All of the people who work in the kitchen with me go out into the forests and on to the beach. It's a part of their job. If you work with me you will often be starting your day in the forest or on the shore because I believe foraging will shape you as a chef.

Close interaction with farmers and scientists can expose the chef to new flavours that can be used to delight diners.

I had turned down other head chef jobs. I didn't want to take over someone else's cuisine. I wanted to start from scratch.

The drive for working comes from everyday moments - the thrill of experiencing a young cook succeeding in what they thought was an impossible job, as well as guests being happy. I also love the unknown - discovering new things and trying to make sense of them.

Chefs have a new opportunity - and perhaps even an obligation - to inform the public about what is good to eat, and why.

A gastronomical supermeal didn't necessarily have to involve the things I had brought from other top kitchens.

I started to change. It was sort of a restaurant mid-life crisis, you could say. I lost a lot of confidence, not so much as a father or as a friend, but as a boss, as a chef that's to make decisions throughout the day all the time. I just slowly started burning out. Once you lose your confidence like that, you start being angry in the kitchen. I couldn't recognize myself anymore. I started writing the journal. It was never meant to be a book, but the editor at Phaidon read parts of it. As editors do, I guess.