

Tourists don’t often venture to Chiswick, a west London neighborhood with a charming communal feel, because it seems too off the beaten path. The area is even avoided by some Londoners, who are also under the misconception that it’s too far removed from the center of town. But those who do visit can be enticed by The Silver Birch, a seasonal fine dining restaurant helmed by chef Nathan Cornwell.
The restaurant, located on Chiswick’s high street, initially opened in October 2020 under chef Kimberley Hernandez. Cornwell took over the restaurant, founded by Tim Price, in 2024, and has since focused on creating a refined, compelling tasting menu that showcases the best of British ingredients. While the culinary offering and the service have come more easily, the seemingly remote neighborhood has proved tricky.
“Location is huge for a restaurant,” Cornwell says, speaking to Observer in early December. “Not just in terms of accolades, but in terms of footfall. I’m not saying it’s the end-all be-all; it has to also be down to the concept and the food.”
He adds that there is something underrated about a restaurant outside the center of town being good value for its guests. The eight-course tasting menu costs £120, while the shorter set five-course menu is £90. Several snacks and a generous serving of house-made bread and butter accompany both options. “If we were in central London, you’d be paying more of a premium,” Cornwell notes.


The experience at The Silver Birch certainly stands up well against any of London’s buzzy Michelin-starred restaurants, particularly those focused on similar cuisine, like Aulis and Cycene. Both tasting menus highlight British products, including Devon crab, South Down Sika deer and Norfolk squash. At the beginning of the meal, Cornwell appears tableside with a tray of all the ingredients. It’s something other restaurants, like Moor Hall, do around the U.K., but it’s not typical in London.
“People never see what a kohlrabi looks like,” Cornwell says. “It’s nice to explain it when you serve the dish, but it’s better to show the customers what you’re doing and the effort that goes into it.”
Cornwell has felt a connection to ingredients since before he became a professional chef. He grew up in the countryside of Cambridgeshire, in a town called Ely. His dad grew vegetables and took Cornwell fishing, and his mom was a cooking instructor at a local high school. “The best of what food could be, I had seen at such a young age,” he recalls. “It wasn’t anything fancy. We would pick fresh tomatoes in the morning, grill them and put them on some toast. But it was something people don’t get to do as adults, let alone as a five-year-old. I think that really kicked off my love of food.”
The chef started working in a nearby restaurant while still in school, but it was earning a scholarship to the Academy of Culinary Arts that was game-changing for Cornwell. He left home at 16 to enroll in the course, which consisted of three months of school in Bournemouth, followed by a placement at a restaurant. By happenstance, he landed at luxury hotel Lucknam Park under the tutelage of chef Hywel Jones. He spent three years there as part of the course, and ended up remaining for two more years.
“It was pretty surreal leaving home at that age,” Cornwell says. “But it was pivotal in terms of showing you what you needed to do and how dedicated you had to be and how consistent you had to be. The course was tough, and a lot of people dropped out. I remember calling my dad a few times being like, ‘Can I come home?’ He always said, ‘No, you’re going to see it through.’”
After Lucknam Park, Cornwell spent time at Le Champignon Sauvage in Cheltenham before stints at restaurants in Denmark and Sweden. He eventually moved to The Barn at Moor Hall, where he was the chef for four years. Cornwell earned the restaurant its first Michelin star.
“It was a rough period, especially with Covid,” he says. “We had lots of different challenges. When I took it over, The Barn was more of a neighborhood restaurant, very classical. After those four years, it had a booming business for lunch and dinner, and we had a star. It was incredible and crazy—something I’d dreamed about for a very long time. I always said I wanted a star before I turned 30, and I did it about two weeks before my birthday.”


Cornwell was aware of the inherent challenges when he agreed to move to London and take over The Silver Birch after departing Moor Hall. The restaurant “didn’t have much in terms of personality or direction,” so it was up to Cornwell to channel his vision into the space. There was more competition than he’d had at The Barn, which is located in a tiny village outside of Liverpool. It was also harder to forage or garden in the city.
“My plan was to make it very seasonal and very British, and to use as much produce as I could from the U.K.,” Cornwell says. “I wanted to focus on making it delicious, simple and unfussy. I tried to create a menu I would love to eat on my day off—a few snacks, an aperitif, a few starters, a main course. We tried doing à la carte, and we ended up with a lot of waste. Now we have a much simpler menu, and it works nicely for us.”


Although the dishes change with the seasons, a few have become signatures. The Devon crab is presented in a caviar tin with a dollop of caviar and served alongside buttery crumpets—a truly Instagram-ready moment. Cornwell initially offered his crab dish in a crab shell, but has revised it over the past two years. “It wasn’t like it went viral, but it’s been a real hit,” he says. “So we’ve always done a crab dish in some form.” Other constants are a variety of tartare (I had one with beef) and pasta. Cornwell also likes to nod to fish and chips, another thing he enjoys eating on a day off.
“That’s where some of my ideas actually come about,” he says. “So maybe I could do a tempura cod cheek on the side. The classic phrase is, ‘If you wouldn’t eat it, why would you serve it?’ I like to think that I’m cooking my style, and at the same time, I’m cooking food that people want to enjoy. I obviously want it to look aesthetically pleasing, but that’s never my main intention.”
Although Cornwell doesn’t have the space for his own garden at The Silver Birch, he does grow herbs like oxalis and nasturtium in planters out back. He forages as much as possible around London. He and his team gather ingredients like elderflower, blackberries and meadowsweet from along the Thames, and make as much use of them as possible. Whatever elderflower isn’t used in summer dishes is distilled into vinegar. “We use it as a finish in a lot of the sauces and even pickles, as well,” Cornwell says. “Every time you open it up, the smell reminds you of summer.”
That emphasis on reducing waste is evident throughout the kitchen. Stocks are used more than once, and the peelings from root vegetables are transformed into sauces. When I dined in November, the squash pasta was served with a delicious umami broth created from that vegetable waste. “I wanted to make something really intense with the leftovers, but make something also really interesting at the same time,” Cornwell notes. “I think that’s a lovely thing to do.”


Cornwell thrives on presenting himself with new challenges. He’s developed a better work-life balance at The Silver Birch, thanks in part to his strong team. But he knows that you can always continue to evolve a plate of food. “I like to look back at my pictures from when I started out creating dishes, and it wasn’t very refined,” he says. “It wasn’t sharp. And as I look over the years, I see it becoming sharper, more interesting and more refined. I’m finding my style more and more.”
The same is true for The Silver Birch. A Michelin star is one of Cornwell’s goals, but not just for the bragging rights. He knows that the accolade would encourage diners and tourists to venture west into Chiswick. It’s a lot of pressure to maintain the quality, the attention and the joy.
“As a chef, you’re either chasing a star, or you’re trying to maintain it, or you’re trying to get to the next level,” Cornwell says. “Either way, you’re losing sleep, you’re stressed, you’re taking it out on other people. You’re wondering, ‘Is the toilet paper good enough? Is the hand soap worth three stars?’ I can’t say I’m banking on a star or that I deserve it, but it would help. It shows the standard of a restaurant, and that brings people in.”
He adds, “I think we’ve got something really special here in Chiswick, which doesn’t exist in other parts of London. I believe it will all come together, but it’s a long journey. Everyone always wants to say they have this undiscovered secret restaurant. We feel like we’re that, but no one wants to tell the secret.”
That is, until now—because it’s time to share that secret.
Observer










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