My chef trial for Pierce Brosnan 007. The hiring and the firing.

EATING MY WORDS is the book recording my time as Private Chef to Pierce Brosnan, a bulimic model and an arms dealer who shot his last chef. This week, I am going to post a daily excerpt.  By the end of the week you’ll hear how 007 fired me. 

Bank Holiday Monday, 3^rd May 1999

My chef  agent, Katherine Shields, has called and asked if I would like to trial for the position as Private Chef to Pierce Brosnan while he’s in London filming the Bond film ‘The World is Not Enough‘.

I arrived at the address Katherine had given me for Pierce Brosnan in Highgate and was met by an American girl who said she was a friend and colleague of Keeley, Pierce’s girlfriend.  “I have to go out now so I’ll quickly show you the kitchen.  There’s no one else here so would you mind letting Pierce and the family in when they get back.  They haven’t got their key.”  No butler then, thank God.

 

I looked around the kitchen and wondered why on earth Pierce Brosnan had photos of Sting all over the walls.  The kitchen is fab, all Aga and copper pans with an enormous table in front of patio doors that open onto the garden.  I was unpacking all my shopping bags when Dan the lobster man arrived.

 

“Where is he then?”

 

“Cornwall. Sorry, he’s not back until 7.30.”

 

“Never mind, here’s your lobsters” Dan opened the Styrofoam box to reveal the biggest lobsters I had ever seen.  At some point I must get a grip on understanding weight, there was enough lobster to feed ten people instead of four.

 

 

“So he’s staying in Sting’s house is he then?” asked Dan, nodding towards the photos.  That explained the Sting obsession then, and the jars of coffee with vanilla pods that had ‘Trudy’s coffee’ written on the side.

 

Dan left and I began my attack on his lobsters.  I quickly stuck a knife into each of their brains then turned my back on them while I began cooking the risotto on the Aga.  There was a thud as the first lobster hit the floor and began making its way to the patio doors with the knife still sticking out of its back.  I tried to stop the other three from following him but two more scuttled off the work surface while I was pulling another one back from the brink.  There was nowhere to contain them until they died as they were too big to be held captive in the sink.  With one stretch of their legs they would be out.  So I let three of them roam while I rocked and twisted the knife in the brain of the fourth feeling like a murderer and begging it to die quickly.

 

After a twenty minute struggle the lobsters finally gave up on life and I got on with preparing the meal.

 

At 7.40 pm there was a knock at the door and the Brossies were back from holiday.  Five minutes later a masseur arrived to give Pierce a massage before dinner.  How lovely.  I could have done with a massage myself after the stress of murdering the lobsters.

 

Pierce wandered into the kitchen to eat dinner in his dressing gown at the kitchen table with his fiancée, Keeley, their two year old son, Dylan and the American friend.  Dylan passed on the lobster and ate a bowl of steamed edamame (fresh soya beans) which he is allegedly addicted to.

 

I pretended to be looking through the fridges while secretly watching the reactions of Pierce and co and listening for comments.

 

“We’ve eaten some of the best food in the world over the weekend but none of it compares to this meal.” My God Pierce Brosnan is lovely.  Or sarcastic.  He actually said that my apple tart was not a dessert but a little piece of heaven and asked if he could take one to Pinewood Studios tomorrow so he could have everyone taste it.  “I’ll be the envy of everyone because I have a star class private chef”

 

I was so tempted to say, “Are you taking the piss?” But then Keeley said, “What are you doing for the rest of the week Gill?”  To which Pierce added, “What are you doing for the rest of your life?”

 

It’s all a bit surreal and I am sure they are going to find out that I am just little Gilly from Lancashire who has no chef qualifications and then the food will suddenly taste a little bitter in their mouths. They certainly would have questioned my star chef qualities if they had arrived when the lobsters were running around the kitchen with knives sticking out of their backs.

To be continued . . .