Moving through the revolving doors, you are transported back in time, the more glamorous era of shoulder pads and giant mobile phone and old Mayfair. The bar stands directly ahead, gleaming in all its resplendent glory, inviting you to refresh yourself at once. Then you remember to greet the maître d’hôtel and place your coat in the cloakroom. The air around the place feels right and you know you are in a Jeremy King restaurant. There is something about them that resonates the moment you step inside and are welcomed like an old friend, even though I had never set foot in the building before. Welcome to Arlington.
When I go out for dinner or a long lunch, I am never in a rush. Being seated at the bar to wait for our table, as the previous guest lingered over a chapter or two of his book, suited me perfectly. It gave me a front row seat to watch the barman at work, confident that my order would reach the maestro directly and be prepared exactly as I like it. Vodka martini, very wet, with a twist. Simple, immaculate, ice cold. After a couple of these, which disappeared as though I were training for the Olympic bobsled team, our table was ready.
Table three was a round table to the side, positioned so we sat next to each other looking out across the
restaurant. When I return, it will be the table I request. It is perfectly placed. With no need to hurry, there was time for another pre drink. I had a further martini, and my dining companion, my wife, took my advice and chose the Billecart-Salmon Rosé. I should mention Grace, our server, who was bright, engaging, knowledgeable, and a pleasure to be looked after by.
restaurant. When I return, it will be the table I request. It is perfectly placed. With no need to hurry, there was time for another pre drink. I had a further martini, and my dining companion, my wife, took my advice and chose the Billecart-Salmon Rosé. I should mention Grace, our server, who was bright, engaging, knowledgeable, and a pleasure to be looked after by.
The menu is not vast, which is ideal. Long menus invite indecision, and indecision leads to the dark side, or at least to the fear of ordering poorly and suffering food envy. A concise menu suggests confidence. With simple choices you expect elevated cooking.
A note on the décor. This is the former home of Le Caprice, originally created in this very space by Jeremy King before being sold and ultimately closed by its new owners. Now reopened under a new name, the interiors remain largely the same. The style, the photographs, the overall feel are familiar. It is slightly rough around the edges, so perhaps avoid studying the ceiling too closely, but that lends it character. It feels lived in, like a proper working restaurant, and you are glad to be there. The tables are thoughtfully arranged. The room is not large, yet it accommodates a good number without feeling cramped, while still allowing that gentle hum of nearby conversation.
As this is a review, I should mention the food, but first the wine. The list is beautifully assembled and caters to all tastes. You can often judge an establishment by its wine list. Price plays a part, but the real measure is what is offered by the glass and how clearly the regions and styles are presented. Arlington strikes the balance between extensive and readable. We chose a 2021 Toscana Tassinaia, a medium bodied delight that pairs effortlessly with almost anything. With its blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, it feels like a warm embrace in a glass, with gentle sweetness and well balanced tannins.
My palate refreshed by martinis and that first expressive sip of wine, we were ready for the main event, with sparkling water on hand to counter the alcohol. A brief aside. Sparkling water is one of my great adult discoveries. There is something quietly satisfying about lightly sparkling filtered water. As a rule, rather than ask for tap water, I would suggest choosing still or sparkling. Even an overpriced bottle is often preferable to most London tap water.
The food arrived, beginning with a classic. Bang Bang Chicken was a star in the days of Le Caprice and remains on the Arlington menu. Shredded chicken dressed in satay sauce with spring onions and carrot. It is refreshing yet substantial, each flavour distinct and never overwhelmed by peanuts. Alongside it, French onion soup, another classic executed perfectly.
For the main course I embraced tradition with fish and chips. When it arrived, I regretted ordering a side salad. The haddock alone barely fit the plate, and with chips and mushy peas it was more than enough. It defeated me, which does not happen often, though I remained determined to have dessert. The fish was tender and flaky, the batter light yet full of flavour. A simple British staple elevated beautifully. Even the chips were crisp, airy clouds. With my appetite thoroughly indulged, I ordered the chocolate mousse made with white and dark chocolate, while a crème brûlée was enjoyed across the table.
By the time our long lunch drew to a close, only a handful of guests remained as dinner service was being prepared. Staff drifted between breaks and the quiet reset of the room. We lingered over coffee and conversation until we were ready to leave. Coats on, bags and umbrellas in hand, we chatted with the maître d’hôtel like old friends. As we departed the revolving doors beckoned once more, but perhaps another day. Arlington, this will not be the last time you see me.