“Come on guys, f*cking hell,” pleads Gordon Ramsay with his trademark furrowed brow. Before I boarded the plane from Sydney to Dubai to meet him at his newest restaurant, Bread Street Kitchen & Bar at Atlantis, The Palm, Dubai, I’d joked about taking two slices of bread to re-enact his infamous ‘idiot sandwich’ moment (Google it). “What are you?,” I’d scream at him, holding white slices over his ears. ‘Raging Ramsay knocks out the Incredible Huck’ would make for one hell of a headline. Anyway, that “Come on guys…” was exactly the sort of sentence I was expecting, just not in the context it was used. It came at the end of our interview, when he asked if I was coming in for dinner.

“No, just for the cocktail party launch,” came a voice from behind him.

“You’re not based here?” Ramsay asks.

“No, Sydney, I flew here to see you.”

“F*cking hell. Can you have dinner tonight?” he asks.

That’s the moment he turned to his team with that sentence.“The man comes all the way from Sydney, you’d think I could f*cking cook for him?” Ramsay turns to me and his brow softens to a smile,“Can you come for dinner tonight, it’s the least I could do?”

Wait, what? Ramsay’s a super nice guy? Well, that’s a bit boring. ‘Gorgeous Gordon woos blushing Huck for a date’ is not the headline I’d envisaged. Nevertheless, Ramsay was a touch of what I was expecting – there was arrogance, confidence and self-belief, but mostly he was genuine, honest and open. When Ramsay first walked in with an entourage trailing behind, his rockstar aura filled the room. He walked straight to me, offered a hand and said “Anthony, lovely to meet you.”

The lines on his face bear witness to a tough childhood and a take-no-prisoners existence ever since. “I love Sydney. Matt Moran is killing it there isn’t he? You know, it’s amazing how My Kitchen Rules has transformed in Australia,” he adds. It is at this moment I decide to keep my Moleskine closed. He’s up for a genuine chat.

“How many shows are you doing now?” I ask.

“Globally? Five and a new one.”

“Is it really you on these shows?” I ask. “Interesting,” he says, “Is it me?” He puts his hands together interlocking his fingers and looks me in the eye.“When things go wrong it’s me, definitely, without a doubt,” he nods. “But we film [Ramsay’s Kitchen] Nightmares over five days, 165 hours condensed into 42 minutes. So you work it out.”

“Oh, so Channel Seven are absolutely dying to do Nightmares in Australia,” he quips, changing the conversation with a huge grin. “And you know what, I think I want to do it!” he exclaims.

He pauses for thought and I interrupt. “Bread Street Kitchen is your 29th restaurant, and you do all these shows. Is it your food any more in these restaurants?”

“Stamp of approval is in the flavours without doubt,” he says. “It’s a big ask, and it’s a major hurdle most chefs can’t face. Neil Perry’s done it well, [Alain] Ducasse and Nobu [Matsuhisa] have done it well. But there are traces of what those chefs are about. There is a DNA of flavour, in a sauce, in a dressing. The ethos. Sure I can’t be in the kitchen, but I like that danger.”

He alludes to the fact he’s mastered his art, but hasn’t tired from it.“I’ve managed – or learned – to pace myself a bit.”

A minder informs me I have time for one more question.“You going to open in Australia? I know Maze didn’t work out…”

“I’d go back without a doubt,” he says.

“Sydney or Melbourne?” I press.

“In Sydney. Less arrogance, I love the foodie feel there and they seem to have a little more fun,” he says.

That night I’m in the restaurant, Ramsay walks in, puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “Haven’t seen you for about four minutes, glad you could come in.”

The 400-seater is sophisticated and smart, with a Manhattan buzz and the warm welcome of an English pub. It’s housed in Atlantis, the monolithic hotel at the tip of the man-made Palm Jumeirah, a city unto its own with restaurants, shops, underwater world, a fun park, beach and nightclubs. Mostly, Atlantis is full of families who never leave until, of course, they depart Dubai. In truth, Bread Street Kitchen is a perfect fit. A procession of classic gastropub dishes land on the table. Beef Wellington, shepherd’s pie, fish and chips. It’s not ground-breaking, but it’s well executed.

Later that evening we wax lyrical about the Sydney restaurant scene. “I don’t want to just do a restaurant in Sydney,” Ramsay says. “They’re serious about their food there, so it has to be in a big old beautiful heritage building – look at Rockpool Bar
& Grill, it’s stunning,” he pauses. “We’ll take our time. We’ll find the right venue and do something special.”