Since opening in late 2024, myriad rants have been inspired by The Yellow Bittern. Largely, these haven’t been about the food, but rather the pretentious-leaning lore around it. To wit; you can only book this lunchtime-only bistro by phone (or a giddily anachronistic postcard), it’s expensive but cash-only, and proudly displays two portraits of Lenin. The food itself has been painted as a sort of spartan, St John-ish take on meat pies, luxe gruel and many, many stews.
I have never felt more like George Orwell seeking sustenance after a morning’s grind at the typewriter
Now that the dust has settled on The Most Controversial New Restaurant in London™, it seemed time to finally check out this contentious font of day drinking, stodge and socialism. A 2pm booking on a Friday is secured (it is only open on weekdays and seatings are at 12pm or 2pm) and we step off the chaotic King’s Cross end of the Cally Road into a room that’s somewhere between a French village luncheonette and an interwar Lyons teashop. There are brown tiled floors, chunky wooden dressers, vases of floppy astrantias, and the interior are walls painted primrose yellow, which gives the impression that the decorator was simply decades-worth of cigarette huffing. Oh, and don’t forget the communist bookshop in the basement. I have never felt more like George Orwell seeking sustenance after a morning’s grind at the typewriter.
We start as we mean to go on (in 1934, essentially), with Belfastian chef Hugh Corcoran thwacking loudly away on some slab of meat or other in the teensy corner kitchen, while co-owner Frances Armstrong-Jones takes everyone’s orders from the blackboard menu. First comes a Beatrix Potter-esque order of sturdy wheaten bread, a brace of crisp radishes and platter of excitingly fresh asparagus. Butter comes with all three, in various states of liquidation. For a main I opt for rabbit in mustard sauce, and am delivered an enjoyably sizable hunk of bunny in gleaming, amber sauce and a mountain of creamy, just about lumpy enough mash. This is simple comfort food done well and bountifully.
There’s also a handsome pot-au-feu doing the rounds, as well as an exemplary take on rustic roast chicken, and voluminous meatballs in tomato sauce (which are served, inexplicably, bobbing about without a side). Similarly, an Irish cheeseplate, delicious as it is, comes with nary a cracker. There’s a tear-off board of Scampi Fries hanging next to the kitchen, and we consider asking for a bag just so we have something to smear our honking St Tola onto. An ample rum baba, however, is appropriately boozy, drowning in a robust syrup best not taken within two metres of a lit flame.
Are there moments at The Yellow Bittern which feel a touch like being in an immersive production of Cold Comfort Farm? Certainly, but we’d do it all over again for a taste of that impeccable rabbit.
The vibe A wilfully quaint lunchtime bistro - complete with bookshop.
The food Old school Irish (and French) comfort food.
The booze House wine is a tenner a glass and roundly delicious. Bottled Guinness is another option.
Time Out tip Visit one of London’s best pubs, the community-owned King Charles I, after your lunch - it’s just around the corner and you’ll get there before the crowds. Also, if you need cash (who carries cash anymore!!!), there’s a Tesco just across the road with a free-to-use ATM.