A French teacher by the name of Janik Jarnet inspired me. Monsieur Jarnet told me about how people in Europe would follow a chef’s progression from restaurant to restaurant as if he were a movie star. How the French treated food religiously. He used to mention the Michelin Guide and Michelin Stars and how much they meant to a chef and his restaurant’s reputation. Monsieur Jarnet is now one of my most valued customers at Vue de monde.
About this time, Marco Pierre White had his own cooking show on SBS TV called Cooking with Marco. The show so interested me that I watched all eight episodes without skipping a beat. How could I have known that one day I would work with him? He created a dream in me that I knew would become a reality. I wondered if it was his awe-inspiring skill, his technique, his knowledge, or his unquestionable leadership. It was all these things, but foremost it was his energy, optimism and youth that inspired me.
“One day I will be Marco!” I proclaimed to my parents. I now understand that was a fantasy — that there will only ever be one Marco Pierre White.
Scared, yet drawn to Marco at the same time, I don’t believe any chef on the planet will ever have what he had at Harvey’s, his first restaurant in Wandsworth.
[Marco] once said, memorably, on the show, “Cooking is difficult for the ignorant and easy for the vulnerable.” I often think about it and wonder. I have found that it reverses from day to day in my life.
Home economics to crêpes Suzette
There is a big-boned teacher standing in front of the chalkboard before a home-economics class of twenty. She is elegant, and has a definite presence in the room. She eyes the room looking for troublemakers and finds twenty of them. We sit up dead straight. Mrs Malcolm’s goal was to teach at least a couple of us to fend for ourselves. She saw something in me and quickly reined me in. By the end of our time together she had become the most approachable teacher for me.
With her enthusiasm and belief in me, our interaction blossomed into a successful student-teacher relationship. I quickly developed a passion for absorbing techniques and methods. It was my first step to becoming a chef. I started to use the home kitchen as a laboratory and my family as guinea pigs.
A dish derived from my lessons with Mrs Malcolm was crêpes Suzette. This recipe was used in Vue de monde back in the day (2001–2006) in two forms: as it is or by adding a Grand Marnier flavoured soufflé mix inside. To finish, the crêpe is folded in half, icing (confectioners’) sugar is sprinkled over the top, then it goes into a 200˚C (400˚F) oven for 5 minutes. Serve the same way as the recipe which follows and the result is worth the extra effort.
I took the initiative and wrote to the top ten hotels in and around Melbourne requesting an apprenticeship. A month or so passed and I received only one positive reply, from the Grand Hyatt. At the time it was the most modern hotel in Melbourne with a great reputation for its food. It was recognised in the industry as being a tough, organised, profitable and efficient business due to the man at the top, Swiss chef Roger Lienhard.
I turned up for the initial interview full of confidence, thinking it would be a breeze. A human resources officer — who didn’t really care that I wanted to have my own restaurant one day — interviewed me. Getting through all the questions was tough. Two weeks later I had a second interview with the man that mattered.
The first bollocking: a chef’s rite
No matter how you earn a living, there is always a first bollocking and you will always remember it. When it comes from a 203-centimetre (6-foot 8-inch) 130-kilogram (286-pound) Swiss fanatic, it hurts the ego. My day came one Thursday morning when I was the assistant breakfast chef. I was in charge of making French toast and pancakes. All I had to do to prepare the mix was to add a few eggs and milk: simple.
But on that particular morning the mix wasn’t rising to its normal fluffiness. I could hear all 130-odd kilograms of the Chef in his wooden clogs coming up the kitchen ramp to begin his morning rounds starting with an espresso in the breakfast kitchen. The call came for a pancake and in my naivety and innocence I ladled the mixture onto the flat grill. In a few minutes I passed the poor excuse for a fluffy pancake to be plated — and that’s when the explosion happened.
The big man screamed at a pitch I had never heard before. The feeling of panic and adrenaline rushing through my body was a new sensation. I didn’t realise the body could feel such extremes.
Even now I fall back on the crepes Suzettes and the eggs dishes that I learned in my early years cooking. I'm still starving for this perfection.
Being a chef is such an evolution that none of us are ever truly qualified to call ourselves such.
This is an edited extract from Shannon Bennett's My Vue: Modern French Cookery (Simon & Schuster), 2004.
