Tom Kerridge
Chef owner, The Hand and Flowers

I have a vague memory of a weekend in Ostend involving Dad when I was a young kid, of the windows and windows of chocolates and seeing swirly shellfish-shaped chocolates for the first time. But it became a single parent home (in Gloucester) and Mum then took us – her, me and my brother – for five consecutive summer holidays to a Butlins-like camp on the Isle Of Wight. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Taking the ferry felt like going abroad and there was always something to do – aqua-diving, BMXing, the arcade – which got us out from under Mum’s feet. Holiday food was fish fingers, chips, beans and burgers, burgers and more burgers. I remember my first experience of Coca Cola floats there. The ultimate treat – cola with vanilla ice-cream balls dropped in. Different things happened if you shook or stirred.

I’ve never been to Ibiza with the boys or any of that stuff. But at 18 I did take off with three carloads of friends, boys and girls, motoring down through France to a farmhouse owned by a friend’s parents. It was, we discovered, rundown, with no electricity and no running water. I’d walk into town – La Rochelle – to the fish market and then, on an open fire, do simple grilled fresh fish with butter for everyone, with small bottles of 3% alcohol beer.

Then the next proper holiday I had, or the first proper holiday I ever had really, was at 24 with my now-wife Beth. I’d been working continually as a chef since 18; holidays hadn’t existed for years. But Beth and I took off for a week to the little Greek island of Agistri. I’d never considered before that the idea was to spend time relaxing. I’d not read anything since school but I took Bravo Two Zero by Andy McNab onto the beach and we ate stunning food. I especially love the laid-back attitude in Cyprus. It’s so bloody different to how Beth’s and my life is run. There’s not a vast vocabulary of food but what they do, if you find the right place, is stunning. Very simple marinaded meats cooked on coals, beautifully slow-cooked stews and fantastic salads – it’s perfect for their climate.

We do try to get away, every 12 to 18 months, if a space can be blocked off in both our diaries [Beth is an acclaimed sculptor]. Last time – a year ago – the only place we both fancied and found time for was Mauritius, where the Indian Ocean ingredients coupled with old French standards make for beautiful food. Before we went to Mauritius, Jason Atherton had told me how on holiday he devotes one set hour each day, in the morning, to emails and phone calls, and then locks the phone in the bedroom safe for the next 23 hours. It was the best piece of advice I’ve ever had.

The greatest places to eat are those that embrace the area they’re in. One of the greatest meals I’ve ever had was with a restaurateur friend in a back-street alley at 3am in the Geylang district in Singapore, squatting on little plastic seats eating stunning street food they kept bringing us. One of my favourite dishes that night was fried aubergine with chilli and some amazing sauce, which had a cross-texture of being both crispy and soft and chewy and was sponged full of exquisite flavours. The time, the environment, the atmosphere, everything made it right and of its place.

South Africa for a long weekend is also OK – in a similar time zone. But to be really honest, time-wise, weekend holidays in England, on the north Kent coast are best for me. We’re very fortunate in that we nip down to the Whitstable area. We’ve been going there for 15 years and it’s quite a funky place with a great food scene. When I was a young ’un Weston-super-Mare was only 45 minutes away for bank holiday weekends, and that was fantastic, too. Wandering up and down eating fish and chips and candy floss and warm doughnuts straight out of the end-of-the-pier shop, it’s just great. British seaside towns might be the best holiday environments in the world.

Tom’s Table: My Favourite Everyday Recipes is published on 24 September (Absolute Press, £25). Click here to order a copy for £20