It’s Finally in Print

I’ve had a few people ask, over the years, “Are you ever going to put it in a proper book, Chef?” The sort you can hold in your hands, dog-ear on the sofa, spill a bit of tea on (or something stronger), and chuck in a kit bag for a train journey.

Well. Here we are.

Today, Wednesday 4 March 2026, Just Call Me Chef is officially out in a printed edition. Not pixels. Not a screen that goes black halfway through the best bit. An actual, honest-to-goodness book you can pick up, thumb through, and lend to a mate who says they “might fancy cheffing” (and then watch their face change as they read on).

Why print, and why now?

Because kitchens are still kitchens, no matter how many buzzwords people put on them.

People love the shiny bits: the plates, the tweezers, the applause. But the real story of a chef’s life lives in the less glamorous places: the larder at five in the morning, the burns you don’t mention, the daft mistakes that nearly end you, the moments of pride you’d never admit to at the pass.

This book is those bits.

It starts where mine started: not with a grand culinary vision, but with a teenage lad trying to dodge metalwork and ending up in cookery by accident. From there it’s proper graft through big brigades, proper standards, and the sort of kitchen pressure that makes you either better or broken. Sometimes both.

There are stories in there that still make me wince. A few that still make me laugh. And plenty that will make any working chef nod slowly and mutter, “Yep. Been there.”

What you’ll find inside

Not a “journey”. Not a brand. Not a curated highlight reel.

You’ll find the reality of those old hotel kitchens, where one section had more chefs than some restaurants have staff today. You’ll find the madness of “small touches” that become your whole life (ask me about the margarine swans if you want a cautionary tale). You’ll find the sort of moments that teach you standards the hard way, when the ingredient cost more than your weekly wage.

And, as you’d expect, all the usual kitchen nonsense: pressure, pride, mistakes, redemption, and getting on with it even when you’ve had enough.

If you’re a chef, you’ll recognise the rhythm of it. If you’re not, you’ll probably be glad you aren’t.

A small thank you to early supporters

If you’ve been following along, reading the blog pieces, sharing the stories, or just quietly backing what we’re doing, I appreciate it more than I can sensibly put into words.

So we’ve put on an early supporters discount of £5 on the printed edition.

Use the code ‘ Books5 ‘ at checkout.

(Yes, it’s a simple code. Kitchens run on simple systems. Complicated ones break at 7.30 on a Saturday.)

A proper book for proper chefs

There’s something satisfying about print. It feels final. Like you’ve plated something, sent it, and it’s out of your hands now. No more tinkering, no more “just one more little edit”, no more fiddling about.

So yes, it’s a proud day. Slightly terrifying, too. But mostly proud.

If you’ve read the ebook already, the printed edition is the one for the shelf. If you haven’t, this is as good a place to start as any.

The printed edition is available now here:
https://chefs.studio/blog/item/ian-mcandrew-autobiography/

Right then. That’s enough emotion for one day. I’m off to put the kettle on.