The chef and restaurateur Nico Ladenis, who has died aged 89, achieved his ultimate ambition of three stars in the Michelin Guide only a few years before his retirement in 1999. He stood out from his peers on many counts, but two deserve especial mention. He came to his profession much later in life than most, not cooking for the public until he was nearly 40 years old; and he was entirely self-taught. His only tutors before opening his first restaurant were a cookery book, Masterpieces of French Cuisine, and a close friend who happened to run a Greek taverna in London, where he spent a few months testing the waters in 1972. From the outset, his intent was to earn three Michelin stars – in his eyes, the sole litmus-test of classical French cuisine – and he pursued this goal in a succession of London restaurants of increasing standing and elaboration.
While embracing the tenets of haute cuisine, and reserving particular affection for its luxury items, such as foie gras, truffles, mushrooms and shellfish, Nico was open to a wider world of flavours thanks to his childhood years in Tanganyika (now Tanzania), spent eating tropical fruits, spices and wild animals. This informed some of his cookery, giving it a greater range than his colleagues’ as well as ensuring, perhaps, a depth of flavour in his sauces, soups and sweet dishes that was his trademark and chief attraction.
While his career coincided with the rise and spread of nouvelle cuisine, he did not endorse its microscopic portions, outlandish combinations or precious presentation. He did, however, take advantage of its emphasis on the role of the chef-proprietor, the beauty of its large white plates, and its tendency towards lighter sauces.
Nico was often noticed for his pugnacity and, sometimes, aggression towards his own customers, food critics, the world at large with whom he disagreed (notably the English provinces), and fashions in restaurants and cookery that displeased him. While no maverick, he was his own man. He might have been a firm taskmaster, but he did not indulge in the mad behaviour that has come to be associated with the trade of chef. What mattered to him was that he achieved his ambition.
Nico was born in Tanganyika, the fourth child of Peter Ladenis and his wife Constandia (nee Antoniadou). His parents were of Greek parentage, hailing from either side of the Sea of Marmara in Turkey. His father managed a sisal plantation there, but had earlier emigrated with his brother to Kansas City in the US where they had established a small chain of restaurants. After some years of English-style boarding at Prince of Wales school, Nairobi (hence his choice of Onward Christian Soldiers on Desert Island Discs), Nico pursued his education in the UK, passing through the Regent Street Polytechnic and the London School of Economics before doing a degree in economics in Hull. In 1963 he married Dinah-Jane Zissu, of Romanian and French parentage, and they went on to have two daughters, Natasha and Isabella.
His career in British business (mostly advertising or PR), which took in the oil company Caltex and the Sunday Times, came to an abrupt halt after a bruising interview process for a post with Shell Oil Brazil when he was informed he was “non-conformist, argumentative and unemployable”.
The shock to his amour-propre required a year’s sabbatical among Dinah-Jane’s relations in Provence to take stock of what to do next, as a family man well into his 30s. They only haltingly, thanks to good restaurant meals and that inspirational cookery book, concluded that running a restaurant might be the way to go. Unable to find anywhere near the centre of London, they took a shop in Lordship Lane, East Dulwich, and opened the first Chez Nico restaurant in 1973. It might have been small and they might have been strapped for cash, but compromise was not Nico’s style.
Cooking of very high calibre was perfected, exemplified by his chicken with vin jaune de Jura and morel mushrooms. In case any customer might think otherwise, in place of the legally required display of a priced menu at the entrance, Nico posted the notice “We do not feel we have to produce our menu to show you how good we are. For your information, we do not serve prawn cocktails or well-done steaks.” Salt and pepper were banished from the tables: apocrypha would have it he delivered a sack of salt to one diner who insisted.
But the food was indeed good, as endorsed by the readers of the Good Food Guide who soon awarded him their top mark of distinction. Towards the end of the 1970s a further stimulus was delivered by his introduction, thanks to the good offices of Michel Roux, to the French chef Roger Vergé. In 1979 he spent a few weeks at Vergé’s three-star restaurant in Provence and its influence was transformative.
Not long after his return to Britain in 1980, he was able to make good his inspiration by a move slightly closer to the centre of town, in Queenstown Road, Battersea. The greater elaboration and range of his cooking was rewarded by his first Michelin star in 1981, followed by a second in 1984. Albeit, local youth delighted in hurling bricks through his smoked-glass windows. In pursuit of the luxury and setting necessary for the award of a third star, Nico then took the now-legendary misstep of moving to the country. Buoyed by fresh capital raised through a business expansion scheme, he bought a former rectory at Shinfield, south of Reading, in 1985.
His encounter with the natives was bruising and short. Familiar with the relative sophistication of London, he found the local love of gin and tonic, sorbets between courses, however brief the meal, bad timekeeping and brutish behaviour more than he could stomach and retreated precipitately to new premises in Victoria and a new name, Simply Nico, before a year was up. Equilibrium was restored, though space was limited, and critics such as Jonathan Meades of the Times took delight in his confit de canard (which he was instrumental in making a restaurant standard).
After three years in Rochester Row, he took on larger premises in Great Portland Street, reverting to Chez Nico once again (Simply Nico being retained as a bistro). He kept his two stars but faced loss of business thanks to the recession of the early 90s. He welcomed, therefore, the cushion of large corporate backing that came with an invitation from the Forte family to open within the Grosvenor House hotel on Park Lane in 1992. This super-luxurious establishment, first called Nico at Ninety, changing to Chez Nico at Ninety Park Lane later, was well fitted for three-star status.
So it proved in 1995, when Nico greeted the announcement of his Michelin promotion with tears. Business continued without upset until a diagnosis of prostate cancer in 1998, which caused him to give up his Michelin status and go into semi-retirement in France.
Squabbles notwithstanding, Nico was invariably lauded by guides other than Michelin – 10 out of 10 in the Good Food Guide, restaurant of the year in Egon Ronay, and his face was kept before the public by the able publicity of the late Alan Crompton-Batt, a pioneer of restaurant PR. Nico’s two books, My Gastronomy (1987) and Nico (1996), were valued for their excellent recipes as well as explaining his worldview, while his television appearances, notably in Take Six Cooks (1985), extended his reputation beyond the capital.
Nico’s ventures in cookery were supported to the hilt by Dinah-Jane. She was ever the diplomat, when such skills were required, as well as the elegant and exacting director of the front of house. Her daughters were equally capable. Their presence gave Nico’s restaurants the feel of a family affair, uncommon in places of such stature.
Nico is survived by his wife and daughters.
• Nicholas Peter Ladenis, chef, born 22 April 1934; died 10 September 2023
