Origins of Jeremy Lee

He grew up surrounded by the abundant lands of Angus, with a passion for food inspired by his parents (and Elizabeth David). The chef proprietor of Soho’s iconic Quo Vadis shares the story of his culinary life

Mum and Dad

Dad was a commercial artist for DC Thompson and Mum was a science teacher, and they thought nothing of bundling us four kids into the car and going from one end of Angus to the other for the best butcher, greengrocer or baker – good food is in our DNA. Dad had a sweet tooth; it wasn’t cream, ice cream or custard, he was always, ‘Oh, just have it all.’

Raspberry fields

We grew up in the foothills of the Grampians/Sidlaws. That’s where the wilds really begin. The Tay Valley has this incredible climate where everything grows, but particularly berries – the raspberries are… wow. We grew up surrounded by miles and miles of raspberries.

Dundee

In the Sixties, before all the bridges and motorways were built, Dundee was very remote, so it still had the ghost of its past. There were a dozen bakers, posh Broughty Ferry nearby, and the high street was still intact, with butchers, bakers, everything – Rowley Leigh always says I’m lying about this, but it survived the ravages of supermarkets for a bit.

Madhur Jaffrey

Madhur Jaffrey was something else. There’s this huge thing in our history called India, but for most folk the food is just a takeaway – beyond shocking. Dundee had strong connections with India because of the jute industry, so you could get fresh coriander and spices. I cooked rogan josh and pilau and sag aloo. Mum was born in Madras – Grandpa was a jute agent – so it tickled her that her boy was cooking Indian food.

Elizabeth David

A Book of Mediterranean Food was published in 1950, and I think after the war young women were going ‘Fuck you, if you expect me to go into this life of servitude, you’ve got another think coming!’ Here’s this woman who’s off to Egypt and the Greek islands with a sculptor, living on a boat, being chased by Nazis, and cooking. I mean, she was wild, witty, funny, acerbic, astute, and she just blew the cobwebs away.

Bibendum

rocked up and my eyes were out on storks. I’ve never seen a dining room so beautiful, just ravishing in every way. It was like Dorothy had arrived in the Emerald City, and you know, I asked to work there the next day.

Simon Hopkinson

I think I’m the only one to work for Simon [Hopkinson] and Alastair Little. Simon taught me to ditch the pride and be proud of what you do. And work with the best – the best people, the best produce; it was the same lesson my mum and dad taught me.

St John

When St John opened, I couldn’t get out of the place. Welsh rarebit, bone marrow, amazing pies, wonderful baking. As British as the day is long, but the simplicity, the confidence and beauty of it all was remarkable.

Asia

I’m aching to get to Japan and China. I’ve never seen anything like the markets in Hanoi – a labyrinth. You name it, it was for sale. It was mind-blowing. It was 180 degrees from what we envisage a market to be.

Eel sandwiches

Smoked eel sandwich has never left the menu. I was going to put a truffle sandwich on the first-ever menu, but couldn’t get the truffles, so I put on a dish I’d done in numerous forms at the Blueprint – serendipitous stuff, the response was astonishing.

London

I lucked out knowing an incredible array of very, very stylish people, a lot of them sadly no longer here: Mum and Dad paved the way for then, outrageously, Terence Conran and Priscilla Carluccio later in life. I’ve been blessed; it’s an incredible cast of folk in a community I hold very dear. I love London passionately.