Sam Neill is an oenophile and vigneron: two words that strike cold terror into the Observer's bean-counters in advance of our lunch at St John in Clerkenwell. These fears are not allayed by the 66-year-old actor's rather jolly Twitter feed, which for the week before today's encounter has detailed the adventures of an assiduous bon vivant, matching food and fine wine in some of London's smartest restaurants. "Try to steer him towards the less expensive bottles," suggests my editor.
At the appointed hour, Neill bounds up the stairs to the dining room in the whitewashed one-time smokehouse. His hair is neatly parted at the side and a clipped moustache bristles: the effect is of a second world war officer on leave. As he takes a seat at our table, he smooths the paper tablecloth with his hands, clearly delighted to be here. This is not, it will turn out, because of the opportunity to hold forth on a long, fruitful career that has included star turns in Jurassic Park, The Piano and, recently, the ambitious BBC drama Peaky Blinders. He has little more than cursory pride in those achievements. Rather, Neill loves St John and eating at the restaurant especially on someone else's dollar is never a hardship. "I've been coming here for almost 20 years; I'm obsessed by it," he says. "I like paper on table. I like rooms that are painted white. I like food that says what it is and no more. I like British food, which is mostly terrible, but when it's good it's fantastic." Neill pauses as a waiter drops off a pair of menus and a wine list, and for a few seconds we've lost him. "Oh my God, I just want to eat everything. Beef mince on dripping toast! That's just fucking great, isn't it?"
Continue reading...