‘He couldn’t find the connection he was looking for — not just a girlfriend but in the world’: Wilkes McDermid's friends on the man behind the smiles

As London’s foodie community mourns prolific and popular blogger Wilkes McDermid, his friends tell Susannah Butter that behind the smiles was a tortured soul who had built himself a new identity
Food lovers: McDermid and fellow blogger Katy Riddle

There seems to be a fascination on ‘final meals’,” the food blogger Wilkes McDermid wrote on Sunday at 10am. “Mine was a Hawksmoor Spitalfields (400g ribeye with a Donnington Caesar salad, triple poked chips with lime pickle mayo side with a Colston Bassett stilton with pear and walnuts).” He posted a picture of this steak on Twitter, where he had more than 6,000 followers, adding that it had been washed down, “with a Shakey Pete’s Ginger Brew, Rosso Braida Monferrato 2009, Meantime Pale Ale, with a Disznóko Tokai.”

Later that day, he was pronounced dead on the pavement below the Coq D’Argent restaurant at No 1 Poultry in the City. He is believed to have been the fifth person to have committed suicide from this spot in the past eight years.

His death has been met with profound disbelief. Outwardly he was the cheerful 39-year-old with an insatiable appetite for both food and the food world. For nearly three years he documented the streetfood scene — often he was the first person to review a restaurant or stall, or to identify a trend. “He was omnipresent,” said Petra Barran, founder of KERB streetfood organisation, “he was so quick.”

Victoria Stewart, former food editor of the Evening Standard, adds: “He knew everything about which stalls were worth trying and which weren’t.” Stewart first met him at Street Feast in an east London car park. “We were standing in line for some bhel puri and we had a lovely chat. He knew so much about the Cronut trend that I asked him to do a guide. It was hugely popular. Only a few days ago we were talking about a new opening and he said he’d take me for a drink there.”

He lived in Euston and before that Chelsea, but McDermid covered events all over London, his smiling face a regular fixture at parties where, armed with his large black SLR camera, he gathered material for his blog — Wilkes888, London-based food and-drink-ophile. He took thousands of photos for Instagram and Twitter. “It’s such a shock because he was so happy and friendly when I saw him,” says Lizzie Mabbott, a fellow food blogger. “He had incredible enthusiasm and was everyone’s friend.”

But food was only part of the story. When he started out blogging, McDermid had an office job that his foodie friends knew nothing about, at Calypso Technology, working in sales and specialising in risk. He left Calypso a couple of years ago and focused full time on his blog but this separation of his food commitments appears deliberate. “It was an odd combination of him being everywhere yet knowing nothing about him,” says Barran. But this was not unusual in the food world.

“Lots of people on the scene have other jobs but food is a fabulous escape,” says blogger Ella Paskett. “We never really spoke about work, there is a degree of compartmentalisation. Food is a good way to be distracted — nicely. [He was] always there with a grin, having captured a picture of you eating a burger in a way that was so astute. There was nothing selfish about him and he was incredibly entertaining”.

So who was the real Wilkes McDermid? Born William Chong in Watford to Chinese parents, he later changed his name by deed poll. A friend, who wishes to remain anonymous, says he did this because he believed a career in finance would be easier with a Western name, and not because he was denying his heritage. He chose Wilkes because it was close to his Chinese name yet was one of the most British sounding names he could think of. McDermid had been a school friend. He has a younger sister, Bea, who teaches Tai Chi in Saint Albans. She tweeted her concern after reading his final blog. “I’m Wilkes’ sister, police have my contact details too. Is anyone with Wilkes now?” Later, she wrote: “If you know anything private message me with your contact number so I can call you.”

McDermid studied at University College London, where he ran a student union bar, before doing a postgraduate course at Cass Business School, City University. His first job was at Bloomberg, where he was a sales and financial technology consultant and popular with colleagues. Kasia Verissimo, who worked with him for five years there, says: “Wilkes was a genius. He always managed to solve the most complex issues in no time. He was very kind to people. I deliberately didn’t ask for his help because I thought too many people did, and I wanted to respect his time.” Verissimo speaks of “a lovely friend”. She liked him because he was “honest, open and super intelligent”. “He always had great stories to tell as he was always doing exciting things. We normally met in pubs or restaurants.” Food was an interest, along with good whisky and cigars, and she thought he was “very independent”.

Picture perfect: McDermid liked to post on Instagram dishes such as those at Lima (Picture: Instagram.com/wilkes888)

It wasn’t until 2012 that McDermid’s friends became aware that he had a history of depression. On Boxing Day 2012 he flew to South Africa seemingly with the intention, he wrote on his blog, of taking his own life. After catching up with friends he disappeared on the way back to the airport and was missing for 12 days. He wrote that strong winds, the proliferation of tourists on Table Mountain and fog meant he was unable to kill himself. His father and a friend flew to Cape Town to bring him home.

“He came here to end his life,” explains his friend Bernard Gutman, a whisky specialist based in South Africa, who led the search. “We found him eventually, clearly in a bad way, and got him to hospital. He had counselling until he was well enough to travel.” Gutman had known him for 10 years, and says McDermid masked his internal anguish well. “I didn’t know anything about his difficulties but when we found him he opened up. He spoke about problems dating women. He was not lonely on a superficial level, he saw a lot of people in London, but on a deep level.

“I hoped he would get help. He was not much in favour of getting counselling but he was aware of it and discussed it.”

Back in London, he had started seeing a therapist. But his demons continued to plague. “He had felt alone his whole life,” says a friend. “He had lots of friends but never had a girlfriend.” On his blog he discusses his experience of dating in context of his height and ethnicity.

“I have concluded that in the realm of dating and relationships the primary characteristics required for men are as follows,” he wrote. “Height: above 5ft 10ins; race: huge bias towards caucasian and black; wealth: or other manifestation of power. From my observations and research it appears that you need two of the three criteria for success ... What this ... means [is] that it’s ‘game over’ for me.”

Stacked up: Wilkes's post of an Honest Burgers “breakfast” (Picture: Instagram.com/wilkes888)

In his last blogpost he writes that his situation had not changed since his disappearance in 2012: he felt unloved. He links to a long post from that time, which cites data from OK Cupid and Match.com: “saving myself a great deal of long-term pain in the process [of] choosing to depart early”.

Petra Barran says: “In a time when we are all supposedly hyper-connected, and he was connected in the food world, he couldn’t find the connection he was looking for — not just a girlfriend but in the world.”

Poignantly, his friends speak of a man who could lift your spirits. “He was at every event, smiling, being supportive,” says a friend.

Jessica Tucker, founder of Urban Food Fest, says: “I always asked his opinion. He was never negative and never asked for anything in return.”

“On the coldest, windiest, rainiest days you’d be there,” Chef Andy Bates wrote in tribute on Instagram. “Even holding my gazebo to stop it taking off in the wind. You are everything that is brilliant about the scene.”

Samaritans (08457 90 90 90, samaritans.org)

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