London will be full of celebrations this weekend as Pride takes over the West End and beyond. While parties and events are scheduled over the entire weekend, the main parade falls on Saturday, which also happens to be the 4th of July: the 250th anniversary of American independence.
With its roots in a 1621 harvest feast between the Wampanoag people and the Pilgrim settlers, America’s Independence Day is a celebration of family, friends and all things American.
One area where the USA may not have been considered a world leader is its food, which has a reputation similar to that of British cuisine about 30 years ago: brown, heavy on the meat and probably deep-fried.
Some of that is partly true, and possibly none the worse for it; few things come close to the satisfaction of a burger and fries, while the steakhouse is arguably America’s greatest gift to the restaurant world — though barbecue is catching up fast in the capital. The President himself is a fan of this kind of cooking; fast food is known to be his favourite, especially McDonald’s, KFC and Wendy’s. London is not short of these.
But there’s more than meat: US chefs have been creating a distinctively American-accented cuisine, not least in California where some of the finest wines in the world can be sampled in some of the best restaurants on the planet.
New-style American cooking has yet to make many inroads to London — The Park and ABC Kitchens are perhaps exceptions. So whether you’re a US expat or simply craving a burger post-parade, these are the best American restaurants in London.
The best American restaurants in London
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Jeremy King made his name with modern European in the Eighties and Nineties (Le Caprice, The Ivy) and Mitteleuropean in the Noughties (The Wolseley, The Delaunay) but the veteran restaurateur has crossed not only the park but the pond for his first west London venture. The Park is the sort of luxe American diner one might find in the more upscale neighbourhoods of Manhattan — King has spoken of Danny Meyer as an influence — but, while breakfast and brunch serve up enough pancakes and French toast washed down with refillable filter coffee to gladden the heart of any homesick Yankee, evenings take a more Cal-Ital approach with artichoke salad and grilled swordfish (though there are also hot dogs and lobster rolls). Wines, meanwhile, are exclusively Italian or American: not just California, but New York, Oregon and Washington State, too.
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America, as John F Kennedy said, is a nation of immigrants, and many of the most successful exponents of modern American cooking (Wolfgang Puck, Daniel Boulud, Daniel Humm) have only found fame after moving Stateside. Alsatian-born, Manhattan-based Jean-Georges Vongerichten is another and ABC is his love letter to the melting pot of US culture and cuisine. The Knightsbridge newcomer brings three of the chef’s New York restaurants (ABC Kitchen, ABCV and ABC Cocina) together for the first time, which means everything from quesadillas stuffed with asparagus and tacos filled with crispy Dover sole to kale salad and crackling fried chicken. The room looks as good as what’s on the plate, with leafy views over to Hyde Park and, inside, a series of Damien Hirst paintings and a wine cave enclosed in amber glass.
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Everything at Hard Rock might look as American as apple pie but to anyone whose only knowledge of the global burger chain is seeing souvenir T-shirts worn everywhere from Andorra to Ulaanbaatar, it may come as a surprise to learn that it all began here on Old Park Lane in 1971 (though the two founders, at least, were American). The burgers are nice enough, but rather surpassed by recent developments on the capital’s ever-evolving patty scene; better to go instead for the vastly portioned likes of crispy shrimp, boneless wings and a South West-style chicken salad (New Mexico, not Newlyn). It might not be the most sophisticated night out in town but the hardworking staff really put the effort in to make sure that customers have a nice day and first-time kids will think it’s the coolest thing ever.
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The first London restaurant to make the case that there was more to American cuisine than burgers and steaks, Christopher’s has been an elegant spot for a civilised supper in Covent Garden since 1991. Naturally, this being tourist central, the steaks and burgers are present and correct – USDA prime for the steak, wagyu for the burger and each a failsafe choice for speedy pre-theatre (The Lion King is opposite). But look also to Maryland crab cakes with tomato jam, blackened salmon with jambalaya risotto, and pecan pie with salted caramel ice cream. The ground-floor martini bar, meanwhile, has 15 variations on the world’s most famous cocktail, though nothing beats the holy trinity of gin, vodka and Vesper, and there are quality bar snacks to ensure imbibers make it out the door still standing. Weekend brunches of buttermilk fried chicken sandwiches and chocolate brioche French toast are another good shout.
Passyunk at Leake Street, Waterloo, central London
Matt Writtle
There are now four Passyunk Avenues in London (also at Waterloo, Battersea and Kensington) but the Fitzrovia original has the most charm, not least because it really does feel like the sort of sports dive bar one would find in the South Philadelphia ’hood the place is named after. Sophisticated modern Californian cuisine, this ain’t. Instead, expect Philly’s gift to the food world, the Philadelphia cheesesteak (a baguette-like hoagie roll filled with steak and melted cheese) as well as other gut-busting sandwiches such as pastrami Reuben, chicken club and meatball parm. The food is far better than the expected stomach lining for pints of Bud and shots of pickleback; the American football on TV, however, is probably more of an acquired taste, though the boisterously friendly crowd of US expats will make sure you know your running back from your wide receiver before the evening is out.
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The sort of restaurant one could imagine Sex and the City’s Mr Big pursing his lips over a glass of something silky from Napa if only he hadn’t expired on the Peloton, Cut is a shiny piece of Midtown gloss courtesy of Wolfgang Puck, a US-based celebrity chef as famous as the faces he serves at the annual post-Oscars Governors Ball. That combination of Hollywood endorsement and a location within the Dorchester-owned 45 Park Lane hotel should give an indication of the prices here but if money is no object then there’s some terrific cooking on offer, from the signature steaks presented for inspection swaddled in napkins as lovingly as a newborn to crab and lobster cocktail, lamb chops and baked Alaska. Save some time before or after (or both) for the excellent cocktails mixed upstairs in Bar 45. Elliott Grover, who oversees it all, is a talent.
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The wild south-west of Nine Elms might not seem the most natural place for a convivial New York-inspired oyster bar, until one realises that the American Embassy is the main local employer in this frontier land of London dining. Darby’s functions as the unofficial canteen for diplomats letting off steam after work or sinking half a dozen oysters at lunchtime and, as chef-owner Robin Gill hails from Dublin, he has a natural affinity for knowing the best way to serve a plate of crustacea, whether Gallagher Atlantic oysters or Devonshire crab, as well as pouring a perfect pint of Guinness. The mood might be cool East Village Irish bar but the menu is more transatlantic: ham hock and Gubeen croquettes; beef tartare with smoked bone marrow and Guinness soda bread; Cornish crab linguine with shrimp and salami XO sauce. Oyster happy hour (5-7pm Tue-Fri, 3-6pm Sat) and Sunday roasts of Aurox beef rump, slow-cooked lamb shoulder and suckling pig leg extend the appeal.
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Sunday in Brooklyn might sound like a J-Lo rom-com from the early noughties but the reality is rather more appealing, a high-ceilinged, light-filled room drenched with daylight through large windows and with a strip of alfresco tables under candy-striped awnings. The original Sunday in Brooklyn is a celebrated brunch spot in upwardly mobile Williamsburg; this London outpost in the capital’s original gentrified neighbourhood of Notting Hill is perfectly placed to feed the homesick American expats who have colonised W11, or indeed anyone in need of a dollop of have-a-nice-day comfort. Brunch is what the place is most famous for, whatever the day of the week — fried chicken sandwich; Caesar salad; pancakes with brown butter — while dinner tends to the more wholesome likes of herb-crusted chicken with broccolini or the many excellent vegetarian dishes such as charred carrots with jalapeno coconut yoghurt and maple and pistachio glaze.
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Perhaps only The Mousetrap has displayed more longevity as a fixture of the West End stage than Joe Allen, which transferred from Broadway in 1977 and has been entertaining luvvies ever since; how many theatregoers have opted to order another bottle here as showstoppers are belted out from the piano instead of risking sitting through something destined to join the posters of famous flops that line the brick walls of the cosy dining room? An off-menu cheeseburger that is the worst-kept secret in Theatreland is the best thing to order; other classics include slow-cooked barbecue pork belly like the juiciest rasher of bacon, hot-smoked salmon fishcake with a well-timed poached egg and pecan pie correctly tasting more of sugar than nut. It’s all about as ground-breaking as the latest Lloyd Webber, which is just the way Joe Allen’s audience likes it, with charming support from waiters who might turn out to be the next big thing.
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All steakhouses can lay a claim to being Stateside in origin — Brits have historically favoured chophouses — but Smith & Wollensky is as American as apple pie. The story goes that the original Manhattan restaurant was named in 1977 by picking two entries at random from the New York phone book; now there are eight US branches from Columbus to Chicago, Las Vegas to Miami Beach, like a classy chain of Hard Rock Cafés, even expanding to Taiwan. USDA prime beef is aged for 28 days on site and, with side orders of porcini cream sauce, a grilled half lobster, whipped potatoes and truffled mac and cheese, a main course here is a meal in itself; you may find yourself looking longingly at the children’s menu (and not only because at £12.50 it is virtually the cheapest thing here). Otherwise, prepare for your American Express to take a hammering and remember the most important lesson of eating in an American restaurant: there’s no shame in asking for a doggy bag to feast on leftovers the following day.
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Plaquemine is a town near the Louisiana state capital of Baton Rouge where Virginia Campbell, the grandmother of Jacob Kenedy, was born, and Plaquemine Lock is the chef’s homage to this side of his heritage (though he is better known for the regional Italian cooking of Bocca di Lupo in Soho). The “lock” part refers to the canalside location of this Cajun and Creole-inspired pub in Islington, where shrimp is boiled up with andouille sausage, fried in a po’boy sandwich or served in a gumbo with shrimp and chicken, oysters come au naturel, Rockefeller or grilled with chilli butter, and there are sides of cornbread, fried green tomato and chicken strips. Cocktails such as the Creole Bloody Mary are Louisiana-inspired but beers are British. Saturday afternoons are given over to a jazz brunch and Sundays to roast lunch.