Richard Osman: 'A carvery is the epitome of excess and glamour'

My life in food, Richard Osman: ‘A carvery is the epitome of excess and glamour’

The game show host, 52, tells Tom Parker Bowles about the Nando’s takeaways that fuelled the filming of Pointless and why he’s still a 70s boy at heart.

My first food memory was fish fingers, along with spaghetti hoops on toast, and baked beans on toast.

I was a child of the 70s, and the first time I remember thinking ‘Holy moly, what is this?’ was Ice Magic. You poured it on your ice cream and it hardened. If Heston Blumenthal came up with Ice Magic now, we’d be saying this is the greatest genius we’ve ever seen.

My mum had it in her to be a good cook. But she was working and had kids with unrefined palates, so I think she was a reluctant mum cook, who’d rather have been doing something more exciting.

Growing up outside London in the 70s, there were no restaurants and nowhere to go out. Except once a year, on my nan’s birthday, we’d go for a carvery. ‘So I can go back and have more meat. Are you kidding me?’ 

The game show host, 52, tells Tom Parker Bowles about the Nando’s takeaways that fuelled the filming of Pointless and why he’s still a 70s boy at heart

Richard’s embarrassingly unspicy Nando’s order. Richard would look forward to food from the chicken restaurant during filming for the game show Pointless

Even to this day, if you offer me a carvery, I’ll absolutely rip your hand off. It’s the epitome of excess and glamour.

We had a sweet shop by our school. It was one of those places where you could buy a quarter of sherbet lemons, cola cubes, pineapple chunks, sherbet pips, all the greats. 

Britain absolutely leads the way in crisps and sweets. And we don’t celebrate it enough.

Crisps, sweets and fizzy drinks were my life then. And are my life now. If I was allowed to set up a restaurant that had sweets as a starter, crisps as a main course and chocolate for dessert, I’d do it.

I don’t cook at all. I lack both the concentration and the hand-eye coordination, and it’s not something that’s ever come naturally to me. I’ll religiously watch MasterChef, but I couldn’t cook most of the food, nor could I eat most of it. Although when you get to puddings, count me in. I feel a real affinity with them.

Sweetshop favourite cola cubes

At Nando’s, my spice level is Lemon & Herb, the single most embarrassing thing in the world. I can’t lie and say Extra Hot, because that’s not me. 

It’s the thing I’m least proud of about myself. But that’s who I am as a human being and as a man. I have to live with the consequences.

When I was doing Pointless, we filmed four episodes a day. And there’s a rhythm. Show one – it’s the first show of the day, that’s OK. Show two – oh, my god. I get Nando’s after the show. I’m so happy. Show three – this is a disaster because I’ve got no food coming after and I’ve got another show to do. Show four – hurrah, I’m going home. 

On show two, you can see the glint in the eyes of Xander [Alexander Armstrong] and me – of two lads who are about to have a Nando’s.

I’ve never been able to eat tomatoes. There’s something about their fleshiness. It’s like eating a poison berry: your body’s designed to notice it’s poison, and immediately expels it. I’ve always had that with tomatoes.

My wife [comedian Ingrid Oliver] and I were recently in Rome, and that means you can have pasta every day. For the first three days, you’re thinking: this is a dream. And then after another three days, you think, OK, that might be enough pasta now. But carbonara would be my perfect comfort food.

When in Rome, don’t hold back on the pasta, says Richard. His perfect comfort food? Carbonara

There’s always stuff for smoothies in the fridge – so spinach, avocado, raspberries and blueberries. Dash of water. And Chapel Down English sparkling wine, as my wife bought shares in it (so we get a discount). It’s paid itself back so many times.

My last dinner would be steak and chips with béarnaise sauce. And I’d get [the restaurant] Hawksmoor to come and cook it for me. For pudding, I’ve always wanted a key lime pie mixed with an eton mess. Surely someone, somewhere has done that.

• Richard’s novel, The Last Devil To Die, is published by Viking, £22
• TO ORDER A COPY FOR £18.70 UNTIL 8 OCTOBER GO TO MAILSHOP.CO.UK/BOOKS OR CALL 020 3176 2937. FREE UK DELIVERY ON ORDERS OVER £25. 

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