Ten years in, and the Chiltern Firehouse is still making headlines. This summer it celebrated its first decade with a bash that proved celebrity catnip: Sienna Miller, Ellie Goulding and Princess Beatrice all went, ditto Rachel Weisz, Sabrina Elba, Isla Fischer and Minnie Driver. Men seemingly were kept to a minimum, though James Blunt showed his face (behind his black-eye mask; masquerade was the party’s theme), as did Noel Gallagher (not adhering to said dress code). Fortunately, there were novelty fireman to redress the balance.
But it’s not just the stars popping in, either to party all night or discreetly knock back drinks. In Spring, Condé Nast named the Firehouse as one of the world’s top five restaurants. Feathers were duly ruffled.
“I’m sure those who don’t know food think it’s amazing,” one friend said. “But let’s be honest: it’s meh.”
Another was more cutting: “It’s painfully mid. If you want to have gritty oysters while drinking ludicrously expensive wine next to Love Island contestants from 2019, go there.”
Well, perhaps. As its birthday proved, the place can still pull the A-list and trying to get a dinner reservation at a reasonable time remains tricky — give it a go, and you’ll find it’s all booked out. So how does Chiltern Firehouse keep pulling it off? It courts the rich and famous. It’s far from the only place the celebs go, but unlike some others, it clearly doesn’t mind the cameras that camp outside.
Celebrity endorsement is the oldest trick in the book — Princess Diana practically made Chelsea’s La Famiglia and Kensington’s recently-closed Launceston Place — but it’s not the only one. In the era of #tablescapes and pasta served in a wine glass, there are countless places who aren’t content with being merely fashionable. In fact, they’re looking to go viral — which is no indication of whether they’re any good or not. Here are the five ways they do it, so next year you can avoid getting sucked into the hype (unless you want to be, of course).
1. The one encouraging you to show off
Jacob Heylen
These are the places where opulence is everything, and they’re designed to be shared far and wide as a sign of just how well you’re doing. We’re talking Bacchanalia, Sketch, Bob Bob Ricard. The kind of spot that has waiters in Roman togas or buttons saying “press for Champagne”. Excessive, maximalist, an assault on the senses.
Why does it work? These places appeal to the rich who aren’t afraid of being rich and like everyone else to know it: the real Housewives of W1, sheiks and heiresses, women called Natalya. And they’re filled to the brim with bits and pieces that simply demand to be photographed.
What to worry about: Sure, the décor has been lavished with attention — but what about the food? It’s clear the owners hired a first-rate designer, but were they so rigorous with the chef? Gold leaf might look good on a staircase, but it does it really belong on steak? (No. The answer is no). But Sexy Fish, Novikov and their ilk know that Natalya is really coming to pose up a storm with a glass of Veuve Clicquot, not for any of that eating nonsense. But you might want something heartier, and any restaurant where the food has been handled by a waiter wearing nothing but a russet cloth over his genitals is probably not the kind of place serving food for the soul. You want something faintly ludicrous? Go here. You want the meal of your life? Look elsewhere.
2. The one that’s seduced the slebs
Jacob Heylen
Celebrities are wooed by chic interiors and freebies galore. This is the kind of restaurant that will hire a publicist and community manager to wedge their way into the best-of lists; that will send their celebrity patrons flowers for their birthday and their best bottle of wine for Christmas. And so, lo-and-behold, when it comes to finding somewhere for dinner, where do these types go…? These are not the same as the places where the rich just go (the River Cafe, the Dover, C London), but the slightly dubious spots, usually in Mayfair. Lamborghinis outside is often a giveaway.
Why does it work? Many dream that stardust rubs off, or that a little good fortune might be left on the table for us to sweep up. When a restaurant’s appeared within the same column as Kate and Naomi’s countless times, that restaurant becomes a star in itself. We’re sheep, so we go too. I mean, fair’s fair, it’s a brag.
What to worry about: Clout doesn’t guarantee good times and, more pressingly, what’s free to those who can afford it is very expensive for everyone else. It’s influencer economics 101: they’ve got to charge you extra to compensate for the losses they make each time Molly-Mae Hague pops in for caviar. Proceed with caution — or a sugar daddy.
3. The one that’s been designed for Instagram
Jacob Heylen
Beautiful isn’t the same as lavish/opulent/exuberant (see entry one). Here, we’re talking quaint, we’re talking delicate and we’re talking delightful. Think Sessions Arts Club, Julie’s, and just about any Soho House or Big Mamma restaurant.
Why does it work? Who doesn’t love hypnotic videos of fettuccine Alfredo being tossed into a giant pan? Or spaghetti carbonara dumped into a hollowed-out parmesan wheel? Or a lonely courgette, swirled into a figure of eight on a bed of cod roe or labneh with chopped hazelnuts and a drizzle of chilli-infused olive oil and maybe some samphire, too? So #aesthetic. Your followers will love you — look, they can’t taste anything through the screen.
What to worry about: Those reconstructed prawns look stunning but they’ve likely spent five years in the freezer. And anywhere that advertises brunch on their weekends menus, in addition to the usual lunch and dinner services, should be viewed with extreme suspicion. I’m also circumspect about anywhere that calls itself a refined taverna, or indeed a refined anything. And similarly, of any restaurant group with more than 200,000 followers on the gram (@bigmammauk has 308k). This suggests a level of popularity incommensurate with the quality of the food being served. There’s no way 308,000 people have been to that restaurant, so don’t be fooled by the numbers. It’s basically grade inflation.
4. The ugly one with beautiful food
Jacob Heylen
In direct response to category three above is a new generation of restaurants — more likely to self-identify as eateries, diners or caffs in all areas but price. Think Half Cut Market in Kentish Town or Norman’s in Archway.
Why does it work? A restaurant is about food, is it not? And food is about taste. St John, arguably London’s best-loved restaurant, serves meals that few could call artfully presented, but taste utterly delicious. Sod #tablescapes, these restaurants think. Let’s make the food the main and only character: warm and comforting and tasty and fresh. The rub is that St John does all that and more, and it is by disavowing ‘and more’ that the restaurants this category have gone wrong. St John is still stylish.
What to worry about: Maybe the food only tastes warm and comforting and tasty and fresh because its surroundings are so deliberately insalubrious: “pared back”, “stripped down decor”, bare to the point of being barren. Similarly unkempt is the chef, almost definitely called Ed/Thomas/Hugo and almost definitely looking like he hasn’t slept or shaved in about five years. Service is secondary; loo seat inessential. Would suggest that you bring some hand sanitiser, and when you bite into your forkful, close your eyes and try to ignore the rat eyeing you and your shepherd’s pie from the corner of the natural wine rack.
5. The one that actually gets it right
Jacob Heylen
No tips or tricks to this one.
Why does it work: What makes a good restaurant? Look for hot waiters, a great chef whose name you recognise and freshly ironed white or slightly more crumpled red-and-white tablecloths. Make sure the menu is relatively short and sweet: a soup, two salads, something with beans and then onto meat, fish, sides and of course the pie. And chips. Any more than that, and you can be sure some of the items on the menu aren’t going to be executed properly.
How do you know it’s the real deal? In other words: how do you distinguish between middling but good-looking food and delicious good-looking food, when both appear the same? It’s tricky but here goes: you have to be a snob. Study your friends: who do you trust? Who do you believe? Who do you – I hate this word – align with? And conversely: whose taste is crap? Who’s let you down? Who’s someone you’d refer to simply as ‘nice’?
There are those spots where I think you simply cannot go wrong: St John and Rochelle Canteen (best for wedding receptions and power lunches); Bistro Freddie and Brat (best for midweek dinners and professional milestones); Brilliant Corners and Knob (best for a boozy dates and parties); The Parakeet and The Duke of Hamilton (best for a Sunday roast followed by a walk on the Heath); Andrew Edmunds and Rita’s (best for birthdays followed by Soho scandals); Kricket and Cottage (very different vibes but joint best for Indian); Bad and Olive (best for Italian; no notes).
So, there you have it. The five kinds of viral restaurants and how to avoid all but one. And if you’re still not sure, there’s one lesson that never fails: avoid, at all costs, anywhere on Berkeley Square. Bon appétit.