Three years ago I got criticised by nearly every chef in the country for how obnoxious they thought I was when I banned my children from my restaurants. For one thing, they are my children - they are not the offspring of Albert Roux or Giorgio Locatelli - but what really pissed me off is when Giorgio turned round and started saying children should be seen in restaurants and enjoying that kind of culture.I don 't want my kids associated with three Michelin stars. I don't want them having a line-caught sea bass on a bed of crushed new potatoes with a lemon grass vinaigrette and I don't want them eating a chocolate fondant with milk ice cream. You can't subject a two-or three-year-old to that level of richness in their food. It's far too high in cholesterol and it's seasoned to perfection, whereas everything to a child's palate should be under-seasoned, because you can't introduce that level of salt to them.

Picasso is a perfect draw for kids because they can squeeze into the nook of the booths and there is nothing glamorous about the place (though, because of its location - on the King 's Road - a lot glamorous people come here. A couple of Sundays ago Bob Geldof was sitting behind me and at weekends they're queuing up outside). It has remained a proper cafe. I once asked them why they've never changed the decor and they said, 'Well it's not broken, why fix it?' It's got stained wallpaper and it is a bit grubby, and there are plastic mats that are no different to the vinyl mats we used to have at home; we need more cafes like this. Places like this are being forced to close because of high rents and the popularity of Starbucks. It's a shame because this is the real McCoy.

I don't eat in my own restaurants except the Boxwood Café, where I sit down in the corner and have a chunky sandwich. I'm usually pretty tense and I am far, far happier in the kitchen than I am in the dining room. When I've been off all over the world researching food, I come back feeling like a force-fed goose - stuffed to high heaven. That's business; pleasure and relaxation is far better here, where there is zero pressure.There comes a time in your life when you want to escape pressure - and it's a phenomenal thing to have a large amount of pressure on your shoulders. There are two ways I can relieve the pressure; one is by running and the other is coming to places like Picasso and indulging in fried egg on toast (£1.80) and two or three caffe lattes.

I worked so much I started feeling somewhat cut off from my kids, because I never got the chance to see them during the day. Each day of the week I come with one of my children [ Megan, five-and-a-half; four-year-old twins Jack and Holly and Matilda, two ] to Picasso. It's just five minutes from my restaurant in Chelsea, and it's a real treat to spend valuable time with them over a bowl of overcooked and under-seasoned pasta. Actually, the food here is fantastic. The carrot soup is only £2.50 - you can 't buy a bag of carrots for that price if it's got an organic stamp on it. I love their beautiful rich soup which has shreds of oxtail in it. Their banana split is done with crème fraîche and warm chocolate sauce - for just £1.50. The coffee's lovely. You can always identify a good Italian restaurant by its espresso. An espresso and a bread roll will tell you a lot about a place.

I usually sit in the corner so a) I'm not pestered and b) I can just sit and focus on the wall without any distractions and talk into the dictaphone and write notes. I'm writing a book called Mummy's Boy looking at the difference between what I ate as a child, compared to what my kids experience now. In many ways everything they have is the opposite to what I had, although this cafe is no different to ones I went to as a child.

I remember from the age of 10 going to the Barras near Glasgow's Tollcross with my mum, in 1976. It was quite seedy then. It's like a rag market, selling everything from fruit and veg to secondhand football boots. It's where I got my first proper pair of football boots. They cost £1.75,and I cherished them beyond belief.

After the market we used to go to a place smaller than Picasso. Their menu was written on a blackboard like it is here and mum and dad would order for us - we were not allowed to choose for ourselves. We would share a fish supper and have a bowl of whelks steeped in vinegar. It wasn't good for you, but it didn't matter much in those days - it was about how much money they had to feed us.

When I come here on my weekly bonding session with Jack he sneaks in a Coke, unbeknown to his mum. She rings on the mobile and asks if he's drinking apple juice and I say of course he is. We have a deal, we don't rat on each other so he becomes my best mate, which is very important to me. I had a fascinating relationship with my father. He was so music-orientated that it put me right off it. Everyone in my family played the guitar or sang. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't wait to get out and go to football training. I was sick to death of Tammy Wynette blaring out and him playing along to it on his guitar, thinking he was the new lead guitarist of The Shadows. It used to bore the f***ing pants off me.

Jack is a great footballer and he eats like a horse. He loves the smell of brussels sprouts, he's eaten tripe and all the things that most kids squirm away from. The boys in my kitchen all know him, and they say 'God forbid that he comes into the industry. We don 't need another one. Is he playing football?'

They leave you alone at Picasso. It's the only restaurant that I go to where the chef doesn't stand over the table gawping at you.The worst possible question a chef can ask another chef is 'What did you think of it?' because if it wasn't great, don't send it.The food is good but it's the nostalgia that keeps me coming here. It's true to my heart because 25 years ago it was seen as a treat to go to this sort of place and I want my kids to understand what a treat is. So that when they go to somewhere really special, like one of their dad's places, boy, they respect it.'

· Picasso,127 King's Road,London,SW3. Tel:020 7352 4921