If there is such a thing as a foodie aristocracy, Jackson Boxer is a member of it. His grandmother, Arabella Boxer, wrote 12 books — including First Slice Your Cookbook — that left a permanent mark on British cooking. His father, Charlie Boxer, is the proprietor of Italo, a bustling deli on Bonnington Square. So it followed that Jackson — and his brother Frank — took early to hospitality. Jackson reportedly wrote his first cookbook at the age of six, including a recipe for half a strawberry.

As an adult, he has more than lived up to this lofty billing. He is the chef-patron of a clutch of London’s best restaurants: the brilliant Brunswick House, lodged in a handsome antiques warehouse in Vauxhall. Orasay, an ode to his Scots heritage, which has become a beloved Notting Hill local. Most recently there has been a restaurant in Selfridges. Plus Henri, a bistro at the Henrietta Hotel in Covent Garden, and the relaunched Below Stone Nest, a joint venture with Frank. There is always something on the go, which is all the more impressive when you remember he has four young children.

Can you share a highlight and a lowlight of your career?

It’s extraordinary to think that only a few years ago we were in an extended forced closure, with no idea when we’d be allowed to reopen, nor any idea whether we’d still be wanted when we did. I suppose I’ve always had a nagging sense that what we do is rather frivolous. I still do, but I no longer feel negatively about that. Frivolity is wonderful. And seeing everyone come back after lockdown, take such pleasure in each other’s company, and eating and drinking nice things together, that was the greatest highlight, because it revived my sense of what was meaningful in cooking and how wonderful it was to be engaged in a task whose fundamental purpose is to spread joy.

What was the most influential cookbook on you?

Elizabeth David French’s Provincial Cooking. I read it when I was in my early teens, and sad and lonely, and it made me feel sure that adulthood would be fun and delicious in ways I couldn’t yet fully imagine.

And person?

My mum, in so many ways.

Something weird you secretly enjoy?

I’m always surprised that people don’t find my preference for eating mince pies with stilton completely intuitive, which it is. But they don’t.

Could you pair a wine with a fast food?

Fried chicken and white burgundy.

What’s an overrated trend?

All trends are overrated by definition, but I think minimalism is used to telegraph good taste, when often to me it just suggests a lack of any distinctive taste whatsoever.

Death row meal?

Chicken consommé. Nothing manages to be so soothing, soulful, ethereal, rich, lingering and heartfelt, while lacking in trite sentimentality. I might feel bad for the chicken, though.

Ideal dinner date and meal?

Charles Laughton as Henry VIII. I’d cook, he’d eat.

What’s your go-to dinner party dish?

I’d roast a chicken which is generally what I do if I’m ever blessed with the opportunity to entertain friends. Nothing requires less effort for such reward.

What’s the worst meal you’d ever made?

I’m not sure I’d admit to having made a bad meal. My children would disagree vociferously, but that’s because at a young age they’ve already figured out how to wound me deeply and irrevocably, and wield it against me without mercy.

Any tattoos?

No. I’m an all or nothing kind of guy and I didn’t fancy going all in on ink.

Can you recommend a restaurant I haven’t heard of?

My favourite restaurant in London is Planque, which no one seems to have heard of. Or maybe I’m just pronouncing it wrong. But it’s the best in town right now for me. No question.