Quotes from John Whaite

Food technology classes at school were so dull. Even as a 14-year-old going through the ignorance of my black-nailed 'goth' phase, my interest in food was much deeper than those shop-bought pizza bases we were instructed to haul in and smother with tomato puree and ready-grated mozzarella.

In my family, depression is spoken of in hushed tones. As farmers we have always ploughed through our feelings.

If I'm peckish and I want something sweet and quick, I make a batch of scones, because they're easy and reliable.

When I started to use fewer ingredients in my cooking, I was reminded of the uncomplicated flavours of my childhood.

Especially as a chef, I didn't really want to talk about it because I felt like it kind of undermined my entire career. How can a chef who writes recipes and books and cooks on TV, how can he realistically have bulimia?

We hear a lot about this phrase 'toxic masculinity' but I think the real poison in manhood is silence.

There is a lot of toxic masculinity around.

I grew up on a farm, so I've always been keen on nature, animals and the simpler things in the life - that simple existence.

As a child my life was shrouded by fear. Every night I would crawl into the alcove outside my sisters' bedrooms and sleep on the floor, just to feel as though I wasn't alone.

When you come into the food industry from the 'Bake Off,' you're very much at the lower end of the food chain, if you'll excuse the pun. In the industry, you have to get the experience, you have to learn the skill. As a home baker - that's how you win the competition - you aren't a professional.

A school culinary education is a militant operation. In that world, everything depends on grading and competition. The emotional element is extracted, leaving raw, regimented skill.

Just to see two men or two women dancing together, it's not necessarily about sexuality, it's just about intimacy and respect.

As a depressive, routine is sand slipping through my fingers. Being self-employed doesn't help.

When I was a young boy, I would wake to an empty, silent house. My parents would return home at lunchtime, bringing with them the mulchy smell of the farmyard.

Later, one of my first jobs was to feed the calves. It meant getting up before the crack of dawn and going to school stinking of manure - you can never shift the smell; it soaks your clothes and hair.

My career could go up in smoke and as long as I've got my health and my family then nothing else matters.

During the 'The Great British Bake Off' I didn't get to know Mary all that well. We weren't allowed to interact with the judges outside of their moments of critique and commentary.

I like my entire house, including my kitchen, to feel womb-like.

I like the style of the deVOL kitchens - shaker style with dark greys and blues, ceramic tiles and metallics dotted around.

Addiction to the razzle dazzle came naturally to the youthful me.

If I'm going through a particular period at work or where I feel that I'm out of control and everything's sort of spiralling, I've noticed that that's when the bulimia will kick in. It's a coping mechanism. It's a kind of strategy of staying in control. So it's just about recognising those triggers and you know, taking a step back.

Ballet is very stiff and I can do a triple timestep but who knows what I will be like at Ballroom or Latin.

After 'Bake Off,' I got these book deals that were very much baking books. But the books I'm producing now like 'Perfect Plates in Five Ingredients' and 'Comfort,' they're really a truer representation of who I am as a food writer and a food industry professional.

While most kids turned their heads in disgust as a plateful of broccoli landed before them, I ate what I was given. My mum would harp on about how 'life is not a cafe' - I still hear that mantra in my sleep.