Pascal Wyse visits Hix Oyster & Chop House, London EC1
It takes a certain confidence to put close-up photographs of two arseholes - so zoomed in that they resemble pinched tea towel holders - on the toilet doors of your restaurant. "Yes," says the barman, "but not as much confidence as the people in the photographs," pointing out that the photos are signed. As, in fact, is the top of the stairway down to the toilet, with a Tracey Emin neon tube glowing with the words "Fucking beautiful". It is reversed, though, so you have to view it in one of the restaurant's mirrors to get the full effect. Away from the art, Hix Oyster & Chop House is decked out with plain quality: wooden surfaces, clean tiling, copper pans and starched whites. But, like the bums and the Emin, Mark Hix's first eponymous restaurant is straight-talking, reflecting his passion for quality English fare treated with care but not fuss.
Hix Oyster & Chop House – Read the Guardian review in full >>
Tracey Macleod visits Thorpeness Brasserie And Emporium, Thorpeness, Suffolk
We all know what a seaside restaurant should look like. Scrubbed wooden tables, perhaps draped with a tasteful bit of Cath Kidston lighthouse-sprigged oilcloth; old photos of grizzled fishermen; some fishing nets, driftwood or other maritime detritus; a blackboard advertising the Catch of the Day (inevitably just sold out). So what the hell was the owner of the Thorpeness Brasserie on when he dreamed up his decorative scheme? Vintage copies of Picture Post provide the wallpaper for the main dining room, so that you walk in to the bosomy, black-and-white embrace of a thousand forgotten movie stars. The children's area is papered with old copies of The Dandy, while two smaller rooms at the back are lined with Private Eye covers from the 1980s, which not only looks unexpectedly brilliant but means that diners need never run short of conversation about Frances Pym or Zola Budd.
Thorpeness Brasserie And Emporium – Read the Independent review in full >>
Jay Rayner visits Giaconda Dining Room, London WC2
In the early Eighties, when I was 14, I embellished my hair with streaks of peroxide, and spent every penny I could scrape together on synthesisers. There was the Gnat, a tiny instrument with a heat sensitive keyboard that played to itself in warm rooms. There was the Juno-6, the DX21 and, most tragically of all, the SH101, which you slung over your shoulder and played as if it was a guitar. Which it wasn't. All of these were bought on Denmark Street, London's famed Tin Pan Alley, where music publishers clustered in shabby offices, and potential rock stars loitered, awaiting discovery. At number 9 Denmark Street was the Giaconda Cafe, where David Bowie found his musicians and the Clash drank tea in downtime from being awfully cross about a lot of things. But those days are gone and now naturally enough the site has been reinvented as a restaurant called the Giaconda Dining Room.
Giaconda Dining Room – Read the Observer review in full >>
AA Gill visits The Lawn, London SW6
I’ve left very little space for this week’s restaurant, because it’s Oliver Peyton, and I like Oliver, and it isn’t very good. Peyton’s restaurants are an almanac of life in London over the past couple of decades. They reflect his and my growing up, starting with the Atlantic Bar & Grill that is still the template for door-Nazi-chic clubs; then the beautifully designed and sophisticated sure-thing date-destination Coast; Mash, with its microbrewery; the brave but doomed Isola; and then the middle-aged restaurants in museums and galleries. The Lawn, the latest, is the cafe inside (and outside) Bishop’s Palace in Bishop’s Park, Fulham.
The Lawn - Read The Times review in full >>
Jan Moir visits Murano, London W1
Murano is discreet, opulent, quiet, lush. It is hushed, silvery, polished and plush. It has beautiful glassware and exquisite wall lamps with shimmering, nacreous drops. It is a proper little restaurant, of which there are surprisingly few in London. It wants to be generous, which is even rarer. Before the food you order arrives, you are given canapé bowls of crispy arancini, then a wooden platter covered with folds of sweet, rich ham; the slices as thin as silk.
Murano – Read the review in full >>