I met Pascal Aussignac in the now quiet space of Club Gascon. Chairs stacked, no diners, the kind of stillness that usually comes at the end of a long night’s service. But this wasn’t the end of a working day. It was the end of nearly three decades.
Club Gascon has been part of London’s dining story since 1998. Michelin-starred since 2002, it helped turn Smithfield into a serious food destination. Long before small plates became fashionable, Pascal was already doing it his way — relaxed, sharing-led, rooted in Gascony.
All of that you can read elsewhere. What struck me was the man in front of me. I’d expected a certain mood. Maybe a bit of sadness. A sense of loss. After all, this place has been his life for 27 years. But there was none of that. Not even a trace. Instead, he was full of energy and excitement.
Pascal clearly loves the UK (he even holds a British passport) but he spoke openly about how things have changed. Brexit has made it harder to bring in new talent, and at that level, you need a deep pool of skilled staff. Running a Michelin-starred kitchen year after year comes with pressure most of us can’t really imagine. Keeping standards that high, consistently, for that long… it takes something out of you. Did I detect a bit of relief ? He certainly wasn’t defeated or even nostalgic. He just seems ready. There’s something quite powerful about meeting someone who knows exactly when it’s time to move on. No drama, no clinging on. Just a clear sense that one chapter has run its course. As Edith Piaf sang, "Non, je ne regrette rien."
From a photographic point of view, this shoot was a bit of a treat for me as well. A lot of my work is with people who don’t feel comfortable in front of the camera. That’s very much my thing - taking beautiful pictures for people who don’t like to pose, helping them relax into it so they actually enjoy the process and end up with images they love.
Pascal wasn’t my usual client. After years of media interest around the restaurant, he’s been photographed in that space countless times. He knows exactly how it works. More than that, he was completely up for it. He’s a bit crazy (in a good way) and was happy to go along with my ideas without hesitation. It turned into one of those rare shoots that feels like a proper collaboration. You try things, you play around, you experiment. Some ideas land, some don’t, but that’s not really the point. The enjoyment is in the process itself, and in that shared sense of curiosity and creativity.
We talked about what’s next, and it couldn’t be more different. Ibiza. Gelato. Starting again from the ground up. I love that. Here’s someone who’s been at the top of London’s restaurant scene, and he’s choosing to begin again as a student. Learning the craft, understanding the ingredients, getting his hands dirty. No ego about it.
I asked him what the best ice cream he’d ever tasted was. He couldn’t answer. Which surprised me at first, but then made perfect sense. He’s holding off judgement until he properly understands it. That says a lot about how he thinks. I’ve got my own fairly strong opinions about ice cream. But after meeting him, seeing that curiosity and that energy, I’ve got a feeling that sitting in Ibiza next year with a bowl of his gelato might well be one of my 2027 highlights.
What I really took away from the shoot wasn’t the closure of a famous restaurant. It was something simpler. The idea that you can build something remarkable, walk away from it on your own terms, and still be completely energised by what comes next. That’s quite rare.
