Cornwall Paul

From humble beginnings as King of the Breville, Padstow-based Paul Ainsworth has used the teachings of Rhodes, Wareing and Ramsay to build a solid name for himself. Mark Sansom gets worn out just hearing how he went about it...

Meet the hardest working chef in the game. In an industry known for industry, where 70-hour weeks are the norm and pallid, translucent skin is the calling card of a master of craft, Paul Ainsworth is on his own for the hours he has put in.

Aged 12, he had eight jobs. He had paper rounds, worked fruit and veg stalls, flogged Betterware door to door, washed dishes and cleaned. And that’s before the shifts he put in at his parents’ guesthouse. ‘I’ve got my dad to thank for my work ethic,’ says Ainsworth. ‘He was a real taskmaster and instilled into me that success comes with hard work. My favourite was the Betterware gig. Every week I’d go to this chain smoking lady’s house who dished out the commission in cash. I thought I was the absolute don.

‘I don’t have the romantic stories of skipping through fields collecting ingredients. Our home was our business, but we would have all our meals as a family. Dad would cook the British classics and my mum would bring the heat with her Seychellois Creole food. I learnt the art of hospitality from them.’

Cash, not cooking, drove the teenage Ainsworth. His litany of work experience continued, passing through Blacks outdoor store, Champion Sport and a service station on the M27 (he assures us his bacon skills were exemplary). It was at The Star Hotel that he realised his calling. In a scene more representative of the Eighties than Rick Astley winning a motorhome on Bullseye, it was his work with a Breville that brought this Michelin-starred cook to the kitchen. ‘There was this old-school German chef and he told me, “down here, it’s not like working with those tossers upstairs”. He hated everyone in front of house. In fact, he hated everyone in the hotel,’ he laughs. ‘For about six months I worked as KP, but after that he used to let me do the toasted sandwiches. Breville cheese with lettuce, tomato, cress and Walkers Ready Salted. I used to pray for those toastie tickets to print.’ Based on his skills with the Breville, he was given a job in the kitchen.

Catering college followed and Ainsworth kept his job at the hotel. He’d cook the breakfast, before heading to school. While the other students went to the pub, he would return to the hotel and into service. ‘Sure, I would’ve liked to go for a beer, but I was just driven by work. If I wanted the latest Nike Air Max, it was the only way I was going to get them.’ And Ainsworth got them. His diligence stood out and he was recommended by his tutor to Gary Rhodes, who was opening Rhodes in the Square in Pimlico. ‘I didn’t have enough money to put a deposit down on a crap bedsit, so Gary put me up in Dolphin Square Hotel for three months. I will never forget him for that.

‘He was a bloody great man. He made no bones about being a celebrity chef, but when he was in the kitchen, he was the first in and last out. Gary was years ahead of his time. While other chefs were all about the garnish, he was about ingredients. A piece of beef, a beautiful carrot and some lovely potato.’ Rhodes won his first Michelin star during Ainsworth’s tenure and the lad’s hard work set him up for his next position: Restaurant Gordon Ramsay.

FOOD OF THE GODS

‘I used to get the bus down Royal Hospital Road past Gordon’s restaurant and would crane my neck watching the lads outside opening scallops, passing sauces in the freezing cold. I’d pray that the bus would stop in traffic so I could watch for longer. Gordon wasn’t famous at the time, but I just knew I had to work for him.

‘When I walked in for my first shift, I have never felt so scared or intimidated in my life. Imagine your first day at school on steroids times a million. This was cooking at the highest level. Everyone was cold and silent. Then Gordon arrived,’ he says. ‘He had a presence I can’t describe; people were getting bollocked left, right and centre. But he took the time to take me downstairs and explain what he was trying to do. For the first eight months I didn’t go anywhere near a stove. I cut pumpkins and picked lettuce. I did cheese on toast for the staff – a young chef would never do that these days because they think it’s beneath them.’

‘One day pretty early on, I remember looking up and seeing this sea bass, about an inch thick, steamed in basil and glazed with olive oil and served with a caviar sauce. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing – it was like food of the gods.’ Ainsworth did three years with Ramsay. While he was there, the restaurant got its third star. This was becoming a habit.

From the Ramsay mothership, he was seconded to work with Marcus Wareing, who was running Gordon’s kitchen at Pétrus. ‘It was a good learning experience because Marcus and Gordon have such different styles. You could tell that Marcus had learnt his craft from Gordon, but it was new. I could have stayed on and become part of Ramsay Street, but I felt like I needed to get out on my own.’

After a brief stint at Metz in Kent – ‘cooking for kids with more money than sense and no taste in food’ – the opportunity arose for a restaurant in Cornwall. Ainsworth was currently working with Chris Mapp, whose father Derek was looking for a project to invest in. The three went down to the South West; Derek put an offer in on No.6 the very next day. ‘Derek told me that it would be my restaurant. All I had to do was finish teaching Chris how to cook.’ It didn’t go exactly to plan. Chris quit the kitchen to become an osteopath; his sous chef Dave packed his bags, too.

Three years passed and the restaurant was treading water. ‘All of a sudden it struck me that I wasn’t being myself. I was just doing was what I learnt from Gary, Marcus and Gordon. We were doing canapés, amuse bouche, pre-desserts. It was all too much.’ The catalyst for change proved to be the 2008 recession, which coincided with Paul taking on the lease of No.6 with his wife and business partner Emma. ‘We had got a reputation for being expensive and posh. All of a sudden, I had to pay rent, my staff, suppliers. I was scared of failing and realised I needed to make it accessible. Emma and I took the lease in November and reopened as Paul Ainsworth at No.6 in the February.’

The change was root and branch. They stopped tray service, no longer topped up wine, introduced a lunch menu and dropped prices. ‘At this point, I felt I’d achieved what I wanted – my own business. As much as I wanted to be known for being a great chef, I wanted to be a person who really understands business and who always paid their staff and suppliers on time. It became about being commercially minded; realising that ‘profit’ isn’t a dirty word.’

Ainsworth achieved that. The restaurant was running smoothly and he was ploughing its profits back into the business. Though it was an appearance on Great British Menu that sent his star intergalactic. His dish Trip to the Fairground (still on the menu) won and the phones went ‘bonkers’. The year after, he won a star and the restaurant had officially arrived as one of the best in Britain. With No.6 as the flagship, the businesses grew from strength to strength. He took on Rojano’s – a relaxed Italian-leaning restaurant serving awesome pizzas – opened Padstow Townhouse hotel, Mahé, a superb new cookery school headed up by John Walton and, very soon, The Mariners in Rock, a quality boozer serving relaxed pub food with tip-top ingredients.

While he has a way to go to rival Ramsay, Ainsworth’s own empire is taking shape. Hard work, business acumen and, simply, being a bloody nice bloke are the foundations of a business that is only just scratching the surface of its own potential.