Eating is Learning

Paul Flynn, chef-proprietor of The Tannery Restaurant in Dunarvan, a Bridgestone Icon restaurant that R.W. Apple Jr., of The New York Times, has described as "a laboratory of disciplined innovation", says that chefs must eat the food of their contemporaries in order to learn.

Chefs that don't eat annoy me. Not that they don't eat full stop, but they go out to eat either rarely or not at all. At the risk of sounding like a boring old fart, the trainees I come across now don't have the same interest. I'm as guilty as the next guy when it comes to junk food but I can't stress enough that a fundamental part of learning about food is eating in other people's restaurants. OK it can be expensive, but where are their priorities? It's important to keep up with the scene, discover who has the good reputations and why? The proof is in the eating.

Regularly my chefs thrust a freshly made sauce or soup at me for me to taste. They know me well enough by now only to offer it to me when they consider it finished and they are satisfied with it. If they are in trouble, that's no problem, we'll finish it together. Flavour is my thing. Blandness is inexcusable, but it can be fixed with a little imagination. Over flavouring is the problem, and this happens a lot. Chefs who don't eat out don't have an understanding of a complete dish. One spoon of sauce is not enough to judge a whole dish. They have to question how does the sauce relate to the main ingredient? If one spoon is so powerful that it makes your gums and tastebuds go into a frenzy, what are four or five spoons going to do? In cases like this I usually get them to try three or four spoonfuls of said sauce for themselves until the full impact hits them, and then no more need be said.

It's quite simple: the more you put into it the more you get out of it. When I am truly impressed with someone's cooking, it makes me want to cook more, to get better, to question why I never tried this or that. The really good chefs make me reflect on my whole outlook, and despair at my failings.

I enjoy restaurants. It's a pleasure to have something served up to you having been on the other side of the fence all week. If you can learn from it, all the better. My work is my hobby. To some people it may sound sad but really, when you think of it, I am lucky. How many people hate their jobs? If I am bored with something I change it, every day if I wish. Each day something new, isn't that wonderful?

If you are excited with what you do, the day flies by despite the bone crunching hours on your feet. The feeling of elation when someone compliments your work and, equally, when someone complains, my heart sinks and I am left feeling disappointed for the customer and myself. That's it you see. You are only as good as your last meal. There's always a new restaurant that's just opened to try, so every meal has to be cooked with care. We can't afford to take our eye off the ball.

When I was a commis chef, some friends of mine who had been saving for a couple of months flew over to Switzerland to eat at Freddy Giradet, in his restaurant in Crissier. I was broke at the time but I was extremely envious of them. Giradet was the pre-eminent chef of the eighties in the way that Robouchon was of the nineties. Upon their return they pronounced it worth every penny. These boys were a dedicated bunch and later, one of them, Tony Wright became the youngest chef in Britain to have a Michelin Star in Mallory Court near Birmingham. Another is now running a sandwich bar having given up the game in pursuit of a better quality of life. There is no doubt there are easier ways to make a living and it's a marathon, not a sprint and it certainly won't suit everyone. I don't blame them but the one thing that will make the long hours acceptable is to love what you do and if your are going to do it you may as well do the best you can, and eating is what makes sense of it all. We eat to live and we eat good food for pleasure and when you understand the pleasure that is derived from something executed beautifully then it should help you to cook beautifully.

So, fine, eat frozen pizza if you want to, but save your money. Go to a nice restaurant every once in a while. Relax, don't pick holes, and enjoy the experience with your friends. Take it all in. Applaud the things you like and the things you donšt like, and simply do it better when you have your own place.

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text © John & Sally McKenna
illustrations © Ken Buggy