Over the years I have attended loads of tastings, many of which have been conducted by celebrity chefs, but I have never been invited to take part in a dog-biscuit tasting before. What fun life can be at times.

I was visiting the 16th-century Horse & Groom pub on the edge of the Cotswolds at Charlton, near Malmesbury. My host was the famed Marco Pierre White, pictured, the pub his fifth opened under his Wheeler’s Inn brand. The dog biscuits, cooked by his head chef Jonny Forbes, were just one of the quirky ideas that make his pubs special. Whilst Marco made his name at the age of 33 by gaining three Michelin stars and being the youngest chef to have ever obtained this accolade, he was also known for his book White Heat published in 1990, which is said to have influenced the careers of many Michelin-starred celebrity chefs. Part autobiographical, White Heat portrays Marco’s “bad boy image”. His television appearance on Hell’s Kitchen added to his bad boy reputation.

However, things have changed. He has changed. This remarkable chef, who believes that perfection is lots of little things done well, has made the transition from chef to restaurateur. He sees this as a natural process, though. By hanging up his chef’s whites he now has to call on different skills and different thought processes.

Much of the food now served in his pubs reflect the gastronomic trends of the 1970s. But why has he stepped away from the Michelin stars to go for prawn cocktail, shepherd’s pie, and fish and chips?

“That’s simple,” he replied. “When you realise your dream you lose direction, yes, you get that mention in a red book and that’s it. Cooking is like being a footballer, when you are young you play the game, as you get older you stand on the touchline. He explained that he’s now selling a night out rather than a dinner, that his pubs don’t try to impress, it’s the friendly service he offers that ticks all the boxes, things like cooking dog biscuits for visiting canines adding something special without costing a fortune.

Marco boasts that he now spends his time placing things on walls rather than plates and visiting antique and junk shops to unearth unusual artefacts that will furnish his pubs. He now gets as excited about discovering an old book filled with prints that can be framed as he once did when pulling the perfect soufflé out of the oven.

Indeed, he admitted that he would probably have been as happy as a toy maker as a chef. Colourful wooden toy trains now decorate shelves and tables in the Horse & Groom. It takes him six weeks to turn a pub around, never forgetting throughout the conversion that they are pubs, not restaurants, and must be celebrated as such. Whilst the guests will enjoy the luxury of being greeted both warmly and professionally, when they want vinegar to go with their fried haddock and chips, it’s malt vinegar rather than wine vinegar that’s brought to the table.

I had to ask Marco about the Knorr chicken stock cube advertisement. Ever since I first watched it on ITV I’ve wondered just how a chef of his stature could boast of using commercially made stock. I remember just how much importance was placed on making our own stock when I attended catering college as stock is the base flavour for all savoury sauces and soups. Yet there’s Marco rubbing a stock cube into a chicken breast.

He answered with a wry smile, pointing out that a good stock would take at least 48 hours to make. In today’s world few have time to make stock from scratch. Keeping a big pot bubbling on the stove for two days is seldom possible in a modern home.

“The 1970s were a different world,” he said, reminding me of the instant gratification a simple prawn cocktail offers, particularly when served in a rounded bowl such as the ones he uses now, rather than the fluted champagne glasses of today. The secret is sourcing quality prawns and making a tasty sauce which he admits might call for a spoonful of salad cream to bring out the flavour. HP sauce is another flavour from his childhood he is not afraid to use liberally if necessary. I left Marco’s table in good spirits and clutching a handful of dog biscuits for Barnaby my dog. I had attended the lunch assuming I would be meeting a rather arrogant man and left feeling he’s just a big pussy cat locked into his childhood.