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Waterside Inn, Ferry Road, Bray, Berkshire SL6 2AT

Waterside Inn, Ferry Road, Bray, Berkshire SL6 2AT

Ferry Road, Bray, Berkshire SL6 2AT

+44 (0)1628 620691

In the dark days before Britain discovered food, you would head into the countryside for a meal with all the enthusiasm of a Roman centurion venturing into Boudicca’s local for an afterwork pint. Dining options seemed limited to a clutch of dowdy restaurants and woodbine-scented pubs, all seemingly locked in an eternal battle to see who could get the most breadcrumbs onto the menu. It was not a good time to be a scampi.

Of course, times have changed. Celebrity chefs now rule the airwaves, controlling our minds with their talk of specially sourced ingredients, seasonal produce and fancy bread. Word of this culinary coup has reached all four corners of the land; Sweary Gordon has intimidated good food out of eateries nationwide, and out in the countryside there are crisis meetings of baffled ploughmen trying to work out where their lunchtime pickled onions have gone.

Down at the Waterside Inn, perched on the riverbank in the drowsy Berkshire hamlet of Bray, all this ebb and flow is greeted with the kind of supreme indifference only our Gallic neighbours can muster. Michel Roux opened his doors in 1972, turning out elegant French food with the minimum of fuss and fruity language, and the restaurant seems to have existed in its own gastronomic universe ever since. But times have changed in 25 years and we’ve booked a table for Sunday lunch to see if Roux’s formula has changed with them.

The answer is an emphatic non, as we discover stooping into the snug lobby and stepping back in time. The immaculate maître d' offers a charming welcome before gliding us through to the dining room, where our table offers the most picturesque view imaginable. The Thames drifts languidly past, taking with it a family of ducks, a swan or two and a canoist hell-bent on re-enacting the Poseidon Adventure. It’s the only evidence of strenuous activity in this lazy part of the world. In fact, it’s so relaxing here that the idea of food begins to feel like a bonus. Nevertheless, it’s three Michelin stars worth of bonus so we’re keen to get stuck in.

There is no shortage of waiters to help on that score: we stop counting at 14, all of them appearing and disappearing like unfailingly polite ninjas. A plate of delicious hors d’oeuvres materialises in front of us, including a tiny steak tartare that in the bonzai era of Nouvelle Cuisine would have been halved and served as a main course. There’s nothing nouvelle about my entrée though: the last time I ordered apple soup I was in a high chair and needed it to redecorate the kitchen, so the Velouté of Granny-Smiths and Scallops is a nostalgic choice. It’s a good one too, with the texture of heady truffle slices providing earthy contrast with the
juicy scallops and the sweet apple.

My main course, a pan-fried fillet of Angus beef, is cooked to perfection in a delicate anchovy butter and arrives perched regally on a bed of ratatouille that promises to be ‘sicilian style’. I’m wary as my last exposure to sicilian-style things was the The Godfather 2, but it’s been a while since a courgette was implicated in an honour killing and it smells incredible. It tastes even better, with the sweetness of the red peppers tempered by a subtle tarragon tang, and it lasts about as long as as a Corleone at a toll-booth.

Technically at this point I should be trying to puzzle out what kind of alchemy is taking pace in the kitchen to make food so wrong be so light. I order dessert instead. When it arrives it’s the clearest evidence so far that The Biggest Loser is not must-see viewing in the Roux household. The Péché Gourmand Selon "Alain" et "Michel”’ — or, in English, ‘70,000 Calories of Pudding Action’ — is actually seven contrasting pudding-ettes, ranging from a molten, dizzying, chocolate sponge to the kind of rum baba that Oliver Reed would
have approved of. It’s a fittingly decadent way to round off a magnificent lunch.

The food here is, of course, exceedingly rich, and rich is what you need to be in order to pay for it. It is eye-wateringly expensive and I mean that quite literally. Ultimately, though, The Waterside Inn is more than just a layman’s guide to what it would be like to be Alan Wicker — it’s a reminder that, while fads come and go, good food cooked with skill and love is timeless. As Michel might say: Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.


www.waterside-inn.co.uk
By Philip de Semlyen at 06/05/2008 - 22:52 | 2008 | Approved | £££££/$$$$$ | Berkshire | French | Review | Views | add new comment | 56 reads