Sean Connolly is executive chef at Esther at QT Hotel in Auckland.
Sean Connolly is a Yorkshire-born chef and restaurateur who divides his time between his Sydney home and New Zealand. Connolly is executive chef of Esther at QT Hotel in Auckland’s Viaduct Harbour precinct.
Back in the 1970s, children had a lot of time to run around or play in the woods, so in that way I had a good boyhood, but I did not enjoy school at all. I always felt caged in the classroom, like I could see the teachers’ lips moving but nothing would sink in. I’d sit there wondering why I was there, and I suspect the teachers felt that too.
I was born into a working-class family in Huddersfield, which is famous for being the birthplace of rugby league and the home of fine worsted cloth. My grandfather worked in the mill, all my uncles were miners and my father worked at Highfield Gears, making machinery. Both sides of my family lived in council houses, until my parents became the first in their families to buy their own home.
I wasn’t conscious of it at the time, but we weren’t run-of-the-mill Huddersfield people. As well as changing careers, and becoming an academic, Dad loved adventures and every summer he’d pack up the Morris Marina and we’d drive to France. Dad would be in the front seat smoking, us kids would be in the backseat eating crisps and we’d go camping for four or five weeks at a time. Mum also made big changes to her life. She started off as a mender in the mills, then, after taking a secretarial course, she became PA to a mill owner and from there she went to work for social services to become a social worker.
I first started cooking with my grandmother Esther and my mother Margaret, and was one of only three boys in my class to choose cooking as a subject at school, because all the other boys did woodwork and steelwork. Cooking was seen as peculiar, although I still played rugby, union and league, but those sports weren’t my cup of tea. Running and baking were my things back then, but I never expected to be a chef.
When my father went to college and got a degree in education, he saw a future for me before I could see it for myself. He also saw I wasn’t following in his footsteps academically so, when I was 13, he organised for me to do work experience at the Ladbroke Hilton, a five-star hotel between Leeds and Huddersfield. I’d go there on Friday nights and make prawn cocktails. Dad also bought me my first chef’s outfit and a roll of knives.
Chefs were rough and tough back then. There was a lot of shouting and throwing things in kitchens and, because I liked baking, I was seen as effeminate. I also stuck out because I always dressed nicely in my blazer and tie. Keeping up appearances was very important to my mum and we weren’t allowed to leave the house unless we were neat and tidy. That meant there was some teasing but in Yorkshire you just got on with it.
Back then, we all used to watch the TV programme Wicker’s World, and there was an episode when Alan Wicker went on the QE2, the world’s largest cruise liner. It also had the world’s biggest caviar fridge which held a quarter of the world’s wild caviar and when I saw that, I said to my grandfather Ted: “I’m going to work on a big ship one day.”
I was very close to my grandmother Esther, who was a great storyteller and lots of fun. When she died, just before my O levels, I completely lost it to the point a teacher had to pull me aside and say, “we know you’ve lost your grandmother, but you have to focus on exams”. But by then I’d decided I was going to be a chef, so in my head I’d given up school, and my results were an absolute shocker.
I studied commercial cookery at Huddersfield Tech for about a year but I didn’t fit in, so when I saw an advert in The Yorkshire Post about sailing into the 20th century aboard the QE2, me and my mate applied for jobs. We drove up to Leeds in a Reliant Robin to meet one of Cunard’s executive chefs in a really posh hotel and that’s how I ended up going to sea for a couple of years.
I was 18, and I’d never seen so much fresh produce, all this colourful fruit and amazing fish, including lobsters. They used fresh herbs instead of the dried sort in little packets. I went from seeing that caviar fridge on Wicker’s World, to being sent to it every day to collect kilos of caviar. I’d never seen caviar before, let alone tasted it, and I discovered I loved those salty-sweet little spheres that popped in the mouth.
The QE2 was on a round-the-world tour and when we arrived in Australia I felt as far away from Huddersfield as it was possible to be. After coming from Yorkshire, which felt so dark and where everything was a problem, to go somewhere where the sun shone, and everyone said “no worries mate”, that was a beautiful thing. Although working on the QE2 didn’t exactly open doors, but good people took me under their wings and it was excellent cooking education. It also opened my eyes to the world and I made lifelong friendships.
I was exhausted when I got home, as we never had a proper day off, so I took a few months off and got a job in my best friend’s father’s wool mill, where I was sent up a 20-foot ladder with a metal fire bucket to wash fluff off walls with soapy water. That was very demoralising, going from a ship to up a ladder, so my girlfriend Jo and I moved to Sydney in the mid-80s.
Sydney was the most fantastic city to be young in and for the first few years I was just a worker bee on a four-year visa. My first job was at a high society restaurant at the Boulevard Hotel. Alan Bond ate there, and Bob Hawke. Eventually, I became head chef but because its reputation was fading, I knew I had to take a step down, to become a better chef. I went to a five-star hotel on Park Lane, going from being kingpin to getting my arse kicked, and I had to beast my way back to the top again.
When people ask me about the key to success, I say: “watch the people above you, then try to be as good as them, if not better”. Even if you haven’t got the experience or skills, put your hand up regardless and try to do it. I’ve always talked my way into things, then worked like a trooper, because 99 per cent of success is turning up every day. No excuses. Just turn up and get stuck in.
I wasn’t a “celebrity chef” till I was about 32 and that’s all thanks to Jim L’Estrange, the former CEO of Star Casino. Jim was like a cross between Donald Trump and Steve Irwin. You never knew if he was going to sack you or wrestle you to the ground, but he was a really great guy. I’d been working at his casino for seven years, plugging away as head chef when marketing decided they wanted to create a celebrity chef for the restaurant. They were going to find someone, but Jim said: “Sean will be my celebrity chef. I’m going to make him famous.”
Jim changed my life. He got me the best public relations team in the country. I did media training with top TV presenters and was given the tools to be that person because before then I was just a grumpy young chef who was passionate and turned up every day, but I didn’t know how to communicate.
My first TV show was a 13-part series with SBS exploring the culinary and cultural diversity of Australia. That experience taught me that food is the glue of family. Food brings people together around the table, and learning that changed my perception of cooking. Because restaurants should be about storytelling and fun, and good food of course. I’ve no time for foam or bubbles, or smoke or flowers, because food is about the people you’re looking after. Running a restaurant isn’t just about putting things on a plate, it’s about creating an environment where people can laugh and eat well.
Five years ago going I decided I wanted to express myself more. That was a real breakthrough for me, because for a long time I felt I had to conform to operate in the corporate environment. To be what I thought they wanted me to be. But this next stage of my life is about me expressing myself, whether it’s through music, fashion or art. Whatever I do and however I look, whether it’s big hair or big glasses, I want to live large, have fun and enjoy life. My career is about constant reinvention. I’m 55 now, it’s been an amazing trip and I want to want to keep rocking it out till I disappear into the ether.
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