The not-that-little sister of one of central London’s most important restaurant launches of the past few years, Dover Street Counter sits two doors down from its glossy sibling, The Dover. Just as elegant, but with a naughty glint in its eye, it’s almost enough to make Mayfair cool for the first time since the Beatles played on that roof.
McDonald’s for oligarchs
Unlike The Dover, Dover Street Counter is an all-day affair (and, equally, a great place to have an all-day affair). With a shorter menu and a more casual set-up, food is important here – of course it is – but this place is about much more than what you’re eating. It’s about vibes, and DSC has a surfeit of them. The experience starts before you get inside, with a sleek curved glass frontage, that’s all 1930s shopfront by way of a Parisian Fin de Siècle knocking shop. Push open the door to find a thick, floor-to-ceiling curtain, which not only keeps out both winter drafts and summer sunshine, but separates two worlds from each other: dreary, workaday real life from a glamorous, wonderland of martinis and controlled mayhem. The soundtrack is largely ‘90s hip-hop that it’s impossible not to like. They probably want you to think of it as a mere diner, but it’s so much more.
The first room of many is lined by a chrome counter dotted with domed rattan lights, seemingly pinched from the set of Emmanuelle. The kitchen is in full view, but there are a couple of small tables on the floor if watching someone flip cheeseburgers doesn’t do it for you. There are two more womb-y rooms at the back, which are more like The Dover 1:0, all dark wood and low lights, and perfect for gossip and dates, or gossip about dates.
The short, easy menu could be seen as one note, but is made up of things everyone wants; tuna melts, burgers, lobster, salmon steak, pasta, and a raft of juicy sandwiches. Experimentalism has been ousted in favour of the classics. We begin with a gin gibson martini, it’s not on the menu, but nothing is too much trouble for Dover Street Counter’s cool-as-cucumber staff. It’s as cold as classy as a silver coupe of tuna tartare, while ‘disco fries’, loaded chips drowning in pickled chilli and ginger, as well as mayo, and a tangy ‘disco jus’ are true to their name and as addictive as a primo Donna Summer heater.
The cheeseburger is so on point as to almost be a cartoon-like rendition of the all-American meal, the perky beef patty topped with luminous yellow cheese, pickles, ketchup and mustard. I had a hangover before I ate it, and after three bites, I did not. Surely the sign of a burger doing its job.
A spaghetti all’assassina isn’t exciting because of its low hum of chilli, but because of its occasional strands of crunchy, charred pasta. A side of tenderstem broccoli with crushed chilli and ginger vinaigrette made me feel as if I wasn't entirely subsisting on elite fast food.
I want to return. For the buttermilk fried chicken. For a French dip sandwich. For a chopped salad. For a massive lamb meat ball. For Dover Street Counter’s exquisite take on old school majesty, vintage hospitality and dolled-up diner favourites.
The vibe A debonair diner in Mayfair - not unlike a kind of McDonald’s for oligarchs.
The food Surprisingly well-priced classic fast food fare.
The drink Lots of great cocktails and solid wines by the glass and bottle.
Time Out tip Doors open at midday, get there for a solid lunch of a martini and tuna melt.