It's time to come clean. Johnnie Mountain is no longer my famous friend . . .

Well not for now it seems.  The Great British Menu website published a link to my blog yesterday resulting in a few billion hits and a goodly number of comments, some of which were a bit anti-Johnnie Mountain.  Zoe, my 11yr old went to bed in tears after reading one of them. She sobbed, "Mum, why are people being nasty about Johnnie, it's not fair!"

You see, Zoe has known Johnnie since she was a babe and thinks he's the bees-knees.  She wants to be a chef and work with Johnnie when she grows up.

But back to the 'falling out'.  I'd thought it unnecessary to mention in my blog that Johnnie was no longer talking to me because I know what he's like and I know he'll come round sooner or later.  But I'm mentioning it now because I need to let all those angry people out there know that his stroppiness = his passion and without that there would be no excitement and no decent cooking going on.  And yes, he is a fantastic chef and, as I've said before, the food has always been amazing whenever I have eaten in any of his three restaurants.

I called Johnnie a couple of months ago because the editors who loved my book, EATING MY WORDS said I had to get myself on TV first if I was to compete on the bookshelves with the likes of Jamie and Ramsey.  I wasn't asking to be on TV with Johnnie, I just wanted some contacts.  But Johnnie being Johnnie, within half an hour he had set up two meetings with TV production companies.  A week later we were sitting with the TV people and there was suddenly the possibility of Johnnie and I being the next 'Two Fat Ladies'.  Until I messed up.

Without saying too much (because Johnnie still has a TV career and for some reason production companies like to keep their plans secret) I contradicted something Johnnie said in my e mail to one of the producers.  My excuse is that I had just had a nasty experience in  a kids' cookery competition. One of the children on my team had cooked her finger after sticking it in boiling sugar syrup and then put my razor-sharp fish-filleting knife into her mouth to lick it after using it to loosen a chocolate soufflé.  If I had not screamed, 'Don't move!' and carefully removed the knife from her mouth, her face would have been flapping and I would have gone to prison for a very long time.

So, I've upset Mr Mountain and he's not talking to me but for all of you out there who think my blogsite is a place to bitch about him, please do it on Twitter instead.  Because we know him and we love him and I don't want my daughter crying herself to sleep again.