The rest of the time he calmly surveys the scene as his staff prepare and plate dishes with the agility of capoeira dancers in a Channel ferry cabin. Waiters with slicked-back hair dive in and out like fishing cormorants. I'm expecting to witness temper tantrums ?a Gordon Ramsay, but the only expletive I hear is a slightly menacing "merde" from Rostang when someone knocks over a starter. Then, bang - it's as if 40 guests enter the restaurant simultaneously, and the race begins.

I can't help noticing some impressive burn scars on their hands, putting my mandoline wound into perspective. At noon, everyone returns to their stations, having changed from blue aprons into proper pristine chef's whites.The dining-room lights dim. The surfaces have been wiped down and all evidence of food preparation hidden away. The "brigade" has escaped to the backyard where, true to clich?they drag on cigarettes and knock back espressos. And the best knives are made in France (of course).By 11.45am, the kitchen has been abandoned.

Forget the fancy Italian-designed surroundings: the two kitchen essentials to turn out Michelin-quality fare are a really big frying pan and a large gas flame. But when will I be initiated into the secret spells of the magic circle of Michelin chefs? When do I learn the conjuring tricks, the know-how, all that mysterious sorcery of high French cuisine?According to Rostang, it's all fairly simple. It's necessary to be very strict about this."We run through a number of recipes on the day's menu, all of which are surprisingly simple, such as a toasted truffle sandwich even a clueless student could muster, given a large enough trust fund. It's essential to have cleanliness, order, punctuality and discipline." He hesitates for a moment before adding, "And not too much talking, because you have to concentrate on your work.

It's only when I slice the tip of my finger that I'm finally silenced.I ask Rostang what the rules of a Michelin kitchen are "There are no written rules but there are rules in the head. Rostang gets more and more agitated as my fingers veer closer to the blade. I want to know where he buys his knives, what sort of butter we're using, what the sous chef is fiddling with in the corner. And while we're about it, I want to unlock the mysteries of the potato, dammit. "Don't soak your potatoes in water prior to slicing them," he says. "This will make them lose their starch which is needed for the dish's texture."I fire question after question at Rostang as he instructs me to keep my eye on the razor-sharp blade. Sensing that how much I learn depends partly on how much effort I make, I blast Rostang with questions.