The Lost Interviews, No. 1: Jean-Christophe Novelli

In a short series of 'forgotten interviews' that never saw the light of day, here's one from 2008...


Jean-Christophe Novelli

Jean-Christophe makes women swoon, men jealous and everybody hungry. But it hasn’t all been sweetness and light for the French chef and TV personality. He went bankrupt in 1999, losing all of his London restaurants. On the bright side, the same year, he was voted “the world’s fifth most alluring man” by Harpers & Queen magazine. James Brennan spoke to him about his financial meltdown his image and his unfortunate spat with Sunday Times food critic Michael Winner. 

Tell me about the Novelli Academy.

When I lost everything about nine years ago, it took me about a year or two to get back on my feet. And I thought to myself, I’ve been in the trade now for 30 years, and I wanted to be more involved with the trade, with food, but in my own way. So I got the kitchen table from the garden, brought it inside the farm and started inviting people. I did it for my family and my friends - they could come into my kitchen and it was fantastic. But I started from the age of 14 and learnt everything I could for myself - so I thought it was time to pass that on. It became very popular, so I had to get another table. The more I taught them, the more I leant, and I enjoyed that. I used to go to work for 14 hours a day, six days a week, and I said I didn’t want to do that any more.

How did you get into such severe financial trouble in the late 1990s?

I grew very quickly. You see, the secret in business is to make sure you’ve got money when you start the business. But I started with 500 quid. Then I became popular and opened seven (restaurants) in one go on my own. The day I left the kitchen it was a big mistake. I was acting like a chef rather than a businessman - with emotion, and making the wrong decision. Nothing was calm, everything was affected. And I couldn’t cope (laughs)! I learnt - if it had been one or two places, then fine. But it was too much. After that I bought a fourteenth century farmhouse and let people come to my kitchen. And I’m just about to sell the format in Los Angeles.   

How badly will the global economic crisis affect restaurants?

It’s tough, very tough. Nobody knows what’s going on. And especially now people are more involved with food, they can cook. Before, a lot of people could hardly cook an omelette! Now they are miles away - with so much more experience. There’s a different way of surviving, and I think it’s going to be hard, but I don’t know anybody who’s not affected. I know people who are thinking of closing on Mondays, all day, and opening on Tuesday for lunch. But I knew something like this would happen - I don’t have a crystal ball, but I’m very sensitive because of my mistakes. And when there is terrible weather (in the UK) also, it’s awful.

What did you learn from working with Keith Floyd in the ‘80s?

I learnt to interact with people, actually, to come out of your shell. And not to act too intense with your cooking. I learnt his sense of humour. And don’t forget that before I worked with him I was his friend - before I came to the UK. It was a good relationship - in fact, I’m the only one he never sacked! 

Does your heart-throb image ever get in the way of the food?

Ah, I don’t think it does. If it did, do you think I would be able to work like I did all my life? When I was in Paris, I worked every day doing 200-300 covers at lunchtime. And my dream was to come to Great Britain, and then America one day. And I stuck to my dream. I just came back from Los Angeles and I just finished my TV series, which is coming out next year, in February. It’s going to be massive. And that’s why I’m going to start my cookery school over there, to expand it.

You famously barred the food critic Michael Winner from one of your restaurants. Why was this?

To be criticised is one thing, but it has to be constructive. It has to be fair. I don’t like to waste my time with anybody like this. I’d always had time for him and treated him like a customer, but one day there was a picture of this chap in front of one of my establishments saying how bad it was. How would you feel? Frankly, I couldn’t even be bothered to argue with him. Then he came back years later - ha, ha - and I jumped on him. I’d organised photographers outside, and kindly stopped him. It was not for me, it was for the people he had hurt. He tried to demolish my staff and myself. My new receptionist did not organise things when he walked through the door and he went bananas! My restaurant manager was in tears - in fact, he left. He was one of the best.

What do you think of food critics?

I don’t want to blow my own trumpet, but I have been reviewed by hundreds and hundreds of people, food critics, journalists, the lot. And I’d never been criticised like this in my life. I’ve had far more great reviews by people who I have never even met. Journalists come to my restaurant and they give false names. Matthew Fort (food editor for The Guardian)? I thought he was ex-army. I cook for customers, not food critics. Actually, I spoke too long about it - that’s not good. I’ve wasted my time and your time (laughs).

You have restaurants in the UK and more in the pipeline - any lans to expand in Dubai?

I don’t know because the problem I have is my farm, my academy is doing a lot better than I thought. It’s unbelievable. And think there’s something in people coming to your house, your farm, to you. It’s an extraordinary feeling. I love it. But I don’t know - Frankly I have to be very cautious with my time. I have just bought some land in Spain to get my own olive oil. I I’m looking at getting cooking into rehabilitation, for drug addicts, alcoholics, anorexics. Anyone with a problem. I think cooking is great therapy. 

Image 'borrowed' from www.jeanchristophenovelli.com  

Black cod, bluefin & Greenpeace: Nobu speaks

Love him or loathe him, it’s difficult to imagine what the world would be like without Nobu Matsuhisa.


There’d be a lot more black cod in the sea, that’s for sure. The ‘contemporary Japanese’ phenomenon probably wouldn’t have happened, so Dubai would only have about six restaurants. Former tennis star Boris Becker might not have got up to a certain act in a certain broom cupboard. And Robert De Niro may well have gone into business with Ainsley Harriott instead, which really doesn’t bear thinking about.


Well, Nobu is here, and at the end of last year he was here in Dubai. I caught up with him at his restaurant in The Atlantis just over a year after its launch, to ask him about his impressions of Dubai, his restaurant here and its signature dishes. But the interview took an interesting turn as we discussed his imitators and the controversy surrounding his refusal to remove the endangered bluefin tuna from his menu.


Parts of this interview were used in Esquire magazine in the Middle East, but in this two-part blog post (I know you love the suspense) here’s the rest in all its glory... 


(part one)


JB: How’s Nobu Dubai coming along?


NM: We just passed one year, and it’s much, much more comfortable than in the beginning - maybe in the last six months. The quality is higher and the people know how to work now, the organisation is stronger.


Has it exceeded expectations?


I knew it would happen like this. When I come here and people are working, they are very comfortable and smiling. When you’re comfortable in the kitchen you want to try something more challenging. So this kind of energy makes everybody happy, there’s a happy feeling at this time.


How is Dubai different?


It’s the religion here. I was a little confused at the beginning. We cannot use soy sauce with alcohol because of the religion. But now we know how to do it. Alcohol is the difference. And costumes. In the west people wear suits but not here. And sometimes husbands and wives have to sit at different tables. I don’t know why, but... It’s this kind of thing that’s different from New York or any other country.


It’s the culture. I learn from the culture. There’s nothing strange about doing something different. There are a lot of beautiful people here. People come to dress up. Americans come in t-shirts and jeans, but mostly at nighttime here they dress up. 


You create your own dishes for the menu, but tell me about your Dubai chef’s own creations...


Herve, our chef here, used to work at Nobu Paris, so already he knows the basic Nobu menus. He loves cooking - he’s French -  and he shows me his creations, we discuss them and finally we made like three or four dishes. I don’t want to say to the chef, ‘you must make exactly this,’ because chefs have a lot of creativity. We are not KFC or McDonald’s restaurants. We have recipes, but the chef has a lot of opportunity to make his creations, but basically we have the sauce, flavours, style...


So it’s like a guideline?


Yeah. I don’t want to say, ‘don’t do this’. Try as much as possible. Food is like fashion. Fashion changes - the style, the quality, the colour - it changes every year. Also, it depends  on the country too. New York and London are very fashionable, that’s why there’s always more competition. Dubai has a different style of fashion, but Nobu is still new here - one year. Still we have to teach the basic signature dishes to our kitchen staff. But a lot of people coming here know the other restaurants - New York, Canada... no not Canada (laughs). I confuse myself!


You say food is like fashion, what about the competition that comes with it? I’m thinking about places like Zuma and Mirai.


In Zuma, it’s the guy who used to work for Nobu Tokyo, he moved here. Of course, he knows my style. Then there’s Scott (Hallsworth) at Mirai. I don’t know when he moved here, but he was with me in London and Melbourne. So, automatically they know Nobu’s food. Then they open their restaurants here and they know the most popular dishes. I don’t want to say that they copy everything from me, but it’s like in fashion - somebody is copying, then little by little he makes something original. I am very proud because people understand and accept my food and it’s popular. I’m very proud that my dishes are popular in the world.


Have you been there - Zuma, Mirai?


I went to Zuma once - just for a drink. I have no time, too busy (laughs).


Why do you think this type of contemporary Japanese restaurant is so popular?


I don’t want to call it contemporary. Its background is Japanese, but it has a Nobu style. It means that we have a lot of choice on the menu - we have raw fish, shellfish, meat, lamb chop, quail, vegetable, noodle. Customers choose a lot of varieties. But some Japanese restaurants are very traditional. The service is very traditional. Here people choose the atmosphere, the energy, the good food and good service. The background is Japanese but the difference is in the service, style and hospitality. Customers have to enjoy their time in the restaurant because they are spending money. So this is Nobu’s philosophy, I guess. I enjoy to see customers eating, smiling, laughing. 


Nobu restaurants have been going for more than 20 years, so this is my style. For an example, if I go to a French restaurant with Michelin stars, it’s very quiet but beautiful presentation and the service is very formal. Just me - I don’t enjoy much this kind of restaurant. I enjoy restaurants that are more casual, but service is perfect. Food can be eaten with chopsticks or a knife and fork. It has to be comfortable. This is Nobu’s concept. When a customer comes in, we say ‘Irashaimase’, which in Japanese means ‘welcome’. Many people don’t understand. They ask what it means, and we say, as a joke, ‘spend money!’ Jokes make people comfortable. At Nobu people are comfortable - in New York, London and other restaurants - because it’s the same feeling. Immediately they know it’s a Nobu. The good food, the service, the communication. Traditionally, at French Michelin restaurants they never talk or say ‘hi, how are you doing?’. It’s tight silence.


About Nobu’s small portions, are they popular in the Middle East because they are like mezze?


It makes sense. We have a lot of varieties and if five or ten people sit down, we do it sharing style. Not individual plates. You can order a lot of different things, do a lot of tasting. Maybe this is one of the reasons?


Tell me about black cod miso and the many versions of the dish outside of Nobu?


I have the black cod in this restaurant.


Obviously! Do you mind that they do it elsewhere - Zuma, Okku...? Have you tried it?


No. I’m very proud because I started black cod more than thirty years ago. In the beginning nobody used it, it was very cheap to fish. Now the price is up. All the restaurants in five continents use black cod. Best seller - number one.


What do you think about everybody using the recipe?


I’m very proud. It’s nothing to feel bad about because it’s a good image. People talk about black cod and they know it’s Nobu’s signature dish. Even Zuma makes black cod - oh, this is a Nobu dish (laughs). 


It’s like free advertising...


One time in the London newspapers they said that Robert De Niro is the Godfather, but Nobu is the Codfather! (eruptions of laughter).


To be continued...

Hello, thali

Rajdhani, Rolla Street, Bur Dubai

What's a thali? Imagine an Indian buffet that comes to you instead of you having to go to it.  Think of a broad metal platter that could easily double as a hubcap for a Caterpillar truck, cluttered with curries, dahls, chutneys, pickles, breads, sauces and salads of every imaginable hue. If you can, try to conceive of a self-replenishing plate of vividly tasty morsels that dizzies and delights, beguiles and bedazzles with its many-splendoured charms.


In short, the thali is a meal fit, not just for a king, but for an entire kingdom.  And at Rajdhani, it only costs Dhs25 (GBP4.30, USD6.80).


It's amazing to think that this Bur Dubai restaurant offers one of the more expensive thalis available in the city. Part of a successful Indian chain of restaurants, Rajdhani has won a devoted following in the UAE for its staggering quality, variety and value. Which is why I was astounded that, in all my time in Dubai, I hadn't been there. Until now.

 I don't think I've ever been so well looked after in a restaurant. Within seconds of entering the place, I was seated in front of a thali platter laden with empty stainless steel ramekins called katori. The food was soon delivered by a succession of waiters, whose job it is to circulate and fill any empty space that might appear on a thali platter.


They do this with such zeal and gusto that if you even attempt to refuse, they look at you as if you've gone dangerously insane. It's difficult then to resist their second attempt at replenishing your thali. What this means is that, no matter how much you eat and as long as you don't put up a fight, your thali remains resplendent with fresh and fantastic Indian food. In theory, if this was a 24-hour restaurant, your meal would never end.


If you've been offered a last meal prior to your execution, this would be the place to have it.


As soon as I whipped the camera out, I had an audience. The waiters and the manager swarmed around my table with huge grins on their faces as I marvelled at the feast before me. The manager kindly explained the component parts of my Gujarati thali. To the right hand side were the papads and chapati or bhakari breads. This was for ease of access, since the thali is traditionally eaten with the right hand. Also to the right was the spicy Rajasthani dahl, which is also strategically positioned as the katori most likely to be dunked with bread. Beyond that was the sweet gur khadi, which was a yoghurt dish sweetened with jaggery, and next to it a portion of pert and lively whole toor lentils.


Moving anti-clockwise around the thali, I found a portion of spicy fried potato chips with sesame seeds, nuts and a hint of tamarind. Next to it was the brinjal (aubergine or eggplant) tomato, a knee-bendingly comforting arrangement of rich and smoky vegetables in a thick, sultry sauce. And then came the sev tomato sabji, coloured as brightly as it was flavoured with red tomatoes and slowly dissolving sev, the crisp, stringy gram flour snack.


Taking centre stage was the ragda pattice (sometimes called ragda patties), a classic chaat or street food. Here it took the form of a samosa stuffed with peas and potato, crushed and covered with curried yellow peas (ragda) and sprinkled with a salad of onion, tomato and coriander.


On the side there was a vibrant mung bean salad, mint raita, lime pickle, tamarind chutney, a scattering of fried chillies and - just in case a little extra spice was required - a fistful of fresh green chillies. Perhaps fittingly, these were on standby in a glass of cold water lest they decided to combust spontaneously. A cooling, thick and gloriously rich tumbler of salty lassi was provided to extinguish any internal fires.


My thali was filled and refilled until I thought I could take no more. But I was wrong. There was still dessert to contend with. I took a meagre mouthful out of a moist and sweet carrot halwa, bejewelled with shards of cracked pistachio and sultanas.


"But, sir," said the manager with a concerned look on his face, "it's carrot halwa." He stretched the words out as if the dessert was some kind of holy sacrament - as if leaving a single shred of dewy carrot would be grounds for getting me sectioned under local mental health legislation. The manager looked like a kind, mild-mannered family-man, but one that might crack and transform into a human-heart eating maniac if somebody didn't polish off his carrot halwa. I duly ate it up.  


Rajdhani may be a simple restaurant that looks like a couple of bored decorators had a paint-fight inside it. Its concept may be uncomplicated, unceremonious and - to some - inelegant. But there are few places in the city, from its five-star hotels to its trendy cafes, that offer such a staggering variety of colurful, tasty and freshly cooked food at such a recession-friendly price.


Don't wait 'til it's your last meal.  

Rajdhani (04 393 4433).