Clevedon’s Mon Plaisir turns its back on seaside glamour and pier pressure, and lets the kitchen do all the wowing
Despite its seaside proximity, Clevedon’s new French bistro Mon Plaisir is not a summer restaurant. There’s no view of the pier, so no chance of imagining Harry Styles and the rest of his 1D gang crooning You & I as you tuck into scallops with pork belly and pea velouté. It has just two outside tables; the rest are tucked away in the basement underneath the Vintage & Vine wine shop. Despite opening in June, and my visit coinciding with the subsequent heatwave, Mon Plaisir is not a spot for basking in British seaside glory. Once the food starts arriving, though? Je ne regrette rien.
It’s a world away from head chef and co-owner Toby Gritten’s previous spot, which would only have been closer to the water if it was a boat. The Pump House was a Bristol institution, serving some of the best pub grub in the city. Toby’s son Harry practically grew up there and is now wielding the pans with his dad at Mon Plaisir, doing a bloody good job of it.
Since Bristol Beer Factory’s purchase of The Pump House and Toby’s subsequent move to Clevedon, he has joined forces with front-of-house extraordinaire Alexandra De Salengre, who returned after a decade in London at the likes of Noble Rot, bringing with her a clever wine list and the warmest hospitality.
Despite the intense heat, I came away with nothing but praise for Mon Plaisir – a restaurant that knows what it is, and where it is, and doesn’t feel the need to chase vapid trends and passing fancies. It feels like an extension of Toby and Alex, and of their passions: the walls are littered with art from Alex’s home and signs rescued from The Pump House; there’s a wine cellar they gush over, and a menu they clearly enjoyed writing as much as you’ll enjoy eating.
Starters like an offal-laden duck liver parfait and smooth, salty cod’s roe arrive with bread that earns its billing; Toby took up sourdough during lockdown and, unlike the rest of us, actually got very good at it.
From the grill there are steaks, but we opted for a Brixham skate wing with ratatouille and sauce vierge. Unlike in the eponymous film, my childhood memories of ratatouille incite trauma, but this was sweet, fragrant and paired beautifully with the flaky skate. Textbook fries made light work of the juices.
But it was dessert that triumphed. Toby’s baking skills extend far beyond bread: his cherry and almond tart was a masterclass in pastry work, served with a vanilla-laden crème anglaise.
So no, Mon Plaisir is not the restaurant for panoramic views or sipping your Musset Roillier crémant Noctamble al fresco – au contraire, it’s a place for getting so swept up in the hearty French food that none of that matters. Bonne chance to the team, not that they’ll need it.
