“I Tried All Three Gordon Ramsay Restaurants In The Savoy — Here’s What I Honestly Thought”
The Savoy is one of those places that makes London feel like London again. Not the version filled with Erewhon-coded matcha girls and conceptual wine bars, but the old version. The glamorous version. The version where martinis are freezing cold, chandeliers drip from ceilings, and somebody somewhere is experiencing the most important event of their life. Within the hotel sit three Gordon Ramsay Restaurants, all entirely different from one another, which feels slightly impossible considering they exist within metres of each other.
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Savoy Grill is loud, theatrical and deeply glamorous. The River Restaurant is all seafood and long lunches that become early dinners. Restaurant 1890, meanwhile, is quiet in the way only Michelin-starred restaurants can be. Together, they feel like three completely different nights out in London, all happening under one roof.
Savoy Grill is loud, theatrical and deeply glamorous. The River Restaurant is all seafood and long lunches that become early dinners. Restaurant 1890, meanwhile, is quiet in the way only Michelin-starred restaurants can be.
Mallory, Junior Food & Drink Editor
Savoy Grill Gordon Ramsay
On the night I was there, two engagements happened. Of course they did. This is a place built for milestones.
Savoy Grill is where you go when something important has happened. Or when you want it to look like something important has happened. Any excuse to celebrate.
It is red booths, chandeliers, white tablecloths, towering wine glasses and waiters who glide around the room with military precision. On the night I was there, two engagements happened. Of course they did. This is a place built for milestones. The food follows that same sense of occasion.
We started with Dover sole, which was perfect in the most terrific sense of the word. Buttery, soft, almost sweet, collapsing into thick flakes the second dainty cutlery took to it. It sat amongst a table of steaks and red wine and somehow still stole the entire show.
Then the beef Wellington arrived, Gordon Ramsay’s eternal calling card. The fillet inside is huge, almost absurdly so, still blushing pink at the centre and wrapped in pastry so golden and flaky it feels it must have been engineered by a scientist… Perhaps it was. You understand immediately why people order this dish over and over again. It is less a main course and more a rite of passage.
You understand immediately why people order this dish over and over again. It is less a main course and more a rite of passage.
Finally the steak. Massive. Seared dark at the edges, sliced open to reveal that perfect warm red centre, drenched in chimichurri sharp enough to cut through all the richness. Alongside fluffy mash, crispy chips and glasses of red wine in one of the sexiest corner booths in London, it became a dinner where conversation slows because everyone is a bit too busy eating, drinking, maybe even daydreaming.
This is not subtle food. Nor should it be.
The River Restaurant by Gordon Ramsay
Where Savoy Grill is drama, The River Restaurant is ease. The room glows during the day. Soft light bounces off silver trays stacked with shellfish and glasses of champagne. It feels expensive, but in a calm, collected way. Like the kind of place where people accidentally spend four hours at lunch, wallets slowly emptying — a favourite activity of mine.
I had actually been before just for drinks, and the cocktails remain some of the best in London. I usually tell the bartender what I like — strong, bitter, cold — and they always hand back exactly what I wanted before I fully knew what I wanted myself.
Where Savoy Grill is drama, The River Restaurant is ease. The room glows during the day. Soft light bounces off silver trays stacked with shellfish and glasses of champagne.
This time, though, we ate.
And unexpectedly, the standout was a salmon Wellington. This sounds wrong at first. Gordon Ramsay and Wellington should mean beef, surely. But this worked on an entirely different frequency. Thick salmon wrapped in scallop mousse, a delicate green crepe and buttery pastry so light it was surprising the whole thing didn’t collapse into a pile on the plate. But this is the foundation, the very fabric of what it is to be a Wellington. Rich without becoming heavy. Precise without becoming stiff.
Thick salmon wrapped in scallop mousse, a delicate green crepe and buttery pastry so light it it was surprising the whole thing didn’t collapse into a pile on the plate.
Comparing it to the Savoy Grill Wellington feels pointless. They belong to entirely different worlds. But somehow, each rule their territories in nature’s perfect harmony.
Restaurant 1890 by Gordon Ramsay
Then there’s Restaurant 1890. Walking in feels like leaving the rest of The Savoy behind completely. The noise drops. Your shoulders drop with it.
It’s warm, dark, and intimate. Almost jewellery-box-like. Like stepping into a beautifully designed treehouse hidden somewhere slightly above London. And despite overlooking the constant churn of The Savoy’s revolving doors and the theatre’s ebbing and flowing line below, it feels strangely detached from all of it.
Walking in feels like leaving the rest of The Savoy behind completely. The noise drops. Your shoulders drop with it.
This is Gordon Ramsay dining at its quietest and most precise. The Michelin star makes sense almost immediately, not because anybody tells you it has one, but because every detail feels delicate and expertly crafted to the point of obsession. Nothing fights for attention. Nothing is too loud. It is luxury, and it is controlled. And after the spectacle of the other two restaurants, that calmness becomes the thing you remember most — perhaps even value most — about Restaurant 1890.
Verdict
What struck me is how different all three restaurants feel from one another. Savoy Grill gives you old-school London glamour in its loudest, most indulgent form. The River Restaurant feels lighter, flirtier, all oysters and cocktails and afternoons that disappear unexpectedly. Restaurant 1890 is the opposite entirely, a tiny Michelin-starred sanctuary hidden above the buzzy symphony of the ground floor. And yet together, they somehow create a complete picture of what dining at The Savoy should be.
What should it be, you ask? Excessive. Elegant. Slightly theatrical. Very London.
Excessive. Elegant. Slightly theatrical. Very London.
