Origins of Claude Bosi

Growing up in Lyon, Claude Bosi was given a head start in the world of gastronomy, thanks to calves’ liver breakfasts and pig snout lunches at his parents’ bistro, and the secret Italian recipes of Granny Cashera

Pig snout

I was lucky never to have school dinners. We were able to come back home every lunchtime and eat whatever was on the stove in the bistro: steak au poivre, salads or even pig snout. My mother would boil it, de-bone it, cut it into small pieces and sieve it with a mustard vinaigrette and a beautiful salad. We did breakfasts too, with workers coming in early, so I could be eating calves’ liver before heading off for school. That’s also probably why I’m 17 stone! Food was always so important, even when we were having lunch we talking about what was for dinner.

Granny Cashera

Both my parents are of Italian origin, my dad from Sardinia, my mum from Sicily, and my grandmother [on the mum’s side, Cashera] used to make this wonderful vegetable ragù, I’ll never forget the flavours. My dad was actually born in Tunisia during the Algerian War, so there’s also that influence from my other grandma, who mixed North African and Italian flavours. She was able to make a bowl of pasta like nobody else, but also made a couscous with broad beans she grew on her balcony. It was all about the broth, and the grains – so light. I’ve no idea what she used to do, and she never gave anyone the recipe before she passed away, so it went with her.

Baby goat

My mum used to cook kid, baby goat, in a very traditional way: she’d cut it into pieces, slice up some potatoes and put the whole thing into the oven, the head too. The long braising time meant the potatoes really sucked the flavour out of the kid.

Bistro Jenas

As a teenager I was fussy about eating, but I always loved the buzz of a restaurant, the loud noises, the hard-boiled eggs on the bar, games of dice being played by the locals. Now, at Bibendum, I don’t want it to be so quiet people can’t talk. I want a nice play list, and a bit of the noise you’d get in Bistro Jenas.

Lyon

My first job was in a brasserie next to the station, Le Brasserie TGV, where I was lucky to find a chef with a very good background, and then I went to a two- star restaurant, Léon de Lyon. The memory is so strong – going into the larder fridge and the smell of the herbs, the chives, the tarragon – it was amazing, this was the life I wanted to do. I went to Paris after, but returned to Lyon again before going to England.

S t B a r t s

I took a break from everything when I was 19 to go and work in St Barts – it’s a place you have to be careful you don’t end up staying and looking like the guy from Castaway. I woke up one morning and thought, ‘If I don’t go home now, I never will.’

England

I came to England in 1997, to Shropshire, a little gem in the middle of nowhere. I came to learn English and work at Overton Grange. I took over the kitchen in 1998 and won a Michelin star in 1999. I’d only planned to be there for six months, but I got the star and stayed for a bit longer! Now, in London, I love standing on Waterloo Bridge at night, with the old buildings like St Paul’s and the big new shiny buildings behind it. I was driving across the other day with [wife] Lucy and said to her: ‘I just love this place.’

Japan

I was lucky to go to Kyoto in 2008, and the simplicity and quality of the produce is just incredible. They have such respect for produce and seasonality, it’s the best in the world. Even just a simple turnip – the quality and freshness is so good, you can eat it like an apple.

Tripe

I’ve always had tripe on the menu, even at Bibendum, because of my mum. She used to make a tripe ragù with roasted langoustine, all that lovely meatiness. It had been on the menu since I started, but with Covid and Brexit it’s been harder to get the right tripe.