Life is good when you're Tinie Tempah. The Plumstead-raised artist – otherwise known as Patrick Chukwuemeka Okogwu Jr – has won a tonne of praise for uniting the disparate music scenes of grime, underground rave and radio-friendly pop without selling any of them out. He's had two No 1 singles, a No 1 album and two Brit awards.
One of the fringe benefits of fame is that you get to discover new experiences in eating. Born in London to Nigerian parents, Tinie has always appreciated his food. He reminisces about an "amazing" roast chicken with garlic and thyme jus that he had at the Salon Millesime in the Carlton Hotel, New York. "They warned me it would take 45 minutes. After about 35 minutes, they brought out an almost-cooked chicken and told me it was coming along nicely, and 10 minutes later I ate the best chicken I've ever had."
Whenever he visits a new country, Tinie heads off the beaten track to try some traditional food – the old town in Dubai or backstreet places in Australia. "Didn't enjoy kangaroo," he says. "It was like a cross between beef and chicken, smoky and really chewy." He's kept a picture of the receipt on his phone: stubbie, stubbie, stubbie, kangaroo … and chips.
Nigerian food is a fundamental part of his life. It's what he grew up with and it builds up the palate because it's packed with flavour. "Nigerian food is lots of flavour, lots of tomato puree, rice, yam, beans… it's a whole load of stuff, really good." His favourite would be pounded yam with egusi soup, a savoury soup with meat and spinach which exists in countless variants across West Africa.
He has a couple of favourite Nigerian restaurants, both on the Old Kent Road in south-east London: the classy 805 and the more home-style Presidential Suya Grill. They're both family-run businesses, friendly and personal. Presidential, in particular, is one of those places where you feel like you're in Nigeria, he says. "There is a real nice atmosphere. When I come back from travelling the world, I do like to go there and chill. It's humbling."
He's a recent convert to seafood. Tinie used to be apprehensive about shellfish and squid. Then he saw that his Maltese mate, who ate it all the time, was light on his feet and full of energy, whereas a steak would wipe Tinie out. Then he tried a seafood linguine, "and all my prayers were answered. It just felt right – it was light but it filled me up. I could still run around and do my thing."
Serves four as a starter.
325g linguine
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
A knob of butter
75ml olive oil
2 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
1 red onion, peeled and finely chopped
200g raw prawns, peeled and deveined
4 large scallops, shelled, cleaned and halved
4 langoustines, cleaned
The tail of 1 small lobster, cooked, peeled and sliced
4 ripe plum tomatoes, peeled,
deseeded and diced
8 basil leaves, finely chopped
100g clams, cleaned
Lemon juice, to taste (about ? lemon)
A pinch of dried chilli flakes
Lemon wedges, to serve
Three-quarters fill a large saucepan with water and bring to a boil. Add the linguine and a good pinch of salt, and cook over medium heat for 10 minutes, or until just cooked.
Meanwhile, heat a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add the butter and all but a dash of the oil, and gently fry the garlic and onion until soft. Add the prawns, scallops, langoustines and lobster tail slices, and fry quickly for about two minutes.
As soon as the pasta is cooked, drain, toss with a dash of olive oil and add to the frying pan, along with the tomatoes, basil, salt, pepper and clams. Pop the lid on the pan for a minute, or until the clams open, then remove from the heat.
Divide between four warm pasta bowls and finish with a squeeze of fresh lemon, a sprinkling of chilli flakes and salt to taste. Serve with a wedge of lemon on the side.
Razorlight's Johnnie Borrell: Cooking's creative – it's the same impulse as writing or painting. If you've got that interest, it will transfer to cooking Photograph: Patrice de Villiers Johnny Borrell was a latecomer to the kitchen. "But cooking's creative – it's the same impulse as writing or painting. If you've got that interest, it will transfer to cooking. There's the macho gamesmanship aspect, too. I've got at least three friends who reckon they're the best cooks in the world – as all blokes do."
He likes to cook dishes that take plenty of time: "Something with the quality of a grand project. Get a few cod fillets and leave them salting in your airing cupboard for a week, to get that deep flavour. Something epic."
Borrell grew up on fish fingers, chips and pizza, and discovered food by travelling the world with his band, Razorlight. (They chose to sign with Universal in part because the label took them out for a better meal than rival bidders.) Most bands don't take enough advantage of the places they visit, he says, but Razorlight consult the Zagat guide and try to go local.
At home he loves the Bell in Oxfordshire. "I'll turn up starving and without fail they've got an incredible hot, crusty roll with coarse Ardennes pate." And the Food Lab in Islington does a brilliant Italian-English breakfast. Then there's the temple of nose-to-tail eating, St John in Smithfield. "It's not for the squeamish – it's brains and hearts and tails – but I'm not squeamish. There's nothing I wouldn't eat off their menu."
But the best thing he's ever eaten was a little less exalted. When Borrell was first trying to become a musician, he lived on the dole with a friend who wanted to be a writer. One week their benefits didn't come through and they applied for – "This sounds very dramatic" – a hardship loan. They queued for three hours, filled in the forms and waited. "We'd spent all our money on alcohol and cigarettes, and hadn't eaten in two days." When the ?35 loan came through, they ran straight to Safeway on Holloway Road, bought lamb chops and ran home. "The feeling of just getting these chops home was sheer delight. We chucked them in the pan – I think we seared them for only a minute on each side – and just devoured them. It's got to be the most satisfying thing I've ever eaten. That's my Proustian lamb chop, the one I'll always remember. It'll never get better than that."
Serves four.
Grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
1 tbsp smoked sea salt flakes
? tbsp chopped fresh parsley
? tsp dried chilli flakes
4 salmon fillets, about 150g each, descaled
Oil, for brushing and frying
4 tbsp soy sauce
In a small bowl, mix together the lemon zest, smoked sea salt, parsley and chilli flakes. Put to one side.
Check over the salmon for pin bones, removing any you come across. Lay the fillets skin-side up on a board and score the skin with a sharp knife. Brush with some oil and rub in most of the salt mixture.
Heat a large frying pan over a high heat and add a little oil. Lay the salmon skin-side down in the pan, fry for three minutes, then turn over and sprinkle with half of the lemon juice. Cook for another minute or two, until the fish is cooked through.
Transfer to warm plates, drizzle with the soy sauce and finish with the remaining salt mixture and a squeeze of lemon.
VV Brown: 'My boyfriend says I'm a bit of a jazz cook. I experiment, chuck everything in. You don't know what you'll get until you try.' Photograph: Patrice de Villiers "My boyfriend says I'm a bit of a jazz cook," VV Brown says. "I experiment, chuck everything in. You don't know what you'll get until you try." Her successes include lamb joint glazed with chilli sauce and wine, and putting couscous in a pineapple and refrigerating it overnight: "You get pineapple-flavoured couscous in its own bowl." Among her disasters, salad cream on mince: "It went hard in the fridge and looked disgusting."
Her parents ran a school in Northampton, and the dinner lady was her Auntie Corinne, who cooked fish and chips, Caribbean and the occasional Chinese. "Much better than ordinary school dinners," she says proudly.
"I'm a simple girl; I don't like flashy restaurants." She prefers quiet Thai or Japanese places, or a "gorgeous" place in Greenwich Village, where her meal is lodged in her memory: fried mushroom, scallops with cauliflower and creme brulee. "There were maybe 15 people in the restaurant and it was like home cooking, really cute and cosy. Just what I like."
Makes eight scones.
75g butter
1 red onion, peeled and diced
180g self-raising flour, plus extra for dusting
100g wholemeal flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tbsp Marmite
1 medium egg
2 tbsp plain yoghurt
3 tbsp milk, plus extra for brushing
Heat the oven to 190C/375F/gas mark 5. Melt 50g of the butter in a frying pan over medium heat and sweat the onion until soft. Set aside to cool.
Mix the flours and baking powder in a bowl, then rub in the rest of the butter until it resembles breadcrumbs. Make a well in the centre. In another bowl, whisk the remaining ingredients, pour into the flour, add the onion and mix to combine (add a little more milk if it's too dry).
Turn out on to a floured surface and gently roll to about 3cm thick. Using a scone cutter, cut out eight rounds and place on a floured baking sheet. Score the tops and brush with milk. Bake for 15-20 minutes, until golden. Cool on a wire rack. Best eaten warm.
Noel Gallagher: 'I'm a northerner, and tea is part of our staple diet. It's part of the fabric of your life.' Photograph: Patrice de Villiers "I am obsessed with Yorkshire Tea," declares Noel Gallagher, for 18 years the leader of Oasis and now forging a solo career. "I even bring it on tour. It was always on the Oasis rider: 'Tea – must be Yorkshire.'"
Why does a man whose formative musical years were characterised by cigarettes and alcohol and champagne supernovas feel the pull of this most homely of English beverages? "I'm a northerner," he says, "and it's part of our staple diet. Plus, I'm of Irish descent. The kettle always seemed to be on when I was growing up. It's part of the fabric of your life."
Gallagher gets through about five cups a day these days, but he used to have a debilitating 20-bag-a-day habit. When he was younger and worked on building sites, his standard brew was two bags, one cup. "I liked it really strong," he says. "Then, one day, I saw how brown and manky the inside of the cup was and I thought, 'That's what my insides look like – better get off it.'"
Like a true tea drinker, Gallagher has rules that must not be broken. Milk goes in last. Put your sugar in first, with the teabag, then fill it up to about an inch from the top and leave it for a good while. And what colour should the tea be? "You know the Quality Street toffees in the yellow wrapper?" he says. "It's got to be the exact same colour as them or it's going down the sink." When in London, he makes his own cuppa because "there's a lack of good tea-making down here. Paul Weller's tea-making leaves a lot to be desired. It's pretty watery and the colour's not right."
And, like a true connoisseur, Gallagher wonders about the mysteries of tea. How old should you be before you start drinking it? Why can't you get a decent cup of tea in America? "Because the whole country runs on coffee, caffeine and people talking a load of shit." And why, as Nicky Wire of the Manic Street Preachers has pointed out, do people in London never use teapots? "Tells you a lot about London, that," says Gallagher.
He admits he is not a great cook, although insists his missus is. "She's truly excellent – she could have made a profession out of it." He retains a taste for the things he loved as a kid, like fish and chips. With his mum raising three sons on her own, the Gallaghers were "on the breadline. We were just eating to survive."
He didn't go to a Chinese restaurant until he was about 21, and still rates his first ever Chinese – at the famously brusque Wong Kei on Wardour Street, London, with Inspiral Carpets, for whom he used to roadie – as probably his favourite meal ever. "It was like a whole new world," he says. "I used to live in that place in the 90s. Best hangover cure ever – that and a can of Coke."
Mick Hucknall: 'I loathe Michelin-starred food. To me, it loses touch with what food should be. I like really good quality, fresh, well-bred food, cooked simply.' Photograph: Patrice de Villiers Reputations once earned tend to stick, and Mick Hucknall will always have a name as a lover of both food and women. The latter is a bit out of date – he is now happily married with a daughter – but the former passion remains intact. He's been a vintner since the late 90s, producing wines under the name Il Cantante ("the singer") from grapes grown in the volcanic Sicilian soils of Mount Etna, but Hucknall tries to let his own offerings speak for themselves. "It's all well and good being a pop star, but what does that have to do with wine?" he asks. "I've tried to avoid the celebrity angle."
Hucknall has owned restaurants in the past, too. There was a minor stake in a bar in his native Manchester, and a Parisian restaurant, Man Ray, co-owned with Johnny Depp, Sean Penn and John Malkovich, an experience he recalls with a shiver. "It becomes a chain round your neck. I'd advise any aspiring pop star or actor to never ever invest in clubs or restaurants. You'll get screwed. Stick with what you're good at."
A genuinely disadvantaged youth has made Hucknell appreciate the fruits of his success all the more. His mother left when he was three years old and his father, a barber, brought him up "just above the poverty line". It was mostly northern dishes on the table at home in Denton: "Lancashire hotpot, steak and cow-heel pie… it sounds like Desperate Dan food, doesn't it? But when they're made well, these dishes can stand up to anything in the world."
After Hucknall left home and moved into a bedsit in Moss Side in the early 80s, he learned to cook by default, picking up a talent for Indian food from shopkeepers in Rusholme. When Simply Red took off, he discovered a love of Italian, then French and German food. "German food's very underrated," he says. "It's so beautifully simple. Roast goose, or Schweinshaxe – a roast knuckle of pork with crispy skin… it's so good.."
The best meal he ever had, he says, was as a guest of one of the founders of Gambero Rosso, the Italian equivalent to Michelin, who took the band to a restaurant in the back streets of Rome. "We ate until about four in the morning, a beautiful array prepared with such skill and care that it was astonishing. The whole band were fainting because of its brilliance."
He feels he's come full circle with high-end cuisine. "Having lived in Paris for a number of years, I now loathe Michelin-starred food. To me, it loses touch with what food should be. I like really good quality, fresh, well-bred food, cooked simply. The Michelin thing underwhelms me. You're supposed to be grateful for a three-inch piece of fish on a huge plate for 50 quid. It bores me."
Though he loves lobster, as seen in the photograph, he's just as happy with a tricolore salad. "Italian food is just genius," he says. "Tomato, mozzarella and basil. Or garlic, oil and red pepper on pasta – those things are timeless."
Does Hucknall's track record prove the old saying that a lad will never be short of a girlfriend if he can cook? "It definitely helps," he smiles. "I mean, if you can't take her to a restaurant, you're either going to her place or yours, aren't you?'
Serves four.
2 large lobsters, cooked
40g parmesan, freshly grated
For the sauce
60g butter
2 shallots, peeled and finely chopped
570ml fish stock
2 tbsp medium dry white wine
110ml double cream
? tsp English mustard
1 tbsp chopped fresh parsley
1 tbsp chopped fresh chives
1 tbsp chopped fresh dill
Juice of 1 lemon
Pinch of cayenne pepper
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Lemon wedges, to serve
For the roasted vegetables
8 tbsp olive oil
2 large red onions, peeled and quartered
10 asparagus spears, trimmed and cut into long diagonal slices
2 courgettes, trimmed, halved and cut into thick diagonal slices
1 fennel bulb, trimmed, halved lengthways and cut into 1cm thick slices
8 garlic cloves, peeled
1 tbsp fennel seeds, crushed
Pinch of sea salt (ideally Fleur de Sel de Camargue)
4 trusses baby plum tomatoes on the vine
Good-quality balsamic vinegar
1 tbsp chopped fresh basil
1 tbsp chopped fresh parsley
Lay the cooked lobsters belly down on a board, hold firmly and cut lengthways in half. Remove all the meat from the claws, tail and head, saving any coral. Cut the meat up into small pieces and place back in the shell, along with the coral.
For the sauce, melt the butter in a large saucepan, add the shallots and cook until softened. Add the stock, wine and cream and bring to the boil. Let bubble until reduced by half, then add the mustard, chopped herbs, lemon juice and cayenne. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Preheat the grill to high. Spoon the sauce over the lobster meat, sprinkle with the parmesan, and grill for three to four minutes until golden brown. Serve with lemon wedges.
For the roasted veg, heat the oven to 200C/400F/gas mark 6. Pour half the olive oil into a large ovenproof dish and place in the oven to heat up. Meanwhile, put the red onions, asparagus, courgettes, fennel, garlic, fennel seeds, salt and remaining oil into a large bowl and toss. Carefully tip it all into the heated dish.
Cook in the oven for 15 minutes, checking after 10 minutes and turning down the heat if the vegetables are browning too quickly. Add the tomatoes on their vines and roast for a further five minutes, or until the vegetables are caramelised.Serve immediately, drizzled with balsamic vinegar and sprinkled with the chopped herbs.
Sir Cliff Richard: 'Curry will always be my favourite food because it reminds me of my childhood. It's the most highly flavoured, the most vibrantly scented food there is.' Photograph: Patrice de Villiers Harry Rodger Webb was born in Lucknow, India, in 1940 and grew up on curries. His father, Rodger, managed a catering company for the sprawling Indian railways, and though the Webbs were experiencing the final days of the Raj, they lived modestly, in Lucknow and later in Howrah.
"Curry will always be my favourite food because it reminds me of my childhood," Sir Cliff Richard says, relaxing in his converted farmhouse in the Algarve, Portgual, bought with the proceeds of six decades of hits and 260m record sales, and the place where he likes to spend much of the summer. "It's the most highly flavoured, the most vibrantly scented food there is. After we moved back to England in 1948, my mother used to hold back on the chilli, but we always used to ask her for more." He pauses. "Well, I say we came back to England, but I'd never been before. Neither had my parents. But we still talked about 'coming back to Blighty'."
In India his father had been relatively wealthy, but in England "we had absolutely zero. We went through real poverty." One of the standard meals of the day would be toast dipped in tea with sugar on it. "It was that bad."
But a love of curry stayed with him over the years – not so much the heat as the spice. "Spice is what gives curry all its dimensions," he says. "The cardamom seeds, the coriander, the cloves… Most Brits don't like the heat. I do, but I like to taste the food, too."
In particular, Richard loves chicken tikka masala, that peculiar, unbeatable, ever-changing but always dependable dish whose origins are lost in the past. (Is it Punjabi street food, or was it synthesised in the Indian kitchens of Soho and Glasgow? No one knows.)
When he's back in England, Richard's favourite curry places are School Of Spice in Shepperton or, a new favourite, the Tiger's Pad in Sunningdale. He doesn't like his Indian food too westernised, though. "The Bombay Brasserie had the most fantastic starters," he says, "but I always thought the main courses were too posh. I like my curries to have a nice, thick sauce, I like a good mound of lentils and rice. I like it traditional-style, lots of everything."
Serves four.
4 skinless chicken breasts, cut into 3cm cubes
For the chicken tikka marinade
250ml plain yoghurt
2 tbsp lemon juice
2 tbsp ground cumin
2 tbsp paprika
2 tbsp freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp ground cinnamon
2.5cm piece fresh ginger, peeled and grated
Sea salt
For the tikka masala sauce
15g butter
2 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
1 green chilli, deseeded and very finely chopped or grated
2 tbsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp garam masala
? tsp sea salt
400g tin chopped tomatoes
250ml single cream
4 tbsp coriander leaves, chopped
For the marinade, mix together the yoghurt, lemon juice, cumin, paprika, black pepper, cinnamon, ginger and some salt in a large bowl. Stir well and leave for 15–30 minutes. Add the chicken and turn to make sure it is well coated. Cover and leave to marinate in the fridge for at least two hours.
Preheat the grill to medium. Thread the chicken pieces on to skewers and grill, turning regularly, for about 15 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through – when pierced with a knife, the juices should run clear. Place on a plate to rest while you make the sauce.
Melt the butter in a large saucepan over a medium heat. Add the garlic and chilli, cook for a minute, then stir in the spices and salt. Tip in the tomatoes and simmer gently for 30 minutes. Stir in the cream to enrich the sauce, and cook gently for about five minutes.
Pull the chicken off the skewers, add to the sauce and place over a low heat for five minutes, gently and thoroughly to heat it through.
Garnish with coriander and serve immediately.
Ellie Goulding: 'I hated sushi when I first tried it, but curiosity kept getting the better of me and I kept trying it, until it became my favourite thing.' Photograph: Patrice de Villkiers "I never used to eat fish a lot when I was young, but now it's like my body craves it. If I'm out, I try to order fish for every meal, and sea bass is the best in my opinion. If you don't have fish often, you're more inclined to choose cod or tuna, but sea bass is light and delicious. Grilled sea bass with Thai vegetables is perfect.
I hated sushi when I first tried it, and was quite intimidated by it. But curiosity kept getting the better of me and I kept trying it, until it became my favourite thing."
Serves four.
2 tbsp sake
2 tbsp mirin
1 tbsp light yellow miso paste
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 tbsp light soy sauce
4 sea bass fillets, about 150g each, skinned
1 tbsp chopped spring onions
1 tbsp chopped fresh basil
In a shallow dish, mix together the sake, mirin, miso paste, sugar and soy sauce. Place the fish fillets in the marinade, turning them to make sure they are entirely coated. Cover the dish with clingfilm and refrigerate for six hours.
Heat the grill to medium. Remove the bass from the marinade and place on a baking tray. Grill, close to the heat, without turning, until the fillets are just about opaque in the centre – about six minutes. Transfer to warm plates, sprinkle over the spring onions and basil, and serve with sticky rice or soba noodles.
Brett Anderson: 'It was pearls before swine,' he says of the band's diet in Suede's 90s heyday. 'We'd be in Hollywood or Japan, and we just wanted chips.' Photograph: Patrice de Villiers "Music, food and sex are the three most important things in life," says Brett Anderson, singer with reunited glam-punk Britpop Suede. "You can't do without any of them." He pauses and considers. "Well, you can do without a couple of them. But you shouldn't.
"In the 90s, I had a phase of only eating brown rice for two months at a time," Anderson says. "I was very unhealthy and I had this idea that brown rice would somehow be very good for me. Basically, all I was putting in my body was brown rice and cocaine, and that's not healthy."
He kicked the drugs before Suede split up in 2003, and in 2007 he went to see a naturopath: "And that changed my life." (His wife also studies naturopathic medicine.) A diet tailored to his individual metabolism (no mushrooms, corn, milk or wheat) has "really, really worked, to a startling degree… I feel a lot better and I'm very conscious of my diet now." Hence the love of antioxidant blueberries. Anderson makes his own muesli with oats, flax and crushed pumpkin and sunflower seeds, and the blueberries go on top: "I try to have them every day."
In Suede, eating well wasn't at the top of their priorities. "It was pearls before swine. We'd be in Hollywood or Japan, and we just wanted chips!"
Serves four.
450g blueberries
Juice of 1 lime
425ml double cream
400g mascarpone
Juice of 2 lemons
6 tsp honey
4 fresh mint sprigs
Icing sugar, for dusting
Blend the blueberries and lime juice until smooth. Whisk the cream to peaks. In a bowl, gently combine the mascarpone, lemon juice, honey and three-quarters of the berry mix, then fold in the cream. Spoon or pipe into serving dishes and drizzle over the rest of the puree. Top with a mint sprig and a dusting of icing sugar.
(A behind-the-scenes video of Brett Anderson's shoot for Love Music Love Food)
Juliette Lewis: 'Papaya and coconut are like instant vacations in your mouth.' Photograph: Patrice de Villiers Music is a matter of dark and light, heaven and hell, good and evil, and all that sort of stuff. Thus the star of movies and rock and roll Juliette Lewis – who knows a little about such things, having starred in Cape Fear, Natural Born Killers and From Dusk Til Dawn – has both sinful and redemptive modes. "It's yin and yang," she says. "I love the healthy stuff and I love chocolate and ice cream, too. You have to balance it."
She loves papaya – "It goes with anything, it has natural digestive enzymes and the taste is wonderful" – but it's clear that coconut is her real passion. Oh, the flavour, the scent, the texture… she uses coconut hair and skin lotions and, when at home in Los Angeles, has a regular coconut smoothie from her favourite juice place at home. "It's decadent and sensual and natural all at the same time," she says. "On a purely nutritional level, coconut water is pretty much the most hydrating thing you can drink, and much better than man-made sports drinks. If you're an energetic, physical person like me, it's hard to imagine anything better for you. Papaya and coconut are like instant vacations in your mouth."
Lewis is rare in the ranks of actors turned musicians because, unlike certain movie stars' vanity bands, her music actually stands up on its own – a raw but poppy garage-punk noise with the magnetic Lewis as its focal point. But how does one move from the comfortable world of movie-making to the grind of the touring rock band?
When you play rock festivals, you're always "pathetically grateful" if the catering is good, she says. You always remember who feeds you well, such as the German festivals, Leeds, Reading and the Isle of Wight. "If you're tired and haven't had a shower in days, you are so glad of any home comforts." But she does love the touring life, only occasionally missing favourite restaurants in LA, such as Little Dom's in Los Feliz or La Loggia in Studio City.
Movie versus rock and roll – who's got the best food? "Oh, please, do you even need to ask?" she says, and laughs. "There's so much more money in the movie world for food. I make a nice living from my touring, but half the time we live off bread and lunch meat."
Serves two.
50g papaya
3 fresh mint leaves, shredded
Juice of 1 lime
Juice of 1 fresh coconut, chilled
4 cherries
Put two martini glasses in the freezer to chill for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, peel and deseed the papaya, then cut into small cubes. Spoon the papaya into the chilled glasses, add the shredded mint and squeeze over the lime juice. Pour in the coconut juice and garnish each with a couple of fresh cherries.
Rolf Harris: 'One of the many great things about curry is that you can find your own personal optimum level of heat.' Photograph: Patrice de Villiers "Curry's my absolute favourite food," says Rolf Harris – painter and art educator, musician, creator of the wobble board, late-flowering patron saint of Glastonbury and international treasure in both hemispheres. "My wife and I have withdrawal symptoms if we don't have one every few days."
Indian food has become central to the lives of Rolf and his wife, Arwen, whom he married in 1958. They started going to London's new wave of Indian restaurants in the late 1950s, when curry was far from widespread, and they've stuck with it ever since. He has now developed a connoisseur's knowledge of curry houses in the Buckinghamshire-Berkshire area. They don't like it fiercely hot, they're in it for the endlessly fascinating mix of spices. "One of the many great things about curry is that you can find your own personal optimum level of heat," he says.
When touring, he has made it a tradition to take the band out for a curry after every date. "We get the promoters to scout ahead, and we're rarely disappointed, because England is the world curry capital." He admits he's no great shakes in the kitchen – "Scrambled egg is about as good as it gets" – but why bother when every street in the land offers the finest dishes on earth?
His love of bright, assertive flavours surely comes from his childhood in Perth, Australia, where his diet did not exactly sparkle. Rolf grew up on the "very traditional" English food of the years before the Australian culinary explosion. His mum's approach in the kitchen was "to cook anything – meat, vegetables, whatever – until it was almost incinerated… Australian food is world-famous now, and rightly so, but when I was a kid it was overcooked British food, tomato ketchup with everything, very, very boring and every day your dinner was exactly the same. No wonder I love curry now."
Serves four.
200g strong white flour, plus extra for dusting
50g chapatti flour
1 tsp curry powder
1 tsp ground turmeric
? tsp sea salt
Warm water, to mix
Vegetable oil, for frying
Put the flours, curry powder, turmeric and salt into a large bowl and mix well. Slowly mix in enough warm water to make a dough. Turn out on to a floured surface and work with your hands until smooth and elastic. Place back in the bowl, cover and leave to rest for 30 minutes.
Knead the dough on a floured surface until light and springy. Divide into about 12 equal-sized pieces and roll into balls. Keep covered with a damp cloth. Take one ball of dough and roll it out into a 10–12cm round. Repeat with the rest.
Pour a layer of oil into a heavy-based frying pan so it comes a quarter of the way up the sides, and place over a high heat. When very hot, carefully lower a dough round into the oil. Use a fish slice to baste and turn it, so that the poori swells up. It will be cooked in a few minutes. When golden brown, remove from the oil with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen paper. Keep warm while you cook the rest of the poori.
• This is an edited extract from Love Music, Love Food – The Rock Star Cookbook, published by Quadrille at ?30 in support of Teenage Cancer Trust. Concept and photography: Patrice de Villiers (patricedevilliers.com). Interviews: Andrew Harrison. Recipes: Sarah Muir. The book is currently available to buy from Selfridges exclusively, and from high street stores and at a discounted price of ?24 from the Guardian bookshop from 5 September
• About Teenage Cancer Trust. Teenage Cancer Trust believes young people shouldn't stop being teenagers just because they have cancer, so the charity builds units in NHS hospitals that offer young people specialist care, bringing them together so they can support each other in an environment suited to their needs. As well as these specialist units, it also funds a number of services all with the same goal – to help young people fight cancer. To watch a video about the work of the Teenage Cancer Trust, click here
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