If you were a visitor from Europe coming to London for the first time, you might eagerly ask where the epicentre of the capital is, and, more often than not, you’d be told that it was Soho. There are many good things about the nexus of the city, including many of the best restaurants in town, and, still, a feeling of raffishness and bohemianism, even if it’s been slowly receded by the onslaught of the corporate. But the eager European might ask one very pertinent question, and there is no satisfactory answer: “Where are the really good wine bars, where you can get a glass and a plate of something delicious?”
Well, we now have the answer to that in the form of Marjorie’s, a newly opened spot on the quiet side-street of Foubert’s Lane, just off Carnaby Street. Tucked away like a clandestine assignation, this chic bolthole exudes a louche charm, its interior, all high stools and open counters, whispering of late-night confidences and culinary conquests. The menu, a tightrope walk between audacity and refinement, is a love letter to the bold, the beautiful, and the faintly unhinged. One senses Marjorie herself – whoever she may be – would approve.
Proceedings begin with the chicken liver rocher, a dish that could seduce a vegetarian. This silken orb, cloaked in a glossy sheen, arrives like a Fabergé egg for the gastronomically inclined. Its richness, a velvet punch of umami, lingers long after the last bite, a testament to a kitchen that knows its way around a liver. Then it’s time the escargot with seaweed and pine nut cream – an eccentric ménage à trois that shouldn’t work but does. The snails, plump and earthy, waltz with the briny seaweed and a nutty cream that’s as luxurious as a cashmere throw. It’s a dish that dares you to dislike it, and you won’t.
The bavette with egg yolk is a carnivore’s delight. The steak, seared to a blushing medium-rare, is sliced with precision and crowned with a golden yolk that spills like liquid sunshine, melding with the meat’s robust juices. It’s rustic yet refined, a reminder that simplicity, executed with swagger, can be sublime. Dessert, a hot chocolate mousse, is pure hedonism – warm, molten, and indecently rich, it’s the kind of pudding that demands a cigarette afterward, even if you don’t smoke. And we order, nay demand, a cheeseboard afterwards, courtesy of the estimable La Fromagerie.
To drink, an opening Chapel Down gin martini is a crisp, botanical triumph, stirred with a precision that would make 007 nod approvingly. The wine list, meanwhile, is a treasure trove: a white Burgundy by the glass, all buttery elegance and stone-fruit whispers, pairs exquisitely with the starters, while a St Emilion Bordeaux, robust and plummy, holds its own against the bavette and escargots. Service is attentive without being obsequious, the ambiance a heady mix of Parisian bolthole and good old-fashioned London speakeasy.
Marjorie’s is no mere restaurant; it’s a mood, a moment, a deliciously decadent escape. In Soho’s crowded firmament, it shines bright. Book now, and see what joys the Europeans can bring to this particular table.
Marjorie’s, 26 Foubert’s Place, London W1F 7PP. For more information, including the wine list, and for bookings, please visit www.marjorieslondon.co.uk.
