London restaurant reviews

The plaster bust of L’Escargot founder Georges Gaudin jauntily riding a snail twice his size has sat above the entrance to London’s oldest French restaurant for decades. With an outrageously moustachioed Gaudin coming on like a red-blazered multiman combo of Tom Selleck, Salvador Dali and Freddie Mercury, the kitsch effigy is to London food lore what Nelson, coyly perched atop his column in nearby Trafalgar Square, is to bumbling tourists. That this remains after the restaurant’s brief and mysterious closure at the top end of 2023 is sweet relief (though a new green exterior paintjob is less welcome). In fact, L’Escargot – which has been at its current location since 1927, after first opening down the road in 1896 – seems to be going nowhere. There have been bankruptcies, new owners, a move from serving homely French fare in the 1960s to catering for a glammy media crowd in the 1980s, a Marco Pierre White era and threats of eviction, but L’Escargot remains. It was, and still is, all about the snails. It’s named in their honour, as the first place in the UK to serve them and at one point there was even a snail farm in the basement. These days they are sourced more ethically from a guy called The Snail Man who runs an organic snail farm in Herefordshire.  The snails were perfect; springy commas of coal black flesh and drenched in a lurid garlic and parsley butter, a kind of psychedelic liquid gold Les escargots ‘maison’ are a half dozen for £18, or a dozen for £36 if you’re tr

The Savoy Grill heaves with so much history that you might as well be eating your dinner inside a three part BBC documentary. The legendary central London hotel’s grand, but far from excessively capacious, ground floor dining room is where at various moments throughout the 20th century, you’d find 1) Charlie Chaplin at his regular window-adjacent seat, 2) Noel Coward and Ivor Novello holding court in the middle of the room and 3) Maria Callas going about her affair with the fabulously wealthy Aristotle Onassis in plain view of other diners. Tres chic!  The very essence of immutable, star-studded decadence. Other guests include, but are not limited to, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe and Liz Taylor. So many Hollywood greats have sliced into some steak at the Savoy Grill that it is to London what Musso & Frank is to Los Angeles, and what Sardi’s is to New York; the very essence of immutable, star-studded decadence. And while silver screen sirens are now far more likely to be found in the likes of Hakkasan, Nobu or Chiltern Firehouse, the Savoy Grill will never go out of style.  A revamp in the first half of 2023 saw the Grill closed for a number of months, and rather than bringing in an Instagram-friendly millennial redesign, the refresh has seen it slink further into its iconic status. It’s now so extremely low-lit that it’s hard to make out what’s on the menu – and even harder to take a decent snap for social media – but in an age where some restaurants seemingly put more effort

Lots of spots in Fitzrovia are posh, but Berners Tavern is something special; you sit in booths across its huge, dimly-lit dining room, surrounded by chandeliers. Spectacular art hangings cover every inch of the walls. Couples sit clutching hands in cubby holes, swanky business dinners gather in groups of six, and a few lone eaters settle in for three courses and a bottle of wine. Groups of trendy 30-somethings drink cocktails at the bar. It’s posh but not stuffy; the staff are a laugh and the playlist was banging. Let’s get one thing out of the way here first. Berners Tavern is expensive. Eye-wateringly so. Starters are around £17 and you won’t get much for less than £30 when it comes to mains. But there’s a man who brings Champagne around on a trolley, and the fancy little toasts you get with your starters are like thin and crispy spiderwebs. And you can dress fancy. It’s a proper experience. They also serve mac and cheese as a starter and a main. A win in my book. It’s posh but not stuffy; the staff are a laugh and the playlist was banging. We started with a glass of Nyetimber cuvée, the sparkling English wine. It was great; light and a little sweet, but that’s the least you’d expect from a £23 glass, which isn’t too far off what a whole bottle of the stuff costs in Waitrose.  First was scallop crudo, accompanied by a load of equally posh ingredients (citrus granita, poached rhubarb, apple and a jalapeno emulsion), served in an open shell. It was very pretty, and as part

Do you go to church? The Parakeet in Kentish Town wants you to. Stepping inside this new pub-slash-restaurant, you’re met with a hallowed sight of stained glass windows, saintly portraits and the heavenly smell of meat and fish being cooked over an open fire. Here the kitchen is the altar, and the guests, on dark wooden pew-like seating, wait eagerly for their communion.  I don’t mean to be hyperbolic; visiting the Parakeet wasn’t quite a religious experience, but it was pretty close. Billing itself as a gastropub (it’s was formerly 1860s freehouse The Oxford Tavern), ostensibly, the Parakeet is still a ‘pub’ and there is a separate space just for drinking, but chic interiors and a sophisticated cocktail offering suggest more of a restaurant inside a pub’s casing. There are no sticky beer mats or packets of Scampi Fries here.  I wouldn’t be surprised if The Parakeet becomes one of London’s foodie big hitters.  On a Thursday night in May, the place was packed. The host was turning away disappointed guests from the dining room, and instead ushering them to the (equally vibey) bar. There’s a reason why this new joint is so popular: in the kitchen are Brat alumni Ben Allen as head chef and sous chef Ed Jennings. Similar to Brat, Allen and Jennings’ food sits in the wheelhouse of modern British and European-inspired sharing plates. If you’re suffering from small plate fatigue, don’t be discouraged, because The Parakeet didn’t come to play. The eats here shouldn't be taken lightly

As London dining rooms go, there are few as thigh-slappingly spectacular as the newly reopened Midland Grand. Unless, of course, you count the equally lavish and also recently revamped Booking Office 1869, which you can find just down the corridor in the St Pancras Renaissance. This historic hotel does imposing glamour extremely well. If high ceilings are your kink, then this sumptuous space – which housed Marcus Wareing’s The Gilbert Scott for a decade until its post covid kibosh – will have you in filthy raptures.  Thanks to the imposing building’s Grade I-listed status, the imposing room has stayed largely the same as it was when it was built almost 150 years ago; just a few new Art Deco-esque lamps here and some velvety furnishings there, but with vast, creamy ceilings looming above. As such, the energy remains akin to Poirot On a Big Night Out, but there are touches of classic New York here too, like we might have discovered a secret room at the bottom of the Chrysler Building, and Dorothy Parker is going to start flinging table scraps at us. The menu of strutting French food from chef Patrick Powell – who is also in charge of the kitchen at the slightly more far flung Allegra in Stratford – is a fittingly opulent match.  It would be remiss to start an evening here anywhere but the restaurant’s adjoining Gothic Bar, which is less Sisters of Mercy (though those ceilings would certainly accommodate a gigantic backcombed 1980s bouffant) and more Florence and the Machine’s w

You can sum up the ethos of Carlotta and the whole of Big Mamma Group – the gaggle of visually decadent Italian eateries to which this new Marylebone den is the latest – by the statue that sits cheekily in the centre of its toilets. The piece de resistance in a circular, floor-to-ceiling mirrored room that’s more Studio 54 than manky cubicle, all bathroom selfies (of which there will inevitably be many) are presided over by the Virgin Mary with a ring light for a halo. Where tradition and overt, unashamed Instagrammability meet: this is the Big Mamma way. Carlotta marks the fifth eatery in the group’s rapidly-expanding London portfolio following Jacuzzi just four months ago and, this time around, the MO was to create something more intimate. In very literal terms, it succeeds; where Jacuzzi is spread over four rambling floors, Carlotta is contained modestly to one, which is where the modesty ends. From the framed vintage Italian boxing shorts, to the draped gold fabric that gives the impression of eating dinner inside Aladdin’s lamp, Carlotta is still a thoroughly more-is-more type of venue.  All bathroom selfies (of which there will inevitably be many) are presided over by the Virgin Mary with a ring light for a halo.  With a pleasingly chintzy soundtrack and exceedingly friendly staff, this is the sort of place where you’re meant to have fun. This time around there’s no pizza, and so the menu is split into antipasti, primi (pasta) and secondi. In keeping with the slightly

Head cheese. What do those two words conjure up for you? Cheese that’s so complex only connoisseurs will really enjoy it? The rare Eurovision entries that err on the subtle and sophisticated? Motherese for ‘bogies’?  As a relative newcomer to the meat landscape, I had no clue. Fortunately, at The Counter, a Turkish grill restaurant near Portobello Road, they spell it out for you. Brain. Tongues. Plus salad and spices. I simply had to try it. If you search for pictures of head cheese (aka brawn), what you see isn’t very appealing. Meat terrines set in aspic, straight out of a 1960s cupboard. The Turkish version is much fresher, though no less intimidating if you’re only an occasional carnivore. You can make out the curves of the tongue. By deduction, you can work out which bits are brain. It’s basically a bowl of brown mush (costing £12), so there’s no getting away from what you’re eating. But with the added distraction of the za’atar-y flatbread, it is really rather moreish. And you get quite the thrill out of chowing down something so objectively grisly in such a refined setting. This is essentially Notting Hill remember, so as much thought has gone into the crockery and furniture and general vibes as the food. You get quite the thrill out of chowing down something so objectively grisly in such a refined setting. It’s easily the most interesting thing on the menu. But the rest – posh dips, healthy salads, incredibly tasty grilled meat – is largely good, if unrevolutionary,

Please note: This is a January 2020 review of Arcade Food Theatre. The venue has since reopened as Arcade Food Hall under new management and with a different roster of vendors.  At this ‘food theatre’ (read: fancy food court), there are a total of seven mini-kitchens plying their wares. Most are at street level (currently: tacos, posh kebabs, steak, fusion sushi, piri piri chicken, and pasta), but if you head up to the small but swish mezzanine lounge, you’ll also find katsu sando sarnies for sale. Don’t go expecting a cheap lunch though: most of the signature dishes hover around the £12 mark, and that’s before drinks. And while this might be what you’d expect to pay in a restaurant, the truth is, eating here isn’t like eating in a restaurant. With its double-height ceilings, glass sides and various hard surfaces, the space feels a little like an airport departure lounge. Albeit one with slick mid-century furnishings and funky tunes (though these are somewhat drowned out by the general clatter). The food itself is mixed. Of the current vendors, our favourite was Casita do Frango (go with a pal and order the £10 piri piri chicken and a bowl of the African rice: it’s only £6 but a meal in itself, not to mention utterly delicious). Least impressive? Chotto, where everything we ate was clumsily made. Final tip? Take your own tupperware: at the time of reviewing, we were told that we couldn’t get any of the food – except for pastries from the coffee stand – ‘to go’. But who’s to s

Small plates and Euro-centric natural wine bars have dominated the trendy neighbourhood restaurant scene from Hackney to Brixton for the past decade. They used to boast innovation but we’ve reached a point where the giddy excitement of splitting halloumi fries and calamari with your mates has started to wear off. What makes Ploussard different is that it offers the expected Clapham and Battersea vibes while still being surprisingly good value when you compare it to the punchier prices currently plaguing London. Ploussard’s founders are also behind Battersea and Brixton’s Other Side Fried, who specialise in ‘dirty’ chicken burgers. It’s something of a pleasant surprise, then, to see them behind these elegant, Parisian-inspired dishes. Under chef Matt Harris, the team offers a weekly-changing, seasonal selection in a 34-seater spot which encapsulates everything that makes Battersea Rise so… well, so like Clapham. You’ve got neutral coffee-coloured walls (after all, their target millennial market is most at home in independent coffee shops), warm lighting from fancy fixtures, numerous trailing plants, and an open kitchen which spills out into a bustling, sociable dining area. Taking a seat at the counter, we started with savoury eclairs stuffed with creamy, saucy Lincolnshire poacher cheese. The pastries weren't life-changing, (as some cheese dishes are), but with a mustard mayo piped on top, they were perfect for munching on while looking over the rest of the menu.   Part of th

When you walk into chef-owner Andy Beynon’s east London restaurant Behind, you are confronted by a sweeping, horseshoe-shaped table. It is around this imposing structure – somewhere between Judy Chicago’s gigantic 1970s artwork The Dinner Party and the dining area in a Scandi tech billionaire’s house – that the 18 punters are seated at every service. It’s an assured type of set-up for an assured type of place.  Awarded a Michelin star in 2020 after being open for only 20 days (a tantalising bit of lore that most chefs would kill for), Behind is a seafood-focussed, chef’s table restaurant in London Fields. The restaurant itself, however, refuses any expectations you might have of its E8 postcode – there’s no exposed pipework or menu with a jolly logo and cursive font (not, to quote Seinfeld, that there’s anything wrong with that particular brand of millennial ambience, but it’s also refreshing to see it bucked). Instead, Behind deals squarely in fine dining, done with a personal, laid-back air.  The main event is an eight course tasting menu for £98 – with an accompanying £84 wine flight if you’re feeling freaky – though six courses are also available at lunch for a more reasonable £54. Before service began at our Wednesday evening sitting, Beynon sauntered around pouring wine and chatting with each party, as though we were at his house.  There was a fish pie croquette that looked like The Arm from Twin Peaks: The Return The menu changes seasonally, so during our early May vi