Brian, let’s start with the simplest question we always start with: who is Brian Petrie?

I am a professional chef with a distinct flair for creative regional cooking, committed to showcasing the finest seasonal produce while preserving the authentic essence of local flavors. My culinary practice is characterized by rigorous standards, with impeccable cleanliness and discipline being non-negotiable. Off the course, I am a semi-professional golfer, deeply immersed in the sport's strategic nuances, time-honored etiquette, and rich history. This dual pursuit fuels my passion for excellence, translating into a dynamic and precise approach in both the kitchen and on the green.

You’ve never really actively chased Michelin stars, yet your name carries weight — was that a conscious decision?

Right where it hurts. My career as a professional chef has been driven by a singular aspiration: to achieve the profound honor of a Michelin star. It represents the pinnacle of culinary recognition, a testament to dedication and exceptional skill. Yet, a palpable sense of disappointment has settled in, as every culinary establishment I've joined seems to lack a fundamental understanding of what it truly takes to reach that zenith. The relentless pursuit of excellence, the meticulous attention to detail, and the profound commitment required to earn such an accolade appear to be increasingly foreign concepts. Even more disheartening is the pervasive shift in the hospitality industry's culture. There's a growing prevalence of "clock-watching," where the passion for perfection and the drive to be the best have been eclipsed by a focus on mere hours. It's become agonizingly difficult to find individuals who genuinely yearn to learn, to refine their craft, and to share in the pursuit of culinary mastery. This decline in shared dedication leaves me, and many like me, with a profound sense of disillusionment, as the path to achieving a Michelin star feels increasingly solitary and, at times, unattainable within the current landscape.

What drives you more — flavor, technique, or the story behind a dish?

For me, taste, technique, and the story of a dish are not merely important—they are inextricably linked, a powerful trifecta that defines exceptional cuisine. The journey of any truly memorable dish begins with its story. This narrative, whether rooted in tradition, a specific ingredient's origin, or a cultural heritage, is the very soul that dictates its taste. It's the blueprint, the inspiration that guides every flavor profile and ingredient pairing, ensuring an authentic and impactful experience for the diner. Once the story and its resulting taste profile are firmly established, it's the mastery of skills and techniques that truly brings the dish to life. This is where precision, creativity, and culinary artistry converge, transforming concept into reality. My hands become the storyteller, meticulously shaping and plating each element so that the final presentation isn't just visually stunning, but proudly narrates the dish's journey, both through its exquisite taste and its captivating visual appeal. This holistic approach is what I believe elevates cooking from mere sustenance to an art form. It's about crafting an immersive experience where every bite and every glance tells a rich, compelling tale.

You’ve often said “change is my favorite spice.” Can you give us an example of a moment when change completely transformed your kitchen?

For me, change isn't just a concept; it's my favorite spice, the very essence that ignites creativity and keeps the culinary journey perpetually exciting! Embracing change is absolutely vital to avoid becoming stale or allowing one's approach to become rigid. It's about maintaining an open mind, consistently challenging assumptions, and always being ready to pivot. The most beautiful and exhilarating form of change in a kitchen is undoubtedly the dramatic and often profound shift of the seasons. This natural evolution is a constant source of inspiration, pushing us to adapt, innovate, and celebrate the freshest ingredients nature offers.

Without this dynamic embrace of change, a kitchen quickly becomes predictable and, quite frankly, boring. It's not just about ingredients, either; it's also about a continual evolution in our approach to every single team member. The ability to adapt our

leadership, to foster growth, and to courageously challenge ourselves ensures that the entire culinary environment remains vibrant, progressive, and brimming with positive energy. This constant flow of new ideas and fresh perspectives is what truly

keeps a kitchen alive and thriving!

What’s something you used to believe about cooking that you’ve since changed your mind about?

I've always held a deep-seated belief that anyone could learn to cook and, with dedication, blossom into a truly good chef. However, after more than 15 years in professional kitchens, I've come to a profoundly disappointing realization: I was

completely wrong. It has become painfully clear that boundless culinary knowledge means little without the right attitude. The passion, the relentless drive for perfection, and the genuine love for food — these are the ingredients no textbook can teach. Regrettably, it seems that a disheartening number of individuals entering kitchens today are merely "making up the numbers," lacking any true commitment to our demanding yet rewarding craft. The dedication to the art of cooking is undeniably fading. It’s a somber truth that the inherent love for food, the very soul of our profession, appears to be diminishing amongst those who seek to join its ranks. This decline in passion and commitment has led me to one undeniable conclusion: no, not everyone can become a truly good chef. It takes a profound love for the ingredients, an unwavering dedication to the process, and an attitude that embraces continuous learning and relentless effort.

How has your creative process evolved over the years? Are there any rituals or chaos that help spark it?

My creative process has constantly evolved over the years, transforming into a finely tuned symphony that, while seemingly a broken record to some, consistently delivers fresh and inspired culinary experiences. At its heart, it all begins with the season— specifically, the next season. I've always championed the philosophy of being ahead of the curve, meticulously planning rather than succumbing to last-minute chaos. This foresight is where crystal-clear communication becomes paramount, a vital ingredient that, regrettably, feels increasingly scarce in our industry. Yet, some of my most exhilarating ideas don't strike in the kitchen's controlled chaos, but rather amidst the serene greens of the golf course. It's there, surrounded by nature's artistry, that my mind truly ignites. I find profound inspiration in observing what's growing wild, the predominant colors painting the landscape, and even the intriguing shapes of plants and natural elements. A peculiar curve of a branch or the unique texture of a leaf can spark an entire narrative for a dish, weaving a compelling story that guides its flavors and presentation. This unexpected fusion of the disciplined golfer's eye and the chef's passion for the plate is where my most innovative culinary tales truly begin.

If you had to design a menu inspired entirely by your golf game, what would be the signature dish?

As a professional chef, the opportunity to blend my culinary artistry with the dynamic world of golf presents an exciting challenge. My objective is to create a main course fish dish that not only captivated the palate but also told a story, drawing inspiration

from the very essence of the golf course, particularly its beautiful coastal settings. The core idea is to transform the familiar elements of a golf landscape into a harmonious and delectable culinary experience. My initial thought process would revolve around the pervasive presence of water on a golf course. From serene ponds to challenging water hazards, water is an integral part of the game. This immediately led me to focus on a fish dish, symbolizing the bountiful offerings of the sea, especially given that many of the world's most iconic golf courses are nestled along breathtaking coastlines. The connection between the rolling greens, the shimmering ocean, and the pristine fairways became the foundational narrative for my dish. To truly embody the golf theme, I meticulously considered the visual and textural components of a course:

* The Greens: The vibrant emerald of the fairways and putting greens was a clear inspiration. This translates into a prominent green element on the plate, likely a verdant purée or crisp vegetable, adding freshness and visual appeal.

* The Bunkers and Coastal Sands: The earthy, textural quality of sand traps and the expansive stretches of beach adjacent to coastal courses needed to be represented. I envisioned using a coffee "gravel" for this. The rich, slightly bitter notes of coffee,

combined with its granular texture, perfectly mimic the dark, raked sand of a bunker or the coarser grains of beach sand, adding an unexpected and delightful depth of flavor.

* The Waves: The powerful and elegant motion of ocean waves crashing against the shore is a hallmark of coastal golf. A delicate, airy white foam would capture this essence, providing a light, ethereal counterpoint to the more substantial elements of the dish, while also subtly referencing the sea's influence.

* The Flags: fluttering flags marking each hole are an iconic symbol of golf. To represent this, I decided on a crisp element that would stand tall, creating a visual 'flag' on the plate. This element needs to possess a delicate crunch, evoking the sensation of

fabric snapping in a gentle breeze, while also contributing a contrasting texture to the dish.

"Coastal Fairway's Catch"

Bringing these elements together, the dish is named "Coastal Fairway's Catch." This name instantly evokes the seaside setting of a golf course and highlights the premium fish at its heart. "Fairway's Catch" suggests the bounty found within this picturesque

golfing landscape, while "Coastal" grounds it firmly in the inspiring ocean environment. The name itself is a perfect encapsulation of summer—light, fresh, and hinting at leisurely days by the sea and on the greens. This dish, "Coastal Fairway's Catch," is more than just a meal; it's a journey through the scenic beauty and serene atmosphere of a coastal golf course, translated into an unforgettable culinary experience. This dish is not yet created as I would have to be in a kitchen using the best of the ingredients available at the time but I have the image and textures for this so let me know when I can cook this for you.

Culinary trends come and go. How do you stay true to your voice while still staying current? And how important is change for you?

As a creative professional in the culinary world, I firmly believe that change is a vital and positive process for staying fresh and innovative. However, when it comes to culinary trends, my approach is perhaps a bit different from what you might expect. While I recognise the importance of being aware of what's currently trending, I don't actively chase or follow these movements for my menu development. For me, the bedrock of exceptional cooking lies in a strong foundation of classic techniques. Trends, by their very nature, are often ephemeral; they emerge quickly and can fade just as rapidly. The principles of classic cooking, however, have endured for centuries precisely because they are timeless and effective. These fundamental skills— from mastering sauces to perfecting cooking temperatures—are the true pillars of a professional kitchen. My process in the kitchen is rooted in this philosophy. I prioritise good, solid cooking above all else. This means that every dish I create is built upon a foundation of proven

methods and a deep understanding of ingredients. While I keep an eye on what's circulating on platforms like TikTok or Instagram, a trending dish or ingredient won't automatically find its way onto my menu. Unless a trend introduces a genuinely new technique that enhances flavor, texture, or efficiency, it's unlikely to be incorporated. My focus remains on crafting dishes that are not only delicious and visually appealing but also grounded in culinary integrity and lasting quality, rather than fleeting popularity.

You’ve worked in many kitchens. Which one taught you the most — and why?

To be honest there isn't just 1 kitchen they have all played there part in my journey wether it was good or bad there are always positive elements you can take from each one, and most importantly is watching what people are doing wrong and how it impacts the team , just so you are aware to never be like that and what policies and procedures you can implement into a new kitchen so those bad experiences are not experiences for your new team. If I looked at one kitchen that changed my approach and it really didn't matter what I thought was right, was the private house in Switzerland, Tivoli Lodge. I had to go through training through a company that trains the staff for the Royal family, now this was an eye opener, but what it taught me more than anything else was to listen and then create what was expected, my way of plating or creating went out the window , all I needed to do was make the family happy, of course being creative and very precise, and most of all being on time , this taught me how to listen but truly listen to what they wanted this turned out to be one of the greatest lessons I've learned. Then letting your chef brain take this information and deliver exactly what has been asked for but at the same time exceeding the expectation without compromising what was asked for in the first place.

Failure is often underrated in the kitchen. Can you share a memorable ‘flop’ that turned into a breakthrough?

In the demanding environment of a professional kitchen, failure is often vastly underrated and widely misunderstood. While the popular narrative might focus on serendipitous mistakes leading to culinary breakthroughs, like the legendary "oops, I dropped the lemon tart" moment, my own experiences as a senior chef have highlighted a different, yet equally crucial, aspect of navigating missteps. I haven't personally had a "happy accident" that transformed into a signature dish. Instead, my most significant challenges – and ultimately, my greatest successes – have revolved around the intricate art of effective communication. Working with diverse teams, particularly those with varying levels of English proficiency or limited professional kitchen experience, consistently presents a unique test. The true measure of a leader, I believe, lies in the ability to bridge these gaps, finding innovative ways to convey instructions and expectations on different levels to ensure everyone understands the desired outcome. This adaptability in communication has become one of my strongest assets. One particularly memorable instance perfectly illustrates this point. We had a new kitchen porter, fresh to the fast-paced rhythm of a professional kitchen. I handed him a bag of potatoes and, with what I thought was crystal clear instruction, simply asked him to "wash the potatoes." Moments later, I glanced over to find him, with earnest determination, having opened the bag and meticulously arranged every single potato

on trays, ready to go straight through the dishwasher! It was a truly priceless moment. I couldn't help but burst into laughter, and anger was simply out of the question. He had, in his literal interpretation, done exactly what I asked: he was "washing" items, and they were going through the "machine." His understanding of my order was, from his perspective, perfectly correct. This humorous episode served as a powerful, real-time reminder that true communication is not just about what you say, but about ensuring it's genuinely understood. Learning to tailor my approach and truly understand my team's perspectives, even when it leads to a pile of sparkling clean potatoes fresh from the wash cycle, is where my greatest professional successes are found.

How do you manage your team in a way that encourages experimentation without compromising consistency?

Managing a culinary team to encourage experimentation without compromising consistency is a fascinating challenge, and for me, it boils down to a simple, yet profoundly effective strategy rooted in passion and shared learning. My approach is built on the belief that if you're a member of my team, you're here for a reason—not just to make up the numbers. This means I know you're hungry to learn and eager to grow, which makes the journey of culinary exploration all the more exciting. Our starting point for this journey is often a very personal one: your culinary roots. I always begin by asking team members about the food they grew up with. Your own food memories, especially those iconic dishes from a grandparent, parent, or guardian, are such a powerful part of your culinary story. They're often that quintessential dish you crave when you go home, embodying comfort, history, and pure flavour. My method is to have you share that cherished recipe, and then, we cook it together. This isn't just a nostalgic exercise; it's an opportunity for me to demonstrate how we can take the core elements and essence of that beloved dish and reimagine them, perhaps with a modern twist or a refined technique, without ever losing its soul or original intent. It's a truly fun and collaborative way to see how tradition can inspire innovation. Secondly, I actively encourage my team to voice anything they're eager to learn.

Whether it's the intricate art of bread making, the delicate craft of fresh pasta, the precise world of molecular gastronomy, or hands-on experience in filleting fish or butchering an entire animal, I make it my mission to find ways to incorporate these learning desires into our daily menu and operations. One of the most effective tools for this hands-on learning, and a fantastic space for controlled experimentation, is the Amuse-Bouche. This tiny, single-bite dish is a powerhouse of opportunity. Within an amuse-bouche, we can explore new techniques, experiment with taste combinations, perfect presentation, and—crucially—get real-time feedback from our guests. It allows us to push boundaries in a low-risk environment, keeping the team incredibly motivated and demonstrating that every new skill learned contributes directly to the guest experience. This dynamic approach ensures that while we're constantly refining and expanding our collective culinary repertoire, the consistency and high standards of our main dishes remain uncompromised. It's about empowering growth, fostering creativity, and ensuring our kitchen remains a vibrant, ever-evolving space.

What’s a culinary hill you’re willing to die on — something you firmly believe in, no matter the critics?

When asked about the culinary hill I'm willing to "die on" - a principle I'd uphold no matter what critics or commercial pressures suggest - my answer is unequivocally clear: uncompromising commitment to true farm-to-table sourcing. This isn't just a trend for

me; it's the absolute foundation of my cooking philosophy, and it's a stance that has, at times, put me at odds with conventional kitchen management. My approach is simple: when it's finished, it's finished. I've faced plenty of criticism throughout my career for this very belief. Many directors or managers struggle to grasp why I won't simply substitute an ingredient when our daily allocation runs out. If my fisherman, for instance, only brings in two pristine fish that morning, then we offer two portions of that specific dish, and no more. I will absolutely not compromise by buying something else of lesser quality just to keep a dish on the menu or to hit a certain number of covers. This isn't about stubbornness; it's about respect for the ingredients, the producers, and

ultimately, our guests. The quality, freshness, and story behind every item on our plate are paramount. Once that specific, peak-quality ingredient is gone for the day, it's gone. This means our menu might be dynamic, changing even midday, but it guarantees that every dish served meets my rigorous standards. It's a non-negotiable principle that ensures integrity from the farm (or sea) directly to the table, and it's a hill I'm proud to stand on.

What’s your relationship with fine dining these days — love, hate, or something in between?

My relationship with fine dining is, in essence, a passionate embrace of its potential, coupled with a firm belief in its necessary evolution. It's certainly not hate, but rather a desire to see its true spirit flourish beyond prevailing misconceptions. I absolutely love the core concept of fine dining. For me, it's about far more than just "tiny portions" - it's about the art of culinary creation that transcends the home kitchen. It's the thrill of experiencing dishes with intricate techniques, unexpected flavor harmonies, and breathtaking presentations that are simply not feasible for the home cook. This is the very point of going out to these establishments: to embark on a unique gastronomic journey, to be surprised, delighted, and to taste the peak of a chef's creativity and skill. However, where my passion meets a significant point of contention is the pervasive, often limiting, belief that fine dining must equate to being exorbitantly expensive. This is a notion I fundamentally disagree with and one that, frankly, I hate. I firmly believe that truly great food, crafted with solid cooking techniques and thoughtful creativity, does not inherently need to carry an elitist price tag that keeps families and everyday diners away. Wealth should not be a prerequisite for eating well. A well-managed menu, coupled with the ingenuity of creative chefs, has the power and the responsibility to offer more affordable fine dining experiences. It's about smart sourcing, minimizing waste, and innovating with ingredients, rather than sacrificing quality or technique. Fine dining, at its heart, should be an experience of elevated taste and artistry, and this joy should be accessible and enjoyed by everyone, regardless of their financial standing. It's time to democratise deliciousness.

If you weren’t cooking or golfing, what else do you think you’d be doing with your life?

Honestly, if I weren't immersed in the world of cooking or out on the golf course, you'd find me pursuing another profound passion: owning and operating a farm. The thought of nurturing the land, cultivating incredible produce, and truly understanding the journey of food from seed to plate is a challenge I'd embrace wholeheartedly, difficulties and all. My aspiration isn't just a romanticised notion; it stems from a profound respect for farmers, who are, in my view, incredibly underappreciated. They are the bedrock of our food system, yet they often bear the brunt of an imbalance perpetuated by large supermarket chains. It's a constant frustration for me that these chains, rather than the diligent hands that sow and harvest, reap the vast majority of the financial rewards. I genuinely wish we could bypass the intermediaries and buy directly from farmers. Imagine a world where the wealth generated from our food truly stays with those who work tirelessly to produce it. Farmers should be the ones enjoying prosperity, not the corporate giants. They face unpredictable weather, grueling hours, and immense financial pressures, all to bring us the sustenance we often take for granted. Their dedication to quality, their deep knowledge of the land, and their vital role in feeding communities deserve not just recognition, but a fundamental shift in how we value and compensate them. They are the unsung heroes of our culinary world, and it's high time they received the appreciation - and the equitable returns - they so rightfully deserve.

What advice would you give to young chefs who feel pressured to win stars or go viral?

To young chefs aspiring to achieve significant recognition, whether it be a Michelin star or widespread digital virality, my advice is direct and unwavering: Never relinquish your pursuit of excellence. The contemporary culinary landscape is undeniably challenging, demanding unwavering dedication. In this environment, your most crucial assets are your integrity and your relentless commitment to self-improvement. Understand this fundamental truth: you are perpetually a student of the culinary world; you

are never a master. The journey of culinary artistry is one of continuous learning. Embrace every opportunity to acquire new knowledge, refine existing skills, and adapt to evolving techniques. Stay true to your personal culinary vision, and let an insatiable curiosity guide your progression. This steadfast commitment to growth, rather than the fleeting pursuit of external validation, is the only path to genuine and lasting achievement in this profession.

Is there a dish that feels most like “you”? What makes it personal?

If there's one dish that truly feels like me – not in appearance, but in its very essence and what it represents to my culinary soul – it is, without a shadow of a doubt, my mother's oxtail curry. This isn't just a meal; it's a profound connection to my roots, a masterclass in flavor, and a warm, delicious embrace of everything I cherish about food. Imagine: the oxtail, cooked to absolute perfection, literally falls off the bone with a buttery, melt-in-your-mouth tenderness. Each rich, wholesome piece is infused with a complex, mildly spicy warmth that hums with depth, hinting at hours of slow, loving preparation. This incredible curry is served alongside perfectly cooked rice, each grain distinct, ready to soak up every drop of that luscious, savory sauce. But the magic truly escalates with the toppings: a vibrant scatter of freshly diced onion and tomato, adding a bright, zesty counterpoint. And then, the secret ingredient that makes this dish uniquely unforgettable – sliced fresh banana. Yes, banana! This unexpected addition brings a stroke of pure genius, creating an intoxicating dance on the palate: the spicy warmth of the curry, the wholesome richness of the meat, and the surprising, natural sweetness of the banana. The combination of these textures and tastes is utterly sublime, a symphony that makes my mouth water just thinking about it. This dish is more than just a memory; it's a testament to the power of home cooking and a constant reminder of the incredible foundation my mother laid for me in the kitchen. Thank you, Mum, for teaching me everything – especially how to cook with heart and soul.

Describe your ideal dinner party: who’s at the table, what’s being served, and what’s playing in the background?

Alright, let's set the scene for the absolute pinnacle of dinner parties! Forget the usual gathering; this is a culinary fantasy brought to life. Of course, my family would be there, and my mother's oxtail curry would undoubtedly be the soulful centerpiece, filling the air with its rich, comforting aroma as a South African music blend sets a warm, vibrant backdrop. But now, let's talk about the ultimate guest list, transcending all boundaries! Imagine this: seated around a magnificent table, a constellation of culinary legends, each one a titan of taste and technique. We'd have Auguste Escoffier, the godfather of modern French cuisine; the incomparable Roux family (Albert and Michel Sr.), whose legacy shaped British fine dining; the fiery Gordon Ramsay; the enigmatic Marco Pierre White; the elegant Raymond Blanc; the legendary Pierre Koffmann; the visionary Thomas Keller; and the wonderfully inventive Heston Blumenthal. Just picture that collective genius in one room! And the food? Oh, the food! This isn't just any meal. Each chef would be tasked with bringing "the dish they can't live without" – that one creation that defines them, their

philosophy, their very soul in edible form. Can you even begin to conceive of the menu? We're talking Escoffier's definitive Peach Melba, a Roux family classic that speaks of generations of perfection, Ramsay's signature Beef Wellington, Marco's groundbreaking risotto, Blanc's impeccable duck dish, Koffmann's iconic Pig's Trotters with morels, Keller's intricate "Oysters and Pearls," and Blumenthal's mind-bending "Sound of the Sea." This wouldn't just be dinner; it would be a pure cooking heaven, an edible journey through the annals of gastronomy! Now, for the music... that's where the real conundrum begins! How do you possibly curate a soundtrack to please such a discerning, diverse group of culinary titans? You certainly can't just throw on any old playlist. Perhaps a sophisticated jazz selection that ebbs and flows, allowing conversations to take center stage, or maybe even some classical pieces to match the timeless artistry on display.

So, no chance for me to join?

Well, who do you think sets the table and serves my food? (Laughter)

Last one: what’s the one thing people get wrong about you as a chef or as a person?

The most significant misconception people hold about me is that I am aggressive, and that my approach to leadership and teaching is brutal. This couldn't be further from the truth. What is often misinterpreted as aggression is, in fact, unbridled passion for my craft and for the development of culinary talent. My teaching style is not brutal; it is uncompromisingly honest. In this profession, direct and unfiltered feedback is not just beneficial—it is essential for growth. I’ve observed that many individuals struggle with honesty when it reveals something they would rather not hear. Frankly, my concern is not with what makes someone

comfortable, but with ensuring they genuinely learn and develop into exceptional chefs. This often requires criticism in its rawest form. We live in an era where sensitivity is prevalent, and direct communication is frequently misconstrued. However, in a professional kitchen, the ability to receive and process criticism, regardless of its intensity, is paramount. It doesn't matter what your background, beliefs, or personal sensitivities are; everyone is treated with the same high expectations and absolute equality. This firm, no-nonsense approach is sometimes perceived as aggressive, but my singular objective is to forge resilient individuals who can withstand the pressures of this industry and ultimately become great chefs. Mental fortitude is as crucial as culinary skill, and I strive to cultivate both.

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