Slow cooker Gizzi Erskine on using food as therapy
Television chef, author and soon-to-be restaurateur Gizzi Erskine discusses the inner drive that fuels her hectic lifestyle
Gizzi Erskine, the winsome television chef with the catflick eye-liner and the beehive, has apparently chopped her hair off. Not all of it, but enough to be virtually unrecognisable. To me, at any rate. “Didn’t you know?” her personal assistant, Rose, enquiries, suspiciously. “I mean, she had it done ages ago.”
When Erskine arrives, a red beret jauntily angled on her choppy bob, I tell her she looks more grown up. She looks aghast. “Don’t say that,” she cries. “I’ll have to kill you.” Her indignation is very real, and remains taken aback by my ignorance because her “new” hair is really old now; at least three months!
And there, in a nutshell, is the difference between my generation’s celebrity chefs and those embraced by young people. When I say I like Giorgio Locatelli, it means I’ve bought a couple of his books, cook a few of his dishes and might watch him on telly, if I remember. I’m certain I wouldn’t notice if he got a new short back and sides. But today’s young foodies aren’t just fans, they are followers, who care as much about Erskine’s Snapchat and tresses as her recipe for chicken katsu curry – in some cases, possibly more.
Gizzi (born Griselda) Erskine is 38, looks 32, and her followers are predominantly in the 15-to-35 age group, according to online diagnostics of her Instagram feed. Lord knows what her 142,000 followers will have made of her anguished New Year’s Eve post, which sounded less like a shout out to her fans and more of a cry for help. “Man I’m feeling glum. First NYE in London in years. Too sick to go out. Did I tell you I have pleurisy? Losing my mind. Like really trying to keep it together. The best night is planned… And I’m feeling sorry for myself because I just feel like s---. And I can’t trust myself to not get smashed. And if I do I’ll probably do some real savage damage… I’ve been forced into a kind of reflection that I’ve never had to really do before. I’m sick because I’ve worked too hard and played too hard.”
I have to say it sounds more like a breakdown than a moment of lookat-me self indulgence, although possibly that, too. A beaming Erskine is entirely unfazed. “Ha ha! That was a blow-by-blow account of me falling apart,” she says, airily. “I worked so hard last year that as soon as I stopped, I became horribly ill. I was in hospital over Christmas and entirely incapable of going out for New Year, so I stayed alone in my flat and went from joy to despair to feeling incredibly inspired and full of purpose. That was one rollercoaster evening. It’s typical of me to overshare, but those who know and love me are used to my madness.”
Erskine – a former punk, with a heavily tattooed back to show for it – appears to have led a charmed life. She left school at 15, trained at Leiths School of Food and Wine, where she took top honours, then landed a coveted internship at Good Food Magazine. She was talent-spotted by Channel 4 and given her first series, Cook Yourself Thin, at the age of 28, followed by Cookery School and a clutch more, alongside numerous cookery books. But her prodigious output was underpinned by more than just ambition. In 2016, she was diagnosed with ADHD and last year took part in my colleague Bryony Gordon’s Telegraph podcast, Mad World, where she spoke frankly about living with a hyperactive brain.
There are variations of ADHD that manifest themselves as either inattention, impulsiveness or hyperactivity. Erskine has all three and is on high-dose medication to manage the condition, which she credits for much of her drive. “I love it, but I hate that I sometimes hurt people without thinking,” she says. “I have huge amounts of energy and a really creative brain, but I find it really hard to order my thoughts. When I’m feeling manic, I get very frustrated with those who can’t keep up with me. I suspect a lot of chefs have ADHD. I imagine that’s why they have a facility to work punishingly hard, swear so much and have very little patience.”
Punishingly hard just about describes Erskine’s plans for 2018. She is currently finishing her new book, Slow, a paean to the joys of food preparation, and a departure from the “five ingredients in 15 minutes” school of cookery. “I’m sick to death of book editors telling me: ‘We need quick cheats.’ That’s not what I’m about. I hate cutting corners. I love the process of cooking. Making a proper, slowcooked ragu sauce is absorbing and the perfect therapy for me.”
I would say that’s another sign of Erskine’s coming of age, but she’s already telling me about the launch of her Tanqueray No Ten monthly supper club in Bloomsbury, in conjunction with this premium gin (aka pricier than the usual Tanqueray). It’s a collaboration that she says is far from a sell-out, as it chimes with her passion for London produce. Plus, to be fair, judging from her social media accounts she does drink a lot of gin; her signature dish will be a Tanqueray Ten and grapefruit meringue pie.
Television has been knocking at her door but has been kept at bay because Erskine is about to launch her first restaurant, Pure Filth, in that crucible of hipsterdom, Hackney in east London. “2018 is the year when I prove my worth as a trained chef, cooking every day in my own restaurant,” she says. “A lot of people see my social media and assume I’m all about style not content. I’m sure there will be a lot of individuals out there who would love to see me fail, but I’m happy to put myself in the firing line.”
The restaurant (there are already plans for a second) will be part of a large foodhall-cum-deli where the emphasis will be on London producers, of everything from honey to yogurt, vegetables and meat. Every chef-patron in the land will attest to the hard work ahead; it will be gruelling. Erskine sounds quite gung-ho but there’s a real vulnerability to her too. I wonder aloud if she has the necessary network to support her? “I’m living with my ex-boyfriend from years ago,” she says. “We were together for 10 years and co-own various
‘I’m 38, when women are expected to settle down, but I want cosmic fireworks’
properties. We get on so much better now we aren’t romantically involved.”
After the break-up with her “rock star” boyfriend, Jamie Reynolds of Klaxons, in 2016, she started dating again last year. “I know I’m 38 and it’s the point where women are expected to settle and get married and have babies, but I want cosmic fireworks,” she says, entirely seriously. “If it happens, it happens. Otherwise, I’ve got two cats to lavish my maternal feelings on.”
Esrkine grins and fiddles with her curls; she’s still not quite used to life without the beehive. She cut it off partly because her hair was destroyed after two decades of backcombing, and partly because she “needed” a change. All the same, I’m reminded of the Melanie Griffith quote in Working Girl: “You wanna be taken seriously, you need serious hair.” There are a very serious 12 months ahead. Before I leave, she touches me on the arm and says, anxiously: “You will look after me, won’t you?”
I nod but, truthfully, I think it’s far more important that the inimitable Gizzi Erskine looks after herself.
Gizzi Erskine is taking part in Tanqueray No Ten Table (#Tanqueraytentable), a monthly dining event with four-course meal and exclusive cocktails. For dates and venues, visit feverup.com/m/61892