Chef Ashley Palmer-Watts: Plenty of skill and a whole lot of duck

It's funny what a difference three months can make. When Ashley Palmer-Watts, the chef director of Heston Blumenthal's the Fat Duck in Bray and Dinner by Heston (London, Melbourne and soon, Dubai) was 16, he was all set to join the British Army. Being three months under the minimum age, Palmer-Watts took an after-school job at a restaurant in nearby Dorset. Initially, it was akin to waiting out a sentence, doing his homework on his lap on the 40-minute bus ride to Le Petit Canard, and sitting in the restaurant's flat watching Neighbours and Home and Away waiting for his shift to start. But then, something changed. Kitchen work started to feel natural. That was the last the army ever heard from him.

Palmer-Watts has, historically, had a complicated relationship with ducks. As a young chef, he also held down a job as a watercress farmer. The first thing he'd do of a morning would be to get up, grab his shotgun and see off the ducks that would land in the cress beds, introducing duckweed, an invasive pest. Once that weed gets in the watercress, he says, it's goodnight Irene for an entire crop. "Watercress farming: great in the summer, bloody freezing in the winter."

He used his duck money to eat as broadly as he could in his downtime from the small family-run restaurant where he cut his teeth. He read widely, started and very quickly quit college ("it was a waste of time") and wrote to some of London's brightest chefs, including Nico Ladenis​, Michel Roux jnr, John Burton-Race and Sally Clarke. He wanted to know if he could work in a Michelin-starred kitchen without qualifications. They all wrote back. He didn't need qualifications, they said,, but it would help. He decided then and there he wanted to be the best. That if he one day worked in a Michelin-starred restaurant, he would have made it.

In the hospitality trade, Palmer-Watts is what you'd call a lifer. He started at the Fat Duck 25 years ago. He'd written to Blumenthal, too, and had been knocked back repeatedly until Blumenthal eventually gave in. It was a very different kitchen back then, though – a chaotic bistro serving steak and chips, lemon tart, chocolate fondant. Blumenthal, not professionally trained himself, ran the kitchen like a jazz quartet – notes flying everywhere. "[It was] very disorganised. Absolutely bonkers.

"To be honest, [Heston] is still delightfully bonkers. [In the beginning] he just wanted to open a bistro in this little village, and learn to cook," he says. "He was in the kitchen every day – this guy was on a mission. He didn't have a lot of skill around him at that time. That came later."

The Fat Duck that the world knows today – ground zero for whimsical, memory-based molecular cooking – started in that little bistro kitchen with a pan of beans. Palmer-Watts and Blumenthal were mucking about, cooking green beans in vodka, and found it boiled at incredibly high temperatures, producing an ultra green bean. That was when they started testing other theories, questioning the rote knowledge passed down from chef to chef. "At that time it was Marco Pierre White rehashing French classics and kind of borrowing them from different restaurants. Then you had the new wave of Gordon Ramsay," he says. "The Fat Duck changed the way we looked at food."

I was driven, and I'm a perfectionist. And I want 100 per cent all the time.

Back in those early days, before dishes like Snail Porridge and Sound of the Sea, Blumenthal and Palmer-Watts also shared a military-grade anger problem. "I look back on it and think, 'Shit, I must have been a nightmare'. I was very blunt. I didn't have a lot of people skills." Palmer-Watts pauses. "I was driven, and I'm a perfectionist. And I want 100 per cent all the time."

There were usually about five chefs working in the kitchen, who would also answer the phone and take reservations. Chefs would often walk out the back on the pretext of using the bathroom and never come back. There was no structure. You either survived, or you were gone. "There was a period where it was incredibly hard. We worked 100 hours a week. Some nights we used to sleep upstairs in the office on the dirty laundry. We were just so knackered. But it was an incredible period, looking back."

These days, along with having a dedicated reservationist, they're also looking to employ a British Olympic coach, who concentrates on team dynamics and working under severe pressure. Heston no longer likes confrontation and goes out of his way to avoid conflict.

He remembers when Blumenthal offered him the sous chef position. "I was outside. And Heston came out – we'd had a really hard service – he said to me, 'You don't realise where we can go here. It will pay off one day.' It's not like there was any training or anything, though."

When the first Dinner by Heston Blumenthal restaurant opened at London's Mandarin Oriental Hotel, Palmer-Watts was put in charge. His ability to drive a kitchen brigade was central to that restaurant's success.

"No one teaches you how to do it. You've got to be smart and be pretty quick to learn what works and what doesn't. I have to work really hard to not be shy. But you need to be [an outgoing] person to be able to influence, inspire and drive people. Because you can't do it on your own. You have to really push yourself out of your comfort zone. Dinner pushed me. It was absolutely terrifying."

The pair have always shared an interesting relationship. Having worked at the Duck for his entire professional life, Palmer-Watts has always treated it like it's his own. And that's what he thinks Heston loves about their relationship. It's trust, because he cares.

"It flexes all the time," he says. "We do disagree on a lot of things. He appreciates that I can say to him, 'I don't agree with that. I would do it this way' and vice versa. It's great to have someone to bounce things off. And we work fine together. It can be very frustrating. In one interview he said that I'm more Heston than he is. And I was just like, 'No way, I cannot. You're a nightmare'."

Quickfire corner

Who would win in an arm wrestle – you or Heston?

Too close to call!

What was the first successful dish you ever cooked?

The first dish would be at school where I cooked chicken a la king, a tasty classic.

What has been your biggest failure to date?

A turkey boudin with bone marrow running through it, with braised cockscombs and chanterelle mushrooms. It was just so time-consuming to make.

The last song you listened to?

Leave a Light On by Tom Walker, driving home from cooking a charity dinner.

The last book you read?

First Man In by Ant Middleton, an ex special forces man who is incredible.

Guilty pleasure?

I love a ready-salted crisp.

Late-night snack?

West Country cheddar cheese and crackers.

What would I find if I looked in your fridge?

No space and everything. Great meat and fish, lots of vegetables, condiments and a few good bottles of Australian chardonnay.

Professional hero?

Rick Stein. I just love his journey, the countless times I am fascinated by the food culture that his shares from his travels around the world, plus he's just such a nice, down to earth guy.

What next?

Well we are opening Dinner Dubai in 2020. We have a few projects bubbling away so watch this space.