Simon Bonwick is showing me around his makeshift art studio atop The Crown at Bray. Tubes of oil paint, brushes, turps, stacks of cloth and other artists’ supplies are arranged like mise en place ahead of a busy service. Dotted around the walls are black and white sketches, loose brush strokes, pinned doodles and pieces from the chef’s catalogue of innocent dreamscapes including a picture he did for Moor Hall to celebrate its third Michelin star.
The space feels chaotic - unhinged, even - but there’s a quiet purposefulness to it. I wonder if this is what it’s like in Bonwick’s head as he talks me through his work. “This is a dream I had about wine glasses and guitars,” he says, pointing to one. “Here’s my phantasmagorical owl. These are some werewolves and here is a picture of mother moon. Some sorbets are trying to land on her, but she has no room, so she is blowing them away. Whoosh…”
With his white chef’s jacket, unruly sticky-up hair and quizzical expression Bonwick has a mad scientist energy that rivals that of his neighbour Heston Blumenthal (The Fat Duck is literally opposite the pub). His eccentricities extend into the kitchen too, where inspiration often comes from the great mères of Lyon, a formidable group of women including Mère Brazier and Mère Léa who built the French city’s gastronomic reputation in the 19th and 20th centuries. His resolutely old school menu includes dishes such as pave of Highland beef “with a rather nice sauce”, and treacle sponge “served hot like when you are little”.
At this point you would be forgiven for thinking this is all fodder for a particularly good episode of Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares. But that’s not the case. Bonwick is a fine chef and skilled publican who, despite his itinerant bent, has attracted a loyal fan base and maintained a near constant presence in the Michelin Guide.
The Crown at Bray is Bonwick and his wife Deborah’s tenth pub project in and around Berkshire following on from The Crown at Burchetts Green and The Dew Drop Inn. Until fairly recently part of Blumenthal’s empire the pub is a departure for the pair because it has a strong drinking trade with a healthy 50:50 split between wet and dry sales.
“There are people that have been drinking here for 40 years,” Bonwick explains as we observe chefs ferrying gastros into Blumenthal’s three-Michelin-star flagship. “It’s challenging to run because it’s so large but it’s the most exciting demographic a publican could wish for. The covetous eye has always lingered on this one.”
A soloist no more
Bonwick made his name cooking alone — most notably at The Crown at Burchetts Green, where he won a Michelin star. But The Crown at Bray’s scale (50 covers inside, 150 in the garden) means he’s had to build a small, mature brigade.
“I tried going it alone when we took this place over, doing about 40 covers a night. There were a few tantrums. In fact, I think my nickname was ‘tantrum’ at one point,” he says with a smile. “But things are calmer now. I’ve been working with my chef de cuisine here for over 30 years.”
Confusingly for a chef so associated with pubs, Bonwick has never cooked pub food. “I never wanted to do greasy pub kitchens with deep-fat fryers,” he says of the genre. “I can’t breathe with that in the air. You smell that in the car park, and you just want to turn around and go home.”
Instead, Bonwick champions sometimes-unfashionable French classics - quail en cocotte, boeuf à la ficelle (a fillet suspended in simmering stock on a piece of string) - and takes obsessive pride in slow, traditional sauce combining and reducing stocks to create unctuous shimmering liquids that hold themselves perfectly on the plate.
I never wanted to do greasy pub kitchens with deep-fat fryers. I can’t breathe with that in the air. You smell that in the car park, and you just want to turn around and go home
That said, at The Crown at Bray, Bonwick has simplified things with a ‘bouchon’ menu that can be more easily executed at scale and even contains a few crowd pleasers like fat chips with truffle and Parmesan. “But we don’t do generic. It’s the French food that I like to eat and cook, with my own personality, which I’m told is instantly recognisable. It is less complicated here but there are elements of finery too, especially around our sauce making.”
A changing of the guard
Bonwick can sense change in this affluent but rapidly ageing corner of the home counties. “It feels like the end of an era. We are entering the age of Aquarius, I should say.”
Like many countryside pubs, The Crown at Bray relies heavily on older customers - and they are not being replaced. What’s more, the young people who do visit tend not to drink, which alongside rapidly rising costs is an existential problem for the pub sector.
“The old pub model is dead, everyone knows it. It’s very scary for those sat on their laurels around here. But we will get through by bringing more and more personalisation to our offer and finding new revenue streams.”
One such revenue stream is art. Bonwick has sold around half of his 400-piece catalogue, with most paintings fetching more than £2,000. He heads up to his studio after service, often working through the night.
“I only sleep around two hours. I’m like a vampire,” he says with a manic laugh. “It’s very risky painting a picture and asking people if they like it. Sometimes they do, sometimes they say it’s shit. But it’s a big source of revenue for us here. People partly come to see the art.”
Keeping it in the family
Bonwick has more mouths to feed than most: he and Deborah have nine children aged 10 to 34. All but the youngest two have worked in the family business at one point or other and some of them have pursued hospitality as a career with Dean running front of house at Bray’s other three-star The Waterside Inn; George operating pubs on the Nedging Hall Estate; and Charlie working part time at The Crown alongside his dad.
Bonwick has consistently earned Michelin Bib Gourmands across his pubs. The star at Burchetts Green was, he says, down to pressure from Dean and George for him to refine his approach and stop “serving portions of mash that resemble Snowdonia”. “I nearly killed myself there and we had a few fights,” he admits. “They wrestled me and bullied me. But they were right, and we won our star. But really, I was happy with a Bib Gourmand - that’s the one I rate because it means good value for money food.”
Bonwick’s Ratatouille moment
Bonwick’s inclination to cook alone is rooted in his childhood. His mother left soon after he was born, with Bonwick only later discovering it was through illness.
“It wasn’t her fault. I find it hard to trust people and I cook because I want people to love me. I’m old now so I can be honest about that. I still have little wobbles, but Deborah sees me through. She is my love and my rock.”
Raised by his father, uncle and older sisters in Croydon, Bonwick had his ‘Ratatouille moment’ at eight. Laid up with mumps, he was watching a Mr Benn episode — The Cook — in which the character prepares a meal to cheer up a sad princess.
“It moved me. That same day, my dad made me beef and dumplings from Delia Smith’s Complete Cookery Course. I felt completely rejuvenated. I threw back the covers and said: ‘I want to be a chef!’”
A move to Lincolnshire followed, where he combined school with cooking trout almondine and gammon and pineapple at The Bridge Hotel. Spotting his talent, the head chef sent him for what would be a short-lived stint at The Connaught.
“It was run by bully boys. You either took it or gave it back, and I gave it back,” says Bonwick.
I can’t seem to stray too far from French food that is trad not fad. It’s part of me, as is the graft that goes into making it
He then spent years moving between hotels, airline catering, a private school and private service for an Arab family - explaining the Middle Eastern touches on his menu.
While peers idolised star chasing chefs like Pierre Koffmann, Marco Pierre White and the Roux brothers, Bonwick gravitated toward more rustic, egalitarian cooks such as Henry Harris and Simon Hopkinson. When he and Deborah struck out on their own - first managing pubs, then taking tenancies, then leases - he settled into the French style he still cooks today.
“I can’t seem to stray too far from French food that is trad not fad. It’s part of me, as is the graft that goes into making it.”
One thing that has perhaps held Bonwick back from “bigger things” is how often he and Deborah have moved. Reasons for moving on have ranged from the business simply not working to a landlord who locked him out on Christmas Eve, a thatched-roof fire and a fair and timely offer for the Burchetts Green lease. “We have never sought pubs, they find us,” he says. “We embrace this aspect of the pub business.”
And yet, at The Crown at Bray, the Bonwicks might finally have found some permanence, with the pair having taken on a 20-year lease at the pub. Has the nomadic restaurateur finally found his forever venture?
“This is the best pub we’ve have ever had”, he says, indicating that he most likely has. “I want to be cooking here when I’m 75 - that is the dream.
“We have no intention to leave. This is the last gig, the last show. I love it. I got here so early this morning. I couldn’t wait.”