Jamie Oliver Reveals the Proper Way to Enjoy a Drink at a Pub – Exclusive Interview

What does it mean to be a legend? After seasons of profiling impactful chefs and cuisines across the world, most of whom would seem to fit the bill, Netflix’s award-winning docuseries “Chef’s Table” has set its focus on definitively answering this question. In doing so, the program has laid out a few traits that the most impactful culinary icons share. A lot can, should, and will be discussed about the nearly uniform racial and national makeup of this season’s chef-subjects; beyond identity, “Chef’s Table: Legends” suggests that the luminaries of cuisine are those who have gone beyond the sphere of restaurants to make a significant social and political impact on the world at large. Such is the case with England’s own Jamie Oliver.

Spanning 25 years, Oliver’s career has taken many shapes and sizes: He’s been a restauranteur and a television host. A cookbook author, a political activist, and a spokesperson. At one point, cameras were as likely to find him strolling the corridors of a public school as they were walking into the halls of power. Yet for all this, Oliver has always remained, at his core, a chef. Recently, Tasting Table sat down with Oliver for an exclusive interview, to talk about what it means to be considered a “legend” by others, as well as how he sees his own success. Along the way, he shared some tips for cooking puff pastry, and what you should order if you ever end up in a pub. 

This following interview has been edited for length and clarity.

What was your reaction when you found out that you were going to be profiled in “Chef’s Table: Legends?” What was that experience like for you?

Well, I actually didn’t know it was called “Legends” at the time. That was an extra-special happy ending. I just knew I was to be featured with chefs that had, you know, changed more than just food on the plate, but other parts of the food industry and in the world that we live in. I was really proud, and I was super-excited because I was the only non-American representing, which is obviously special. Just individual and different, but beautiful, talented, extraordinary people, so that was amazing.

And also, like, I’ve been trying to get on Netflix for years, and they were never interested. [Laughs]. Finally, I had my opportunity. Hopefully now I’ve broken the field, and they might have me back again.

Talking about legends, who are some of the chefs that have been personal legends in your life and career?

I actually started off with an army of extraordinary women. Alice [Waters] was one of the very first ones. I was reading her beautiful words at the age of about 14. I’ve been in love with her before I even met her and her food and her outlook and her kind of uncompromising clarity for simplicity.

Then I was lucky enough to work with Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers from the River Cafe in London. Just extraordinary, powerful, natural genius women writing menus every single day. Really, the three of them have so many similarities it’s unbelievable. Then through the written word, which is always iffy for me: Elizabeth David, Stephanie Alexander, Marcella Hazan. As a young man, I was quite good, quite young, and I don’t mean that in an arrogant way. I mean, I just had an old [spirit].

I was cooking commercially from the age of about 10, 11 at the weekends, right for pocket money. I kind of feel like I’ve had my fair share of more structured masculine traits, and I was really getting drawn to another side of cooking. I think also when you’re trained, often it’s like weekly, monthly menus. All of these women I was talking about were changing menus twice a day. They were creating thinkers, not crafters.

It was kind of thinkers first, technique and craft second. Not because it’s a compromise, but craft isn’t really as useful unless you can think. Thinking it isn’t as obvious as the word “thinking”; it’s much more emotional than that. It’s much more about the weather and the feelings and how you feel about supplies, networks and supplies, what’s coming in, knowing if it’s good, and what size is it? Is it small, more medium, the start of the season, the end of the season? They’re all going to be cooked completely differently.

So, if I’m honest, because I’ve had quite a lot of formal training, this idea of writing a whole new menu twice a day was like — I remember for the first three weeks at the River Cafe, I was nearly brought to tears, not because I was upset, not because I was sad, not because I was bullied, just because the kind of lack of control. But it wasn’t lack of control. It was like the ultimate — like really true chefs over and above the technical. I struggled with that, but then once I broke the back of it, I was in. I was in, and then I was on my journey and I’ve never looked back.

That really hits on the heart and soul, touch and feel aspects of cooking that you talked about within the episode. Carrying that into some of the dishes that are highlighted, I’d love to know a bit more about Trevor’s chicken. How did that dish come to be? What are some of the challenges you had when developing it and making it?

Well, I mean, I didn’t develop it, really. It was my dad’s chicken. We had a pub restaurant, so on one side, it was more kind of like a trattoria, bistro vibe, you know, like really good pub food. Super-high integrity, but a little bit more lo-fi, a little bit more rustic, which is a beautiful thing.

Next door was a restaurant. It was a little bit, high-fi, starters, main course, desserts, you know, a dessert trolley. I guess it had fine dining service. The beef Wellington was always a hit and, if done correctly, is a beautiful thing, but it’s very expensive. Pubs, if anything, are the most democratic place on Earth. If you go to a proper British pub, there’s no cliques. Everyone’s welcome.

I grew up with, you know, Romani travelers as best friends; they were in the pub. Old pensioners from the war: They were in the pub. Rich city boys with a single malt whiskey and a cigar and a Jag out front. We have the football team. You have the village idiots; everyone’s in there, right? Everyone’s in there.

So Trevor’s chicken was really about taking a much cheaper protein but giving it the same love and doing it as an individual portion. We used to sell hundreds, hundreds a day. So again, giving mushrooms love. Deep, dark cooking. Butter, garlic, thyme, salt, pepper, and mushrooms. Any mushrooms: cheap, expensive. It doesn’t matter. We used to do, like, fresh mushrooms and dried. I then introduced some of the porcini liquor and then let it simmer and tenderize and flavor deep. Then turn the thing down and just get it deep and dark, outrageous flavor.

Then, once that was cool, we’d then stir that into the chicken breast, wrap that in beautiful homemade puff pastry. Now, in the restaurant, we give it a little, slightly decorated exterior that gives you a bit more texture. We wash with egg yolks, just to make it a bit posh, I guess. We serve it with a kind of white wine, mustard cream sauce, which is rich, cuts through the pastry, and it’s just comfort food, really.

It’s a very beautiful dish and people love it, and we had it on the menu for 10 years. We took it off and the customers caused a riot, so we put it back on again. We tried to take it off two years later and they caused a riot again, so it never, ever came off the menu.

Speaking of pub food, what would be included in your iconic dream pub meal, and what would you be drinking with it?

Bless you. Let’s start with the first. My thing, taught to me by a good friend of mine, a Glaswegian boy from Scotland: They have a thing called a hauf and a hauf. Now, Brandon, you got to follow me on this, brother. Don’t just do the interview and go, “Oh, that was cute.” You gotta do this.

Basically, you go into a Glasgow pub, and you get like a shot of good single malt, nothing peaty, nothing smoky, just a good smooth single malt. Then you get a pint of really good IPA, right? And then you bounce. No shots, just bounce from one to the other. And it works, brother, it works. It is a delicious thing. Also kind of like, it gets you a buzz on, so you rock up from hard work into the pub and hauf and a hauf, a little dip of the whiskey, little tip of the beer, little tip of the whiskey. Two minutes later, you got a little buzz on; you’re feeling good about life. Then from that moment onwards, you can pick your beer of choice and pace your night.

As far as pub food is concerned, a really good handmade pie. It’s very hard. It doesn’t really matter where you come from. If it’s good, it breaks people’s hearts, and it’s delicious. Making it have second-class cuts of grass-fed beef so it’s melting in your mouth and all the gelatinous business has come out. Chunks of beautiful vegetables that have been caramelized lovingly, deglazed with a little bit of beer or booze, wine, whatever. Thickened with nice jelly glass little stores.

When I do those braises, shallots, tender, tender, long, long cooking. What I do, which seems to work, is I put it in a colander and let the juice go through once all the seasoning has been corrected. What gravity leaves you is the perfect consistency to go in a pie. You do a hot water pastry. You could use butter, but you can use lard when you’re making it with your hand.

Flick your forefinger and your thumb together so you get little cold, flake-sized bits of fat. Get your half-fat-to-flour pastry, but then it’s not perfect on purpose. You get little kinds of corn-flaky bits of fat. So, when it cooks, it does like a really bad version of a puff pastry, and then because it is animal fat, you get the softness, you get the chew; it kind of caramelizes in a kind meaty way, but delicate. I like butter to do half-butter, half-lard. That’s the holy grail.

But anyway, a beautiful beef pie is fantastic. Additionally, before you put the lid on, you have to be patient, but untraditionally, if you put a really good cheddar or Lincoln cheese on top before you put the pastry, then you just kind of get this predictable ooze. That, with some lovely steamed greens. Then the gravy that’s come out through the colander, I mean it’s just … Honestly, we could put the world to rights with that.

There are a lot of tips that you worked in there. That brings up a comment you made on “Chef’s Table,” about making ripples. What are some of the most impactful culinary ripples that you’ve received in your career? 

I think that the most important ripple that you can receive in your life is unconditional love. And, what does that mean? It means there’s something about a kitchen and life … My dad just said, “Whoever you work for, treat their business like your business.” Don’t just do your job. Do anyone’s job. If you hear the phone ring, pick it up. If you don’t know the answer, be polite and tell them you’ll find it. Get there 15 minutes early, leave 15 minutes late. Put a smile on your face and don’t bring your s*** to work.

Honestly, it is as simple as that. If you do that, the people around you, if you’re lucky, if they’re talented — and if they’re not, move on; you don’t have to work there — for people that are talented, if you give them effort, very quickly, they will always be shocked by true enthusiasm. Anyone can just turn up and do the bare minimum, right?

They very quickly start unpacking versions of this infinite love. If you support them, they will support you. If you times it by a year, it becomes incredibly potent. And if you times it by 10 years, it is exponentially potent. The most incredible ripples in life are when you get a bit older like me, 25 years of investing in people to be better than me, never holding anything back, because that’s mine, never being territorial, always, always and only be better than me; you can be better than me.

It’s been up to them to go do that, right? Quite a lot of my 480 students that went through Fifteen are better than me. I’ve got a handful now that have got Michelin stars. I’ve got kids from bad neighborhoods that run the hottest Japanese restaurants in London, you know, and not even in London. I’ve got kids that are running the coolest sushi joints in Madrid, Spain. Are you kidding me? If I just showed you their Instagram feed, I’m telling you, you would well up. Because you can see their history, you see their past. They’re exactly what you expect from a little hackney wearing the T-shirt, the hair. But there’s this elegance, this diligence, this clarity and this cleanliness, and you’re like, oh, every penny of profit he makes from his wages, he goes to Japan four times a year, goes to Madrid with his girlfriend to learn Spanish. Are you kidding me? 

Can you talk more about the lasting impact of Fifteen?

I’m lucky now, because I think if you can consistently put that energy out there, and sometimes you could do it relentlessly, but I’m getting to the age now where 25 years of putting out splashes, now I’m starting to get ripples coming back. I’m telling you, it feels so good and it makes it all worth it.

I used to say to my Fifteen students, “Look, I don’t take a wage, I don’t take a dividend. All the profits pays for you. You are my profit. Right? You are my profit. So, the point is dealing with the restaurant, because you’re just dealing with yourself.” We did 17 years of second chances, third chances, love, care, and attention, and those kids now are parents, adults.

I just realized that one of them has just taken over as exec chef at Dinings in London. Great sushi bar. And I’m like, oh my, of course, it all falls into place. No one becomes an exec chef of a Japanese restaurant in London, this legit, without a journey.

I mean, what a story, but this is life. Sort of slightly getting off of Fifteen, but more into my sort of political views, my human views. A lot of the school dinner work that I’ve done has always been amplified by the importance of preschool lunches and the most vulnerable communities. And at Fifteen, kids were nearly all from those communities.

The dream is, in America and the U.K., that if you put your head down, anything, the sky is a limit. Anything’s possible, but there are a lot of invisible blockers that will stop that. It’s very hard to get out of a life of poverty, a life of crime, to be fair. Riddled with drugs or a complicated family. Fifteen allowed me to get really good at being efficient at kind of building the ladders for them to escape that.

Institutional support is really important. Another thing that sticks out about that episode is that you mentioned getting people on the culinary roller coaster being what it’s all about. How has the challenge of doing changed over the years? What do you see attracting people the most to food and cooking now?

Different things for different people at different times. Maybe I will start at the end. What I see a lot now is men, who’ve always had a bit of a problem learning from other men, in my opinion. But, men of about 70 to 80 years old, that sort of talk to me at the butchers, fishmongers down the market. I could see straight away; I read it from a mile. Generally, what you can second-guess is their wife has died, and they lived in a home where mum cooked and it was amazing. Then they got married, and the wife was amazing. And now they’re like 69, 70 years old and they’re a widow and they’re eating junk food. I know the look. I’ve seen it hundreds of times, and I see it regularly. Interestingly, they prefer talking to Buddy [Oliver] because he does videos of really basic recipes, and they really relate to him.

Whereas sometimes, men can find other men a bit competitive. But basically, it’s not if [people get on the roller coaster]; it’s when. The saddest thing in the world is when someone gets it late in life. Because behind that slightly lost look, is about 50 years of maybe s*** meals that they’ve had and been quite happy with, that were really rubbish. When they realized how to cook the perfect steak, how to roast vegetables, something deeply delicious, little toppings that can make things crunch and little bits of tang in the dressing to make it pop, you know. How to make a sound pasta that makes a boring piece of steamed fish exceptional. That look of like, oh, I finally got on this roller coaster, but like the roller coaster coming to an end. Do you know what I mean? I feel a lot of that in a way. Our ministry of food centers that we have around the country deal with a lot of those men. But listen, I think different things get people on at different times. 

How do you feel the challenge of people coming to food later in life ties in to your legacy?

“The Naked Chef” was about getting young men to cook, but also getting them to be able to sort of cook for their girlfriends and be a bit more successful, maybe. Some people get on it because they’re not feeling great, and every morning they just don’t feel as good as they could, and [they want] to really help themselves. 90% of the time, you have to have control of your food, and if you rely on highly processed food every day, that’s probably the reason you don’t feel well in the first place. People come for different reasons, and it’s not my job to be like, [no]. It ain’t a club.

It’s not a private members club; it’s for anyone. Certainly in Britain and America, if you’re banging into food, you’re thought of as being bougie. But if you travel around the world and eat great food, most of it is coming from very poor communities. If people have not got much money, but they can cook, they’re clever. They’re resourceful. They’ll create textures out of cheap cuts of meat and leftover bread. Humans that can cook when challenged are genius. I just try to use my platform.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s a funny old platform. I am quite in control. I make my own stuff, but you know, I’ve still got to kiss ass. I’ve still got to get on broadcasters, and I’ve still got to pitch to commissioners. The commissioner, they’re like ships that pass in the night. Sometimes they’re foodies; sometimes they’ve got really bad relationships with food. Sometimes they want some annoying show that I don’t particularly want, so I have to make the best of what I can.

You know, I don’t want to make an air fry show, but everyone’s bought an air fryer, so I have to. Ultimately, my job is to serve, without being corny, and I use the platforms that I can to be as useful to as many people as possible. Try and have some fun, try and get excited about a piece of broccoli. But broccoli is pretty good, you know. At the same time, I think after 25 years, it’s a privilege to be able to do what I do. I’m trying to get better at it all the time. I don’t really get many opportunities to pat myself on the back, and this feels like a little bit of a massage after 10 pretty tricky years.

“Chef’s Table: Legends” is now streaming on Netflix.