Burned-out chef, and a bit of a hippy at heart if he's honest, Max Effort has had enough. He's packed in his job at a swanky Michelin three-star restaurant, grown his hair, berated his parents yet again for giving him such a "go get 'em" name, accepted he's never going to get his ex-wife back, and he's hitting the road.
The house is sold, a VW Campervan bought, and Anxious, his trusty Jack Russell Terrier, has already picked his spot.
Sick of the sight of roux, defiant in the face of deconstructed trifle, green at the sight of truffles, and despairing of anything served on a slate rather than a plate, he's about to embark on a tour of the backroads of Britain. He'll weave his way around the country to visit the sights, go to a few festivals, catch up with friends, and just chill out.
And every single night without fail, he's going to make his main meal in his cast-iron pot. It's one-pot cooking or bust for Max, and he cannot wait.
Freedom at last. The open road with his best friend for company. No hot, sweaty kitchens, shouting chefs, uppity waiters, or demanding customers. Just countryside, campsites, back-to-basics cooking, and the stars at night.
Then there was a murder . . .