Nico Ladenis first came to the attention of foodies worldwide when his rude attitude to his customers were widely talked about in the media. You didn't complain in
Chez Nico. The redoubtable chef would appear and tell you that if you didn't like his food, you may leave! Right now, please!http://www.hub-
Whether these stories were all true, is another matter.
Nico Ladenis became a top celebrity chef in London in the 70's, 80's and 90's. He had been born to Greek parents and was brought up on a sisal plantation in Tanzania, where he was surrounded with wonderful fresh produce, which inspired him to turn to the world of cooking.
He apprenticed himself to
Roger Verge, the legendary 3 Michelin star chef of the
Moulin des Mougins near Cannes.
He went to London, with the ambition, as he said in no uncertain terms, to reach the top of his profession. Aged 39 in 1973 he opened his first restaurant in Dulwich. Then, in 1995 in his restaurant Chez Nico, he reached the ultimate: he was awarded 3 Michelin stars.
In 1999 he did the unthinkable: he met with the director of the Guide Michelin, and asked not be be inspected any more, as he was changing direction ... In fact, he was giving back his Michelin stars, an unheard-of thing!
Nico had built up a great reputation for his food, but his new venture which he called a brasserie, was not exempt from criticism from food writers:
Our canapés, for example, were delicate oblongs of quiche. They were OK oblongs of quiche, but they were still quiche. It seemed such a sweet retro 70s touch that I decided to stick with the theme for my starter by ordering the dressed jumbo prawns 'cocktail'.
I assumed those inverted commas to indicate a certain irony. Not a bit of it. This was a prawn cocktail down to the pink Marie Rose sauce. It was not a great argument for the dish and definitely not at £12.50. My companion, Sarah, did better with a tian of dressed crab, the top layer of which was a robust disc of the brown meat dusted with cayenne. The accompanying celery rémoulade was, however, distinctly underwhelming.
Thinking I could now leave the 70s theme behind, I ordered breaded sweetbreads 'Pojarski', not having a clue what the last word meant. I now know it refers to a 17th-century Russian prince who defeated an invasion by the Poles. Here it also referred to a crisp-fried disc, within which the sweetbreads were bound together with shreds of pork that overwhelmed them.
But Nico had health problems, and after 2002 he sold all his businesses, although he stayed on as a consultant. He and his wife Dinah-Jane retired to Draguignan in the south of France. They travel a lot, and he says the only cooking he does now is for him and his wife. He has published a couple of recipe books geared to the home cook.
A journalist who managed to talk to him there says he is, in fact, a soft-spoken, kind and patient man. Who knows: the early bravado might have been a clever way to get free publicity!