Marco Pierre White’s Kitchen Wars - TV review

He wanders around the kitchen wielding a long, sharp vegetable knife. Good old Marco. Mad old Marco.

That tousled hair, that thousand yard stare, that impenetrable gaze. Imagine, for a moment, that Marco was your boss. A knife wielding, Hannibal Lecter-esque, reality show host; staring at you, telling you ‘you’ve made me unhappy . . . ’, before flicking his hair in disdain. Pressure? And then some.

And yet. And yet. Marco is no pantomime dame. He doesn’t need to ham it up for the cameras, or pretend to be Mr Nasty. The former holder of three Michelin stars has been to the top of the gastronomic mountain, he’s climbed the highest peaks.

He’s in the privileged and unique position of being able to pass judgement on cooks and waiters because he knows what it’s like to go beyond conventional limits. He knows how to deliver the best food and the best service. He knows how to keep the customers happy.

Hell, he even invented Gordon Ramsay. There is no other chef in the UK who commands the same respect.

The format for Kitchen Wars was pretty simple. Three teams of chef-and-waiter were asked to cook for 75 people: that’s 25 starters, 25 mains and 25 desserts each.

The task was entirely achievable, provided all of the teams worked in complete harmony. That, however, was beyond the abilities of some.

Marco prowled as the teams prepared, cooked and sent their food to diners who were not afraid to offer honest opinion, however hurtful it might have been.

“They’re not going to be ready,” he said, while observing one team as they cubed their butternut squash. Lo and behold, three hours later, they ran out of time. Marco didn’t need to say ‘I told you so’, because Marco is always right. Always.

Kitchens are a natural environment for drama – just as much as courtrooms, football pitches or school playgrounds. They are where dreams are made and shattered, where people learn about success and failure, where spirits are crushed and hopes come tumbling down.

If there exists any niggling tension between chefs and waiters, you can guarantee that it will rise to the surface during a busy, stressful service. Simmering tensions will boil over. Accidents are waiting to happen.

The camera team simply had to sit back and observe the chaos. Tempers frayed, food exploded, stress levels rose through the roof. Marco tut tut tutted as chefs and waiters fell.

The size of the task shouldn’t be underestimated, of course. Serving three courses to 25 diners in an hour and 45 minutes is enough to push the toughest cookie.

And not all of the chefs were up to it. Marco noted their inadequacies and frowned, then walked away. The chefs withered beneath his gaze. He didn’t have to tell them why he was so disappointed; it was enough that they knew he was.

We’re spoiled for cookery shows: some offer food porn, others offer yummy mummy treats, others are faux entertainment, a small number are worthy and some – Gordon – are completely contrived.

Marco’s latest programme is none of those things. It’s as close to reality as you’re likely to get. Take away the cameras, and the scenes that were screened last night are the same that are enacted every night in every high street restaurant.

It’s just that Marco, his vegetable knife and those crazy, crazy eyes, aren’t normally there to watch.

Andy Richardson