“I Spent A Monday Afternoon At London’s Best New Hotel Restaurant”

Brasserie Angelica is a high-end all-day dining room set within our city’s newest hotel lobby. It is vast, spanning half the block and home to probably 100 place settings, with forks and knives perfectly polished as empty seats tuck comfortably under the white linens of the table. For such a large room, it was relatively empty on this Monday afternoon, and yet, I felt a comforting sense of solace in the soft voices of the service, the sleepy effects of the big lights, and the ultra-European writing of the menu.

It almost feels as though I’m riding a train through the Alps with its classic, conservative table layout; the quintessential, almost boujie silver-spoon display, amplified more with the rollout of a sandwich trolley, something I probably would have thought extinct if it had not hugged the corner of our table. Move to the lounge cart after a too-long lunch for a cup of green tea, which somehow was one of the better teas I’ve had recently. Then, as the sun sinks back behind the buildings, disembark back onto the streets of Fitzrovia, and slowly strut back down into Soho, where nobody knows you’ve been graced with a half day in London’s best new hotel. 

There’s an old-timey feel about Brasserie Angelica, a bit of a 50s charm, a welcome venue for a mid calf skirt. It is for this reason that there is no excuse to not have a 12pm aperitif while pointedly choosing which open-faced sandwich will be departing its incubator, which is called a sandwich trolley. I got the cured pork belly, but I was filled with regret when I saw the egg. Everybody makes mistakes, but pork belly is not a horrible regret to have. Plus, a complimentary baguette will cure any ailment… baguette, which, for some strange reason, I have not seen grace a table in some time. The warm French bread with salted butter hath returned in this dining room, thank goodness.

Brasserie Angelica is centring itself around live fire cooking, so to not order from the woodfire section would be, at the very least, a crime. I believe that in my first visit here, I found the best possible duo of king prawns with herb garlic butter and a winter endive salad with grilled pear, walnuts and Danish blue cheese. Firstly, the salad is the perfect example of what a salad should be. Sharp and bitter, though vibrant and soft. Heavily dressed, enough to nearly make the cheese melt into the dish, as the crisp endive maintains an appealing texture. This is my desert island salad. And with the smoky prawns sat beside it, a buttery balance, an herby, comforting, unpretentious prawn? What an idyllic spread. The goat’s cheese gougéres are alright for a little bite, but I’d rather be filling up on whatever’s being thrown on the grill — like a steak. 

If that didn’t seem indulgent enough for you, I raise you pudding. A cinnamon doughnut with vanilla ice cream, almonds and, you guessed it, another sauce. Hot chocolate sauce, to be square. Me thinking I would only have a bite after such a feast, could not help but inhale whatever calories this massive dish presented to me. Fortunately, I have absolutely no regrets. This is a breathtaking pudding, a pudding that 12-year-old me searched high and low for, glad I haven’t let her down. 

There’s an old-timey feel about Brasserie Angelica, a bit of a 50s charm, a welcome venue for a mid calf skirt.

The verdict

The hotel scene in London is one of the more fruitful scenes in the city. The Newman delivers on the gastronomic front. It is decadent, rich, and somehow subtly flashy. To me, it is the perfect place to cosplay fifties-housewife-on-her-second-martini before snapping back into reality as soon as my boots hit the pavement once again. The menu makes it easy to find something, maybe even several things, that tickle one’s fancy. A pleasant train ride through Europe with a desire for just one more hour before arriving at your destination. Next, I’ll be trying the bar downstairs.