It’s Marco Pierre White Day and Rosie McGlade can hardly contain her excitement
The sad thing about Marco Pierre White Day is that I miss him. In all my years as a journalist, I don’t think this has ever happened.
Apparently, there’s been a crossing of wires. Marco is in Newcastle only briefly, and it turns out he’ll only do 10 minutes with the media, so they’ve got to sit together and ask him questions in turn, like it was Madonna. The slot I’d asked for no longer seems to exist.
I manage to see him. I even hear him speak. He says he’s just going upstairs to do a TV interview, and he’ll be back to talk to me in 10 minutes. Later, when rejection hits, I am left suspecting that both of the only things this ‘Byron of the Backburner’ said to me may not have come from the heart.
For now, though, I’m still excited. Here he is, having his picture taken in the lounge of the new Hotel Indigo in Newcastle; stern-faced shots that he makes seem somehow naked without his knife.
He is tall, with an expensively crumpled air that leaves you with no doubt who the celebrity is at this gathering of ladies-who-lunch (and some of their husbands). The pulse quickens, even from the far side of the room. It’s that handsome-cum-dangerous-cum-haggard thing that has won him three wives and a chain of red-top headlines in his 50 years.
The PR tells me he won’t want to discuss his private life, as if it really is Madonna. As if I’d dare! She’s probably just making small talk. She’s stuck with me, waiting, thinking, I sense, that I should have come sooner, that he’s probably gone. But we had a slot! And I’m
still excited.
Why is he here in Newcastle? Because he’s got money in the Indigo 100-seater restaurant that houses the Marco Pierre White Steakhouse Bar & Grill – a chain which is reaching out for a national restaurant empire, Newcastle being the fourth to date.
For just under £30, today’s guests have enjoyed a Marco-designed menu – all aubergine caviar, rosti and roast rump of lamb – while he brooded in the background, lounging in a purple booth as the charmed diners were ushered over, table by table, to ask questions. What did they ask? He likes finish-the-sentence type things, they were advised. So, Marco, finish the sentence: “My favourite breakfast / holiday food / special occasion dish is…”
He likes straightforward food, he hates pretense, he told everyone. He obviously said he likes Newcastle. We know he’ll use locally-sourced food. It’s the law isn’t it?
He trained Gordon Ramsay and Heston Blumenthal before requesting that the former be thown out of the latter’s Fat Duck many years later, but it’s not the sort of occasion for those, more interesting, questions.
I flick through the tiny type-faced menu (don’t forget your specs, diners!) marking things like French onion soup (£5.50), fried haddock, ‘real’ chips & mushy peas (£13.50), and belly pork Marco Polo (£14). I plan to ask him for tips on how to cook these dishes in light of him being the youngest UK chef of his day to get three Michelin stars.
He knows what he’s doing in the kitchen, even though he retired from it at 38, making his money through TV and restaurant ownership instead. Steak, this being a steakhouse, features prominently, ranging from £23.50 for a 10oz rib eye to £28 for 8oz fillet. They are ‘fine quality native breed beef’, which gets a double mark as I have a good question about how fine quality native breed breeders are failing to sell their cheaper cuts. “But that’s what all the TV chefs are telling us to cook these days!” I want to exclaim. “Isn’t anyone listening?”
I do manage to speak to restaurant manager George Liddle, who is pleased with the afternoon and that the ladies have had a nice time. Marco spoke to them, apparently, finishing
their sentences.
It is very comfy in here. I can’t vouch for the food, but the left-overs look interesting. George says you can come into the lounge for a pint and a ploughman’s, or a coffee while you pore over your laptop. “And just enjoy the space,” he adds. “You don’t get many places where you can take your time like that.” He’s right. It’s even bearable being stood up.
“Hotel Indigo is for the experienced traveller; someone who wants something a little bit thinking-outside-the-box. A more quirky, vibrant, boutique hotel experience,” the PR chirrups when I ask about the rooms. Had we known that Marco had cleared off, perhaps she’d have shown me some of them, because they look nice in the brochure. Especially the penthouses with their decked verandas overlooking
the city.
I wonder where in Newcastle Marco may have gone. Perhaps he hasn’t; he’s asleep in his penthouse, or admiring the view with a fag. Perhaps he’s roaming the Grainger Market. On Wikipedia it says he likes fishing and game hunting. Perhaps he’s down on the Quayside.
He doesn’t look the type to hang round for the press. I wish him well. I’d probably need a few drinks to dare talk to him anyway. The bar here is nice though.
Marco Pierre White Steakhouse Bar and Grill, Hotel Indigo, Fenkle Street, Newcastle, tel 0191 300 9222, www.mpwsteakhousenewcastle.co.uk
