Naked appeal

Angus McLean and waiter/stripper Levi Holley with a selection of canapes. Photo / Babiche Martens.

It might be difficult to focus on the canapes when you're being served by a waiter who's wearing little more than a Dickie bow and a G-string but it's imperative to try.

Muster all your attention and give it to the piscatorial pleasures (think seared rare tuna or pan-fried scallops) - rather than devour the pectoral feast before you.

Grit your teeth and gaze intently at the succulence of the sweet, garlicky lamb loin, and avert your eyes from the scrumptious hunks of gluteus maximus on display.

Why? Because personal chef Angus McLean, who offers this array of delicacies as part of his dine@home experience, has impeccable credentials.

Born in the tiny Victorian village of Lymm, in northwest England, McLean followed an unpredictable path to epicurean achievement.

Picture the young boy in the kitchen of his family cottage, battling for culinary supremacy with his older sister Fiona.

"Every Friday my Grandma Mildred came round and we'd bake fairy cakes and raisin scones."

When he realised he could create myriad delectable results by combining the basic ingredients of butter, flour and sugar, he was hooked.

At 10, McLean was lured to explore his parents' exotic cookbook collection.

"They were great travellers," he explains.

"I chose a Latin American dish - chicken with a chocolate tomato sauce."

His father, an electrical engineer, was a tad concerned when Angus opted for the steamy productivity of the kitchen rather than helping Dad do up his old Fiat 500 in the garage.

"When I went off to study at the University of Bristol, he persuaded me into the sciences," remembers McLean. But McLean senior underestimated his son's inventiveness. "It wasn't long before I swapped to archaeology."

McLean did his dissertation on ancient Egyptian food. He fashioned an oven from an old chimney stack that had fallen off the house, sent to Italy for some farro, an ancient grain believed to be the original from which all other grains derive, and set to work with his bricks-and-mortar breadmaker.

"I wanted to see if, translating from the hieroglyphics, I could recreate the flatbreads they used to make."

His flatmates at the university were the fortunate recipients of his passion for cooking. Instead of cans of baked beans, McLean spent his allowance on ingredients far less prosaic.

"I remember making a side of salmon with beurre blanc sauce - I was a bit of a show-off," he admits.

By the end of his degree, McLean knew he wasn't going to be an archaeologist; he wanted to be a chef.

He studied at Leiths School of Food and Wine in London, a one-year course that taught cooking by the book.

"We learned how to cut an onion, menu planning and the business side of restaurants. It was about attention to detail and taking no shortcuts."

Which is why he was bowled over by New Zealander Peter Gordon who, one day, came to demonstrate his vision of fusion food to the students.

"He walked in wearing jeans and a T-shirt, rather than the customary uniform of neckties. I found him so inspiring and I'd never tasted anything like it."

On graduating, it was time for a real job. McLean, keen to avoid the stress of a busy restaurant kitchen, opted for making pastries, cakes and tarts at Baker & Spice in Queen's Park and Belgravia.

"I thought it would be quite civilised - but I had to start at 3.30 in the morning!"

He had the good fortune to work alongside Yotam Ottolenghi, who went on to open the original Ottolenghi's in Notting Hill.

"Yotam made a huge impression on the way I select and source produce, marry flavours and present food," says McLean.

Ottolenghi tempted McLean away from the Leith philosophy where food was all dainty and perfect, to a vision where it was presented in a striking, voluptuous manner.

"That's where I started making great piles of oversized meringues and allowing pastries and cakes to look more rustic."

McLean felt confident enough to move into a restaurant, and in adopted Antipodean style, he bowled up to Providores and Tapa Room, where Peter Gordon held fort, and asked for a job.

"The kitchen was tiny but my fellow chefs were so friendly. They weren't big ego types. I could be in that kitchen 16 hours a day but, while it was busy and stressful, it felt like a family - and the organisation was supreme."

A stint as a private chef on a yacht in the Mediterranean followed before he emigrated Downunder.

"I had met so many Kiwis at Providores and Mum had lived here 45 years previously and loved it."

McLean, who initially worked at Bellota, is now head chef at Queenies Lunchroom in Freeman's Bay where he creates restaurant-quality food at cafe prices.

"Lots of cafes seem to have read the same menu handbook and follow it to the letter. I like to cook food at Queenies that I'd cook for friends."

And he is happy to bring this gastronomic attitude to your place with his sideline business, dine@home.

Choose from a menu where the ingredients change seasonally but the temptation factor stays the same. If you're not keen to be served by butlers in the buff - don't fret, that part's not compulsory. You can opt for a cocktail or dinner do where the distractions are purely edible.

Nevertheless, the concept of clothing-challenged serving staff is popular at hen parties, girls' nights or significant birthdays and McLean uses Auckland's best-known male stripper - 1.9m Levi - in a starring role.

"The waiters are fun and cheeky but they're professionals, they know how far to take it. At first the girls are a bit reserved but after a few wines, they loosen up and really enjoy it."

* Visit dineathome.co.nz