Valentine "Val" Warner is a bit of a superstar. A bit posh, a bit tall, and a bit jeans-halfway-down-the-arse and white Converse. But he's got that kind of effortless TV stardust thing that makes us mere mortals shrink into the shadows with envy.
And so when I got the opportunity to attend a cookery course with the great man himself, I jumped at the chance. I thought some of his magic, or at least his cookery skill, might just rub off.
Cucina Caldesi run a small teaching kitchen just behind Oxford Street It's a little haven of tranquility only five minutes from the rush and filth and kamikaze buses and general stress of Oxford Street. There are little pubs all around, ideal for a tongue-untangling pre- (and post) class snifter. Then just wander down to the bottom of Marylebone Lane, past the Cordon Bleu school (where the real student chefs stand around chain-smoking and practising their swearing), and in through the double doors.
The kitchen was packed. Fourteen other amateur cooks waiting for the course to start. Val looked nervous. I gulped down a glass of prosecco, even more nervous (made increasingly so by the girlfriend's gurning as soon as she laid eyes on the teacher). And then we were away, in a flurry of OO flour, razor clams, sea bass, chicory, fennel, garlic and bunches of fresh herbs. A four course Italian meal to prepare, cook and eat, whilst being charmed (girls) and bantered with (boys) by the big man.
Valentine Warner. All in the name
Four hours later, we sat exhausted, still drinking the wine, eating the remaining scraps of a meal from our own fair collective hands. It takes a bit of effort to retain any semblence of an appetite after such a long bout of cooking, but a few mouthfulls of the succulent razor clams - lightly boiled then warmed in their opened shells with tomato, lemon zest, chopped hazelnuts and garlic - soon fixed that.
Who knew making your own ravioli could be so easy? (well I did, because I've been on a pasta making course before, so there). Who knew that if you reduce milk and then add olive oil and anchovies, you can create the most incredibly mayonnaise-esque sauce, fit to eat with almost anything you care to cook? Well, Val knew. And now so do I. The cookery school provide all the recipes after the event, so along with a stained apron, you've always got the potential to re-create.
As I sneaked outside for air, Val joined for a cheeky cigarette. Doesn't it destroy your tastebuds? No, said Val. We talked about Sophie Dahl (woeful, and the death of BBC cookery), Ina "Barefoot Contessa" Garten and every other celebrity chef I could think of. He knew them all by name. "Yuh, Hugh's great. Just so obsessed by fishing." What a guy.
Cucina Caldesi runs regular courses - more information here - http://www.caldesi.com/la-cucina-caldesi/index.htm
And so when I got the opportunity to attend a cookery course with the great man himself, I jumped at the chance. I thought some of his magic, or at least his cookery skill, might just rub off.
Cucina Caldesi run a small teaching kitchen just behind Oxford Street It's a little haven of tranquility only five minutes from the rush and filth and kamikaze buses and general stress of Oxford Street. There are little pubs all around, ideal for a tongue-untangling pre- (and post) class snifter. Then just wander down to the bottom of Marylebone Lane, past the Cordon Bleu school (where the real student chefs stand around chain-smoking and practising their swearing), and in through the double doors.
The kitchen was packed. Fourteen other amateur cooks waiting for the course to start. Val looked nervous. I gulped down a glass of prosecco, even more nervous (made increasingly so by the girlfriend's gurning as soon as she laid eyes on the teacher). And then we were away, in a flurry of OO flour, razor clams, sea bass, chicory, fennel, garlic and bunches of fresh herbs. A four course Italian meal to prepare, cook and eat, whilst being charmed (girls) and bantered with (boys) by the big man.
Valentine Warner. All in the nameFour hours later, we sat exhausted, still drinking the wine, eating the remaining scraps of a meal from our own fair collective hands. It takes a bit of effort to retain any semblence of an appetite after such a long bout of cooking, but a few mouthfulls of the succulent razor clams - lightly boiled then warmed in their opened shells with tomato, lemon zest, chopped hazelnuts and garlic - soon fixed that.
Who knew making your own ravioli could be so easy? (well I did, because I've been on a pasta making course before, so there). Who knew that if you reduce milk and then add olive oil and anchovies, you can create the most incredibly mayonnaise-esque sauce, fit to eat with almost anything you care to cook? Well, Val knew. And now so do I. The cookery school provide all the recipes after the event, so along with a stained apron, you've always got the potential to re-create.
As I sneaked outside for air, Val joined for a cheeky cigarette. Doesn't it destroy your tastebuds? No, said Val. We talked about Sophie Dahl (woeful, and the death of BBC cookery), Ina "Barefoot Contessa" Garten and every other celebrity chef I could think of. He knew them all by name. "Yuh, Hugh's great. Just so obsessed by fishing." What a guy.
Cucina Caldesi runs regular courses - more information here - http://www.caldesi.com/la-cucina-caldesi/index.htm
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