Whichever way you slice it, infuse it, or sneak it into a broth, seaweed remains a divisive ingredient. But at Vraic - named after the Guernésiais word for seaweed - chef Nathan Davies is steadily shifting the tide. Formerly of Ynyshir, Davies has long championed foraging; primarily at his Michelin-starred Aberystwyth restaurant, SY23. That closed in 2023, stirring ripples of lamentation. Now, armed with 750+ seaweed varieties, and plenty of local and foraged produce, Guernsey is his new playground.
Settling in at a glassy, modern site on the island’s north shore, just metres from Chouet Bay, the comeback kicks off in Vraic’s small courtyard, sheltered from the beach, where guests gather around firepits sipping deliciously dirty kelp Martinis. Inside, the dining room strikes a cool Nordic note: unvarnished wood, more fur throws, and that monastic simplicity that signals taste, not frippery, is doing the heavy lifting.
One funky crab and hazelnut snack later, and the suspicion proves true. The same is true of a dainty lobster bun, flash-fried prawn toast style, and neatly matched with a dab of chilli. Hot and sour broth, layered with measured acidity delivers a whack of umami: truffly pepper dulse, soft sea lettuce, and crunchy bladderwrack blisters which release a naturally nutty gel. A slick dashi ketchup brings it together, while bright and peachy 2022 Riesling ‘Winkel’ pairing highlights each Asian inflection.
Elsewhere, lobster lifted from across the bay comes crowned with crisped sea lettuce and a subtle dusting of grassy plankton powder, amplifying the rich, sour, buttery harmony of an impeccable Sanbaizu sauce. Lamb offers a more primal counterpoint: thick ridges of delicious fat, rib meat collapsing from the bone, smoky with charcoal oil and cut with bright cherry.
Highlights pile up. A sharp buckthorn ‘lemon’ meringue arrives in a crisp pastry shell, capped with fluffy Italian meringue, gently singed. Sharp but indulgent, it’s a masterful segue to an expertly balanced strawberry finale: cultured Guernsey cream, juicy diced fruit, pickled elderflower, meringue batons - this too is stratospheric.
In his hands, seaweed confidently slips into the same luxury bracket as oysters and caviar. That said, to bill Vraic simply as a ‘seaweed restaurant’ is a criminal reduction. Davies wields kelp, dulse, and bladderwrack not to rock the boat, but as tools for intensity. Here we have a chef as confident with subtlety and nuance as he is with power and punch. Seaweed may be the headliner, but Vraic reaches far beyond.