pull down the barriers and be more approachable. I lashed out before I put my brain in gear. Now it's the other way round. That's the change in me."
Wareing started to think about what he was doing and where he was going. "A very good friend said to me, 'You've got two ears and one mouth for a reason. You should listen twice as hard as you speak. Take time to reflect on what your mouth is about to do.' "
Wareing is a gifted chef - one of the nation's finest - and today he is firmly focused on the future. Earlier this year he published his second book, One Perfect Ingredient. His sights are set on winning that third Michelin star: a goal he reckons will not sit well with Ramsay, who is currently the only holder of three stars in London.
"Gordon loves being the only three-star here. He's milked it for years. I don't want to get to the end of my career and say that I never really achieved what I wanted to because I felt restrained. I'd kill myself rather than do that. I'm not going to be stopped from having my piece of the cake. Gordon's an important part of my life, although half of me thinks he's a sad b*st*rd and the other half still adores him. But Gordon is not really part of the industry now. He's a major celebrity. He's gone beyond the industry."
Is he saying in a nice way that Ramsay doesn't cook as much these days? "I think we all know that. That's the genius of Gordon: he's clever enough to win Michelin stars around the world and not need to spend every waking hour cooking.
"If you were in the cavalry, you'd want Gordon at the front because he'd lead the troops. He'd be that general on the hill yelling, 'Charge, you idiots!' Mind you," he adds with a wry smile, "you'd all get killed, but he'd slide off to the side."
Wareing adds: "Whatever happens between me and Gordon, if he wants me never to get to the status I want, then my advice to him is: put a gun to my head, shoot me, put me in a box and bury me, because if you don't, I'll come back and I'll come back. I'll never give up till I get to where I want to go."