In the windswept landscapes of Snowdonia, nestled between the Dyfi Estuary and the folds of wild Welsh forest, where you’d expect to find the bucolic Hobbiton, there’s a house party going on, one that pulses with loud music, fire, and wild culinary ambition. You can call it a restaurant, however this is Ynyshir, a band of renegades in the world of fine dining who play by their own rules and question everything: if you think you know what a two Michelin-starred restaurant is, think again.
Led by chef-owner Gareth Ward, Ynyshir is part restaurant, part culinary rave, and part family-run fever dream. Here the plates come fast, the DJ spins louder, and the sometimes predictable structure of haute cuisine disappears into something looser, louder, more alive.
Twenty diners. Four nights a week. One menu. No exceptions for vegans, vegetarians, gluten- or lactose-free diners. What you get is what Gareth wants to eat – and he wants it bold. Layers of umami. Fat tuna. Flame roasted duck. Raw fish, spicy curries, aged beef. The menu is ingredient-driven, globally sourced, cooked with fire, seasoned with Japanese techniques, and it barrels through thirty or more courses in a 4-5 hour arc that gets higher and higher like a house party.
Gareth didn’t set out to be a chef, he left school at sixteen with no clear direction and it was his uncle who suggested he try cooking. What began in a pub kitchen became a voyage of discovery through classic techniques, modern Spanish methods and a formative chapter at Sat Bains restaurant. There he was part of the team that won two Michelin stars and learned to question why dishes are made the way they are, who wrote the rules, and what happens when you break them.
In Ynyshir, this questioning never stops. Nothing is done simply because it should be. Everything is questioned: Why? How? What if? This spirit defines not only the kitchen, but the entire operation. There are no service uniforms. There are no wine pairings as we know them. Gareth and his team, whom he loves and cherishes most, write their own rules.
In 2014, the restaurant was awarded its first Michelin star. In 2022, its second, making it the first and only two-starred restaurant in Wales. The Best Chef Awards awarded Gareth three knives. The Good Food Guide named him Chef of the Year. And Ynyshir was voted Best Restaurant in the UK in both 2022 and 2023. Would Ward care about the accolades? Well, he wouldn’t change a thing if he lost them, but he sees them as confirmation that Ynyshir is of interest to others, that this is not just gastronomic madness.
Ynyshir is a culinary house party. There’s loud music. There could be dancing. A mirror ball reflects the flames from the open kitchen. The vibe is energetic, emotional, and deeply personal. It’s a place where the food and the music come together to create something that in no way feels like a classic Michelin restaurant. Not everyone would like to eat while banging their heads, but Gareth and his team couldn’t care less, they are not a public service.
Don’t ask for a wine list. Just talk to Rory about what kind of wine you like and how much you want to drink. Since there are no fixed pairings, Rory will match the wines to the guests’ tastes, not to the plates. He’s encyclopedic, intuitive and unfettered by formula, and his guests praise the freedom and surprise of the wine service.
The same goes for the music. Instead of a restaurant playing a Spotify playlist like many others, DJ Jacob Kelly will play a new custom set every night, but with a few exceptions: The Passenger by Iggy Pop and Small Town Boy by Bronski Beat. You can run away, turn away from Ynyshir, or just ride and ride.
Gareth cooks every night while Amelia Eiríksson, his partner, looks after the soul of the place. The team is tight and many have been there for over a decade. And while the atmosphere is familiar, it’s also fiercely professional. Ynyshir may seem anarchic, but you don’t get two Michelin stars by messing around. Behind every track spun by Jacob and every fire-touched plate, there is a team executing with military focus. And it is in this tension between freedom and discipline that his magic lives.
The food isn’t local for the sake of it. Welsh lamb, yes. But also bluefin tuna from Spain, hamachi from Japan, spices from Southeast Asia. As Gareth says: “Local is only good if it’s good”. It’s a philosophy rooted in honesty, not in this overwhelming trend that asks fine dining restaurants to save the world. Ynyshir may save it, but by dancing.
Much of the food reflects Gareth’s desires. Thai flavors, fatty textures, dishes you eat with your hands. Curries that explode with heat and brightness. Tuna tartare layered with fat, acid, salt. Each dish is a love letter to the food Gareth wants to eat.
So the menu is not a greatest hits list. It’s more like a remix album with shifting textures, bass drops of fat and funk, and recurring hooks. Fuentes bluefin tuna? You’ll taste it in three stages. First, with Japanese A5 sirloin, ginger, and wasabi, deep and direct. Then as an unrolled hand roll, rich with Périgord truffles.
Later still, spun into a cold, creamy trio of first-press Picual olive oil from Andalusia, jalapeño and yoghurt. Carlingford oysters appear with caviar in a scallop sauce so intense it almost becomes a broth. Atlantic black cod is served with smoked Iberico fat melted into miso, then with parsley butter that flows like velvet. And then comes the duck: lacquered Silverhill from Ireland, its skin a sticky, smoky coat over meat that falls apart with nothing but gravity.
The menu changes with the seasons, of course. Some ingredients, like Japanese hamachi, Dyfi lobster, or Atlantic black cod, return because they speak Ynyshir’s language. Others, like French pigeon or Tomlinson’s rhubarb, appear when they’re ready to say something new.
At this point, it should be clear that there’s no dogma here, Neither when it comes to desserts. This is not the place for a quenelle and a sugar tuile. Instead, you get Ynyshir birch banana with N25 Kaluga caviar, a sticky-savory-sweet implosion. Or STP (Sticky Toffee Pudding) reimagined with Medjool dates, still dangerous. Or Seville orange kakigori, shaved to a whisper and laced with 64% Manjari chocolate.
This is not a menu for the faint hearted and there is not a slow crescendo. It’s all a crescendo of around 30 bold flavored tunes. And as Small Town Boy fades out and the fire cools, you realize what Ynyshir really is: not a restaurant, not a temple. It’s a two Michelin-starred house party. And you were lucky to be there.
Ynyshir
Eglwys Fach, Machynlleth, SY20 8TA
www.ynyshir.co.uk
