alchemilla

Vegetables first at the pass

The menu begins with the decision to let plants carry the weight. Alex Bond, chef-owner at alchemilla in Nottingham, works that position into a tasting menu rather than a declaration. Since 2017, the restaurant has been the address where his earlier kitchens resolve into his own method: 42 The Calls, Anthony’s, Restaurant Sat Bains, Sat Bains, Turners, Auberge du Lac, and The Wild Rabbit sit behind the discipline, but the accountability is now his. Bond has said, “I personally believe that we eat too much meat.” At alchemilla, that line does not make the room vegetarian, and it does not turn meat or fish into an absence. It changes the hierarchy. Aged hogget can arrive with roasted lemon, aubergine, and black olive; lobster can take its direction from kimchi purée, pickled squash, confit lemon, fennel cress, basil, and shiso. The plate gives vegetables the station, then lets protein sharpen the pass.

Modern cookery under vaulted brick

alchemilla’s program is built as a tasting menu, with vegan versions offered alongside the main sequence when arranged in advance. The structure moves through small early bites, bread, larger courses, and sweets, with the kitchen working in a modern British register that pulls from British produce and wider influences without losing the line of the dish. Critics have singled out potato tortilla with Cheddar cream, white truffle, and sherry vinegar gel; an ’nduja XO doughnut with cured scallop and dill mayo; sourdough with a wafer-thin crust, wholegrain crumb, and olive oil butter. The method matters because Bond’s cooking often turns on contrast rather than size: sweet, sour, salt, citrus, heat, fat. The restaurant holds one Michelin star, first awarded in 2019, and carries 4 AA Rosettes, and at bench-side, a vegetable course has to hold attention without borrowing ceremony from the meat course after it.

The room below Derby Road

The dining room sits in the cellar of a Victorian coach house on Derby Road, its red-brick vaults giving the work an unusually low, resonant frame. The arches are not decorative shorthand; they set the scale of the room, softened by greenery, modern art, and an open view of the kitchen. Service moves with the formality of fine dining, but the atmosphere stays conversational, partly because the cellar has air and light rather than theatrical gloom. From many tables, the pass remains visible. Plates cross from kitchen to room with explanation, and the old brick holds the sound of cutlery, glass, and quiet corrections at the station.

What stays in Bond’s hands

Ownership keeps the kitchen and the room close together. Bond is not only setting the menu; he is responsible for the mood around it, the wine program beside it, and the standard that returns with each service. The cellar’s drama would be easy to let dominate, but alchemilla’s lasting work is narrower and more difficult: British ingredients, vegetable-led cooking, and a chef-owner still testing how much a plate can carry before the hogget or lobster arrives.