Even at the best of times, I feel I need another programme following three men – especially Gobshite Clarkson, May and the wee one – on a trip to discover/sneer at foreign coastlines/cars/cultures like I need a hole in the head. The contrived scenarios. The forced banter. The woefully scripted links. The hilarious inclusion of bloopers that are neither hilarious nor, actually, bloopers. The pitifully fragile masculinity on display throughout.
All of the above are of course present in the latest instalment of the Gordon, Gino and Fred franchise, Gordon, Gino and Fred: American Road Trip (ITV). For the avoidance of doubt, I should state that Gordon is Gordon Ramsay, of Gordon Ramsay fame, Gino is Gino d’Acampo of “beginning his career as This Morning’s chef and presenting several of his own cookery series since” fame, and Fred is Fred Sirieix of First Dates fame. It is his conciliatory charm and ineffable grace that keep the two chefs from killing each other and provide balm to the soul of any viewer who would otherwise find the whole setup too pointlessly exhausting, especially in already emotionally draining times.
The trio begin in Mexico, and start off drearily true to type. Gordon finds it smelly and dirty, and is grumpy. Gino is happy: “The dog shit is part of the experience!” Fred is quiet and patient. They get on a coach and Gordon learns that the word “avocado” derives from the Mexican word for “testicle” because avocados look like testicles. They go to a tequila bar in Tijuana. They drink tequila. Gordon finds a bottle with a literal rattlesnake literally pickled in it and decides it’s time to find out who is “Billy Big Bollocks or Billy Bullshit”. It’s practically all balls so far.
Then it’s cars for a bit. They get a big Jeep thing. Sorry – “mammoth set of wheels” known as “Betty the Beast”. They drive to a local market, and, with crushing inevitability, dare each other to eat the hottest chillies there.
As the hour wears on, however, the stopped-clock-right-twice-a-day principle comes into play, and moments of humour and interest arise. The most fascinating, at least to those of us with enough miles on another clock and memories that are still just about managing to function in lockdown is the sight of what we might almost call the real, or at least the original screen version of, Gordon Ramsay.
Once upon a time, children, long, long ago, Gordon was a respected Michelin-starred chef who achieved fame with a series called Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares. And people and critics watched and called him horribly rude and aggressive. But, children, he was not. He was a respected, Michelin-starred chef who wanted idiots in charge of culinary establishments to raise their game and become competent in the field they had stupidly chosen; and so become viable business owners and happier people. At the beginning, he was a man trying to instil notions of quality and pride in people who were eight parts turnip to two parts sloth. Eventually, though, they and the people who insisted on seeing “having professional standards” as the height of discourtesy broke him, and he became the raging bull we know and tire of today.
The cold, clear fury with which he reacts to Gino’s interpretation of ceviche and his genuine offence at his fellow chef’s attitude (or ignorance, it matters not – Gordon is concerned with ends, not means) is a reminder of the good old days. As is his concentration when making a meal for all the employees at the La Cocina de Doña Esthela in Valle de Guadalupe, whose machaca con huevos (shredded beef with scrambled eggs) holds the title of “world’s best breakfast”, and his compulsive insistence on everyone – especially sous chef Gino – getting it right. How you do anything is how you do everything; it’s a credo only a few of us can live by and it must be – um – challenging to live with. But it’s wonderful to watch. I wonder if he ever regrets letting the brand mask eat the professional face?
The first episode ends with some painful – in every sense – nonsense involving local wrestlers. “Fuck this shit,” says Gino after a few minutes. “I’m going to make guacamole.” Words, overall, to live by.
