Uyen Luu

“I used to watch Jamie’s 30 Minute Meals when I was inside,” says Kevin McBarron,  22, “I was put on the hot plate duty where I would make lunches for the other prisoners. Watching Jamie prepare the meals, inspired me to change my life.”

Kevin first got arrested at the age of 14. “When I first went in, for about four months, I was just 18 years old and I was involved in fights and had trouble and didn’t learn anything, so I kept getting put back into prison and after the forth time, the last time, I knew I had to change my life.”

It has been 10 years since Jamie Oliver started with 15 Apprentices for his famous documentary, taking on 15 disadvantaged young people and trained them to work in his restaurant, Fifteen. Ever since, it has graduated 114 Apprentices who have gone on to have great careers in the food industry.

“The interview process was hard and it was in different stages,” says Kevin, ” out of about 250+ applications, they only chose 18 and they wanted to know if you wanted to and were willing to change your life around. I told the truth about my life of crime and how I wanted to change it. There aren’t many opportunities like this for people like me.”

Fifteen invited me to spend a day with Kevin, his colleagues, mentors and teachers at the restaurant in the kitchen – shadowing his life for the day. I started the shift an hour after he did at 9am, in chef whites, I was peeling garlic bulbs, chopping onions and vegetables, helping at different stations and gathering what goes on throughout the day with chefs and apprentices. It was a fantastic day of hard work and stamina. They were all surprised that I could use the knife and prepping and I said, bring it on!

Working in the professional kitchen is extremely demanding. It was the first time I had ever worked in one. It is a life full of discipline, orderliness and regulation. The Apprentices have 5 or 6 shifts in a week plus a college day to learn about theory.  “A lot of people have similar stories to mine,” tells Kevin, “they’ve not had a good start in life and have a certain background, something like this is a big change for them.” But for some, its hard to cope with the hours, and they expect a few “casualties” a year.

“I love eating everything,” says Kevin, dressed smartly in his chef whites as he prepares cold antipasti plates to order, “I love food, even school dinners, everything but raisins!” The Apprentices wear white caps and the chefs wears black caps. “Jamie comes in sometimes, as much as he is a busy man, he is still involved and always talks to us if he sees us and plans trips for us to travel and eat, so that we can learn.”

Each Apprentice works in a section for a month, for instance, the pastry section, the fish, vegetables, colds, etc under a different chef. “Every chef has a different way of working and you have to adapt for you to take in everything and for you learn something different from every chef. They teach you everything they know, they are working to help us. Most chefs want us to learn what they know and want us to do well.”

Indeed this was true, I spent most of my day with Giancarlo, Kevin’s chef, upstairs in the restaurant on colds such as salads, antipasti, pasta and lunch specials such as beef short ribs, ham hocks and pan fried fish. He was also a graduate of Fifteen in 2009.

He was extremely kind, patient and helpful, showing me how he would do certain things and how he makes dishes from the menu. They have a person who washes all the dishes and utensils and cleans. Every person has a responsibility and the whole thing is a well oiled machine.

I did these for lunch service : )

As I picked tarragon and parsley leaves, prepping for dinner service as well as tomorrow’s lunch service with the team, I listened to the kitchen banter, the noise of the dishwasher, plates being dropped, waiters saying orders, laughter of lunch time meetings, chop chop chop chop pause chop chop chop and the sizzle of the frying fan, frying pans tossing pasta into sauces and placed back on the firing gas stove, the sweep of the broom scrapping across the concrete flooring…and someone laughs and heckles more banter across the kitchen. The 18 Apprentices work closely together with the team and you can see and feel that they all become good friends.

“I recommend the course,” chirps Kevin, “if you want to change your life or are in need of change because life isn’t good, so many people here are so supportive, some really good people.”

I asked Kevin if he can do a meal of Jamie’s in 30 minutes. He says, “kinda…!” and laughs with me.
“I’ve been in the newspaper, you know,” says Kevin, looking down. What do you mean? “For the crimes I’ve done. I bought real shame on the family. I just want to do this for my mum and my two sisters, make it up to them for all the shit I’ve done in the past.”

And what are your ambitions, I ask him. “To become head chef for Man United footballers.”
There, he said it, he asked the universe and I hope that in years to come, with Kevin’s hard work and enthusiasm, I get to report back on his dreams met.

A wonderful day spent with everyone at Fifteen – thank you for having me. I well and truly earned my rest that night, was completely but happily exhausted afterwards.

my chef whites

Rest In Peace Kevin Boyle, one of the first of the Apprentices at Fifteen who passed away recently, whom I tweeted with on many occasions.

Applications are open from 2 April to 31 May this year and via the website.
www.fifteen.net

To make a reservation at Fifteen, call 020 3375 1515 or book online at www.fifteen.net

Luiz Hara – The London Foodie

The London Foodie was one of the first food blogs I got into and one of the first food bloggers to come to my house for dinner, for the supper club late in 2009. For a while, supper clubs were where you would find every aspiring blogger. Over blogger events, private dinners, more supper clubs and strange happenings in the life of a blogger, Luiz Hara and I, we also became friends.

Luiz is one of London’s top bloggers, a celebrity in the food world and lives a life eating (mostly) well and drinking fine wines and champagne. He’s probably set foot in every establishment and often takes lucky me with him. His friendliness has won him many friends along the way and finally last year, he packed in his day job in banking, went traveling to Japan to learn more about Japanese cooking and is now attending Le Cordon Bleu cooking school. How inspiring!

Two years later, Luiz has started his own supper club in his spanking new kitchen in his home in between Old Street and Islington and its so great, I’ve been along twice! Once to a Malaysian night where Slow Food Kitchen was cooking and to Luiz’s native Japanese night.

The food on both nights were stunning as we were served the best of home cooking. When Azzz and I went to the Malaysian night, it was during the Lunar New Year so we had to toss a big plate of noodles declaring simple words of wishes we want for the year of the dragon.

Luiz is a fantastic cook, I have been to his house for dinners many times and he is over generous in everything that he does and you will always leave feeling spoilt for having a banquets fit for any King…

To pay Luiz back for all those late nights he spent at my supper club, I stayed till 4am drinking bottles after bottles of wine with him as for whenever we two get together, we just can not help but gossip and roll over in laughter mainly about ourselves and our (mainly, mostly or entirely mine) foolish antics.

Supper clubs are of course a great way to meet new people over many many plates of food. I spot my regular supper club diners at other ones all the time so its great to catch up with them and also to spend time with a good friend. And this one is one I certainly recommend because its also about great food.

You can read the full account of my evening with Hungry In London here

If you are interested in our views on love, please check out and follow a series of blog posts on the subject on my other blog Ohh You Pretty Things.
Knights In Shining Karma Part 1 & Part 2
Love & Other Afflictions: The Grass Is Always Greener By Ute Johanna
Love Is The New Black By Aaron O

Joachim Friedrich

The most beautiful thing about New York City is its people, sings Joachim “YoYo” Friedrich, an artist I met on my first night in Manhattan, they make an effort to get along with one another despite color of skin and origin.

A splendid moment of serendipity, or fate, or destiny happened as I got turned away from The Mercer Kitchen. It was the first place I found once a yellow cab driver screeched his brakes and stopped me off mid Soho in fury of me not knowing where I was going. Being a singleton, there is no room for one, I’m sorry, sweetened the third waitress I was passed upon, as I look at the empty table and chairs. I headed aimlessly into the night in Soho, amongst closed galleries and boutiques in the bitter wind that clutched my face and snatched my head.

I gushed through the next watering hole, Barolo, ordered some wine at the bar and started to read my book, shaking off the bitter cold that had nearly reached my bones. A good fifteen minutes passed, when I paused between chapters, raised my head and immediately, YoYo took the opportunity to intervene. He was an old European man at the corner of the bar and from that moment on, YoYo stepped into my life.

YoYo is an artist from Berlin who turned 71 two days prior our meeting. He moved to New York City, Broome St, in the heart of Soho in 1971 when he was thirty years old and still resides at this premium address. Back then, this was the worse place to be.

Since 1987 when he became a Sufi, he wears a crochet hat, over his long blond hair that curtains upon his shoulders like ears of a faithful Labrador and his German accent and grammar is still in tact. He looks like a maturer but no less greater, Daniel Craig. Who is he? 007, I said. He tittered quietly in absolute but modest glory. His cool blue eyes are kind and peaceful but the lines on his face reflect a life lived through harmony and war.

As the night strolled along, and our glasses kept making a gurgling noise when the barman returned, it was apparent I had met a great man. When I spoke of my vocation as a supper club host and blogger, YoYo says, you’re like the guy from Paris, Jim Haynes. I am sure he was at some of the parities I went to.

Would you like to have lunch tomorrow? The next day, YoYo invited me to his home/ studio, in around the corner from where we were to show me his art work. He said, there is no point eating steak in a restaurant because I can make it much better at home.

Before I was even born, YoYo had lived a life and had met and knew Jean-Michel Basquiat, Keith Herring and Julian Schnabel to name but a few.

When I entered YoYo’s door, I was astounded by the vast amount of space and his simple but elegant decor. A rocking chair on one side, a small kitchenette that he built himself, a large dinning table accompanied by 70s chairs and the flood of light that flows through from the huge windows. But there is more! YoYo opens the doors, elegantly hidden in the walls like in a gallery space to show me the room of his housemate, Nicholas Gamabaroff whose show is currently at The White Cube in Hoxton, London, his newspaper pieces seemed to be  inspired by YoYo Friedrich. The opposite end extend his studio, a spacious work area that is at the corner of the building – YoYo’s place takes up about half a block.

YoYo maked tea, he offered me Earl Grey but I took PG Tips. Seeing me taking all those photographs about his place, he said, no one has ever done this before.

He has a shrine of gifts he has received throughout the years from friends. He shows me a sand rose from the Sahara, wood that has turned into stone. Stones and toys from all over the globe. He keeps them all, there are some along his window sill, some pour onto the dinning table.

 

Then YoYo proudly shows me the few publications and press he received in his life, from Flash Art to Art Review.

YoYo’s main medium is The New York Times Newspaper. He would paint on them or he would  tear them and collage huge pieces, which curled up the ceiling and rolled down on the floor. I am the  best “gluer” in town! he says. But newspapers have changed now and I can no longer create the same affects. Back then newspapers had shades of black and  grays today the paper is published in colors.

Prisunic, 1989-91

YoYo’s few shows happened because of artist friends who established contacts for him with galleries. He did little to find a gallery to represent him. He couldn’t deal with the business  aspect which took shape in the sixties around Andy Warhol. We started to live in “instant time” with instant tea, instant meals, instant photography etc. and instant art, he claims.  Today the artist does not “create” the art market but the art market with its galleries and curators “creates” the artist. It is all about art instantly understood instantly sold.

As an artist you can’t be ahead of your time any longer you have to be in time with your work. YoYo worked independently from the market.

1977 – single pages, a photograph YoYo took of a girlfriend

In the eighties he collaged double pages of the New York Times to paint medieval  motives and medical drawings with bold brushstrokes  leaving spaces open to “read” the paper ” information from then on the information from today.” He thinks, that from the beginning of mankind the basic questions have not changed but the answers do all the time.

There is a story with Herbert Vogel, chuckles YoYo warmly, when I met him, he was a mail man, with the little money he earned, he bought drawings of conceptual and minimalist art, while they lived on his wife’s income. When I went to his house, they had a little closet, and a small table, two chairs and a bed, but the walls were full of beautiful art. But he was a very sensitive man and can’t take any humor. He came to my opening at Barbara Gladstone in 1982 and asked if he could have a picture of myself, him and his wife in front of one of my newspaper pieces and I said, sure! But for some reason, my wife couldn’t work the Polaroid. It took ages and she was fiddling with it, I was getting a little annoyed so when she had finally managed to take the picture, I had a crocked smile on my face. Vogel wasn’t impressed, took the photograph and I never saw him again!

The Funeral Of Princess Diana

YoYo showed me a portfolio of his paintings on double pages of the newspaper, which he does on and off, he mostly uses pages of movie ads and fashion, where he undresses the models in painting their clothes away. He says, he brings the photos alive. As you move from one side of the room to another the silver and the gold paint breathes, because the light reflects it differently on every spec. And you can see the painting transform, revealing itself as it inhales and exhales. The more you look at one of YoYo’s paintings the more it speaks to you and communicates its feeling.

New York Times Series from 1977

YoYo started to work on and with the New York Times in the late seventies. From January 1st 1977 he selected daily a page on which he composed a drawing using collage, oil crayon and magic markers.
Like a journal, he says.

When I asked YoYo about his relationship with his parents, it was somewhat a difficult question, not for him to answer, but for the emotions it evoked. YoYo paused to swallow a gulp. YoYo’s mother came from  German high society. During the war, his mother had to exchange her jewelery for potatoes. My mother saved our lives, she did everything so that we could live. It is a difficult question, if I am close to my parents or not. I thought I can create a family outside my parents but my parents during the war had no time for emotions, they had to try to survive, to keep us alive.

After 40 years in NYC YoYo plays with the idea of leaving. There is a little Sufi village close to Damask, he says. I would like to go there to learn Arabic and to get deeper into Islam. But with the Arabic spring in the air… He is unsure now and thinks he will have to wait.

You will stay for lunch won’t you? Of course YoYo, how could I refuse a home cooked meal? He proceeded to cook for me the most succulent New York Strip, with green beans – sorry about the beans he yelled across the room, they’ve lost some flavour, I’ll add lots of garlic.

YoYo’s used garlic peels for this piece in 2010

The finest New York Strip

He was taken by my interest in his work. And I told him, that I will publish something on my blog and I said “that I can only hope that others will enjoy your work like I do.”

I left YoYo’s apartment with a wealth of life as if I had found and opened a box of treasure, like I had just discovered an unknown place on earth. It was my fate to meet this man, this artist.  His story as an artist is not yet finished.

If you have any interest in YoYo’s work, please contact uyen.luu[at]gmail.com

View from The New Yorker Hotel

View from The New Yorker Hotel

The romantic notion of New York City is  embroidered into the weaves of my dream life, my short previous life here as well as my life with television series and movies I have watched from childhood to now. They aren’t just movies, they too are my memories. I secretly hope that someone is also waiting for me on top of The Empire State Building or at Brooklyn Bridge or at the Central Park Ice Rink with my lost glove. Or that he appears while I have lunch at The Chrysler or would walk into an East Village cafe and sit beside me, we’d strike up a conversation and live happily ever after.

Central Park View From The Metropolitan Museum

Upper East Side, Central Park

Upper East Side, Central Park

Inside The Metropolitan Museum View Of Roof

Bus Window

Lafeyette/ Broadway

East Village

1st Ave, East Village

My Old Apartment East 4th Street/ Avenue A

The Prince turned into a frog and as did all that followed but I never learned to laugh instead of cry when I lost them. When you are in love, nothing else seems to matter but when it ends the bliss that once was is tripled in pain. It is always hard to just forget them when things go up in flames, they only turn to ash and they blow away into dust, perhaps reincarnate into a new thing…

Lucky Envelopes I gave to people I met

Old Lovers sitting right next to me on subway

Sophie’s East 5th Street/ Avenue A

Queens

Lucien Freud, The Metropolitan Museum

Brooklyn Bridge

My favourite New York finds

Omai 158 9th Ave # 1  New York, NY 10011-4912

Sushi Samba 245 Park Avenue South  Manhattan, NY 10003

Snack Taverna

My name is Leluu, I have a supper club. People have heard about my supper club and they email me to book a place, and I say, yes, do come along.

I spend all day cooking an 8 course dinner for about 25 or so people (with my lovely mum), perhaps once a week. They make friends at the communal table, drink a lot of wine and enjoy what I give them to eat. Sometimes, the atmosphere is electric – a stunning combination of people with like minds and a hungry enthusiasm to meet others, to expand circles, to share and to give.

I have had the most amazing times running these nights. I’ve been blessed and filled with wonderful compliments and I keep seeing the same faces time after time and make wonderful friends with my guests.

I am so lucky to have such a great job. I’ve met people who were exactly like me in every sense in thought and spirit. I’ve met people who have showed me things I didn’t know and given me more than I had anticipated. I’ve built long lasting friendships with people who care for me like I am a sister to them and have given forgiven my misgivings. This is what I wanted when I started the supper club without ever expecting it and for it to last two years and a bit.

And when I have been in love in these times, I am proud to show this person what I have created, brick by brick and I loved sharing them with my guests. Drinking wine at the end of the night with the person I loved with strangers in my house, making jokes, giving insights, revealing themselves to other strangers.

And when the strangers leave, it would just be the two of us, in midst of the music still blearing from the Bose, bouncing its acoustic magic upon a kiss, a proud cuddle, turn off the table lamps and lets go to bed.

But, ‘buts’ are inevitable for me, there have been many times when there isn’t someone to love and it almost feels the saddest, loneliest thing to have all these people come round for dinner and at the end of the night, I gather the glasses into a bucket (ready for the dishwasher), the clinks it makes when staked one on top of another echos with the sweet tunes of Moon River and clonks of my high heels on the laminate flooring, my only company. Except for my loyal and gracious dogs who bounce around in relief that all the guests have filtered through and they can reclaim their space.

I am left with Twitter feeds, late night television and chews of the night’s random leftovers. Perhaps I would eat a dessert someone hadn’t  touched or open a packet of ramen.

“Once, I wanted to be the greatest”, perhaps more than once, every time I fell in love, perhaps too many times, perhaps too willingly when “no wind or weather fall could stop me” but came a flood and it was an illusion or foolishness. For sure, love, is my addiction, I feel rancid withdrawals without it and therefore, it must be a bad thing to love, or to love too much, for sure to love someone more than yourself.

Brick by brick, step by step, one always move further away from the abolition of it, detox and everything is fixed until, another one comes along and you can not resist.

The cycle starts.

The show must go on…
*Catpower = The Greatest