Antonio Carluccio
It's a sunny autumn morning, and I’m chatting to Antonio Carluccio, restaurateur, star of Two Greedy Italians, author of more than a dozen cookery books and adopted National Treasure.
Sadly it’s a telephone call, so I’m picturing the cuddly cook sitting in his London garden, surrounded by unfeasibly large vegetables, holding the phone (and a cigarette) in one hand and tickling his beloved sausage dog, Truffle, with the other.
How are you? I ask. “Fine! Everything’s fine. It’s a beautiful day,” he wheezes, his accent still thick after nearly four decades on these shores.
The Godfather of Italian gastronomy is, he says, looking forward to coming to Cambridge (“I like it very much”), to talk about his new autobiography, A Recipe For Life.
But don’t expect an air-brushed, self-congratulatory account of success: while he’s happy to chronicle his triumphs, Carluccio is honest - almost painfully so - about his family tragedies, failed romances and multiple suicide attempts.
Why did he decide to write it now? “Now? Before I lose my memory! Heheh. No, no, it was majorly to discover who I am, and there were patterns in my life I wanted to investigate.”
And what did he find out? “Enough to write another memoir,” he chuckles. “No, it has been very interesting to see the ups and downs of success and sadness.
“I was very adamant to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. And I did, and I’m very happy with that. I can turn the page. Something is done.”
Born on the south coast of Italy in 1937, Carluccio’s early days revolved around food, whether foraging for truffles with his brothers or scoffing his Mamma’s delicious homemade fare. But learning to cook was yet to come.
Following the death of his adored younger brother Enrico, who drowned aged just 13, a heart-broken Carluccio, then 23, left Italy to study languages in Vienna. “I was alone, I was a student, and I wanted to eat the food that my mother used to prepare. So I had to cook it,” he says.
“I started, naturally, with pasta sauce, the simple thing! And then slowly I gained confidence, and saw that it was successful with friends - and girls.”
Carluccio went on to work in the wine trade, and in fact didn’t become involved in restaurants until the early 80s. By now living in London and on his third marriage – to Terence Conran’s sister, Priscilla – he was invited to run Conran’s Neal Street Restaurant as manager. Before long he owned it and, in the early 90s, opened a deli, Carluccio’s, next door. A decade later it had become – and continues to be – a thriving high street deli/restaurant chain in the UK and abroad. Carluccio has since sold up, but continues to act as consultant.
But success didn’t equate with happiness for Carluccio, who has long battled with depression. In 2008, following the failure of his 28-year marriage, he locked himself in his bathroom and plunged a pair of scissors into his chest.
His PA called an ambulance and, when he was released from hospital, Carluccio checked himself into The Priory. The official line was that he’d accidentally cut himself while sharpening a knife: it’s only now that he’s come clean.
“I’ve never met somebody who has had only a happy life - and if he has, he lies,” says Carluccio.
“It’s something that many people think about, and I tried to do it. So I can’t hide that, but it happened. At the beginning, I wanted to avoid more aggravation from the press, so I let them scramble, but now I’m strong enough to say what happened. Fortunately it ended in a good sense, and I’m happy to be here.”
The Priory, he says, was “fantastic. And there is also a message for people in a similar situation: there is help around the corner, use it. As you see now I am totally calm. I managed to get through it.”
Does he still get depressed? “No, no, I’m very happy. The work is fantastic, and at 75, getting the sort of work that I do is just unbelievable. And I have a lovely woman – that keeps me young!”
He’s been with the woman in question, Sabine, for a year, which may disappoint his legion of female fans: is it true he’s had 15 marriage proposals? “Yes, it’s very silly. Heheh.”
A theme that runs throughout the book the solace Carluccio finds in preparing food. But can anyone cook? “Anyone!” he bellows. “Anyone with a bit of patience and the will to eat good food. It can be very simple, you don’t have to be a gourmet: just go into the kitchen and try, try, try.”
Does he ever think ‘ah, I can’t be bothered to cook’ and buy a ready meal? “What? No!” he laughs, then pauses: “I had a kebab once. It was quite good, actually,” he adds, sounding ever-so-slightly disappointed.
What would his last supper be? “A lovely spaghetti with fresh tomatoes, a few leaves of basil and a little bit of garlic would be quite nice.” Not caviar? “No, no! There’s nothing wrong with it, I love it in fact, but I prefer spaghetti.”
Hopefully the jovial cook’s last supper is a long way off. And at least, he says, writing his autobiography has meant that he’s finally at peace with himself.
“It was difficult, because you have to go back to memories that are not exactly pleasant, but all together it was very good. It was a good exercise for the mind – and the soul.”
Extracts from A Recipe for Life
On being an angelic toddler: “I learnt that if I smiled winningly I might be scooped up and fussed over and given chocolate, a rare treat in wartime Italy.”
On his 13-year-old brother’s death: “Enrico’s body was brought home. We dressed him in his best suit, and gently combed and slicked back his hair from his pallid features. With his arms uncharacteristically still by his sides, and his fingernails unusually clean from the water in which he’d met his death, we laid him in an adult-sized coffin - which only seemed to accentuate his extreme youth.”
On filleting an entire kilo of tiny anchovies: “This was perhaps the first time I remember actively turning to the preparation of food in an effort to create some sort of meaning and purpose in my life, when otherwise there was none.”
On bringing his recipe ideas to the Neal Street Restaurant: “The first dish I introduced was a Parcel of Cornish Crab… One regular and appreciative customer was Kenny Everett. When he first ordered this dish and it arrived in front of him, he took a stamp from his wallet and stuck it on.”
On trying to commit suicide: “Snatching up a pair of old scissors, I locked myself in the bathroom, intending to find some way to stop this emotional turmoil and pain... I placed the sharpened point of the scissors against my chest where I judged my heart to be and, using my body weight, pushed the blade of the scissor in with as much force as I could muster until I felt the tissues give.”
On his time in The Priory: “I longed for restorative Italian sunshine, to be cooking in the old kitchen of a Piedmont farmhouse, walking on an Amalfi beach, sharing a bottle of wine with friends, happy and carefree, back in the days when Carluccio was just a man and not a brand.”
On contemplating his future: “I am reminded of the fable of the butterfly that inadvertently fell into a bowl of milk. In order to survive, it starts flapping its wings furiously and, over time, turns the milk into butter on which it can safely stand. After years of frantic activity, I feel I can now stop for a while, take stock, and peacefully contemplate my next steps.”
A Recipe For Life by Antonio Carluccio is published in hardback by Hardie Grant, priced £20.
November 2012 (c) Cambridge News