Tossing a coin at school dictated I was to be a chef. Two years later I entered the Dorchester hotel kitchens. Questions about status manifested into me being bullied, beaten and burnt before being jettisoned into the larder to mindlessly butter bread for sandwiches. Working double shifts to convince the sous chef of my capabilities brought some reward. Although, preparing a chicken one day I chopped off my thumb and collapsed from exhaustion. I was sent home! Seven weeks later, I was asked to make the hotel's Yorkshire pudding mixture. If it rose I stayed, if not it was back to buttering bread - it rose! I acquired a unique skill which brought first commis status. Considered a bloody good chef by my contempories, I was asked to cook for Elizabeth Taylor in her suite. However, the future held an emotional event when love entered my life and I handed in my notice. Clutching an excellent testimonial I felt proud to have been a part of three Michelin star cuisine of which the Dorchester is famous.