Telephone: 01628 620691
Address: Ferry Road, Bray, Berks.
Rating: 18/20
The day was dulcet. The sun shone. The birds sang. The daffs nodded gently in the breeze. All was harmony and light as the river flowed quietly at the edge of the greensward. The river? The Thames to be precise. I was settled in at the Waterside Inn at Bray for the first time in a decade, in the company of my eldest brother. Guardian readers may be more familiar with Bray as the home of the Fat Duck, the culinary playground of our own Heston Blumenthal, but for 30 years the Waterside Inn has been achieving the heights to which the Fat Duck aspires.
During that time the presiding spirit at the Waterside Inn has been Michel Roux, brother of Albert, who had been the presiding spirit at Le Gavroche, the restaurant that they founded together in London.
They are two of the most remarkable men ever to have practised the culinary arts in this, or any, country. They won stars. They did the TV-books-newspaper-column thing. They pioneered technical innovations and ran restaurant empires. They founded, and still run, the scholarship that bears their name, pour encourager les autres.
Chefs who have worked for them have headed out around the country carrying the flame of sound kitchen practice, not just in centres of fine dining but also in more generally accessible places - pubs, bistros, brasseries. And they've both had the strength of character to hand over control of their kitchens to their respective sons. Albert's son, Michel Jr, has been at the helm of Le Gavroche for a few years, but this year the shy and modest Alain, son of Michel Sr, officially becomes chef/patron at the Waterside.
Which brings me to what amounts to a national scandal. The Roux brothers have been honoured in France, the country of their birth, but in the country which has benefited immeasurably from their energy, enterprise and excellence, not a dicky bird. This is official dereliction on an infamous scale. If we can give the mayor of New York an honorary knighthood out of solidarity and respect, the very least we can do is confer the same honour on two men who have contributed so much to the standards of public eating in this country. That's all I have to say on the matter, except to add that a visit to the Waterside Inn is a reminder of just how high those standards are.
They don't just apply to the food, which you would expect, but equally to the service, which is all engaging charm and well-oiled professionalism; the décor, which places the emphasis on elegance, space and light; the pacing of a meal, which is leisurely and well ordered - there is always a sense of forward momentum, but never one of hurry; and the tone, which, while unquestionably shaped by money, is open, welcoming, democratic. Of course, the situation at the river's edge on a sublime spring day ladles on the sense of good cheer, but when you step into the Waterside Inn, you are picked up and held in this kindly, civilised embrace that not even the presentation of the bill can dispel.
It came to £207.50 in our case, which is a lot of money, but money very well spent. Unless you are very rich indeed, you are not going to be popping into the Waterside Inn on a regular basis. It will remain, for most of us, a place for high days, holidays, spring days, maybe once a year or even once a lifetime. On that basis, don't you deserve to spend £100 each on yourself and a friend? You can spend the same going to a Premiership football match, a trip to the opera, or an off-peak package holiday in Benidorm. It's a matter of priorities. I know where mine lie.
For that £207.50 we got six courses on the Menu Exceptionnel at £76 a head, plus three glasses each of wines, all French, from a formidable, all-French list, chosen specifically to go with each course, a glass of champagne and a glass of sherry beforehand, and a glass of vieille prune apiece to celebrate the close of play. The cooking is classic modern French. That is to say, each dish is carefully structured, the saucing is light but intense and clear, the balance between protein and carbohydrate impeccably observed, cooking times, for the most part, precise. This is not food that sets out to challenge, in the manner of modern French maestros such as Marc Veyrat or Pierre Gagnaire; it holds to traditional values of coherence, correlation and euphony.
The tronçonnette de homard poêlée minute au porto was outstanding, the density of the shellfish and the saucing lifted by ginger in the accompanying julienne of vegetables. There was the most refined crust of brioche crumbs on a taut filet of red mullet, with a sauce of fish stock and raspberry vinegar that brought the fish into sharp focus. The caneton challandais aux clous de girofle et au miel was roasted slightly past the requested roseate hue, but, carved at the table with expert minimalism into fine leaves of flesh, each mouthful was a melodious concord of duck, spice, honey and pure juices.
Cheeses, puddings, including a textbook soufflé chaud au Grand Marnier and a luxurious, sweet/tart jelly of rhubarb and Bonnezeaux, were jim-dandy. And... well, enough is enough. Of course, it would always be a real pleasure to lunch at the Waterside Inn, but on such a day it was a privilege.
· Open Wed-Sun, 12noon-2.30pm; 7-10pm. Menus: Menu Gastronomique, £36 for three courses; Menu Exceptionnel, £76 for five. All major credit cards. Wheelchair access (no WC).
