I WAS A SCHOOLBOY CHEF AT BIRMINGHAM’S GRAND HOTEL. NOW I’M BACK – AS A GUEST

The Grand Hotel is where I met the big bad world. In 1979, when I was 15, a work-experience place led to a part-time job as a commis chef, so I spent weekends as an underling in a huge, sweltering hotel kitchen full of moody, permanently hungover chefs preparing 1970s delicacies like prawn cocktail, black forest gateau and joints of meat and cauliflower cheese for the carvery restaurant. I stil...

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