
Meet the chef: Orson Vergnaud of Pétrus
The French chef talks early mornings, career sacrifices and what it takes to earn that Michelin star
Orson Vergnaud would be the first to admit that his career as a Michelin-starred chef was a happy accident. Fine dining was a concept so foreign to his upbringing in Paris and Toulouse, and his first jobs in cafes and deli counters, that his current role feels a world away from where he began. Something his proud mum, naturally, often likes to remind him of. Of course, not all accidents result in becoming head chef at Gordon Ramsay’s Michelin-starred Belgravia restaurant Pétrus – and Vergnaud is well aware of that fact.
Spending his adolescent years in Toulouse – “I don’t really like Paris, and Toulouse is close to Spain, so it is hotter and there’s more to do” – Vergnaud was a keen sportsman and rarely cared about the food put in front of him. Living with his working-class parents – his dad often put in 20-hour days, while his mum did back-to-back shifts as a nurse – when I ask Vergnaud for his earliest food memory, fish fingers is the only meal that springs to mind. His appetite for a culinary career only sparked during a spout of strikes that closed the university where he was studying sport. Not relishing the idea of being idle, he landed a job as a pot-washer at a friend’s restaurant, which quickly turned into cheffing. And, thus, the foodie bug was caught.
We meet at Pétrus’ exclusive kitchen table, which quite literally overlooks the inner cogs of the restaurant – and it’s visibly clear this is where Vergnaud feels most at ease. Gearing up for a busy Friday evening service, our conversation is interspersed by shouts of “yes, chef” and the crash of pots and pans, Vergnaud looks raring to go. “It doesn’t feel like work,” he says in his thick French lilt.


He took the helm of Pétrus in January 2022, gliding into the role after stints at Jason Atherton’s Michelin-starred City Social, French favourite Le Pont de la Tour and a tenure at the Galvin brothers’ Spitalfields flagship, La Chappelle. It’s quite the CV, but Vergnaud interviewed for the job at Pétrus with a level-head. “In my head, it wasn’t real,” he admits. “You see Gordon on TV but meeting him was really cool.” After showcasing his savoir faire in the kitchen, he got the job.
Pétrus has been a Gordon Ramsay London flagship since opening in 1999 (a year after launching his renowned eponymous restaurant in Chelsea) and despite its many iterations – it was born on James’s Street, before moving to the Berkeley Hotel in 2003 to replace Pierre Koffman’s La Tante Clare, and then finding its current home on Kinnerton Street in 2010 – it has remained a stalwart on London’s fine dining scene. Proving it had both style (the dining room was designed by Russel Sage Studios) and substance, it cemented its Michelin star status in 2011 and has retained it ever since.
Inside, the restaurant has a gentle buzzing atmosphere. Kitted out with white tablecloths, prim and proper service and an astounding 1,200-strong wine cave, Pétrus isn’t as stuffy as you’d imagine a posh French restaurant to be – and that, in part, is thanks to Vergnaud. Upon taking the wheel, he wanted to ensure the restaurant catered not only to fine dining foodies, but also the neighbourhood's locals. As a result, Pétrus offers five main menus.
I sample snippets of both the Discover and Prestige menu, comprising six courses plus canapes of cod roe cigar with lemon puree and an amuse bouche of chicken liver parfait on toasted brioche with apricot. Highlights include a delectable tomato tart with basil and ponzu, Pétrus’ signature lobster ravioli with lime and fennel, and a Herdwick rack of lamb with peas and mint – all paired with carefully-sourced wines from across Europe for an experience that honours Vergnaud’s native cuisine with modern twists.
I was born in Paris and moved to Toulouse when I was 11, and then to the UK when I was 21 – I essentially did a third of my life in Paris, a third of my life in Toulouse and then a third of my life in London.
I grew up on fish fingers really but every Sunday for 15 years, we had crepes. Food wasn’t something that was important.
My friend’s mum owned a restaurant and I started to pot wash there, then I was asked to make some desserts and I never left. What I liked most about the kitchen was the atmosphere, it didn’t feel like work. I could never sit still at school and I like the physicality of being a chef.


In France, you could work 80 hours and no one would say anything. I liked the freedom of hospitality as a whole but didn’t feel like I was progressing in Toulouse. My dad is half-English, half-French so I moved to his sisters here and initially wanted to learn English because I wanted to travel, then I met my wife and never left.
When I moved to the UK, I worked at deli counters for about three months. I then moved to Canary Wharf with my father and got a job at the now-closed Plateau, which was one of the only French restaurants there at the time. My sous chef there was Jeremy Trehout who worked at Koffman’s for seven years. We bonded – we’re both French – and he taught me so much about food. Another sous chef was at Marco Pierre White for seven years, and together they made me realise an appreciation for fine dining.
When I was younger, fine dining was just for rich, bourgeois people, which was the opposite of how I grew up, so I never saw it as a career. Then I had my daughter, and I always said once she was born I would go to a Michelin star. The day she was born I left my job and started at Jason Atherton’s City Social, before becoming head chef at Le Pont de la Tour and then went back as head chef at City Social. It was the hardest year of my life; I would leave my house at 5am and get home at 1.30am with a three-week-old baby. It was crazy, but it was my best 18 months at City Social. I learnt so much and it opened doors into the industry.
I like my menus to be balanced but a lot of restaurants put quantity over quality. I hated hearing that people would still be hungry at the end of a fine dining meal, so I want it to be filling. I take traditional French dishes and bring them into a new generation. It doesn’t mean I’m making something better than French chefs 60 years ago but I’m taking a more modern approach.


Lobster ravioli. Not so much because of the flavour but because of the technique. As the kitchen is downstairs, we have to think about how it will look once it’s upstairs in the dining room. The ravioli has a jelly top which you melt with the sauce, but if it takes too long to go upstairs it doesn’t work because it’s already melted. I’ve managed to find a technique that works so it looks beautiful. If I don’t like something I won’t put it on the menu.
For me, it just feels like normal life but you have to understand if that’s really what you want, because it’s a lot of work and sacrifice. You have to accept the lifestyle; it’s not a normal job working a 9-5. But it’s also about the reward: having people say the food is nice or younger chefs looking up to you.


Alex Dilling. I love his intricacy and skills. He’s probably the only person where I look at his food and question how he’s doing it.
Out of all the places I’ve worked, this has been a massive change for me where I feel trusted. I don’t like being micro-managed and I’m definitely not here. I’m trusted to put things on the menus that people will enjoy.
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