Hot Press meets Kevin Thornton

To say I’m nervous would be an understatement. Had life not taken a few strange turns over the last ten years, this could very well be a job interview. Instead, having hung up my whites at the tender age of 25, I’m here, armed with a dictaphone, speaking to the great man himself.

Kevin Thornton opened the Wine Epergne with wife Muriel in Rathmines, Dublin in 1990. In 1995, he put his name over the door for the first time, with Thornton’s Restaurant in nearby Portobello. Within a year, it had won him his first Michelin Star. A second was bestowed in 2001.
In 2002, another relocation followed, to the elegant Fitzwilliam Hotel on St. Stephens Green. Thornton has commanded at least one Michelin Star every since. He is rightly regarded among the leading figures in modern Irish cuisine.
Any pre-interview nerves were replaced with childlike excitement when the maitre d showed me to a window-side table and said Kevin would like to treat me to lunch. Then Kevin introduced himself. “Is there anything you don’t eat?” he asked. “I’ll choose what to cook you so, and we’ll do the interview after.” Who could argue with that?
What followed was brilliant. I was served with a cornucopia of delights, including Bere Island scallops with potato and truffle, Wicklow venison with black pepper and squid-ink, and the unforgetable 1,000 year-old bog-oak smoked whiting with poitín sorbet. Each dish showcases Thornton’s passion for quality Irish produce.
As I’m enjoying the delicious post-lunch petit-fours, Kevin emerges with a coffee and we take a seat in the bar. He already knows I worked as a chef in a former life, and brings it up straight away. I tell him that a part of me regrets not testing myself at this level.
His answer is frank: “Yeah but if you have any doubt then you should never come near this level, because it’s so intense. You go through 10,000 hours and then you come up against a brick wall, and it’s another 10,000 hours to jump the wall. Only then do you really know what you’re doing.”
Which seems like a very good place to start...

JOHNNY KEEGAN: You’ve been cooking at the top level for a long time.
KEVIN THORNTON: 30 fucking years. Jesus. Wow, it’s scary shit.
Is there a secret then?
There is no secret (smiles). I’m lucky to be doing what I’m doing. But you kind of have to get away from the shit that’s happening and deal with your own stuff. You push yourself all the time, no matter what you’re making. And you think positively. It’s all about positive energy. I’m no saint by any means. It’s really about believing in yourself and what you do, and in the people you have around you.
What makes a great chef then?
It’s like what makes a great anything. You have to really believe, be totally honest with yourself. And it’s about persistence. “Always go on the boreen, never cross the field.” In other words, never take shortcuts. I’m lucky in that, through my upbringing, I was probably trained before I even realised that this was what I wanted to do. Working on farms, shooting pheasants, working in an abattoir when I was 10 or 11... that sort of thing. It was a natural progression. It’s all about learning, everyday. I’m still learning. That’s the way I look at it. I’m lucky that I still love it and get a kick out of it. So I use it as a release almost. And
then sometimes you have no control over it: some things just happen in your mind. It’s
just ongoing...
Can you describe what’s involved in creating great dishes?
It starts with privilege. I’m privileged to have the produce in the first place. And I’m privileged to be alive, I’m privileged to be living on this side of the world. Also there’s the pleasure from being able to touch it. So I want to get the energy from it and to pass that on without destroying it. And then the magic happens. To achieve that, I always say to people that you need to get down to the level of your plate. I try to bring things back to where they came from – like the scallop; the idea of it being between land and sea. The concept of drying the scallop coral into a powder so we don’t waste anything. We use everything. And it’s about the magic of the seasons, the magic of life. It’s about hitting that note. It’s like music and magic.
What do you think of the current trend towards upmarket burger joints and those ‘one product’ style restaurants?
I’m not a fan. But there’s nothing wrong with them. There’s room for everybody. In Dublin you have the mediocre and the good. There’s not really much difference price-wise. So that’s why I always believe that, eventually, when people get to places like ours they really appreciate it. But it’s important that there are different levels of restaurants.
Clearly they have an advantage, commercially, in that they can source almost all their main produce from one supplier?
That’s true. But I believe there’s really no such thing as cheap food. There are consequences. The guy goes to the farmer for instance. And he knows he has an advantage because he’s buying the whole lot. He puts pressure on the farmer to get it for a certain price. Then the farmer has to cut his standards. When they cut the standards it affects the chicken. When it affects the chicken, it affects the environment. So if you’re getting something cheap, you
have to remember that everything has a knock-on effect.
What is it that makes Irish produce special?
The magic of the seasons. Talking about chicken, we’ll only use chicken here in August and September. We only work with the seasons.
The weather must make that difficult.
It changes everyday. The last few days we had a lot of frost, so my wild garlic would’ve been ruined. We’re always checking the weather forecast – and so we picked it the other day and dried it ahead of the frost.
Is there anything that defines Irish food
for you?
We’ve got the most amazing fish. We’re surrounded by water. Why would I go to Greece or to the Indian Ocean to get my fish? Why would I buy fish from a different country when we have our own? We’ve also got pure green land that’s unexplored and under-utilised. But even saying that, we’ve got some of the best produce in the world. And it’s my job to turn them into something that’s Irish – because
I’m Irish.
For a restaurant like Thornton’s, how important is the relationship with your suppliers?
I have a personal relationship with all the suppliers, for years.
What about tomatoes and other ingredients like that?
Well, I’d rather not have them. Okay, I could lie and say everything is Irish, but that would be bullshit. We just don’t grow some stuff here. We use tomatoes from the north of Spain. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not that far away.
So you’ve been over to source them too?
Yeah of course. We have a personal relationship with everybody. I know the guy who gets my truffles. I know the guy who produces my foie gras. So I’ve tried to have a personal relationship with everybody. It’s so important. Because if you don’t then you’ll have horses running around the place (laughs).
Were you surprised by the horse
meat scandal?
Of course not. But think about it, you want cheap, then you’ve got to pay for it. What can you expect if somebody wants a burger that costs 20c? They’re lucky it’s only horse! I think the biggest problem is that people weren’t told it was in there. That’s the biggest issue.
What do you think we can learn from it?
We should learn to be honest. If you’re ashamed to say that it’s horsemeat then you shouldn’t be selling it. I know we don’t eat horse in Ireland because they have so much other value. They’re worth more alive than dead. But be proud if it’s horsemeat. There’s nothing wrong with that. .
Are we doing enough to maximise our economic potential with regard to exporting quality produce?
No, not at all. We’re absolutely dreadful. I’d love to be in charge just for a few years to make sure that everybody was doing their thing properly. We could be the greenest country in the world and set the standards for everybody else. I’ve had this argument with people: drive from here to Cork, and how many fields do you see in use? What do you see growing? The only place that seems to be growing stuff is North Dublin and West Cork. Maybe a few other people where the supermarkets have contracted them to do stuff for them. There’s a guy in Wexford doing parsnips. So we’re not getting the benefit from being such an amazing country for farming.
What would you change if you were put in charge of food policy?
You have to be self-sufficient. If there was ever a problem, we couldn’t survive. And the thing is, if you want to be a good exporter you have to be self-sufficient to start with. We export our fish. Like where are the fish mongers in the city now? There are very few. The butchers are starting to pop up here and there. That’s a good thing. We’re getting more aware of stuff. We were at the top of our game before the EU. Now the farmers are having a tough time because they were all told to go dairy, and raise sheep, with incentives here, there and everywhere. So farmers weren’t farmers anymore. They became product developers. I remember talking to somebody a few years back and asking them would they not do chickens, and they said “ah no, the weather’s too wet here, the feed would rot”. That’s bullshit! Of course we have wet weather. Deal with it.
A lot of our fish gets exported…
Yeah, because they pay more money abroad than they do here for it. But the stuff we have is incredible. The scallops here are just brilliant. When I do dinners abroad in the likes of Singapore, Argentina, Brazil and Thailand, I always bring Irish produce with me. I remember doing a big one in Germany and being so proud of the scallops – and of the produce in general. The don’t have scallops like ours in any other country. In Ireland the seafood is extraordinary. Of course, we have to get the balance right with regards to over and under-fishing.
Is Ireland on the culinary map as a destination for holiday makers?
Do you want me to be honest or dishonest about answering that question? I don’t think we’re a gourmet destination. And we should be. Look at Copenhagen: was that a gourmet destination? Never. But what happened is that the government got behind it with incentives, and sponsored certain people to do it. They got real people to do it, who were involved in developing products that they had there. Now they’re a gourmet destination. So I would say, ‘no, we’re not a gourmet destination’. But we can be. Easily.
With the quality of our produce, you’d think we should be...
Absolutely. This is very hard to say politically, but it’s true: we have the wrong people representing us. We have people who aren’t really involved in the grass roots of what’s happening. It’s like if you have the key top ten musicians in the country – and then you have some “diddly-aye” bloke representing them outside. It’s not going to work. And the thing is – sometimes, we don’t know the difference between really good and truly excellent. We always put them in the same category. So in food terms we haven’t got to that top level yet. And that’s kind of sad. But that’s because we haven’t been pro-active enough. We’re the only country in the world that have a global marketing day for free, in St. Patrick’s Day. And what do we do with it? Turn it into a big piss-up, instead of doing really positive things.
Do you think we have the skill, as chefs, to do it?
Yeah absolutely. We have the skills. But the danger is: we have the skill level now, but are we going to have the same skill level in ten years time? Because it’s all about the people coming through, and the same can be said about football, music, rugby. It’s all about what’s coming through. Are the colleges doing enough to develop the young people?
Probably not.
What do you think about the current trend of food foraging?
Irish people have been doing that since time began, going out picking stuff. And I suppose it’s important in the sense that they’ve reinvented it and remarketed it. And that’s good because it makes people aware of the things that are around them. Aware of going to the mountains, and finding what’s in season. And making more of an effort to do things. It’s like music... I keep referring to music because I’m really into music. Is there any good music around? You really have to go and find it.
Having led the way in modern Irish cuisine, what do you think of those who are following in your footsteps?
I don’t really look at it like that. I see Ireland as place where we’ve always had good restaurants. From the time of the Second World War, people from London would come over and eat here in The Gresham, Jury’s, The Hibernian. There was always maybe four of five brilliant restaurants. We still have maybe four or five, in the sense of the real top places. We’ve all been doing our thing. Maybe when I retire I can look back at my past. At the moment I live in the present.
Do you think you’ll stay behind the stove until you retire?
Well I don’t want to die behind a fucking stove (laughs).
Would you ever take a role with Bord Bia?
One of the reasons I became a chef was that I wanted to travel the world. I could bullshit you and say that it was my dream to become a chef. It wasn’t. Photography was my dream. It used to be a battle between food and photography, so I treat them as one now. There’s always a camera with me in the kitchen. But I guess you can only work at this level for so long. Then you kind of stand back and become a consultant. Or you maintain your standards in other ways. It’s a business. This is a brand. At the moment we’re exporting our Eieryu beef to Singapore. So I want to get more into that, working with really top quality Irish produce. I also want to create and brand my own poitín. Not as this big commercial thing, I want it to be the proper high-proof thing. Like they do with tequila.
Are you making it at the moment?
We don’t make or sell it here because it’s illegal. I want to make it legal. So we’re getting the tests done. I went to somebody, to look into getting it done in large quantities, I was thinking like 10,000 bottles. They said that we had to do 10,000 cases minimum. That’s a shit-load of cases. We could make it – but it’s about getting the brand right. But there’s loads of things unique to Ireland. Stuff like the bog-oak. And there are thousands of things you could do with it. So there’s too much moaning going on. Just fucking get up and get on with it. Stop complaining. Sure, it’s a shit place to do business. But it’s a great place to live. And it’s no worse than it was in the ‘80s.
Somebody said to me that we celebrate our ingredients more than our food.
Well, I don’t think we celebrate either enough. You need the ingredients to do the cooking. So of course we celebrate our beef, and we’re very proud of stuff like that. I want to treat our beef like we do our race-horses. I want swimming pools for them.
Tell me about the beef you export.
I’ve eaten the Japanese kobe beef. I thought it was too soft. So I thought: if they can do it then why can’t we – and do a better job of it? I wanted something with a bit more of a bite. And I wanted it to be Irish.
The process is that we feed it on it’s mother’s milk – and then on grass. And I feed it with Guinness and massage it with poitín. The taste is amazing. And I want every part of it to be used, and then for the hide to be made into leather items – and sell them for charity. That’s the plan.
What do you think about the way that molecular gastronomy has developed in restaurants like El Bulli?
They’re very important in the sense that they covered new ground and made people aware of it. And they’re very lucky to be in the position that they’re in. They can be totally creative and know that their business is ok. That’s why Muriel is really good for me: I’m allowed to do what I want as long as I make my margins. But at the end of the day it is a business.
If you go too far towards science, do you lose some of the social pleasure in having a meal with friends of family?
To me, there are different elements to food. The energy is about people, and the people bring things to the table. They create a natural energy. And then you have this other thing where it’s about the food. The energy is the food and there’s nothing else, like El Bulli. And the trouble is in Ireland people might say that it’s pompus or it’s bullshit – because they wouldn’t understand it. Because we’re not a food culture or a food nation: if you did that here people would tell you that you’re pretentious.
Was there a technique that really blew
your mind?
Going back in time, cooks were never the most intelligent people. Like if you look at how the confit technique was discovered: the guy was cleaning up and the meat fell down into the oil. He then used to rob it to feed the family. Then the chef caught him one time, tasted it and decided to serve it. But I remember the first time tasting a sauce, and thinking, “fuck me, this is mind-blowing. I want to be able to cook like this”. And I remember seeing potatoes that were so shiny that they almost jumped out at you. They tasted like velvet. I suppose what I’m doing now is that I’m going back to the beginning. I work in Ethiopia twice a year, and I love that because I’m learning stuff that I didn’t have the chance to learn before, because we had gone too far ahead. So now I’m learning from the Mursi Tribe – who go back to the beginning of time. They drink blood from the neck of a live animal.
The economic downturn is affecting everybody. As a restauranteur how do you deal with the challenges you’re faced
with now?
We’ve started a supper club and a wine club and things like that. So you have to be inventive, and be tight, and not do anything foolish. It’s hard. If you can survive in Ireland you can survive anywhere. The trouble with a restaurant like this is that sometimes people look at it as being out of their league. It’s not at all. If you look at the price structure and break it down, actually, it’s cheaper than most places. But here you get the best there is. I suppose we’re lucky that we have a great team. I’m the creative one and I won’t compromise on my work, and that’s the way you have to be.
In regards to cooking at home, families are struggling, and turning towards cheaper frozen alternatives.
You can still buy good stuff. You don’t have to buy fillets of beef. Buy shanks of lamb. Buy the cheaper cuts and braise them. Think of how your grandmother used to cook and do that sort of thing. Buy whiting, mackerel, hake, haddock, pollock… what’s wrong with pollock?
What is your favourite restaurant in Ireland?
The thing is, I work all the time. I love going to other people’s houses for dinner. And we eat at home a lot, and go to friends houses. Because we’re in the industry we don’t get much of a chance to eat out. During the break we’d go out to Avoca, because Muriel is really into it. The Four Seasons is great for tea. I also like going to Dylan McGrath’s. He’s doing wonderful things. As is Derry Clarke. But we don’t get out enough together because we all work the same hours. Sometimes you just want to get away from it. When I go travelling I like roughing it, going down to the basics. I like fish fresh from the sea. I like going to places like the Amazon and the Antarctic because they really inspire me.
Do you have any guilty food pleasure?
What’s guilty? I don’t have any guilty pleasures, I just have pleasures! I love chocolate and Tayto crisps. You know like you eat the crisps and then the chocolate at the same time, I like that when I’m driving.
What would be your death-row meal?
Everything would depend on when I was going to die, which season it was and what was available. I’d have a five course meal. I’d have scallops and venison, bacon and cabbage. And then maybe a boiled egg marinated in a flavouring, like the truffled egg you had earlier. It’s probably more about the person cooking it than the meal itself.
Was there ever a point were you thought about throwing in the towel?
Yeah absolutely. You get frustrated. The thing is, though, you’re in business for several reasons. Because you love what you do; you have to support the family, send your kids to college and stuff like that. But yeah you go through periods when you feel tired and you question whether you should be doing it anymore. Then something happens and it’s okay again. I’m lucky that I always wake up positive. Everyday is a beautiful day. You just need to find the sunshine. I suppose I’m lucky that I’ve got a good balance. I get to travel a lot, I do photography and I cook, and I’m able to bring them all together under the one roof. I’m very privileged to have what I have.

Thornton’s is located on the 1st Floor, Fitzwilliam Hotel, 128 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2. See thorntonsrestaurant.com