Ramsay's bad case of pots and kettles

Rather than complaining about imported food, the chef should put his own kitchen in order first
    • The Observer,
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For all his alpha male posturing, Gordon Ramsay has rarely managed to induce in me waves of nausea. The man's standard currency is deliciousness and his wallet is usually full. His declaration last week, however, that chefs who use ingredients that are neither local nor seasonal ought to be fined did make the bile rise.


Last year, having visited his outpost on the Arabian peninsular and eaten the scallops, pork belly, halibut and beef that had arrived in Dubai by air, I contacted the chief executive of Gordon Ramsay Holdings, Chris Hutcheson, who happens to be the chef's father-in-law. I had a proposition. How about they charge every customer £1 to cover the cost of offsetting the carbon emissions for flying all these ingredients around the world? It would, I said, be a good marketing strategy.

It would set an example to the likes of Joël Robuchon, Alain Ducasse and Nobu who are guilty of exactly the same thing. As a chef who cared about the best ingredients, Ramsay surely also cared about the environment required to produce them?

After toying with the idea, Hutcheson declined to do so. A few weeks later, I bumped into Ramsay who said such a scheme wouldn't change anything. They wouldn't be doing it. Now all of a sudden, he is arguing that Parliament should pass laws to penalise errant chefs and the money raised used to offset carbon emissions. Is it me or is that sound I hear the rumble of a bandwagon being leapt upon as it passes?

Ramsay is not the man to be making this argument. He insists upon seasonal produce and yet he has marinated pineapple on his menu right now, when it is only at its best during Britain's winter months. It's also rather less than local. Nor is the pigeon from Bresse or the truffle from Perigord or the mango from the Caribbean, all of which happen to appear on his menus too. Only a few weeks ago, his company opened a new restaurant called Maze Grill. Its unique selling point? Beef from America. If chefs are going to be prosecuted under these proposed new laws, I think we all know who should be first in line for the dock.

So much for the messenger. What about the message? Clearly the notion of legislation is a non-starter. What happens if native raspberries happen to ripen early? Do we slap an Asbo on the plant?

The last country which attempted to legislate over what its population ate was the Soviet Union. It introduced a state cook book and anybody who, like me, has had the misfortune to eat in Moscow recently will know exactly what lasting damage that did to the progress of gastronomy. You can have whatever you like there as long as it's a dumpling or a pickled cucumber.

The argument underlying the hyperbole does, however, have some validity. There is nothing more depressing than being offered asparagus or strawberries in December when they are such a joy during their true summer season. It's lazy and uninspired and their presence on a menu when I go out to review sets multiple alarms bells ringing. Chefs and diners do need to be educated about the seasons, not merely out of some spurious moral imperative, but because the right stuff at the right time tastes so much nicer.

Yet there are limits to how far an obsession with seasonal, local produce can be taken. In a week when we were been kissed by the first blush of summer, it sounded like a lovely idea, didn't it? But who among us really wants to drag through the dour winter months subsisting on a diet of turnips, swedes and potatoes? We live in a cool, damp northern European country which has always suffered by comparison with its European neighbours when it comes to the availability of the best raw produce. Call me a food Neanderthal if you like, but I do regard the year-round availability of tomatoes and garlic, olives and fresh basil as a Very Good Thing.

Britain's food culture has come a terribly long way in the past few years, often thanks to the efforts of celebrity chefs such as Gordon Ramsay who have opened the door to the global larder. The sudden rise of a food Taliban insisting that the door should now be slammed shut serves no one. I would also be curious to know who will be volunteering to pop over to see the farmers of Kenya, hard-working people who have been able to make a good living supplying us with out-of-season mangetout, green beans and, yes, strawberries and tell them the party is over because the British middle classes have concluded it's so awfully not the done thing?

Banging the drum for British produce is laudable. Emphasising the importance of local produce over a faddish interest in something like organics is also to be applauded. We are coming to understand that an organic apple which has been flown here from New Zealand is not such an object of desire. We are learning. But indulging in hyperbole about this stuff serves no one.

Indeed, let me confess. I love strawberries in season. I really do think they are better. But I have also eaten mediocre strawberries in winter and enjoyed them. And doing so didn't make me feel like a terribly bad person. So shoot me.

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