Shropshire Star

Shrewsbury chef Chris Burt: We take a closer look at his culinary skills and kitchen

"It's too quiet," shouts head chef Chris Burt to his sous chef, Sami. "Stick some tunes on."

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Sami walks purposefully to his gaffer's desk. Boom. Blink-182. She's Out Of Her Mind. Let's 'ave it. Let's get this service started.

Burt checks tonight's menu. Two tables in for taster menus. Simple. Or it should be. Seven dishes, no problem. Except Burt's got 11 dishes to cook. "I thought we'd mix it up for them," he says. "We wouldn't want them to get bored." Nah. And he wouldn't want to get bored either. He pushes the boundaries like postmen push letters.

The county's most creative chef, a one-man tour de force, is at the pass on his night off. He wouldn't have it any other way. Cheffing is a drug. He didn't choose cheffing. Cheffing chose him.

"Check on."

"Oui, chef."

The first thing you notice in Burt's kitchen – in any kitchen – is the heat. Outside, his customers are drinking sundowners, sipping on chilled prosecco.

In the kitchen it's Dante's inferno. And Burt's doing himself no favours by wearing a thick leather apron: Canada's finest. It cost the price of a half-decent laptop.

And while it may not be strictly necessary it makes him look cool, which is everything in today's Instagram-uploading, Twitter-messaging, Facebook-sharing world of multi-media gastronomy. Burt's not just cooking for tonight's customers. He's got appearances to keep up, even when he's in the thick of it.

The kitchen is immaculate. On a metal shelf above an ingredient store are scores of jars beneath a sign that reads Department of Fermentation, with pickled radishes – actually, pickled everything – oil infusions and jars of ingredients that nobody would have previously eaten – because Burt's made things up for the very first time.

The dishes are flying through the door. Oisin venison, from the Finnebrogue estate, in Northern Ireland thrills Table Six. "People give us stick because the venison's not from our doorstep," says Burt. "But it's the best venison in the world. Flavour's our currency." And tonight, they're coining it in.

At the back of the kitchen, Blink-182 is cranking it up as Burt creates plates that are as pretty as a picture.

The customers love it. Their plates are cleaned, from the scallop with sobrasada, burnt cabbage, marmite and cheese crumbs to the calamansi cremeux with raspberry and 72 per cent luca chocolate.

Burt is Jackson Pollock; throwing flavours at the plate in a kaleidoscope of improbable flavours.

The evening winds down. It's been a hit.

Burt has kept the customers satisfied.

"They'll be back," says restaurant manager Kirstie Lewis.

By Andy Richardson

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