My first proper kitchen was this funny little club that we set up in Mercer Street in Covent Garden. It got shut down. Then I worked at a club in Notting Hill.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I was a little, uh, incorrigible as a kid, so the kitchen was a good place to give me structure and balance. It taught me hard work, but then I grew to love it.
Occasionally I volunteer in the kitchen of a pop-up supper club in L.A., which I really love. It's like being a line cook in a great restaurant for one night at a time.
I left school when I was 14 to work in kitchens.
The Kitchen was a really great concept; it just wasn't at the price point that made it accessible to people. People could visit occasionally, and some people were coming regularly. It just wasn't a novel concept for every customer.
My flat in Ladbroke Grove, west London, is in the best building in the world. It's like a commune - everyone gets on - and on Friday evenings I often cook us all dinner.
Growing up, my dad owned a restaurant in Washington, DC, and food was something I was passionate about. But when I finally got into it, I felt like it was so late in the game; that's why I worked seven days a week at Craft and Mercer Kitchen. I wanted to see how far I could take it.
The Boys and Girls club was basically a second home for me, and I always credit it with keeping me out of trouble. From the ages of 6 to 16, I was there nearly every day.
I was raised in restaurants. My parents opened their first restaurant, Buonavia, in Queens when I was just 3. This business has always been my way of life. As a kid, home was reserved only for sleeping. After school, you could find my sister and I helping out at the family restaurant.
It used to be you sat up in your attic and wrote and went down to a local cafe and talked with people there.
My mother's kitchen was built to be the focal point of our house. I got into the kitchen often as a child.