Raymond also began to consider how the pandemic might affect what we ate. Perhaps we would finally value local produce and tackle food waste. Every day, he would call Maman Blanc in France. Then, in June, Maman Blanc, 97, died from a fall. It was a shock. His project took on new significance. He would go all out on her values, championing the garden, seasonality, vegetable varieties and simplicity.
His mother would ask Raymond, the middle of five children, to bring her particular varieties of vegetables and he became expert at finding them to please her.
It was never about this global name of potato. Today, gardeners and chefs at Le Manoir know the value of varieties. Once, Raymond made them taste 40 types of chillies before he decided which to plant. Some chefs rubbed their eyes with seeds on their fingertips.
In London, Raymond has a tiny garden, about three and a half metres square, packed with 20 vegetables, including red-leaf kale and chard. Recently, he has been cooking a lot of vegan dishes.
I will have it with a piece of sourdough. It takes a tremendous amount of effort, removing the unnecessary and focusing on what matters. Today, seasonality and local produce are often championed because they tend to have a lighter carbon footprint. They gave their whole lives to nurturing children, cleaning the house and cooking day and night. And Maman Blanc was a bloody good cook. She never in her life presented a bill to her guests, but she should — and could — have done. It totally amazed me how one could create such a spectacular dish from eggs and cheese.
The kitchen was the heart of the home. It represented conviviality and a time to celebrate the food we had worked so hard to grow and harvest. And, of course, as a family we would have heated discussions too.
Remember we were no less than seven people at each meal, and at holiday time that number grew and grew. In an interview with Jenny Johnston for Weekend magazine, Raymond, whose restaurant has two Michelin stars, said that some of his fondest memories from his career involve another tiny yet formidable lady — the Queen Mother.
He would cook for her below, with Raymond , and sometimes the Queen too, at the house of her horse trainer. She loved France. One of his biggest achievements was convincing her to sing the French national anthem in a room full of English people at his restaurant, Le Manoir aux Quat'Saisons.
The things I learned from being her young helper and runner too! Family meals would begin with me being sent from the house to my father's potager. Maman would say, 'Mon petit, go into the garden and get me Her instructions would be precise, too. She'd never tell me, 'Get some potatoes'. It would be, 'Get some Rattes'. It was the same for lettuce or carrots.
Different varieties would have a different role: best for baking, best for frying, best for salads. We grew two types of tomato, the Coeur de Boeuf and the Marmande, which was perfect for my mother's tomato salad.
She would cut them into thick slices and put some salad leaves underneath and very fine slices of purple onion on top. She seasoned the salad with a bit of salt and vinegar, and then there was a huge pause: after an hour the salt and acid had extracted the juices from the tomatoes and you had a wonderful pool of juice at the bottom.
Then she served it with a mustard dressing. In those days I also learned to forage, to fish — still a passion, to this day. I remember catching my first fish — a tench, almost as big as me. I was so proud and thrilled that I kissed the fish on the lips. At home, Maman slow-roasted it in a silky sauce of butter and lemon. Maman sat with a fork in hand, a smile on her lips, and tears on her cheeks.
The smile was because she loved the taste. The tears because she adored the rabbits that we kept. Such is the French paradox. I've included a recipe in my new cookbook, which was largely inspired by Maman.
But with her in mind and for those who love rabbits! I have used le poulet — chicken — as a substitute. I think she would like that. The book has been joined by my forthcoming ITV series called Simply Raymond Blanc, which will showcase some of the dishes.
I had the idea for the book a couple of decades ago, maybe even longer. I was playing around with the idea of a homage to two of my biggest influences. One was a fellow Frenchman, a scientist, author and connoisseur I had never met. I adored its witty, conversational style.
Pomiane was quirky, confident and maybe a bit over the top I confess I may have seen something of myself in him but I was in awe of his ability to demystify food, to break through elitist barriers.
Raymond's new book will be joined by his forthcoming ITV series called Simply Raymond Blanc, which will showcase some of the dishes. He is pictured in Then there was my mother, who every single day made lunch and dinner for her husband and the five of us. She had a genuine passion for pleasing people by feeding them. I felt encouraged, compelled to cook, because of her. Her values were ingrained in me — they provided the foundations of a career and a life. Chez Blanc, she had no brigades of chefs, fancy gadgets and high-tech gastronomic equipment.
I often went with my late father to forage in the forest and we brought back our fruits for Maman to cook.
I was her assistant in the kitchen, peeling, topping and tailing French beans and chopping the freshly picked, organic vegetables we had picked from the garden that day. I sometimes wondered what it would be like to go and play football with my friends!
I have many memories of the family gatherings around the table. The kitchen was the heart of the home. It represented conviviality and times to celebrate the food we had worked so hard to harvest. And, of course, as a family we would have heated discussions too. Remember we were no less than 7 people at each meal, and at holiday time, that number grew and grew!
Never a dry moment for conversation. What was your favourite dish as a boy? A truly lovely little dish that rose to order and it totally amazed me how one could create such a spectacular dish from eggs and cheese.
What's the most important thing your mother ever taught you when it came to cooking? She instilled values which I have stuck by throughout my career… fresh, local and seasonal ingredients and made with the art of giving. We picked ours from the garden and they were all organic as they are here today in at Le Manoir gardens.
I did my apprenticeship as a gardener before becoming a cook! You're a self-taught chef that's held two Michelin stars for 30 years, and your mother had a huge part to play in your culinary education. What values did she instill in you, when it came to cooking and life in general? Cooking food is an expression of love, that is what I learnt from my Mum's cooking.
We were a large busy family of young children and she loved to feed us the best wholesome food that nourished us from the inside out. That is a good feeling for the soul. So today I cook because I truly love it and I hope that shines through in the dishes we serve.
England has taught me to be a better Frenchman and I can laugh at myself. What recipes do you cook to win over your mother for Mother's Day? I have to take into consideration by Mum's age although she is very active in the garden today and full of life. She still bounces around the kitchen and her garden!
I would cook her a simple locally caught fish, carefully filleted so there were no surprises, pan fried with broad beans and sprinkled with pea shoots.
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