Summary
IT has been such a peaceful summer. Weeks and weeks of turning on the television and opening newspapers - without encountering the pantomime version of Gordon Ramsay in a full-boil fury. Back in the early spring, that scarcely seemed possible. If Mr Ramsay was not spitting rancid scallops on to the asphalt outside the back door of C-grade restaurants, he was hectoring minor celebrities in the steam of Hell's Kitchen. In between these television marathons, he rewarded chivvying journalists with vivid quotes on everything from racing cars to childcare. Oh, and he continued to run his empire of Michelin-starred restaurants. One under his own name, five others shared between four of London's most expensive hotels. And a seventh said to be launching shortly in Knightsbridge.
Ramsay became so ubiquitous that the GBP 25 million given by the trade press as an estimate of his personal fortune scarcely seemed to reflect his influence. There is no British culinary name he has not now eclipsed. No restaurant we prefer to analyse, no exchanges of expletives we more delight in deploring. He is our favourite bad boy. George Best in chef's whites; Wayne Rooney with a saute pan.See the full content of this document
Extract
Still Too Hot to Stay Out of the Kitchen
His most recent accolade - from Harden's Restaurant Guide - which this week named him London's top chef for the ninth year running, may be gratifying, but it is unlikely to cause him to open more than a bottle of Tizer. Harden's is compiled from readers' comments and so does not carry the same cachet as Micheli...
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