restaurant review - Grace dent, guardian
Bonsai in Brighton serves up the likes of vegan “sea bream” made with titivated pea protein and Mongolian “lamb” skewers with pickled shallot, though at some point in time, perhaps in a few decades, I hope to describe such things without fervent debate breaking out about the merits or otherwise of fake fish or meat, or indeed the use of inverted commas. Or the merits of textured vegetable protein, or whether vegans should use the word “pork” when many seem to think it should be saved strictly to describe bits of actual pig.
These vocabulary purists will, for instance, be wildly irked by Bonsai’s Hanoi “pork” spring rolls. Because guess what? They don’t feature pork at all! Rather, they’re made with fruit, egg-less cream and a layer of deep-fried rice paper, all of it teetering taste-wise on the edge of porky, but actually more a cacophony of non-sentient items styled into a punchy, umami hit. It’s absolutely bloody delicious, too.
Bonsai began life as the pop-up BangBao, which used to sell vegan bao but has since grown into a full-scale, award-winning, sort-of Japanese, Thai-influenced and deeply experimental bricks-and-mortar restaurant. It resides in a cool, elegant, black building down a side street, and the interior features polished benches, lacquered tiles, glass bricks, tasteful neon signs and music I’d describe as house. A woman of my vintage trying to pinpoint any modern dance music genre always sounds confused at best, but this stuff was fast enough to make Charles and me crave a visit to a nightclub, before breaking into peals of laughter. Imagine! They open so late. I already regard anyone who books a 9.30pm table for dinner as the perpetrator of an open act of aggression.
All of this – the music, the dragon mural, the general decor, the wild food – could make Bonsai feel a bit intimidating, but never fear: its secret weapon is its staff, especially front-of-house Amy Bennett. In her hands, it feels almost cosy, even when the menu arrives on what looks like a betting-shop slip on which you’re meant to write your order yourself and pass it back. You can put a tick beside the “chef’s selection of pickles” line or the bánh mi sliders made with crisp “chicken” that costs “7¾”, which I cleverly guessed meant £7.75. The menu splits into small plates, things from the bincho grill, their “classic” bao buns, rices and sides, plus a few daily specials: on the day we went, there was bincho-grilled paratha with curry butter and spring onion oil, and a couple of desserts, including a passion-fruit cream.
Bonsai, with chef Dom Sherriff at the helm, is definitely remarkable and unusual; it is also a warning shot for any johnny-come-lately restaurant hoping to cater for a more diverse audience that thinks a drab risotto is enough to wow meat-avoiding punters. God knows, in recent years I’ve been giddy enough over a salt-baked celeriac or a spruced-up jerusalem artichoke, but here they serve “yakitori chicken” made with those pieces of weirdly chickeny non-meat that are becoming more realistic with every passing year; they’re coated in togarashi and sesame, and cooked over posh Japanese binchotan charcoal until almost blackened.
Bonsai isn’t all about reimagined meat, by the way. There is also barbecued cabbage and chunky corn on the cob, fired until charred yet still sweet and juicy, and served with something that’s very buttery and what tasted very much like grated parmesan but absolutely wasn’t. There are Sussex-grown mushrooms in tempura, and a fantastic som tam made with pounded sour mango, cherry tomatoes and coriander, which I demolished.
The greatest joy here, however, is the sheer attention to detail. If you order a side of kimchi, you’ll get a really good, crisp, funky kimchi that’s sweet and astringent in all the right places. If you order the aubergine on skewers, worrying that you’ll possibly end up with sad lumps of what seem like washing-up sponge, as is often the way with barbecued aubergine, fret not – what arrives comes scorched and glossy with miso, maple syrup and wasabi. Mixed vegetable gyoza are finished with a blowtorch, served caramelised side up and dressed in Sichuan chilli oil with crisp garlic.
One of the biggest compliments I can give any restaurant is to say that it is like nowhere else. Bonsai is a place for vegans to take non-vegans and open their minds, or annoy them with inverted commas and fake Mongolian lamb until they never speak to them again. Here, the former is far more likely. This place is special, and you’d have to be a pretty dour-faced “foodie” not to find happiness in it.
