A van, three friends off down to the Med

I am somewhat a little, or should I say, immensely jealous of the ITV program, “Gordon, Gino and Fred” but certainly not of the frequent childish humour and gratuitous swearing.

During their last trip to Scotland, a school bus driver they had come across in a narrow lane, was so disgusted with the chefs’ behaviour that he drove off reprimanding them for using foul language in front of a bus full of kids. 

The first time I heard chef Gordon Ramsey swear in anger on TV, I was shocked. Yes, of course, in the heat of the moment, chefs often let slip the odd “F-word” but, in my kitchens, it was never used to demean another work colleague. I felt that Gordon’s outbursts would put young people off from joining the catering profession. Whether or not kids steered clear from hot sweaty kitchens, the Scottish chef’s restaurant empire has not stopped growing and his colourful language has fuelled the success of the television programmes in which he appeared. 

I really envied the three guys gallivanting around the Med, cooking, drinking and eating all that is good about that birthplace of mine. 

I have often dreamed of the idea of hiring a campervan and heading to La Grande Bleue, “the great blue” as the Med is often romantically called. A dream voyage with a couple of like-minded friends, anywhere around the Mediterranean Sea, heading East from Morocco all the way round to Spain, but avoiding hot-spots like Libya and Syria. 

All of those countries sitting around the Med have been blessed with great fresh produce. I remember the sceptical looks Karen gave me when I described the size of Algerian tomatoes. “They are THIS big. Honest!” I don’t think she really took notice until we holidayed in Majorca in 1994 and she saw some enormous, gnarled tomatoes growing by the roadside. 

The closest thing I did to going on a tour of Europe in a campervan was a coach trip from London to Greece in July 1978 with two friends. 

Nikos, one of the friends, a Greek mature student had bought a Land Rover and invited me to join him on a trip to his home island of Evia. Another friend tagged along. We bid goodbye to friends in Sunderland and set off down the A1, heading for Dover and the ferry to Calais.   

What had started as the amazing adventure of a lifetime, prematurely ended just outside Darlington when the Land Rover engine blew up and we had to sell it for scrap. After an interminable delay, we continued our trip by boarding a coach in London for the princely sum of £28 return. 

That was a trip to remember but unlike the ITV program, we weren’t lucky enough to enjoy food feasts like the ones Gordon Ramsay and his friends enjoyed. 

However, I was fortunate to have for travelling companion a Greek grandmother who had brought along stacks of tasty snacks which she kindly shared with me as the coach snaked its way from England to Greece, travelling through France, Italy and the defunct Yugoslavia.