Michelle de Swarte’s life on a plate: ‘When I got my air fryer, I suddenly became a Michelin chef’

The actor and comedian on cooking in the microwave era and eating undiluted Campbell’s soup

Hayley Myers

Pål HansenPhotographer

Food

Comedy

Let oats strike the right notes

Dalla, London: ‘If you know, you know’

My Jamaican gran loved cooking and didn’t let anyone else in her kitchen. Mac and cheese, rice and peas, soup – it was a flavourful oasis. The only food I didn’t like was chicken feet, because you could tell exactly what it was. I’m going to say no to eating the body part that the animal transported itself on.

Everything cooked at home when I was growing up, apart from the occasional Sunday dinner, was on the table within 30 minutes. It was the microwave era, before people started wondering if we should be eating plastic-wrapped food that’s been heated to the temperature of the core of the Earth.

What my mum can do with one potato in her microwave defies science. It goes in, she casts some sort of spell over it, and it comes out half the size with a casino chip of hardened skin at the bottom. Completely underwhelming and about as nutritious as bubble wrap.

I worked in a bagel shop as a teenager, where I took outrageous liberties. Coming from a household that wasn’t big into cooking, the idea of making anything you desire was too much for my brain to comprehend. I was drunk with options and tried every filling combination. I walked out of that job with carrier bags of bagels for my friends.

I have big plans of making my own lunch, and then, before I know it, I’m in Pret again

As a model I ate what I wanted, which was mainly pizza, cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. When I worked in the US it was Campbell’s, which I didn’t realise was condensed and required diluting. I just thought it was really strong.

Whenever I fly to New York to visit girlfriends, we meet at a Mexican restaurant in Queens called Ayy Chihuahua. I head straight there from the airport with my suitcase; we over-order; we eat ourselves into sedation. Each individual nacho is loaded with everything – guacamole, cheese, salsa – in one mouthful, and they free-pour the margaritas. Best time ever.

I’m a creature of habit when it comes to restaurants. As a teenager I used to go to Wong Kei in London’s Chinatown for special fried rice and a can of Lilt; now, at the age of 45, I still get cravings for it. Their service is legendary. You tell the waiter your order and it arrives so quickly, it’s like they had it hidden behind their back.

Pret has me in a chokehold. I have big plans of making my own lunch, and then, before I know it, I’m wondering how I ended up there again. Everything is so topsy turvy in the world right now, but at least there you know what you’re getting: an expensive sandwich that is only mildly satisfying, yet somehow comforting.

Let oats strike the right notes

Dalla, London: ‘If you know, you know’

The oven in my apartment hasn’t worked since I moved in. My landlord offered to have it fixed, but there’s zero point. When I got my air fryer, I suddenly became a Michelin-starred chef. If you’re a single woman and you don’t have one, you’re missing a trick. I’m like Ratatouille now.

Christmas is basically one long selection box of booze. Drinks you wouldn’t consider having in the same month, you’re drinking all in the same day: champagne in the morning; red wine with lunch; cream liqueur in the afternoon; cream liqueur in something hot in the evening.

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Last year I made an entire Christmas dinner in the air fryer for my mum and brother. Everything was wedged in there, with only enough room for a wish that it would come out OK. And it did! I don’t know how it works and I don’t want to know. Will I do it again this year? Damn right.

My tour rider is a big bottle of still water, bananas and a can of cola. The cola gives me a sugar rush before I go onstage, which is quite depressing for someone who used to party their arse off. I don’t like eating a big meal before a show because it makes me slumpy. Afterwards, it can be hard to find somewhere open late; I’m lucky if I can get a chicken shish and chips.