`Today is very, very, very difficult," says one of the world's most talked-about chefs, relaxing for a millisecond in his Paris office. "I'm doing lots of interviews, French TV is here, my timetable is scheduled down to the minute. It's crazy, crazy, crazy."
But it isn't an unusual day for Alain Ducasse - only the second person in the history of the prestigious Michelin Guide to attain six-star status, the man Time magazine voted one of the "Best People" of 1998. Interviewing the French chef demands considerable patience. Questions are squeezed in between constant interruptions and phone calls; frequently he carries on several conversations at once through phones stuck to both ears. Every so often Ducasse suddenly ricochets his chair over to a computer, where he keeps tabs on business and bookings at his four restaurants.
It's not that Ducasse means to be rude. In fact, he is warm, down-to-earth and later reveals a sparkling sense of fun. But he possesses phenomenal energy, awesome ambition and a growing list of restaurants - all of which keeps him from concentrating on an interview for very long.
At 42, the Frenchman has redefined what it means to be a grand chef: less time behind the stove and more time in designer suits working as a food consultant, launching cookbooks and tapping on his computer. Sitting with him, you can almost hear the squadrons of projects and plans hurtling around inside his head. His latest - a modern, minimalist offering just off the Champs Elysees - is totally different from his resolutely traditional signature restaurants. Spoon, Food & Wine has injected Paris with a rare shot of world flavours ranging from Australian wines to Asian soups.
Scan his CV and you begin to understand why Ducasse is something of a media darling. In 1987, when he took control of the kitchen at the luxurious Louis XV restaurant in Monte Carlo, he promised its owners that they'd have three Michelin stars within four years - and asked to be dismissed if he didn't. By 1990, he had his celestial trio and, at 33, was the youngest chef to have ever achieved that distinction.
In 1996, he tackled a gastronomic Everest when he took over the Paris restaurant - now called the Alain Ducasse - of French chef Joel Robuchon. In March last year Ducasse made history when both the Louis XV and his Paris restaurant scored the top Michelin rating. Last week the guide book confirmed the Frenchman's status as the only living six-star chef.
The catalyst for his success was a tragedy in 1984. The Lear jet in which he was travelling hit the side of a mountain. Ducasse whose seat-belt snapped on impact, was thrown clear of the exploding plane. He lay there for six hours waiting to be rescued while five other travellers died around him. He was the sole survivor.
"Yes, the accident marked an incredible change," he admits. "When I realised I would walk again it was like the beginning of a second life. I became more curious to travel and to achieve different things, I was no longer afraid of taking risks. I became like a sportsperson - you train, you win and then you set your sights on another race."
Located in Paris's fancy 16th arrondissement, the chef's eponymously named restaurant, with its kitchens, bar and dining room, takes up all four floors of a 1911 art nouveau mansion. At 7 a.m., the 20 cooks are already in their kitchen whites - they do both lunch and dinner and they'll be here until after midnight. Even at this early hour, every task is done with urgency. The air bristles with quiet concentration and military-style discipline. There's not so much as a bottle of olive oil on any bench or a dribble of bouillon on the gleaming stainless steel stove. "Mr Ducasse is a stickler for cleanliness," reveals a souschef.
Pungent truffles are painstakingly shaved into thin discs and each slice is measured to precisely the right thickness. Asparagus spears are lovingly trimmed of their tiny, pointy knuckles, which will later be used to flavour sauces. One cook spends several hours just selecting the inner, baby leaves from healthy bunches of herbs.
This is what Ducasse's cooking is all about. Produce. The freshest and best that can be found. He grew up on a farm in France's south-west, surrounded by ducks and geese which were bred for the rich liver pate, foie gras. Weekends were spent fishing with grandpa and collecting mushrooms from the forest.
The aroma of grandma's Sunday lunches inspired him to take a job at 16 in a local restaurant. "She cooked traditional, family dishes like chicken in the pot and blanquette de veau," he recalls. "I'll never forget those smells. Food must taste good and look good, yes, but it must also have a perfume."
Just before lunch, Ducasse dons an apron and tears through the kitchen trailing a TV crew, which is filming a documentary on the chef for a French current-affairs show. He talks urgently with the second chef, plunges a finger into a sauce and stares intently at the six television screens which monitor the restaurant. Although these days he rarely cooks, Ducasse is still demanding in the kitchen. "I'm never content, never, never, never," he says in his characteristic rapid-fire way. "I taste all the time and it's never good enough. I tell my staff `you're sleeping, ca ne va pas!' "
So what is it like dining chez Ducasse? The restaurant - with its heavy, carved wood panelling and a trompe l'oeil library, is bourgeois and stately in sombre green, crimson and gold. Serious prices - between £100 and £150 for three courses plus wine - pare the crowd down to politicians, international celebrities and well-heeled Parisians. The staff are unfailingly attentive.
A tiny footstool appears from nowhere on which to rest my bag and notepad.
"Would you like sparkling or plain water?" the waiter inquires. "Small bubbles, medium-sized bubbles or fat bubbles?" With this sort of pampering, I'd like to move in. Several hours later, following a feast of langoustines, foie gras and a fortune of fungi, it looks like I might have to. Truffles have a strong, rich flavour and a few skinny slices go a long way. The combination of superb, creamy sauces and sumptuous wines makes getting up from the table seem risky. While the food at the Paris restaurant is firmly French, his kitchen at the Louis XV in Monaco is totally Mediterranean - lots of locally-caught seafood, vegetables and buckets of olive oil. At La Bastide, his idyllic Provencal inn set among olive trees and lavender fields, the cuisine is sophisticated country-style and the ingredients are mostly straight from a lush vegetable patch out the back.
Ducasse is fond of saying he sets trends, rather than follows them. His next project - a restaurant for lower budgets which will open in five months - stems from his belief that Paris is full of fancy places, but lacks quality options where you can dine for around £10 a head.
It is his business savvy and global outlook that set him apart from other revered French chefs. Although critics snipe that his business plate is overflowing, the latest Michelin guide ranking has upheld Ducasse's belief that you don't need to be in the kitchen to run a fine restaurant.
As he races from his office, tying an apron on the way, I ask Ducasse what his dream is. A cliched question, but the response - said without a second's hesitation - is telling. "That in a day of 24 hours, I could have 48."