The original restaurant used to be above the Academy cinema on Oxford Street, where I would watch films in the 70s. Sometimes only my wife Helen and I were in there. It was a lovely haven. When the Academy closed in the early 80s the restaurant moved to Poland Street. For a while it did OK business, and then suddenly it began to fill up.
The secret of its success is absolute consistency. I've never been disappointed in a meal here. I always bring friends here because it is not pretentious; it hasn't got the baggage of a restaurant living on its reputation. No one comes here to be seen. People come here not to be seen. And if you don't know what to order, Vasco will bring you a sample to taste to help you make up your mind. Everything is very lightly done; there is nothing heavy. I nearly always have the calves' liver, as it's the best in London. Our children come now with their friends. They've sort of inherited it. I hear more news about my children from Vasco than I do from them. It has always felt like a home from home.
I have always had a reasonably balanced diet. There is a word that used to be bandied about in the 50s – "nourishing" – which meant something that kept you going and fed you well. My mother made good stews. Her liver and onions was just great, but we went out for fish and chips. If you went to a "good" restaurant it meant roast beef or roast lamb with lots of gravy. It was a childhood of gravy. We never ate Indian food in spite of the fact that my father, I later discovered, had lived in India for a while.
If I don't know what something is I'll still eat it. I'll eat almost anything as long as it is prepared and cooked well. The strangest food I've ever eaten was a meal in Mexico City at a place where they specialised in pre-Hispanic food. The Aztecs just seemed to live on insects and flowers, so I had an interesting meal of maggots followed by chrysanthemums. It was very strange but quite nice because it was prepared well. I ate bulls' testicles in Spain. I had a terrible night's sleep thinking about having to eat an oval thing the following day, but it was sliced, so it wasn't as bad as I'd imagined. I ate a bull's penis in China. I was the chief guest and I didn't actually know what I was eating. It was only after the meal that my cameraman Nigel said: "You're brave", and proceeded to tell me.
I wasn't put off chips after A Fish Called Wanda, though having chips stuffed up your nose is fraught with problems. Real chips just buckle and bend, as we discovered. So we had to make them from silicon. The trouble was that they had quite a rough texture and after three or four takes my nose was sore, so they put Vaseline inside my nostrils. As a result, the chips kept sliding out so I had to master the art of nasal chip control. That's why I look so pained.
The best food I've ever eaten was in Japan. Everything was so exquisitely cooked, and I love sushi. I don't really like eating in America because it is generally a giant plateful of tasteless stuff. There is some way that food has become a status symbol in this country. Food should be about good conversation and good company and good fun. Some restaurants are like sanctums of gastronomic achievement; it's like eating in a museum. I tend to go to restaurants that are cheaper and jolly.
I do like dining alone occasionally. When I was writing American Friends I'd go for a long city weekend somewhere, like Seville, and got quite used to dining alone. I'd always take a book to the restaurant. A good book and good food go quite well together. And it is a great way of studying human behaviour by observing others, especially if they don't know who you are.
I used to drink a lot of cheap wine. I am more fussy now. But I couldn't order a £100 bottle of wine. It wouldn't matter how much money I had. I think that's a weakness in me.
I do have a guilty pleasure. I quite like Toblerone. It's got to be the big one. However full I am, I can always succumb to Toblerone. It's a brilliant piece of marketing. Once you've snapped off a piece you have to finish it.
Michael Palin's memoir Halfway to Hollywood is out now
VASCO & Piero's Pavilion restaurant
15 Poland street, London W1, 020 7437 8774
History Founded in 1971, it focuses on fresh and simple Umbrian cooking. Most of the produce is sourced directly from farmers in this region of Central Italy.
Popular dishes
Handmade tortelloni with girolle; lombetto (cured Umbrian loin of pork), rucola and Parmesan; handmade tagliatelle with tomato and basil.
Who eats there?
Favourite with media, film and fashion types, as well as politicians. Gordon Brown held his engagement party there. Mains from £8.50.
Opening times
Lunch 12.15-2.45pm Monday to Friday; dinner 5.30-10.30pm Monday to Saturday; closed Saturday lunch
