For a man who is still regularly (still!) fêted in interviews as the Dorchester's youngest ever head chef — which he was, five years ago, as a 26-year-old — Tom Booton certainly doesn’t feel like the newest kid on the block. “I was employing someone, checking the year he was born, and he goes: ‘2004!’ And I looked a Big John, and I was like: ‘He doesn't even remember the millennium!’” Booton lets out a laugh. “And I know I've got a baby face, but I mean, come on, I’ve also got grey hair.”
We’re getting the young thing out of the way; Booton is 31 now and besides, age has never been the most interesting thing about him. “It used to frustrate me, but it doesn’t any more,” he says. “When I first started here, I was getting kind of trolled — that I was too young to have this job, because how could a hotel of this nature invest in a 26-year-old? And I was like: hold on, I’ve already been head chef for three years at a one star [The Westbury, in Mayfair].”
Quite. And, more to the point, he began his career earlier than most. “I started at 15. I didn’t go to college, I didn’t go to uni, I just worked,” he shrugs. Fifteen years later, in the summer of last year, the Dorchester renamed its grill in his honour; now it goes by The Grill by Tom Booton at The Dorchester. If the change recognises Booton’s obvious impact, it could go further — he may have joined a grill, but he’s turned it into something more subtle, more refined, with more on offer. In part, that owes something to him making it a destination.
“With my name on the door, people do want to see me more now than before. So I come out, say hello to everyone,” he says. It seems to help with filling the place, he adds. “This room has to be busy. It's a grand dame room. It has to be full and have an ambiance in it.”
Other things have changed in his five years in charge here, and Booton characterises himself as a manager these days. “That’s my role now. Because if I was the chef on the meat, or I was the chef on the pass every day, then the team, they’re gonna get pissed off with me, because I'd always be here and pushing them out of the way to do it.”
Instead of doing everything his own way, he says, his style is more collaborative. “I’ve got 17 amazing minds in the kitchen,” he says, with a note of pride. “I know what I think I’m good at and what I’m bad at — so obviously, to make everything a bit better, we use everyone's minds.
“Which means,” he adds brightly, “they’re going to teach me things. My sous chefs now are at their most creative. As a chef — and I had it when I was head chef for Alyn [Williams, at the Westbury] — when you’re 25, 26, 27, that kind of age, you’re daring.”
There is push and pull, he adds. “It’s nice to see them now be creative and then for me to guide them, to make it… well, a Tom Booton dish, I suppose.” The result, he adds, is that in the last six months or so, the restaurant has hit the stride of its life.
I’ve got 17 amazing minds in the kitchen — so obviously, to make everything a bit better, we use everyone
“I think we’re doing more honest food,” is how Booton puts it. “We’re more confident in our cooking, we’re not trying to show off with a million ingredients on a plate — you know, we’re sticking true to what we want to eat and to what I want to do.
“When you're younger, you’re a bit worried about kind of what people think of you and stuff. There’s still more to do, but I feel more confident, and more confident to deal with situations. If someone doesn’t like something, I'll just go out and say to them: ‘sorry you didn't like it.’ Even if I love it, you know? Food is subjective.”
Booton makes for easy, relaxed company. He greets guests warmly; it’s almost matey patter. Does he feel like the Essex boy in Mayfair? “I don't really ever think about it,” he says. “I’m just cooking what I like, keeping it simple. It doesn’t matter anyone’s background. Everyone’s welcome always, I never judge people.”
What's clear is that any stuffiness that might have once marked the Grill in decades past is dead. This plays out in the menu, which feels personal, playful, unpretentious.
It is also resolutely British. There’s the ham, egg and chips — the name deceptively underplays the execution. There’s something billed as Tom’s ‘All The Chicken’, suggested for two or more, and enough to feed four. It is a knockout, a dish worth travelling for. On a wooden board comes a chicken crown poached twice, then stuffed with confit legs and chicken mousse. Next to this are mousse-stuffed wings, not just deep-fried but glazed in barbecue sauce too, and beside them chicken-and-mushroom pies, the pastry holding in gravy, with a chicken sauce to finish it all. That Booton says it was inspired by childhood meals of rotisserie chicken at home makes it all the sweeter. Of which, his soft serve ice cream, made on site, has been a smash. “Everyone’s at it now!” he says, mock sighing.
Aside from the dishes themselves is the menu layout. Things begin with a “snacks” section — cod doughnuts, skewers of lamb belly, that sort of thing — and four big sharing dishes are offered alongside the more traditional small and big plates. Together, it means a meal here needn’t follow any particular pattern.
“We used to do a four-course set menu. We were trying to… not show off, exactly, but we were trying to show what we could do, which obviously kind of worked, but everyone was too stuffed for dessert,” Booton remembers. “And it made it really hard on the team. I remember I looked around and was like, what are we doing? We were sending out 40 beef tartares every night — and it was bloody hard dish to do — then 40 scotch eggs, 40 rib-eyes. I was in tears some nights. But now I think: actually, what does the customer want? What do they come in for? I mean, we have people come in for a snack or two and just go straight for the chicken.”
Cooking for the guests is working — the Grill has a crowd of regulars, including one who comes back each Sunday, and a number devoted to the popular breakfast menu — but it’s improved things for the team, too. In an industry where bad behaviour is rife, Booton is known for treating his staff well. He demurs when it's brought up, brushing it off. “You have good days and bad days. But I was always taught that if you have more bad days than good days, then you must be in the wrong job,” he says.
I hate being called ‘chef’. Everyone calls me Tom. I’ve never understood walking around with your name on the jacket and having that ego
Is it as simple as that? He turns his hands over, palms up, like it might be. “I don't think I'm making a difference, but I'm just treating people the way I would want to be treated. But I have an open door policy with all the boys and girls working here. If they need anything, I help anyone. If there’s a problem, whatever it is, whatever issue, they know they can come and talk,” he says. “I think the thing with me is, I hate being called ‘chef’. Everyone calls me Tom. I’ve never understood walking around with your name on the jacket and having that ego, the hat kind of thing…”
No ego, perhaps, but he has plans. There’s the new bar he’s opened in Kulm Hotel St. Moritz; there’s the cooking he does at Twickenham Stadium. “I’m very lucky in my position — the hotel want me to be bigger and if I can grow, then it’s better for the both of us,” he says. And the Grill? “Oh, this is my baby.”
As we wrap up, Booton is talking over his career in kitchens. “My mum said to me once I looked like death when I was working all hours. And she told me recently: 'when you were much younger, we were worried about you.'
“And now, you look at your family and think: I want to spend as much time with you as I can.” He mentions his partner Rachel, but his parents too. “That’s obviously me being older, and wiser, I hope.” Forget all that age nonsense. Tom Booton’s all grown up.
