On Mārtiņš Rītiņš, father of modern Latvian cuisine

This is the story of Mārtiņš Rītiņš - a story that takes us from a post-war refugee camp to cooking for queens and presidents, from the industrial towns of England to the heart of Rīga, and from a life lived partly in the shadows to one of remarkable openness and authenticity. It is the story of a British-born Latvian chef, restaurateur, culinary TV presenter and author. A great man who became known as "the father of modern Latvian cuisine".

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On Mārtiņš Rītiņš, father of modern Latvian cuisine

Picture this: October 1949, a refugee camp in Nantwich, England. The war had recently ended, and Europe was still reeling from the devastation. In one of those cold, temporary barracks that housed those fleeing the advancing Russian Red Army, a baby boy was born to Latvian parents who had escaped their homeland. His name was Mārtiņš Ints Rītiņš. Little did anyone know that this child, born in the most humble of circumstances, would one day become known as "The Father of Modern Latvian Cuisine”.

This is the story of Mārtiņš Rītiņš - a story that takes us from post-war refugee camps to cooking for queens and presidents, from the industrial towns of England to the heart of Rīga, and from a life lived partly in the shadows to one of remarkable openness and authenticity. It is the story of a British-born Latvian chef, restaurateur, culinary TV presenter and author, and a fantastic character.

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The Refugee Child

Mārtiņš's parents, Genriks and Hermīne Rītiņš, had fled Latvia at the end of World War II, ahead of the advancing Red Army. Like thousands of other Latvians, they found themselves in displaced persons camps in England, uncertain of their future but determined to preserve their identity. The family initially lived in barracks at the Nantwich refugee camp, where several families shared cramped living quarters. But Mārtiņš would later recall a significant day - the day his family moved from the camp to their first proper home in Corby, Northamptonshire. "The house had four bedrooms," Mārtiņš would later remember, "and it seemed impossibly large". His father, Genriks, worked in the iron mines, while his mother, Hermīne, devoted herself to raising their four sons. Mārtiņš was the youngest of four brothers - Juris, Jānis, Andrejs, and himself.

Growing up as the youngest had its challenges. "I never had my own clothes," Mārtiņš recalled. "I always wore my older brother's hand-me-downs. The first piece of clothing that was truly mine was a jumper my mother knitted for me". His brothers weren't particularly interested in playing with their youngest sibling, viewing him as something of a nuisance who got under their feet. So young Mārtiņš found companionship with the neighbourhood children instead.

But what really defined his childhood was being raised as a Latvian in exile. In the Rītiņš household, as in so many Latvian émigré families, preserving their culture was paramount. They spoke Latvian at home, sang Latvian songs, and maintained Latvian traditions. "I was brought up first and foremost as a Latvian and to respect my roots," Mārtiņš would later say.

His childhood in Corby had its share of mischief, too. Mārtiņš was, by his own admission, a rascal. "I was always getting into trouble," he confessed. "Not bad trouble, but good mischief". He had a natural gift for humour and performance. But his most significant act of rebellion came at age nine when, frustrated with having to complete his homework when he had "more important things to do," he ran away from home.

It wasn't a short walk around the block. Oh no. Young Mārtiņš ran twelve kilometres in the rain, in short trousers, to Loughborough, where family friends lived. "I wasn't walking - I was running," he remembered. "Through small towns, in the rain, until I collapsed at their door". Of course, there were no phones in most homes then, so the police had to be called to inform his worried parents. When he finally got home, exhausted, his father said: "I won't beat you tonight because I'm too tired. But tomorrow at four o'clock...". And so, the next day after school, young Mārtiņš went straight to bed, knowing what was coming.

School had its own challenges. On his first day, Mārtiņš didn't speak English and, completely bewildered by not understanding a word his teacher said, he ran home in despair.

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Becoming a Chef

As a young man, Mārtiņš moved to London to pursue his calling: cooking. There was something about food, about creating, about bringing pleasure to others through cuisine that appealed to him. In 1971, at age 22, he graduated from Westminster Technical College in London and qualified as a chef.

Through the 1970s, he worked his way through various catering companies in the Grand Metropolitan hotel chain. But Mārtiņš had wanderlust. His career took him to Jamaica and Saudi Arabia, where he gained experience and techniques from around the world.

In 1984, seeking new opportunities, he moved to Toronto, Canada, where he established his own business, Martins Catering Ltd. It was during his years in Toronto that Mārtiņš first became acquainted with organic farming and the importance of knowing where your food comes from. It was also in Toronto, in the 1980s, that he sang with a gay men's choir - part of his journey toward understanding and accepting himself.

But something was calling him. All those years growing up in a Latvian household, maintaining Latvian traditions, speaking Latvian - it had created a deep connection to a homeland he'd never truly known. And then, in 1991, came the news that changed everything: Latvia regained its independence from the Soviet Union.

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Coming Home

"I came for a three-week holiday”, Mārtiņš would later explain. "One thing led to another, and I'm still here after 25 years!".

In 1993, at age 44, Mārtiņš and his mother Hermīne moved to Rīga. He was coming home to a Latvia he'd never really known, to build something from scratch. And what he built would transform Latvian cuisine forever.

In 1994, just one year after arriving, Mārtiņš opened restaurant Vincents in Rīga. Named with a single "s" at the end, Vincents started as a small art gallery with a restaurant attached. But Mārtiņš had a vision. He wanted to bring international standards of fine dining to Latvia while showcasing the best of Latvian ingredients.

"It is not possible to make a great dish with inferior ingredients," he insisted, "so all ingredients have to be fresh". He formed close relationships with small-scale organic farmers across Latvia, purchasing ingredients directly from them whenever possible. His menus changed with the seasons - root vegetables and pumpkins in winter, fresh berries and wild mushrooms in summer.

Vincents quickly became the restaurant in Latvia. It wasn't just the food - though that was spectacular. It was the entire experience. The dining room featured an aquarium with live Faroe Islands langoustines (from the same supplier as Copenhagen's famed Noma restaurant), and a duck press for preparing duck in the style of Paris's Tour d'Argent.

When I was a diplomat in Latvia in the second half of the 1990s, I was a frequent visitor. For one, I lived next door to Vincents on Elizabetes iela. Secondly, because the food was adventurous at a time when it wasn’t possible to get foreign ingredients. As an amateur cook myself, I would sometimes spend hours searching the shops of Rīga for now everyday staples such as mozzarella or Parmesan cheese! Thirdly, I would entertain guests at Vincents because of Mārtiņš's charisma and his British connection.

Remember that I was the British deputy ambassador. I even took the former Prince Andrew there, not that anyone would want to admit that nowadays! Whenever anyone famous came to Vincents, a camera would be quickly found, and a photo of the celebrity and Mārtiņš would be taken, to be added to the many other famous people adorning the walls of Vincents. The monthly British Latvian Chamber of Commerce dinners were held at Vincents. At the time, the Chamber was very active. I’m not sure it even exists today. Mārtiņš would greet Chamber members and their guests at these dinners and try out some new recipe on us. Mārtiņš also provided the catering for official receptions that I held at my home. Always being there to ensure the service was exact, and cracking a few jokes! Oh, the strawberries, individually presented in small paper cases with chocolate over the strawberry’s base, were sublime.

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Celebrity and Service

The clientele read like a who's who of world leaders and celebrities. From the late 1990s through the 2000s, Mārtiņš organised official state banquets and dinners, cooking for Emperor Akihito of Japan, President Xi Jinping of China, Queen Elizabeth II, President George W. Bush, Tony Blair, Romano Prodi, Angela Merkel, and Sir Elton John, among many others.

And Mārtiņš being Mārtiņš, there were always stories. At his funeral years later, an anecdote was told about when Usain Bolt, the world's fastest man, visited Vincents. Mārtiņš, in his Jamaican-accented English - remember he travelled to Jamaica as a young chef, informed Bolt that his meal wasn't quite ready yet. Bolt laughed heartily. Afterwards, Mārtiņš whispered to his staff that he hoped Bolt wouldn't run out without paying, because "we'd never catch him!".

There was the time he cooked for Russian President Boris Yeltsin and, knowing Yeltsin's preferences, slipped some vodka into the soup. When he cooked at the White House for President Bush, he cheekily pocketed some White House chocolates as souvenirs.

In 1995, Mārtiņš began hosting his own cooking show on Latvian State Television called Kas var būt labāks par šo? - What Could Be Better Than This? For twenty years, until 2015, he travelled the world on this programme, introducing Latvian audiences to foreign ingredients, cooking techniques, and food cultures. You can find some episodes on YouTube. The show made him a household name, beloved for his charisma, humour, and distinctive expressions, which became part of Latvian folklore.

In 1997, he published a cookbook, Mielasts ar Mārtiņu - A Meal With Mārtiņš - notable for using only products available in Latvia at that time. It's now a collector's item.

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The Slow Food Movement

But perhaps Mārtiņš's most significant contribution to Latvia was his championing of the Slow Food movement. In the early 2000s, he became President of the Latvian Slow Food Association. This international movement, started in Italy, stands in opposition to fast food and the homogenisation of cuisine brought by globalisation. It promotes traditional and regional cooking, seasonal ingredients, and the support of small local farmers. I used to be a member of the Slow Food movement in the UK. I still have the association's snail badge.

Mārtiņš organised Slow Food festivals across Latvia, where he gave cooking demonstrations. In the early 2000s, he created an open-air farmers' market in Rīga where small-scale farmers could sell their produce directly to consumers on Friday and Saturday evenings. This was revolutionary for post-Soviet Latvia, reconnecting people with where their food came from.

Later, he helped establish the Straupe Earth Market, the first in the Baltic States to become part of the official Slow Food organisation. "Slow Food has gained fame in Latvia and our Earth Market has gained fame well beyond," one organiser noted. The market in Straupe, held on the first and third Sundays of every month, is still very popular. We have been twice recently, and on both occasions, the police were helping with car parking because of the number of people. There is a bus from Rīga to Straupa, but it is easier by car. Just over an hour’s drive from Rīga. The market is still full of local producers of every food product: from meats, cheeses, bread, to honey and beer!

Mārtiņš’s work extended to education, too. He adopted the State number II Grammar School in Rīga, teaching students about the importance of understanding what we eat. Lucky pupils!

I remember going to the Positivus festival in 2019, when it was a great three-day music, culture and environmental event held in the countryside of Salacgrīva. There was Mārtiņš and his team cooking fish and chips at the festival (a classic British dish that was fairly unknown in Latvia at that time). When an order was ready, Mārtiņš would blow an old-time car horn! We chatted and laughed a lot.

In 2007, his contributions were recognised when he was awarded the Order of the Three Stars, Latvia's highest state decoration, for his "service to gastronomy and culinary education in Latvia".

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Personal Revelations

In 2009, Mārtiņš collaborated with Air Baltic, Latvia's national airline, to create organic menus for business-class passengers featuring local Latvian produce. Even CNN praised Air Baltic's in-flight dining experience, holding up Mārtiņš's work as an example of what quality airline food could be.

In 2012, a singular honour came his way. Mārtiņš was selected as one of the torchbearers for the London Olympics, carrying the Olympic flame through part of its journey around the United Kingdom. After completing his run, he flew back to Latvia on Air Baltic with his Olympic torch - a proud moment that connected his British birth with his Latvian identity.

But 2017 brought change. After 23 years as director and executive chef of Vincents, Mārtiņš decided to step away. "I've spent half my professional life at Vincents, and together with the team we've achieved so much. But it required enormous work and energy. So now I'm taking a break," he announced. He handed management to sommelier Raimonds Tomsons, someone he'd worked with since 2000.

Yet in 2020, he returned to Vincents as director and co-owner, his passion for the restaurant pulling him back.

But the most significant revelation came in 2021. In the spring of that year, Mārtiņš, now 71, decided it was time to tell his whole story - including parts he'd never spoken about publicly. He worked with author Linda Apse on a book titled De Profundis. Mārtiņš Rītiņš, taking its name from Oscar Wilde's famous prison letter written "from the depths".

In the book, presented at a gala event on 1 December 2021, Mārtiņš opened up about two struggles that had defined much of his life: his battle with alcoholism and his journey as a gay man.

"I don't remember the exact time when I realised I was emotionally more drawn to boys than girls", he wrote. Growing up in the 1950s and 60s, being gay meant living in fear of condemnation or persecution. He dated girls as a teenager, thinking perhaps he would marry a Latvian woman as his mother hoped. "I had secret relationships with boys. I felt good and natural in these relationships, but I always knew I was doing something sinful, something for which I could be judged or persecuted".

When he moved to Latvia in 1993, he continued to hide this part of himself. "When I came to Latvia, I didn't tell anyone I was gay either. I knew very well that many people equated being gay with being a paedophile. I didn't want to be misunderstood and condemned".

Eventually, he wrote his mother a long letter - "the longest letter of my life" - revealing his truth. He waited in fear for her response, and after four days of silence, called her himself, breaking down in tears. But his mother Hermīne gave him what he needed most: unconditional love and acceptance. "It's hard to describe the feeling of relief I felt then. My mother's unconditional love gave me the strength to regain my self-respect, to put my relationship with the outside world in order - not to hide, not to be ashamed, not to be embarrassed".

The book also addressed his struggles with alcoholism, which had plagued him during his early adult years. But he became sober and remained sober for the rest of his life.

"I want to be free within myself and free toward others - to feel comfortable and happy in this complicated and changing world," he explained about his decision to be so open.

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The Final Chapter

After leaving his beloved Baltezers property, just outside Rīga - a beautiful home where he'd kept chickens with names like Inga and Astrīda, tended by a rooster called Armands (previously Imants and Viktors) - Mārtiņš moved to an apartment in central Riga in 2021. His brothers Jānis and Andrejs purchased the Baltezers property and moved from London to Latvia.

"I've always been a city person," Mārtiņš laughed. "I'm not meant for growing tomatoes and weeding". Though he visited his brothers regularly at the old house, enjoying the chickens and the peace of the countryside.

In late December 2021, just weeks after the triumphant launch of his book, Mārtiņš fell ill with COVID-19. Despite being fully vaccinated with a booster shot, he was hospitalised at Stradiņa Hospital in early January 2022.

For weeks, doctors and his family fought to save him. His goddaughter Renāte, a medical student, had taken him to the hospital when his condition worsened. From his hospital bed, he video-called his brothers regularly. "We told him many good words. We told him to fight, to never give up," brother Jānis recalled.

But his condition became critical. The doctors called the family in for what might be a final visit. "We said goodbye with hope of meeting again. We thought he'd gotten through the worst," Jānis said.

On 11 February 2022, at age 72, Mārtiņš Rītiņš died from complications of COVID-19.

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Legacy

Eight days later, on 19 February 2022, hundreds gathered to say goodbye to the man who had transformed Latvian cuisine. True to Mārtiņš's spirit, the funeral was filled with laughter as well as tears. Anecdotes were shared, stories told, memories celebrated. Mārtiņš had once joked that at his funeral feast, he wanted the menu to include crow, to torment the chefs.

His beloved restaurant Vincents, which had been the standard-bearer of fine dining in Latvia for 28 years, eventually closed in 2023. It seemed that without Mārtiņš's spirit animating it, the restaurant couldn't quite continue.

But his legacy lives on in so many ways. In the farmers' markets that continue across Latvia. In the Slow Food movement that he championed. In the young chefs he trained and mentored - so many of whom went on to open their own successful restaurants. In the expectations Latvians now have for their cuisine, they understand that local, seasonal, and organic food matters.

And perhaps most importantly, in the courage he showed at the end of his life - the courage to be fully, authentically himself, to tell his whole truth, to live "from the depths" with honesty and openness.

From a baby born in a refugee camp to the Father of Modern Latvian Cuisine. From a life partly lived in shadows to one of remarkable transparency. From an Englishman by birth to a Latvian by heritage and choice. The journey of Mārtiņš Rītiņš reminds us that we can always come home, reinvent ourselves, and that it's never too late to live authentically.

As he might have said on his television show: Kas var būt labāks par šo? - What could be better than this? Mārtiņš Rītiņš, a great man and my hero.

[image: "Mārtiņš Rītiņš atstāj darbu restorānā Vincents" by Janitors is licensed under CC BY 2.0. Music by Mykola Sosin from Pixabay]