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In April 2024, I developed a small lump on the side of my neck. It turned out to be Merkel cell carcinoma, a rare and aggressive skin cancer that had already spread to my salivary glands. I underwent a nine-hour operation at The Royal Marsden hospital, where my salivary glands, 40 other glands and some of my shoulder were removed. Before radiotherapy, I was warned I would lose my sense of taste and smell and that there was no guarantee they would ever return. For the first time since my diagnosis I cried.
I wasn’t upset because it would affect my work. I have been a chef for 40 years. I know what works on a plate. I knew I could count on the chefs at my three restaurants, Spring at Somerset House in London and Marle and Hearth at Heckfield Place in Hampshire. It was more the sadness that I might never be able to enjoy food again; it being summer and not getting to taste a ripe peach. “Who am I,” I thought, “without my palate?”
A week into radiotherapy, I started to notice the changes. Savoury foods tasted really salty. Anything with chilli was like the spiciest curry in the world. One teaspoon of sugar in my tea was more like 20 spoonfuls and I couldn’t taste the tea. Everything else tasted like wet tissue. Soon even those flavours faded and my taste went completely. After a month, I could hardly swallow and was in a lot of pain. I knew I had to keep my calories up, but I didn’t want a feeding tube, so I got the farm at Heckfield Place to send me six litres of organic milk a week. That was all I drank. It was soothing and I didn’t lose a kilo.
In May a good friend suggested I join her on a trip to Patmos. It would be two weeks after I finished the course of radiotherapy at the end of September, something to look forward to. But when the treatment ended, I felt really scared. After going to The Royal Marsden every day for weeks, seeing the same people, feeling that comfort and camaraderie, I had become a little institutionalised. Though I still had no sense of taste or smell and no appetite either, I stuck to the plan and flew to Patmos where we stayed at a beautiful guesthouse run by Maria Lemos, the founder of London’s Rainbowwave and Mouki Mou concept stores, and her husband Gregoris. In October the island was empty of wealthy travellers and the quietness allowed it to return to being the place it really is.
Patmos is a small island in the Aegean with more than 400 churches. After we arrived, we took a tour. It included a visit to the cave where St John wrote the Book of Revelation. I lit a candle and said a prayer. When I came out, I was convinced I could smell passion fruit; it’s a scent I’m really familiar with from growing up in Australia. But there were only prickly pear and wild pomegranate trees in the surrounding area. I mentioned it to the guide and he led me about 15 yards to what turned out to be a small passion fruit bush.
By that evening I could smell the jasmine at the hotel. The next day there must have been a wedding because the streets were lined with myrtle and I could smell that, too. When we went out on a boat, I could smell the saltiness of the sea. My taste returned too. I could taste the rose petal in the jam, the tomatoes in the salad, the sear from the grill on the octopus. Suddenly my appetite came back and I couldn’t stop eating. I believe something on that island restored me because I don’t think it would have happened anywhere else.
I still have issues. I can’t eat anything with chilli. Professionally my relationship with food has changed as well. I used to be such a control freak. Now the idea of controlling every starter or dessert that goes out in my restaurants is of no interest. I made the decision after this happened that I wouldn’t go back into the kitchen, at least not full time.
I’m 62 years old. Working in a kitchen is a young person’s game. For years I didn’t think there was an alternative. I didn’t know who I was if I didn’t put my white jacket on. But in a way what happened last year has given me the freedom to step away and find another kind of life. I’m still trying to work out my role at the restaurants. There are a million things to do besides cooking and there is still a place for me as a guide. Later this month my Spring Garden returns at Chelsea Flower Show, this year in a collaboration with chef José Pizarro.
In the meantime I’m enjoying eating again and the deliciousness of food. I had a white-truffle pasta the other day. It was sensational. Maybe my tastes will change and be completely different in a year. For now I just feel happy to have my palate back as it is.
The Spring Garden dining experience at this month’s Chelsea Flower Show runs from 20 to 24 May. To book visit springgarden.eventist.group
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