Welcome to our second edition!

So, after starting the hospitality course at school and doing a few days of work experience at a popular beach resort, the head chef at the time offered me an apprenticeship almost straight away. I told him I wanted to finish school, so he said, “No worries, how about a part-time job instead?” I was like, “Hell yeah!”

The head chef rode the line between chaos and brilliance. Looking back, I’m pretty sure the guy ran on some kind of supernatural fuel. He’d come flying into service absolutely buzzing, barking orders, sweating bullets, and moving like he was the lead in a kitchen-themed action movie. One day he tried roasting a giant suckling pig, but the thing was way too big for the combi oven. Instead of trimming it down, he literally rammed it in with his shoulders like he was scoring a try. Absolute chaos, but bloody hilarious to watch.

For all his flaws, he gave me an opportunity when I was just starting out, and I’ll always be grateful for that.

Not everything was a laugh, though. I got my first proper kitchen injury there, sliced the tip of my finger clean off. No fancy treatment, just wrapped it up with a blue plaster and glove and went straight back to it. Add to that the hours of crab picking that shredded my hands, and it was a crash course in how tough kitchen life really is.

Then came one of the wildest nights of my early career.

It’s 7pm on Good Friday, one of the busiest nights the resort has ever seen. I’m on cold larder and fryer, docket board loaded and stacked, kitchen going full tilt. There’s this cook - let’s just call him Gaz - who’s plating up. Justin, who's an absolute lord of a short order cook, is working the grill.

Right in the middle of service, Gaz literally passes out cold and starts having an epileptic fit. In the middle of a tiny home-size café kitchen, with 200 guests out front. Absolute madness.

We quickly check he’s okay, roll him on his side, and move him out of the way a bit… then keep going. He’s done for the night and heads home once he comes to. Meanwhile, Justin and I finish the rest of the 200-person service together. I’m now running cold larder, fryer, and plating. Total blur. All of this in an open kitchen café with every single guest watching.

I’ll never forget that night. It was terrifying, intense, and weirdly defining. That’s when I realised what kitchens really demand from you. There’s no OFF switch.

Those days, the madness, the blood, the pressure, the unexpected, shaped me as a young cook and laid the groundwork for everything that followed.

It was also around that time that I met my long-time chef mate, Tim Whitty. He’d just come back from travelling through kitchens in Europe and was, and still is, an absolute wizard in the kitchen. Fun fact: he’s now a private chef down here in the South West and has taught me a lot over the years.

During those casual kitchen job days, the owners eventually brought in a new head chef, Dean (they finally realised how wild the previous chef was!). Once Dean was appointed, that’s when my skills really started to sharpen. Dean was an incredible chef and ended up being my mentor through most of my apprenticeship. He was firm and bloody temperamental, but he had a fun-loving side and really took me under his wing.

Stay tuned for the next tale - some very funny, very crazy stories are heading your way!

Cheers, Chef GH