Food
Visionary, self-taught chef Heston Blumenthal showed the world that food science can be sexy. Chris Dwyer finds out what the future holds for the culinary genius
Visionary chef Heston Blumenthal showed the world that food science can be sexy. Find out what the future holds for the culinary genius
mong the pantheon of truly great chefs, many are mavericks. They have to be, to find the energy, inspiration and innovation to constantly keep improving and challenging themselves. One, however, seems to stand head and shoulders above the pack when it comes to the art of quirky reinvention, both on and off the plate: Heston Blumenthal. The setting is Melbourne, the day before the World’s 50 Best Restaurants annual gathering where he would take home the 2017 Lifetime Achievement Award, receiving a standing ovation from his peers. Former recipients of the award have included culinary titans such as Alain Ducasse, Thomas Keller and Juan Mari Arzak, all of whom have spent their lives in kitchens, from teenage apprentice onwards. Blumenthal, however, famously never attended culinary school, taught himself to cook, and only lasted a week working at Raymond Blanc’s Le Manoir aux Quat’saisons restaurant before setting up his own, The Fat Duck, in a 350-year-old pub in Bray, outside London. The beginning of Blumenthal’s extraordinary relationship with food came at the age of 16 during a family holiday in Provence, France. His dining epiphany at the two Michelin-starred L’oustau de Baumaniere remains an experience etched in his memory in the most minute details, and in a way that explains his later approach to the theatre of the restaurant. “It was the whole multisensory experience, the sound of gravel on the driveway and the cicadas, the heady scent of lavender, the sight of the waiters theatrically carving lamb at the table.” Although he left school at age 18 and spent his twenties working various jobs, including as a debt collector, his evenings and weekends were spent devouring French classical culinary tomes. But it was a book by American food scientist and writer Harold Mcgee that truly set Blumenthal on the path to his unique form of kitchen alchemy. On Food and Cooking busted every culinary myth, using chemistry and physics to deconstruct and destroy conventional wisdom, such as how searing meat does not actually seal in the juices, but quite the opposite. The book also encouraged Blumenthal to pursue the curiosity that later came to define him: question everything. The year 2016 was significant in other ways as he was diagnosed as having ADHD or attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder. He explained to The Times in London, “When people say you have ADHD, they think you’re throwing things around. But it’s not. It’s that one thought comes in and knocks another one out temporarily. When I’m
working, it’s fantastic: I can have 20 webpages open, with two projects, and keep joining the dots and making connections.” His diagnosis also helped to explain our interview in Melbourne that was in turns bewildering, baffling and brilliant. In truth, we spoke for an hour, although I only asked two questions, neither of which were answered. At times, it seemed like a stream of consciousness to make James Joyce’s Ulysses proud. Discussing his dishes, restaurants, innovations or even the next day’s imminent award were not on the menu. Instead, a metaphysical tour of the huge questions racing around his brain as well as anecdotes that touched on the Dalai Lama’s flatulence, the last wishes of the terminally ill or monkeys living inside computers. The one thread weaving throughout everything he talked about, however, was undoubtedly creativity. “I’ve said over the years that I’ve felt like I’ve had bits of the most amazing jigsaw puzzle. But there are those bits of blue sky, clouds, which were just missing pieces.” One of the largest parts of his jigsaw is The Fat Duck, one of only four British restaurants to hold the Holy Grail of three Michelin stars. But Blumenthal, never content to rest on his laurels, upped and moved it temporarily to Australia in 2015,
“Honestly, I consider the past 20 years my apprenticeship. I’m only just getting started”
before closing completely last year to reconceive the dining experience. Famous dishes such as snail porridge, and bacon and egg ice cream disappeared and today, in new look surroundings, diners receive a 17-course menu based on the story of an idyllic beach holiday. His multisensory cuisine is at its finest in creations such as The Sound of the Sea, a remarkable dish involving more than 80 ingredients, even before you plug in an ipod that plays sounds of seagulls and ocean waves as you eat. Diners have been known to burst into tears of joy at the Proustian experience of memory entwined with taste. Blumenthal explains, “The Fat Duck has moulded me more than any other person or thing on the planet. The cramped little kitchen meant I was forced to try and produce something elegant out of nothing.” Today, for £255 per person without drinks, extraordinary elegance comes as standard. Counting Sheep is a dessert that plays on the scent and taste of Johnson’s baby powder, but the biggest showstopper is the Sweet Shop, £150,000 worth of Blumenthal’s imagination writ large in a mechanical doll’s house that puffs smoke and requires a coin inserted before you can choose your sweet. Much, much more than the British Willy Wonka, Blumenthal is delighting and surprising diners at every turn. He also found time to launch the two-michelin-starred Dinner by Heston Blumenthal at London’s Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park, which salvaged the history of British cuisine through iconic dishes such as Meat Fruit. His two pubs also have a Michelin star each, but more than that, it is his impact and influence on other chefs that is arguably most important. No one else had used liquid nitrogen in a kitchen, created triple-cooked chips or made food science sexy. He did it in a way that could be understood by a home chef as much as a professional. Who knows what the next half-century may bring him, but one thing is for sure, his tsunami of ideas and creativity will not stop. Behind his smile comes a glimpse of the extraordinary vision and stunning work ethic that has led him to great heights—and should have other chefs terrified. “Honestly, I consider the past 20 years my apprenticeship. I’m only just getting started.”