The Smuggler’s Inn

While cooking just came naturally to me, my parents thought I was completely mad when I told them I wanted to be a chef. But I had no doubts. I’ve always found that inner peace in the kitchen.

At the age of thirteen I took a job in the local public house, The Smuggler’s Inn, under the watchful eye of publicans Graham and Barbara. Graham was a big man— cigarette in one hand, beer in the other. Always. A laugh like a hyena and a stare that pierced right through you. Barbara, his wife, ran the kitchen and was the first cook I had ever met.