The Braywood Reviewed. Bray’s Brilliant Dining Newbie Is Turning Heads.

The Braywood Reviewed. Andy Mossack takes Sunday lunch at Bray’s newest fine dining sensation.

After Parky’s son Nick closed his Michelin-starred Royal Oak pub during the pandemic, it was later demolished and there was a right royal fuss from Paley Street’s well-heeled residents. But just two years on The Braywood seems to have not only won them over but is no doubt raising eyebrows at Bray and Maidenhead’s more celebrated establishments.

But I’m not surprised. After all The Braywood is part of Alastair Storey’s WSH Restaurants whose other restaurants The Woodspeen, The Boxford and 74 Charlotte Street By Ben Murphy have all won rave reviews on TripReporter.

So it was with much anticipation I arrived at The Braywood looking forward to a memorable Sunday lunch. It was very discreet, literally hiding behind fencing on the roadside with just a simple sign announcing itself. You could tell immediately by the brand of cars in the car park that many of Bray’s finest were already here.

I was warmly greeted by restaurant manager Thomas, a veteran of WSH for ten years and the man responsible for opening The Braywood almost two years ago. In that short time the restaurant has already attained a three rosette AA rating and entry in the Michelin Guide.

Of course, the restaurant bears no resemblance to the aforementioned Royal Oak although the famous white façade had been retained. This was a new contemporary build not unlike the group’s other properties, with plenty of glass and timber on show, a high vaulted roof and some delightfully exterior landscaping for outdoor dining on sunny days. All very classy and dare I say it, Scandi tones in a good way.

We had bagged a lovely corner table in the main dining room, a perfect perch for people watching, a pastime I always find very entertaining in restaurants. As we were studying the menu and listening to the soft sounds of Steely Dan, we were warmly greeted by Diego The Braywood’s guest ambassador. A gentleman of some renown in the hospitality business, who managed the legendary Waterside Inn for over 30 years. These days he is often here schmoozing guests. Quite a catch I reckon.

We had some debate over the starters. Sharing plates or singles? Sea bream crudo (£14) or cured salmon (£14)? In the end I plumped for the buffalo burrata with house made pesto, Isle of Wight tomatoes and pickled red onion (£12), a combination that really hit the spot for me. Looked sensational on the plate, tasted deliciously fresh, the IOW toms crunchy as a hell just as I like them.

Mrs. M took a different route choosing the tiger prawn roll with baby gem, Marie Rose sauce, caviar and avocado (£15), perhaps a deconstructed designer prawn cocktail in a brioche brick topped with avocado mousse and caviar. It was a generous portion – perhaps too generous, the brioche tending to be quite filling for a starter. Nevertheless, the tiger prawn mix was spot on, the caviar a welcome indulgence.

It was past well past 3pm now, but guests we still coming in for a late Sunday lunch, some taking the opportunity to take in the autumn sunshine eating out in the garden. Both Thomas and Diego were still busily schmoozing outside and in and the front of house team discreetly clearing tables and topping up water without being intrusive in any way. Straight out of the Alastair Storey school of hospitality, and it was textbook stuff.

Our main courses prompted another debate. A Sunday roast or the a la carte menu. Eventually we agreed on both. I chose the fillet of beef from The Estate with bone marrow butter, king oyster mushrooms and kale. However, I swapped the creamed mash for some irresistible beef fat triple-cooked chips (£58). Come on, it had to be done.

Mrs M chose the Sunday roast loin of pork (£30) with all the trimmings which included Yorkshire pudding, carrot, cauliflower cheese, peas and, of course, roast potatoes and a jug of gravy. It was a very generous portion with 3 giant slices of pork.

“Don’t forget the roast potatoes are unlimited with our Sunday lunch” whispered our lovely server Amy.

Even with my thrice-cooked fat chips I suddenly had roastie envy.

My steak was a total triumph, beautifully cooked to my exact preference, and butterflied as requested. The kale delicious, and the chips, well it was almost a Harry met Sally moment. Regular readers will know I have a thing about well-done chips, crispy outside deliciously buttery inside. These were exactly that. Perfection. Still my beating heart.

This was all washed down with a glass or two of some smooth as silk New Zealand Pinot Noir (£12).

This was all going rather well. Thomas and Diego were back to check up, topping up water while they were at it. Never missing a trick.

The dessert menu was up next, and no debates needed with this. I had to take the blackberry and apple crumble soufflé with blackberry ripple ice cream and custard (£16). Mrs. M had to go for her usual – basically anything with figs in it. In this case bread and butter pudding with ports figs, vanilla crème anglaise and fig leaf ice cream (£16).

After a while Amy was back with a message from the kitchen. “Chef Maisie wasn’t happy with the soufflé so she’s baking another one. She’s a bit of a perfectionist. Sorry about that, but here’s a couple of raspberry sorbets while you wait.”

That was fair enough.

And then the soufflé finally arrived carried triumphantly as if it was the FA Cup. Maisie had certainly pulled out all the stops. It was a masterpiece. Rising majestically out of the cup guarding its apple and blackberry treasures hidden beneath.

After we had devoured both desserts, I had a quick opportunity to meet Maisie and her kitchen brigade while they were still running service. Masie, still in her 20s, is already something of a veteran chef with stints in a few Michelin-starred restaurants including a few years on the burners at the Waterside Inn.

There seems to be something of a reoccurring theme here.

“There was no way I would send out any dish I’m not totally happy with. And that soufflé had sunk in the middle. Wasn’t having that “, she told me after I diplomatically mentioned our little soufflégate incident.

In just a couple of years The Braywood has earned the respect of its Paley Street neighbours, and more than justified filling the big boots of the late Royal Oak. I have no doubt those aforementioned celebrated establishments are turning their heads too.

IMages (C) Andy Mossack and Doug Grigg.