Chantelle Nicholson: ‘Sustainability has lost its meaning – it’s time to regenerate’

Chef Chantelle Nicholson has made big changes to traditional practices at her restaurant to drive the sustainability conversation forwards. Now it’s time to give the movement a more fitting name, she tells Emma Henderson

Nicholson’s new restaurant, Apricity, opened in April and champions low waste (Lisa Tse/Stefan Jansen Birch/iStock)

Sustainability actually means to ‘sustain’ and we can’t really afford to just ‘sustain things’, we need to improve them”, chef Chantelle Nicholson tells me. It sounds like it should be simple: the word “sustain” is right there in black and white, after all, it’s not hiding. Yet, the actual meaning of this word, which now feels so deeply rooted in our daily lexicon, is obscured.

The word no longer describes the movement it was supposed to represent, nor does it feel like it’s working towards its goal: helping to end the climate crisis. It’s become tainted, no more than a buzzword. Greenwashing – where companies over-inflate their eco credentials to appear more environmentally friendly – has rendered it close to meaningless.

Instead, Nicolson is moving the conversation forward by focusing on regeneration, or regen as it’s often shortened to. “For me, sustainability is functional, but regenerative is more emotive,” she says. Bringing emotions into it is indeed a much more holistic approach to the issue, rather than simply box-ticking. “Regen is about how people feel. We regenerate our bodies, like cell regeneration at a granular level.” Nicholson’s eloquent yet simple phrasing perfectly describes how to take back ownership from greenwashing.

You might say that the word “regenerative” already has the same fate as its predecessor. Regenerative farming is a hot topic that’s really grown legs over the past few years, but at its core the word means to regenerate something. It means improving, not just maintaining, while sustaining is equal input and output.

Nicholson began changing her own thinking and way of working while planning her new restaurant, Apricity, which opened in April earlier this year. It follows her previous restuarant, Treadwells, which closed last September after seven years. The ethos at Apricity is “low waste”, which doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not by over-promising zero waste. Nicholson is down to earth, but realistic about her ambition, too. It’s refreshing. Although many people want to do something big and meaningful, it can often be idealistic and, ultimately, unachievable.

“I had the concept for Apricity in mind for quite some time, and decided on the name in February 2021.” Apricity comes from Latin, where it means the warmth of the sun in winter, which Nicholson says is “incredibly rejuvenating and gives joy”. It’s also slightly more engaging for a restaurant name than anything related to “regen” could be.

Nicholson builds her menu around the produce her suppliers have in surplus (Stefan Jansen Birch)

The new restaurant is far more than just a gimmicky concept, though. Nicholson has turned standard restaurant practices on their heads; for example, the suppliers dictate almost the entire menu. Instead of ringing suppliers with a specific order, Nicholson asks them what’s in surplus. Whatever that is, she’ll take it and work her menu around it. It may seem counterintuitive, but it saves that food from ultimately being wasted.

Other suppliers are also pushing boundaries, such as Merit Mushrooms, who shun the traditional growing medium peat. Some producers use an estimated 100,000 m3 of peat a year – this can damage peatland ecosystems and contribute to climate change. “Peat is an amazing absorber of carbon, and if we’re removing it then we’re removing a way of carbon being absorbed,” says Nicholson.

Peat is an amazing absorber of carbon. If we remove it to grow mushrooms, then we’re removing a way of carbon being absorbed

As well as looking externally, Nicholson has taken big steps when it comes to the internal running of the business. You might think including service charge on menu price has nothing to do with sustainability or regeneration, but actually, it does.

“I see it as regenerating our industry and the people who work here,” says Nicholson. The whole notion of service charge has always sat uncomfortable with the chef, as she doesn’t like the idea of someone outside the business dictating what a staff member earns. “When people were furloughed, our industry got a lot less than other people, as service charge wasn’t included. I wanted to eradicate that, and give a more reliable offer.”

Although it costs the business more – as VAT has to be paid on the extra money – this sytem is more beneficial to staff finances, instead of using the tronc method. Tronc is where service charge is added on at the end of the bill and goes into a big pot, which is sometimes used to top up staff’s base salary instead of them earning a proper wage. She also made the decision not to open seven days a week, which in this “always open and available” time is a bold move, yet one that more businesses should follow to allow staff to, well, properly regenerate. It doesn’t sound groundbreaking, but in an industry infamous for long hours, split shifts and often working six or seven days a week, it is.

Encoporating the service charge into menu prices means staff aren’t reliant on basic wages (Ben Carpenter )

Aside from the staff, Nicholson finds it’s packaging where it’s hardest to reduce waste. “We work really hard to find companies who are not using plastic packaging: milk comes in a pail and they refill and take back and cream comes in glass. But it’s hard when it comes to yoghurt and creme fraiche, as you can’t really refill those tubs.”

Of course, nothing is perfect; not all of the food used in the restaurant is local. That would be the ideal but it isn’t always achievable. Nicholson’s team is always evolving and trying new things. “It’s a balancing act”, she says. “We’re currently making miso from onion skins, bones only go in the bin once they’ve been through two rounds of broth, oyster shells are used in a vermouth and broad bean pods are smoked and used to infuse an oil.” In short, she says, the team tries to think of a way to use everything.

Going even further than food, menus are not printed. Not only does this save paper and printing costs (including ink and the machine), as well as faff, but menus change so frequently – even sometimes during service – that it makes physical menus redundant. Instead, QR codes are used, which doesn’t always go down well with customers, but once you understand the modus operandi, it makes total sense.

We’re making miso from onion skins, oyster shells are used in a vermouth and broad bean pods are smoked and used to infuse an oil

Of course, there’s no hiding from the terrifying rise in energy costs either, which are due to increase again next month and in January. “Lots of professional kitchens come in at the start of the day and turn everything on.” Instead, Nicholson’s team only turns on what they need, open windows instead of having the extractor on all day (unless it’s very hot as staff comfort is important, too). They also move everything into one fridge and turn the other off to save energy. IPads used in the restaurant aren’t left charging overnight, nor are the little rechargeable table candles which replace single use tea-lights. “It’s about noticing and observing, and then acting on that,” she says.

Almost everything goes on behind the scenes, but perhaps the most visible element of Nicholson’s efforts is Apricity’s staff uniforms, which are made by Gung Ho. The brand designs them to not only not waste material, but they’re size adjustable too, prolonging their lifetime.

Far from being preachy, Nicholson is calm, collected and inspirational. Her ethos on how to move the conversation and, more importantly, the actions within the sustainability realm are something to champion. “The laughable thing is that none of these things are new,” Nicholson says. But still, it’s refreshing to be reminded of how important regeneration actually is.