Derek Bulmer, the man who never was
Food Critic Richard McComb passes his security vetting for a lunch date with the elusive editor of the Michelin Guide, Derek Bulmer.
Walking along Cornwall Street towards Purnell’s, I’d be lying if I said my pulse didn’t quicken.
Waiting inside this Birmingham restaurant, sipping a glass of chilled water, is arguably the most influential player in the high-stakes game of British gastronomy.
What this man doesn’t say about haute cuisine is almost as important as what he does say. What he doesn’t know about food, doesn’t need knowing. He can make, or destroy, reputations.
But that’s enough about Glynn Purnell.
For I find myself entering the lair of the Brummie chef to meet a restaurant critic who can turn kitchen dreams into the stuff of culinary nightmares. Get a duff review from this bloke and it’s time to lock yourself inside the walk-in fridge.
My lunch guest – actually he has invited me – is Derek Bulmer, the editor of the gourmands’ Bible, the Michelin Guide.
Bulmer’s high-profile job, but low-profile public face, means everything about our meeting has to be hush, hush. He reviews 200 restaurants a year and, like his fellow inspectors, anonymity is paramount.
It has been like making an appointment with the head of MI5 and the rules of engagement were laid out by my man on the inside at Michelin HQ: Bulmer won’t be reviewing Purnell’s (unofficially, I wouldn’t get within a mile of him if he was); Bulmer hasn’t chosen the location (an operative has, so don’t read anything into it); there cannot be any full-face photography (eyes and the bridge of the nose are acceptable, as are hands); and Bulmer won’t, absolutely won’t, talk “specifics” about restaurants.
So what is this fearsome scourge of the restaurant industry like? Well, for a start, he’s not fearsome at all.
Bulmer is a bit shorter than me, say 5ft 8in tall, with greying hair and a lightly tanned complexion. He is wearing a not inexpensive white, open-necked shirt and a dark suit. He’s good company, affable and enjoys a glass or two of wine. Squadron leader-ish.
That said, I come away from our thoroughly enjoyable hour-and-a-half lunch feeling that I don’t know a lot about Bulmer. I’m not sure what makes him tick, other than the obvious (that’s food – he’s had more hot dinners than you or I have had hot dinners put together). He is gastronomy’s Keyser Soze, the elusive kingpin in The Usual Suspects. I know I’ve had lunch with Bulmer; it’s just that I can’t be 100 per cent sure that I did.
This I can exclusively reveal: Derek Bulmer plays golf off a 15 handicap and recently celebrated his 60th birthday. If he had his way, he’d probably order scallops followed by lamb. He likes a linen napkin but isn’t bothered if a table is covered or bare. And his car has Michelin tyres.
Like a spy, he has a list of 20 fake names that he uses to make restaurant bookings. I could tell you at least two of the names, but if I did, his people would have to eat me.
(When he makes a reservation, Bulmer methodically scribbles the name he has used in his diary. Once he forgot and turned up to an inspection without being sure who he was. Without breaking his cover, the Michelin man coolly went through the reservations list with the restaurant manager until he spotted that day’s name and declared: “Look! My stupid secretary has booked it in her name.”)
Part of the reason for our meeting is Birmingham’s emergence as a gastro destination. With Purnell’s, Simpsons and Turners, the city has more Michelin star restaurants than anywhere else in England outside London, with the exception of Bray, which also has a trio.
Bulmer says: “I always wondered why it took so long for there to be a Michelin star in Birmingham. We have given it a lot of thought. We don’t know the reason. Why have Manchester, Leeds and Liverpool still not got any stars? I can’t answer that.”
London remains the “magnet,” attracting a third of Michelin’s stars for Great Britain and Ireland. The rest of the guide’s top restaurants are predominantly in rural locations. Apart from the capital, the only cities of note, star-wise, are Edinburgh, Dublin and Brum. “It is bizarre,” concedes Bulmer.
I’m interested to know what he makes of our city’s Big Three.
“This is the most different of the three,” says Bulmer, looking around Purnell’s dining room. “The others are closer to each other in style of cooking, more of a traditional, classical theme to the menu that has been developed, modernised. But this one is quite innovative in the style of the cooking. I wouldn’t say it is the odd one out but it is the one that is most different of the three stars.”
So, canapés on the table: which one does he like most?
“That would be very dangerous ground to be on,” says the inspector.
