Evelyn's Table is The Most If-You-Know-You-Know Restaurant In London

I must admit, I find Soho incredibly overwhelming. It’s busy, crowded, and you’re more than likely to find yourself swimming in tourists as the distant scent of sick envelopes you. Despite my slight disdain for crossing the threshold into what is a glorified zoo during social hours, the area is home to some flickering lights.

The strictly if-you-know-you-know spots… they hide, staying discreet, donning an invisibility cloak which, if lifted, will present you with booze, bars, basements, and serenity without jeopardising a good time. Fortunate for you, perhaps not so fortunate for me, as I tell you all about it, is I’ve found one. A hidden Soho spot, not so often spoken of, with a cloak that acts in the form of a pub. Not only is there a Michelin-starred chef’s counter tucked into the basement, but there’s also a top-grade wine bar above it.

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This address offers a solution to three problems: Where should we go for a pint? Where should we go for a drink? And where should we go for (a bit of a fancy) dinner? I’m better now for knowing.
Mallory, Junior Food & Drink Editor

What sets it apart

There’s a sort of exclusivity that comes with knowing about this venue, knowing about a pub with two hidden spots inside. It makes for an interesting pitch, for those moments when trying to find a drink in Soho suddenly becomes way too much, almost like a burden, like a should we get on the tube somewhere else? moment.

This is where the wine bar comes in, a breath from the outside, a simple cocktail, a good glass of wine. And the pub saves you from the rain, or soothes you after a day of work.

Further, the restaurant makes you feel in the know, special, like you’ve discovered something, something perhaps worth spending on — a first-class ticket.

What we ordered

The Blue Posts

To begin, The Blue Posts is a pub. A classic pub. A pub that pours a phenomenal list of thoughtfully and masterfully curated pints. A pub that has only a few tables. A pub that spills out onto the streets. A pub with a bit of sass from behind the bar. I got a lager, the bartender didn’t rate it, but I definitely did. My cocktail-clad coworker got a Hugo spritz, which warranted an extra sip from me. Quite good.

I got a lager, the bartender didn’t rate it, but I definitely did. My cocktail-clad coworker got a Hugo spritz, which warranted an extra sip from me.

Evelyn’s Table

When 1 pm struck, it was time for lunch, and we were selected from the pub to join the club in the basement. First: a look around the very, very small space (although, surprisingly to this claustrophobe, not tight), followed by a glass of champagne at the counter (where you will be for the remainder of the meal) and an introduction to Maria, your beacon of light of a somm. Meanwhile, the other 10 make their way down in ones and twos.

Lunch has begun. Just a foot below the counter, three chefs are dishing up the first course. What is it? Honestly, beats me. But that’s quite a fun game to play. I bet it’s tuna. No, I think it’s grapefruit. Wrong, it’s a Cornish red mullet with watermelon radish, rhubarb and blood orange nahm jim. Three sweeps of the fork and it’ll be gone, but not without a brief pause, a reminder, perhaps, that this is Michelin dining.

Next, a bread course. Now, we all know that I love bread. I loved this bread. Not only was it warm, but we watched as the sourdoughs were being prepped for the following service. Still young enough to be proofing. The serrated knife used on ours met with a plume of heat, billowing from the incision. This is fresh bread, fresh bread alongside fresh butter. Fresh butter alongside a mushroom pate alongside a cheese foam (never heard of a better use for “foam”). This was my favourite course.

Cornish red mullet, watermelon radish, rhubarb & blood orange nahm jim

Then, a barbecued trout which had flames thrown upon it just three feet over there in the corner, the charcoal sparking and throwing embers that may as well have burned my eyelashes off and yet with no note of poor temperature control in the space. Smoky and rich, contrasting the tart fish taste presented in the first dish and working alongside the warming umami carpet laid by the mousse and bread.

Three sweeps of the fork and it’ll be gone, but not without a brief pause, a reminder, perhaps, that this is Michelin dining.

The last of the mains, a Chinese water deer with red cabbage kimchi, beetroot, pear, and shiso. To me, I read this and think, there isn’t really a world in which I see all of these things coming together to make a dish that makes sense, especially not when every part of the deer that they butcher in-house is being used. It’s probably not something I would’ve ordered, that is, until it was plated. Given that the lunch menu is listed as four courses, this main served almost like it was 5 in one. Each cut or section of the plating serves a different experience altogether — almost like an around-the-world effect, travelling across the plate until scraping up the last bits. Rich, tender, meaty, dark, light, sweet, earthy, pink.

barbecued trout, squid & fennel salad, north indian spice, crab & winter tomato sauce

Chinese water deer, red cabbage kimchi, beetroot, pear, shiso

Almost like an around-the-world effect, travelling across the plate until scraping up the last bits. Rich, tender, meaty, dark, light, sweet, earthy, perfectly pink.

More on pink, which is, what I’m realising, the colour palette of the afternoon, the dessert, a todoli citrus, wild rose and vanilla dish. A perfect cleanse, almost like expressing lemon on the whole affair. Washing it down, dragging it out, brightening it up.

A trait they have perfected — brightening. More than anything, the drinks pairing is one of the best curated in London. It is open-minded, boundless in its capacity. Sparkling sakes, Champagnes, deep oranges and light yellows. It was the drinks pairings that brought a sense of giddiness, of whimsy, of a hop-skip in your step as you collect yourself to climb the floors to the wine bar.

Todoli citrus, wild rose, vanilla, buddha’s hand

The Mulwray

Finally, a relaxed recline in The Mulwray. Perhaps for a martini, a French 75, or for a chinwag with the staff, a side of wine samples with learnings of contemporary versus old world. Regardless, you could be here for a bit if you get too comfortable. Or, if you’ve skipped the Michelin shenanigans altogether, you’ll have been here already for quite some time. If you’re stuck in, breezing through a couple of glasses, perhaps a cheeseboard and some chicken nuggets will sort you out. Just a thought.

It was the drinks pairings that brought a sense of giddiness, of whimsy, of a hop-skip in your step as you collect yourself to climb the floors to the wine bar.

Verdict

There’s something special about being in the know, especially in a crowded place like Soho. Having a known post, a blue post, if you will, provides a feeling of solitude, a home base. When that post has several options? Even better. This address offers a solution to three problems: Where should we go for a pint? Where should we go for a drink? And where should we go for (a bit of a fancy) dinner? I’m better now for knowing.