I’d get up early – I usually do – and take my two children, Max and Lola, and my labradors, Maude and Evie, up to Hampstead Heath. We’d swim in the ponds, then head to Kenwood House for breakfast. We’d have tea and toast with marmalade.
Then we’d be transported to Puglia, where we go every summer. Lunch would probably be at the beach in Torre Guaceto, reading an Inspector Montalbano novel by Andrea Camilleri. I’d have insalata di farro and a cold beer, and a game of beach tennis with Max. Afterwards we’d head back to the house – the one we stay in each time we’re there, Villa Antorea. It was designed by Bettina Marksteiner – she takes little farmhouses and turns them into the most beautiful places. You can sit there forever; you never want to leave, it’s so quiet. The garden is stunning, cactuses growing between huge rocks taken from the sea, with groves of orange trees, apricot trees, quince trees, olive trees … The house has an amazing outdoor space, incredibly comfortable, with sofas, cushions and a huge glass table, an outdoor barbecue and kitchen area, and an infinity pool.
I feel that if it were my last day, I would have to cook. It wouldn’t be right if anyone else did. I’d go to the fish shop in Ostuni to buy a wild sea bream for the main course. We’d start with a table of antipasti for everyone to share, made in advance, so that things are relaxed and easy: octopus fried in breadcrumbs with a fava-bean puree, a salad of clams, fennel, orzo, olives and wild rocket, a sea bass carpaccio. Next we’d have paccheri with clams, prawns from Gallipoli, mussels, white wine, garlic and parsley. Then we’d move on to the sea bream, roasted on potatoes with cherry tomatoes, olives and capers. For this, we would have to have a François Raveneau Valmur Chablis Grand Cru, 2010.
After all that fish, I’d want a roasted grouse, on bruschetta, with fresh porcini mushrooms. With that we’d have a bottle of Il Favot by Aldo Conterno. This would be followed by cheese: a gorgonzola naturale with wet walnuts, English cox’s orange pippin apples and my mother’s bread, toasted. My parents have these apples growing in their garden, and this is my father always eats this combination: it’s one to die for.
To finish off, we’d have a white peach sorbet, with a peach poached in vanilla, and a glass of ice-cold Aldo Vajra moscato. We’d be listening to the overture of the Barber of Seville, Donald Byrd’s Places and Spaces, and other early stuff on the Fantasy label, and Stevie Wonder – Sir Duke is one of my favourites, Boogie on Reggae Woman. I love uplifting music.
As the sun goes down we’d have a game of backgammon. Just the four of us. It would be late August/early September, when everything is bathed in a golden warmth.
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Theo Randall is head chef at the InterContinental and is taking part in this year’s London Restaurant Festival, 1-31 October; londonrestaurant festival.com
