My Life in Food with RICK STEIN: ‘The police joked about my horrible curry’

My first food memory was my mother’s apple charlotte. I was born and brought up on a mixed farm in Oxfordshire, with pigs, sheep, cattle and chickens. And a great kitchen garden with lots of fresh veg. My mum was a really good cook. She made curries with Sharwood’s curry powder and lots of sultanas. A particularly good pea soup, too.

The Sunday roast lasted through most of the week. Either served up cold or made into shepherd’s or cottage pie. We never had anything out of season, because that was the way it was then. My parents did have a taste for Italian food at the time, and my mum would occasionally make spaghetti bolognese. But the kids’ food was all completely local.

At Uppingham, where I went to school, we had really nice food. I remember great roast pork on Sunday, with proper crisp crackling, apple sauce and excellent roasties. There was a place called the Buttery, where you could get millefeuilles, but made with real crème chantilly, not the synthetic stuff. The cook was an ex-army baker called Sandy, and I don’t know why those millefeuilles were so bloody wonderful. But they were.

Rick remembers working in Puglia, southern Italy, and, in childhood, enjoying his mother’s spaghetti bolognese and pea soup

When I first opened a club in Padstow – now The Seafood Restaurant – we had a supper licence, which allowed us to serve booze until one in the morning, as long as it was with a ‘substantial meal’. In the early 1970s, that was unheard of – so we bought kilo boxes of Bachelor’s freeze-dried lamb curry and mixed them with water then boiled up a whole load of rice. Everyone had to have a plastic plateful of it. I remember when we were finally done by the rozzers, and were in court – they were very jokey about how horrible the curry was.

A lot of the time when you’re cooking on camera, you’re not actually tucking in. If it’s particularly good I might sometimes eat everything – but generally, you’re just tasting and trying.

Wherever we are in the world, after a long day’s filming, we all go out for an evening meal. The fun of it is sitting down with the crew and eating well, talking and having a drink.

We had a well-publicised disaster in Puglia, in the south of Italy. I was driving round in this Land Rover and it got stolen with about £30,000-worth of gear in the back. Fortunately, our fixer was friendly with the wife of some local Mafia man, and after the news got back to him, the Land Rover mysteriously turned up. It was found in a thicket, and nothing had gone save for one of my T-shirts, which always makes me laugh.

The only food I really hate is rocky road. I don’t mind marshmallow, and I love chocolate, but I hate the combination – and I don’t like chocolate-covered strawberries!

I’ve recently been back to India with my wife, Sas. Just being in those places where I’ve filmed [he was there in 2013], and not having to work, is absolutely wonderful.

My comfort food? Fresh Cornish crab meat, mayonnaise and sourdough bread.

Half the fridge seems to be taken up with my wife’s champagne. But there’s always defrosted stock, as well as lots of chorizo and salami, since I’m a bit of a snacker. And there’s probably too much cheese. I never throw cheese away, which I know my wife finds not at all pleasant. But it’s probably because my mum never threw anything out, either. And I don’t mind old cheese.

My last dinner would be turbot with hollandaise sauce. It’s probably my favourite dish of all time. Assuming, that is, I’m not being fed through a straw.

Rick Stein’s Simple Suppers is published by BBC Books, £28. To order a copy for £23.80 until 10 December, go to mailshop.co.uk/books or call 020 3176 2937. Free UK delivery on orders over £25. 

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