Conrad Gallagher

Curiously, despite being widely regarded as one of the best restaurants in Dublin, if not the whole country, you won’t find Conrad Gallagher’s Peacock Alley listed in the 2001 edition of annual food bible The Bridgestone 100 Best Restaurants in Ireland. It’s an omission that’s something akin to leaving U2 off a list of the 100 Biggest Bands in Ireland, or Liam Lawlor off a list of the 100 Greatest Gobshites.

“Conrad has lost his way a bit,” John McKenna, the guide’s publisher, was quoted as saying at the time of its release. “He’s had an Icarus-like descent, in some ways. But he’s a very good cook and I’m sure he’ll do it again.”

Rather tellingly, McKenna went on to say that if Gallagher spent less time in the High Court – a reference to the young restaurateur’s much publicised financial troubles – and more time in the kitchen then perhaps he’d make it into next year’s guide. The fact that Peacock Alley had already won a host of other culinary accolades and was jammed to the hilt every night didn’t seem to come into it. But then, such are the pitfalls of being a celebrity chef. You don’t get judged on your food. You get judged on your judgements.

Still, by any standards, Gallagher’s fall from grace was fairly spectacular. At the tender age of 29, the Donegal-born chef seemed to have it all – five busy restaurants, a glamorous girlfriend in Karla Elliot, best-selling cookbooks, regular TV appearances, numerous high-profile magazine columns, a comfortable Killiney home, a fast car (Porsche, natch) and all the other trappings of the modern-day celebrity chef. The culinary star was living fast and, as we now know, spending even faster. He was flying high, but heading for the sun (or, rather, the Sunday papers).

The wax in his wings began to melt just over eighteen months ago, when the landlord of Lloyd’s Brasserie, one of his busiest restaurants, changed the locks on the front door, claiming that he was owed £64,000 in back rent. Gallagher’s celebrity status ensured that the news made the front pages and suddenly everybody panicked and the judgements (totalling almost half a million pounds) began rolling in.

It must be said that the young chef didn’t handle the situation particularly well. When he failed to turn up in court for the Lloyd’s hearing, Judge Harry Hill, the master of the High Court, was more than a little miffed. “When people have plenty of money they ignore the courts,” he seethed. “He could be off holidaying in the Bahamas!”

Things got worse before they got better. A few months later, Gallagher was detained and questioned in Harcourt St Garda Station about paintings that he had allegedly illegally sold from Mango Toast, another of his former restaurants. He was released without charge after twelve hours. Still, throw enough mud and it’s bound to stick. The Sunday Independent dubbed him the “poster boy of Stubs Gazette.” Others were even less kind. It looked as though Gallagher was finished.

Time heals all wounds (and cleans all mud), however, and today, twelve months on from his troubles, Conrad Gallagher seems like a much happier camper. In fact, he says he’s “never been better.” Two months ago, with the backing of Waterford-born promoter Vince ‘Mean Fiddler’ Power, he opened Conrad Gallagher at Shaftesbury Avenue in London’s West End. Despite receiving mixed reviews, the new restaurant has so far been a roaring success. And with no thanks to the Bridgestone Guide, Peacock Alley is back doing business at full throttle as well. The other restaurants are gone but, as you’re about to read, the ambition certainly isn’t.

This interview took place in Peacock Alley on a quiet Monday morning. Currently living and working between London and Dublin, Gallagher looked tired, battle-worn but wholly defiant…

OLAF TYARANSEN: When did you first become interested in cooking?

CONRAD GALLAGHER: At the very young age of about twelve years old, up in Letterkenny. I worked in one of the local hotels as a kid. Usual old story – everybody else was into playing football and stuff, I was into cooking. I was lucky in that I was fairly big for my age. When people heard that you cooked… (laughs). It’s still one of those sort of things, if you were a chef or a hairdresser you’d get picked on. But that’s where I started off.

What kind of things were you cooking back then?

Well, at that age I would have been cooking breakfasts in the morning and all the usual bog standard Irish cuisine – if you can call it ‘Irish cuisine’. You know, roasts, peppered steak, chicken Maryland, all that kind of basic cooking. And then, I think when I was about 14, this French chef came over to spend the summer working in the Great Northern Hotel in Bundoran. I could see all the things that he knew about food and obviously I learnt a lot from him.

You worked for a while in France later on, didn’t you?

I spent a little bit of time in the South of France – Provence - after working around a lot of the local hotels here. But I went to college in Killybegs, worked the whole way through. I think it was seen very clearly in Killybegs that I’d probably do well. I was definitely better than everybody in the class. Ten of them could bake a loaf of bread and mine would just naturally come out better.

Why do you think that was?

I understood ingredients. I remember one particular day, very early on, a teacher gave us out a recipe for brown bread and I could tell by looking at the recipe that it was wrong. If that makes sense. I could just tell by looking at it that one pint of water was too much for 400 grams of flour. I said this to the teacher and she basically bollocked me out of it. And I did it my way and my bread was the only one that turned out right. I can write a recipe in seconds (snaps fingers). I can think of a dish, write an exact recipe, give it to somebody to test it, and I wouldn’t be as much as a teaspoon out. I can see a list of ingredients differently to most people.

Would you equate writing a recipe with writing the lyrics to a song?

Basically. It’s the very same thing.

So what would you say has been your greatest hit?

My greatest hit? Well, everybody always says your first album is your best (laughs). My first menus that I did in Dublin were probably the best I’ve done. I invent all the food, invent all the recipes – just think them up. I have a sort of trial kitchen in Killiney and I spent the first part of this year working on the London recipes and London menus. So I invent things, create things – create things that are a new style, new tastes. But my food has gotten quite simplistic over the years. I used to be quite brash and a bit of a show-off, if you like. And now I’ve got a wee bit more reserved.

Would you describe yourself as a show-off generally?

Definitely! When it comes to food, I love to show-off. But you have to be able to show-off, first of all, you have to put huge energy into it. But I’ve calmed down a little bit now, I guess. I’ve got some debts and stuff to pay off this year, but then next year I might go a little crazy with the food. I’m trying to keep it more streamlined and more budget orientated at the moment…

That must be killing you!

I have to play it safe at the moment. I have to because everyone’s looking at me. I’m playing things a little safe this year. Just working a lot really, not doing much messing around this year, just working. Travelling between here and London every week (yawns widely).

What’s your schedule like at the moment?

My schedule last week was: I woke up at 6AM Monday morning, I had a meeting in the restaurant at 7, then I had a TV show from 9 till 11. I had a quick lunch with my sales and marketing people, then a meeting with my accountant at 4 o’clock. I got onto a plane and flew to Belfast. Jumped in a cab at Belfast and drove to Donegal, did a Ready-Steady-Cook in front of 6,000 people, which brought me up till 1 o’clock in the morning. Slept for two hours, drove all the way back to Belfast Airport, jumped on a plane to fly back to London to be in for seven in the morning because I’d another TV show on Carlton at 9AM. I don’t think I stopped all week, right up to Sunday.

Are you doing a lot of TV at the moment?

A bit. It all ties into the restaurant. I’m on the circuit stirring up business for the restaurant so I’m inclined to do whatever comes up.

Is it true you’ve got two more cookbooks coming out?

I’ve written the books. Basically, during last year, I started building a website called icookedit.com. I must’ve put a million recipes online. I write recipes very easily. Every time I’ve a spare moment I’ll write recipes, write recipes, write recipes – get them in the kitchen, get them tested, get them foolproofed and get them up on the Net. And then this year I wrote two books. And I nearly have a third one written. Though I haven’t done anything with them yet. I’ve got offers of two or three book deals at the minute, but I haven’t taken up on them yet because I wanna get Shaftesbury Avenue properly set up first, before I start negotiating properly. Three years ago I would’ve had cookbook deals, TV shows and done everything at the same time. But I’m just kind of chilling with it now.

What do you think of other celebrity chefs like Jamie Oliver?

Well I’m not really a celebrity chef. I’m a restaurateur now. And I correct that when I can. I’m not really interested in doing a lot of TV stuff anymore and I’m not really interested in having articles written about me. . .

So why am I here?

I decided to do this one because I took advice on it. If you were the Irish Times or the Cork Examiner or one of those, I would’ve said no. And I’m sure people have heard all the stuff about me and probably don’t want to hear it again. I’m not really bothered with all that anymore, I just want to run my restaurants to the best of my ability. What does me sitting at home reading a book have to do with my restaurants? I’m not doing that anymore.

Having been at the centre of it yourself, what do you make of the new celebrity culture in Ireland?

I know myself there’s no substance to it. I used to get invited to every bloody thing that went on in this town – everything. Government stuff, the British ambassador – all that stuff. Six months later the invites stop all of a sudden. You go out to these places and everybody’s going, “Oh, hello Conrad!” and all this sort of crap. Six months later, they walk past and ignore you. If it gives people some boost to their ego then they should go ahead and do it, but sometimes you see the other side of it and you’re glad to leave it all behind. All these openings and all this sort of lark wouldn’t do it for me. Not any more.

Did you feel stitched up by the media when everything went belly-up last year?

Yeah, I felt stitched up by the media but what did you expect, you know? (shrugs). Every time I need a favour done I call up a journalist and he does it for me, so I could hardly expect them to leave me alone. It was difficult at the time but I’m not holding any grudges. Yeah though, I was stitched up, majorly stitched up. But then, you know, I’ve screwed a lot of people as well. I’ve thrown a lot of journalists out of my restaurants over the years, and I’ve done a lot of things. It was payback time and I got payback. Simple as that! I’m just glad it happened me at such a young age.

Which journalists did you throw out of your restaurants? And why?

There was different food critics who’d made comments and stuff about the food that I wouldn’t have appreciated. The fact was that I was a bit of a tyrant and I had a couple of tyrant years and, at the end of the day, I got caught in the end because my restaurants were too flamboyant to make money. They were too excessive in every way.

Did you feel bad about Peacock Alley being left out of the Bridgestone Guide this year?

Tsk! (tuts and shakes head). The guy [food critic John McKenna] was trying to create publicity for his Guide and he thought that leaving me out would get him on the front page of the papers. In fairness to the guy, it did get him in the papers, but I never fuelled it. I wasn’t that bothered. But I had about a hundred letters to the restaurant from people saying he was a bloody idiot and that it was daft leaving me out. You can’t have Patrick Guilbaud’s and Peacock Alley being left out of the hundred best restaurants in Ireland. We’ve won all the rest of the accolades. But it doesn’t bother me one bit.

Is there much politics involved in the Irish restaurant business?

There’d be a bit of politics involved, but I’m far removed from it now. I’m here tops three days a week now, the rest of the time I’m in London. I have my friends in the restaurant business, I have my enemies in the restaurant business. My friends I see a little bit, my enemies I don’t see at all. I’ve matured in the restaurant business. I used to have my run-ins with people. I used to get involved in rumours that used to be, you know, ‘I heard this yesterday…’ Some rumours would come in through suppliers, they’d seen me doing coke in the restaurant and all this bullshit. It used to irritate me. It just doesn’t bother me anymore.

Still, it’s a very cokey kind of business…

It is a cokey business and it’s a drinky business and a druggy business and it’s… whatever goes, you know. We do all that lark when we’re younger, but I’m not really into it now. But there’s definitely a bit of rock ‘n’ roll in it when you’re younger. You finish work at 12 o’clock at night basically and you don’t go home, you go out and you end up doing whatever. I done all that crap when I was younger but I couldn’t be bothered any more. I’m too tired for that lark. I had two bottles of wine last Thursday evening and I’m just about right this [Monday] morning. I actually remember for years being able to go out at one o’clock in the morning and stay out till five, and get up at eight or nine and shake it off with a shower. Nowadays, I’d be getting out of bed at about ten!

Was hitting thirty a big turning point for you?

It was. It really freaked me out because I had more when I was 24 than I had then. I had a million quid in the bank when I was 24/25. At 30, I had nothing. It still gets to me every so often…

So is that the main ambition now, to make lots of money?

Em, yes and no. I mean, I’m clearly a workaholic, there’s no question about it. I need work and I need things happening. I get a huge amount of satisfaction from working. I’m a bit of a control freak as well, knowing that everything is running smooth… (pauses). Yeah, but I like money as well, of course. Everybody likes money. But I don’t measure success in the amount of businesses I have any more. I measure success in how well my business does. I’m not that keen on opening up hundreds of places, but I do have plans. I’m a creative guy. I have plans for things I wanna do. But I’ll do them all in moderation this time.

Have you read Anthony Bourdain’s book Kitchen Confidential?

I haven’t read it yet, no. I have about three copies of it at this stage – people keep giving it to me. One of these days when I get a bit of time off, I’ll read it.

You probably already know that it’s full of stories about chefs pissing in soup and doing various other unsavoury things with the food…

I definitely wouldn’t agree with messing around with food now. I’ve heard stories over the years myself about steaks flying around the room and stuff before they’ve been served, but it wouldn’t be my thing.

Have you ever worked in a kitchen where that kind of thing happened?

Ach, not really, no. You might put in an extra little bit of chilli if you wanted to get somebody back or something. Me, if I wanted to get somebody back, I’d be more inclined to go out and insult them rather than play about with their food. I don’t like to play with food, I like to keep it clean.

Are you temperamental in the kitchen?

Yeah, I guess I’m temperamental. It depends on where my stress levels are at, you know. There’s nothing that stresses me out more than money. You can give me two loaves of bread, a dozen eggs and a steak - and give me forty people to feed and I’ll look on it as a challenge. Give me bills to pay and not enough money to pay them and it really stresses me out. It’s the one thing that stresses me out. I don’t even know why I’m in the restaurant business, because it’s the most impossible business in the world to make money. And when you’ve got expensive tastes like I have added into it…

Do you mean an extravagant lifestyle?

No – expensive tastes within the restaurant. Everything in the restaurant is expensive. I like expensive things. I have handmade plates that cost £120 each. I use expensive ingredients when I cook. I like expensive staff who’re trained properly. I like expensive uniforms, expensive wine – I like the best of everything. So add that into a business where it’s impossible to make money already… (laughs).

It was reported that, after all of your debts were called in, you wound up earning only £300 per week last year. Was that a humiliating comedown for a former millionaire?

There was never a period where I earned £300 a week. There was a period where I earned nothing. My business needed every penny coming in and I never took a wage. I think I ran myself through the books for £300 a week but I never actually took it. There was definitely a full year where I didn’t have a car, I didn’t have a house. I was flat broke. I was using a Ready-To-Go mobile phone and doing business over and back to the UK. I soldiered through it and kept my head down and business just took off again. Now I’m exactly twelve months on from when it all happened and things are working out again. They’re just fine now. But I basically worked a full year for nothing.

How’s your private life? You’ve got a new girlfriend…

Yeah, Michaela [Brady – Asset’s model]. My private life’s good. Settled boy! Or relatively settled, you know yourself. It’s fine. She’s a good woman. And she has her own life and her own career, which is really, really good.

Do you feel any bitterness towards your former girlfriend Karla Eliot, who seemed to leave just as things got really bad for you?

No, not at all. Not an ounce of bitterness. Every bit of happiness she can have, I wish it for her and her family. She was there and I was there (spreads hands in opposite directions). You’ll actually find that I’m not a bitter person at all, and I don’t wish any badness on most people. If I have an enemy I’ll just tell him I think he’s a fucker and just leave it at that. Anybody I’ve fallen out with, I’ve stayed fallen out with. I don’t even bother making it up. But I’ve no hard feelings towards Karla at all. I had some great times with her.

You’ve got a four-year-old daughter from another relationship. Do you get to see her much?

She’s almost four, her birthday’s coming up. I see her every Sunday. I’d love to see her more but… pauses). Nah, she’s a great kid but obviously I’m a part-time father so I can’t take all the credit. She has a wonderful mother, who does all the work. I just cruise in on a Sunday and shower her with loads of gifts and take off the next day. I’m not trying to portray myself as a perfect father. I’m far from it. I know that.

You get a lot of celebrities eating in your restaurants, don’t you?

Here, we get a lot of celebrities. Over the years we would’ve had a huge amount of stuff, from the regulars… You know, the likes of the Bonos and the Corrs would eat here on a regular basis. But I would have had everybody from Mick Jagger to Mariah Carey to whoever. I could probably safely say that if you can name them, they’ve probably been here. And if I didn’t get them directly in the restaurant, we’d be sending out platters to the RDS or the Point or wherever. It’s a bit of a rock & roll business. And being involved with Vince in England, we get a huge amount of rock ‘n’ roll people over there as well. We get a lot of actors too – Robert de Niro and so on. But we’ve had David Bowie, we’ve had… everybody.

Do you usually go out and greet them personally?

I have done over the years. I would know a lot of them. I’d be good mates with the likes of Paul Brady, Brian Kennedy… a lot of the Irish guys I would know personally. They would be sort of mates of mine – Ronan Keating, Bono and The Corrs would all be mates of mine. I’ve befriended Jamiroquai recently – he’s been into the restaurant to see me in London. Of course, when I say befriended, it’s pretty much, ‘how’s Conrad?’ ‘Great, how’re you?’ (laughs). But I’d go out and say hello to them. I can look at a table and decide if they want me to go out and speak to them or not. I don’t want to intrude. And I don’t want to go out and just speak to the celebrities and leave everyone else sitting around. Sometimes you have much better crack with the married couples who’ve saved up for weeks to come in for their anniversary or whatever. If I’m in the mode of going around the tables, I’ll do it, but if I’m not, I just won’t. Say ‘Conrad sends his regards’ and leave it at that.

Is having a lot of celebrities in important to the cred of your restaurants?

I think the good thing about this restaurant here, Peacock Alley, first of all, is that it doesn’t matter who’s in because nobody will ever hear about it. Nobody on the staff is star-struck or anything. I think the reason people come in here is because they don’t read about it the next day. We know that if someone’s in and we call up a journalist, they’ll be there with a photographer in a minute. We don’t need to do that. We’ve a private entrance, a private car park, a private lift. You can arrive into the car park, take a lift right up and there’s a whole private section out the back, where people can go and not be bothered. Because my staff have seen so many of them now, they don’t get all funny. And every single waiter here signs a confidentiality agreement before they start.

Is that normal in a restaurant?

It is when you get in as many famous people as we do. I remember there was a leak came out of the restaurant one time about how much money somebody had spent. There was only two people who had access to that information and both of them lost their jobs.

Who was the last person you fired?

I fired my sommelier in London recently. I was doing a wine tasting with two of my chefs and he basically argued with me. Well, he didn’t argue with me. He put his opinion forward a little bit too aggressively and I felt that his opinion didn’t back up his argument. I figured I knew more about wine than him. So I fired him on the spot. There’s only one way the restaurant works and that’s if there’s a belief in the main man behind it. And if I feel that that wine wasn’t right for that particular dish and he doesn’t understand why, and he’s going to recommend it to a customer and he doesn’t believe me, I can’t take a gamble on him. He has to go that minute, that day.

What’s the worst night you’ve ever had in a restaurant?

The worst night? I remember one night I had 450 people sitting down for dinner and the electricity went out. We still had to feed them all and that was pretty bad. But normally if I’m in the kitchen myself, I can turn most things around pretty quickly. There’s other nights when the food just doesn’t jump up at you. You can be cooking all day and you’re just not getting the full potential from the food. Sometimes it just doesn’t happen and it drives you mad with frustration. They’re the nights you hear screaming from the kitchen (laughs).

Are there many arguments in your kitchen?

If you have an argument, you have an argument, that’s part of a kitchen. There’s generally no arguments in my kitchen though. If I tell somebody they’re wrong and they argue then I’ll just tell them to get out. There’s no room and no time for arguing. But my philosophy has changed. I try and keep my staff. I try and train them properly. And they give me loyalty, I give them loyalty back.

I try and train them all. It’s not about everybody’s ideas. It’s about bringing everybody’s concepts together into one big concept and making it work.

What is your concept?

I’m modern thinking. I’m a new world chef with new world ideas. I want to create new things. I don’t like things that are classic, I want to create my own stuff. Sometimes your staff prefer the journey of safe, rather than creating, and it’s not my gig. And sometimes we clash heads (laughs).

Do you travel much in search of recipes?

Styles, not recipes. I travel as much as I can. Unfortunately, I’m a short visit sort of guy. I love my nightlife and I love my couple of glasses of wine after work, and I love the buzz of being out. I don’t really like going away that much. If I go to Barcelona or Paris, I’ll go for two nights. If I go to New York, I’ll go for four or five nights. I like short little stints away. I’m not really a week-away sort of guy. And now that I’m living half the week in London and half the week here, I just like getting home. I like being home. I’ve got all my stuff set up there.

What was the story behind you not showing up in court last year?

I sent my solicitor and barrister. It was all PR bullshit really. I’d never been in that situation before. If the whole thing was to happen again, I’d be all geared up and ready for it, but I just didn’t have that sort of knowledge. Judgements and barristers and senior counsel and junior counsel, I had no idea what the fuck all that crap was about! But God I’ve learned! If I do a contract now, I’ll nearly write the thing myself and get the solicitor to have it drawn up. Just with the amount of knowledge that I now have. Learnt the hard way! But I still lived to tell the tale!

Are you still heavily in debt?

The majority of my debts are paid off now. There’s a few more quid left but I’ll be all paid off by Christmas. I’ll have paid every single person I owe money to by Christmas. Then I can stand up and go (makes the up-yours gesture). Was that really worth all the press that got written? I would’ve paid it anyway.

You were also taken in and questioned by the police over paintings you’d allegedly sold from the restaurant…

I just can’t discuss that (shakes head wearily). It was a complete misunderstanding, complete misunderstanding. Basically, I sold the restaurant downstairs. The art wasn’t included, there was an argument in the end. Relationships were tender anyway – blah, blah, blah. That’s what happened.

It must’ve felt like one thing after another…

It was one thing after another! It was very publicly, em, monitored, if you like. There’s still a few newspapers drag it up every Sunday but it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. That sort of negativity doesn’t even bother me anymore. I’m just like a soldier. I just plod on and don’t give a damn about it all. At the end of the day, I’m here and I’m in England with two fabulous restaurants, I’m still cooking wonderful food, I’m still serving happy customers. I took the hit last year, I’ve climbed back up again. The bottom line of it is, I said I would clear up the debts and I’m doing that now. There’s not a month goes by that I don’t spend twenty or thirty grand in my solicitor’s office, paying people off. I could’ve left every one of those debts behind me and not a single thing could be done about it. So who’s the bad guy after all?