Ever the discerning diner, Larry finds civility, charm, and a touch of old London savoir faire in the revived dining room at The Gore…
To borrow and adapt a well-known epithet, some restaurants are born great, some achieve greatness – and some have greatness thrust upon them. In the case of The Gore in Kensington, given the antics that have unfolded here in the name of food, not to mention the calibre of its clientele, one might argue its reputation for greatness somewhat precedes it.
This is, after all, a hotel that once hosted Elizabethan-style banquets in its Tapestry Room, and achieved rock ’n’ roll notoriety when the Rolling Stones chose it for the launch of Beggar’s Banquet – a celebration that famously descended into a food fight. Yet, in more recent years, it has languished in relative obscurity, serving mainly as a breakfast stop for guests and a convenient pre-theatre haunt for those heading to the Royal Albert Hall.
Now, however, things are stirring once more. A glass of West Sussex Blanc de Blancs in the library – beneath the steady gaze of an imposing Edward VII portrait – sets the tone for an evening marking the reopening of its restaurant and, with it, the return of 190 Queen’s Gate to the culinary map.
The hotel itself remains something of an anachronism. Recently acquired by the Italian-owned Starhotels Collezione, it was the owner’s express wish that The Gore should retain the idiosyncratic charm that has always defined it. In an age where minimalism reigns supreme, with its clean lines, pale woods and muted tones, stepping into The Gore is like stepping into a time capsule of Edwardian Britain.
The bar could be lifted straight from a Dickensian tableau – dark wood, soft light, and a curtained ‘Cinderella booth’ at the back, juxtaposed with portraits of Mick Jagger on the walls. Everywhere you look, there are period details and hand-picked objets d’art, many created for the hotel’s storied guests. Judy Garland’s bespoke bed, made for her stays while performing at the Albert Hall, still graces her eponymous suite.
The kitchen, too, has seen its share of notable names over the years. Anthony Worrall Thompson once manned the stoves, and after that quiet spell catering largely to the pre-theatre crowd, The Gore’s restaurant has been quietly reawakening under Executive Chef Frederick Forster. A former National Chef of the Year and Roux Scholar, with stints in Dubai and Paris, via Barbados, Forster’s mission is clear: “to put food back on the map at this quirky hotel.”
His new à la carte menu doesn’t seek to reinvent the wheel but to celebrate the essence of a grand British hotel – refined, seasonal, and executed with precision. To open, an Orkney scallop seared in citrus oil arrives with smoked sausage and a ginger emulsion: rich yet light, the black pudding of tradition replaced by something subtler, with a bright flicker of ginger to lift it.
Forster avoids the tiresome tropes of modern plating – no swipes, smears, or unnecessary purées – preferring to let the ingredients speak for themselves. This ethos shines in a braised leek and Wensleydale tart, paired with an apple compote that cuts through the cheese’s creaminess and a baby artichoke salad. “I like to cook what I like to eat,” he tells me. “I loved quiche as a child. This is a fun take on that.” It’s elegant, comforting, and gone in two mouthfuls – its only flaw being that it’s not larger. But then, one should always leave one’s audience wanting more.
And more there is: roasted seabass – “the most versatile fish,” Forster says – served with a saffron and fennel bouillabaisse sauce and a courgette flower stuffed with salmon mousse could compete with anything to wow Michelin. The main course of poached Norfolk Blackleg chicken, with an autumn truffle sauce and griddled baby gem, is equally assured. On paper, the menu might seem indulgent, yet Forster achieves that rare balance of making diners feel indulged without excess.
It’s the sort of food one imagines Dame Nellie Melba herself – another former guest, now immortalised in the library’s portrait gallery – would have adored. This is not the place for faddish dining or culinary theatrics, but for something altogether more civilised; refined, confident, and quietly nostalgic.
Dessert arrives in the form of a white chocolate mousse with fig compote – no Peach Melba here, I’m afraid, Dame Nellie – and, in a nod to those Elizabethan banquets of yore, a glass of chilled Loxwood mead, a delightful alternative to dessert wine. As the strains of violin and cello drift through the dining room, playing film scores with chamber elegance, I find myself overcome by a feeling of serene contentment.
190 Queen’s Gate embodies civility – a graceful nod to The Gore’s roots, its history, and its host of celebrated guests. Quintessentially British (as its wine list proudly is), and under Frederick Forster’s assured stewardship, it seems destined to achieve greatness once again.
190 Queen’s Gate at The Gore, Kensington, London SW7 5EX. For more information, and for bookings, please visit www.collezione.starhotels.com.
