Marco Pierre White laments the rise of the TV chef, attacks the Michelin culture and reveals why he handed his own stars back.
Whenever I think about restaurants, either from a business perspective or because I'm thinking about where I'd like to eat out, I always consider one overriding principle: that most people go out for dinner because they want to be with their friends. It amazes me how often people in the restaurant world, both chefs and proprietors, forget this simple truth.
Ninety-nine per cent of the time, people are not going out to have some sort of Michelin experience. After all, how often does someone actually say, "I want to go out for some gastronomy?" I can't imagine anything more boring. I much prefer eating in a pub or a neighbourhood restaurant. Nothing makes me happier than a well-cooked, well-sourced burger.
Of course, generally speaking, people simplyaren't rich enough to go to Michelin-starred restaurants. So what happens is that most of those places find themselves cooking for strangers. They're simply too expensive to have regulars. I think a real restaurant is somewhere you go quite often, where they know you at the door and where you feel comfortable.
To this end, a restaurant should be as formal or as informal as you wish it to be. I believe
that for a restaurant to be successful, its environment must be right for all occasions.
A restaurant can no longer be one-dimensional. It needs to be right whether you want to have a relaxed bite with your other half or a meal with your family, or whether you're after somewhere you can take your children or a place to go for an important celebration.
This means that, in terms of the menu, the pricing point should not dictate to you. A menu should offer the choice to spend as you wish.
For example, my boys, ten-year-old Luciano and nine-year-old Marco, are the worst eaters in the world. But if neither my wife Mati nor I can be bothered to cook, we need to be able to take them out somewhere to eat that is not only fun for them, but is also comfortable enough for us. Likewise, you should be able to choose whether you want to have a reasonably priced bowl of pasta or an expensive steak, or a cheap house wine or a pricey bottle from the cellar.
This is one of the main reasons why I teamed up with Frankie Dettori to open Frankie's Italian Bar and Grill in London. It's not a one-dimensional restaurant, but a place where you can take the kids to eat at 5.30pm or have a civilised dinner at nine.
I also loathe those places where, when you want to book a table at eight o'clock, they tell you instead to come at half-past seven and make you promise to vacate your table by nine. If you're paying big money, then this is just not acceptable.
Another problem with Michelin-starred restaurants is that I simply do not believe that many of the chefs who have their names on the door are actually cooking the food in the kitchen. If a chef is off for two months making television programmes, then who is cooking his or her food? It devalues their currency. If I was a Michelin inspector, I would ask, "If your name is on the door of your restaurant and that is why people are coming to pay £150 a head to eat here, why are you not in the kitchen?"
This was the dilemma that I faced back in 2001, when I decided to give up cooking and handed back the three Michelin stars I had for Mirabelle. As my business was expanding, I was spending less time in the kitchen. I felt I had three options: I could lie and simply pretend that I was in the kitchen; I could stay in the kitchen, work six days a week, have no life and not see my wife or children; or I could phone Michelin, call them in for a meeting and give them their stars back.
When it happened, they were in real shock! But I was so glad I made the decision. I didn't want to live a lie and I was fed up with being petrified every year when the Michelin stars were being handed out. Nowadays, at the age of 42, I find I can see my children, take pleasure in my work and have some time to myself. And if I want to go off for a day's fishing, then I can.
Besides, when I was cooking I looked terrible. Actually, I think that's a telling sign of whether a chef is actually in the kitchen. When I look at Giorgio Locatelli, I know he cooks. It shows on his face. Locatelli is like an artist: his food is an extension of his personality and he keeps it simple and doesn't interfere.
That was always my approach because my love in life is nature. The real artist in gastronomy is Mother Nature. Today's chefs are putting too many things on the plate. It's almost impossible to get six or seven things done perfectly. They should just put all their energies into cooking that one piece of meat or fish. Good food can speak for itself, but it can take great confidence to realise that simplicity is everything.